I woke up feeling gross and sweaty, and checked my phone to see what time it was. The screen flickered, then turned off and displayed a single vertical line of purple pixels. My heart sank – The screen probably flxed too much at some point and broke, because I thought it was fine to install it without new adhesive.

That was $50 and yet another phone screen down the drain. I’d have to find a repair store if I wanted it to be functional again. My phone wasn’t absolutely essential, but I relied on it for the trail guide and reading e-books in my tent at night.

I packed up quickly. I didn’t want any of my absent host’s neighbors asking questions. I left a thank-you note in the mailbox and set off for the laundromat.

Testing out the new camera while I wait for the laundromat to open

The laundromat was run by a literal 100-year-old woman. It was her 100th birthday that day. I know that sounds like a stupid lie, but I promise it’s true. I met the birthday girl (who was nearly deaf, I had to yell “happy birthday” into her ear) and her daughter as they unlocked the door to the laundromat and went out for a birthday breakfast.

In the laundromat bathroom, I changed into my rain jacket and my new cutoff rainshorts, and threw all of my hiking clothes into a washer while I paged through some copies of the AARP magazine.

After my clothes dried, it was time to figure out what I was going to do about my phone. I asked around, went into the local hardware store, and searched on the library computers to see if there was any shop nearby that could fix a phone. The nearest one I found was called “Two Rebels Repair” in Tonasket, Washington, about 40 miles west.

I ran into Cookie Monster and Morning Star after I left the library. We caught up for a bit and bought some Americanos at a coffee shop, and Cookie Monster let me use her phone to call the oddly-named repair store. They picked up and seemed friendly enough, and told me they had to order in the part, but they could get it in by Friday morning (today was Tuesday).

This gave me an idea… since the PNT bends around Republic like a time-sucking gravity well, I could hitch back to Sherman Pass, take two and a half days to hike to the west side of Republic, then hitch west to Tonasket and get my phone repaired. To make it work, I would have to leave that afternoon.

I told Cookie Monster and Morning Star my plan about as quickly as I had formulated it, and ran off to get ready. I had to resupply, eat (ideally) a huge lunch, shower, buy a hat, and find a hitch back out to the trail.

Lunch was probably the first priority. I went to the local Mexican restaurant, spotted Bambi and Brick there, and asked if I could sit with them. They were just finishing up their meals as I ordered mine, and when they left, they graciously left me a key to their hotel room so I could take a shower. After I finished my own meal, I was still hungry and noticed a table of 7 people get up to leave right next to me. I swiped two of their half-eaten plates like it was my job, and did them the courtesy of finishing their meals.

I showered in Bambi and Brick’s hotel room, then walked over to the discount food store, where I found Bugs and Moose! I got them up-to-date on my plans, and we talked for a little while. The discount food store had 25-cent Lara bars, and I grabbed about as many as I could. Those things are hiker gold; they’re so expensive normally that I would never buy them.

I tried on a few hats at a small clothing store, and (with Cookie Monster’s help) settled on a wide-brimmed straw hat. Ultralight and functional! After a speedy grocery store trip, I walked out toward Highway 20 to hitch back to the trail.


The hitch came quick, and the driver wasn’t very talkative. I was back out on the trail around 4 PM with only a 4-mile hike planned to Snow Peak Cabin, feeling incredibly grateful to be out of that cursed town and back on the trail. This section of the Kettle Crest trail was gorgeous and covered in lupines and other wildflowers, with the occasional patch of delicious huckleberries.

Castilleja flower

The water source at the cabin was another spring-fed cow trough, just a trickle of warm, yellow water. I’ll take whatever I can get, I suppose. For some reason I never took a picture of the cabin, so I’m including one that I found on the PNT website, because it’s really pretty:

No one was staying in the cabin that night, but it was hot and stuffy and smelled weird, so I decided to set up my tent anyway. Someone had left a few cans of anchovies there, which I happily mixed into my mashed potato dinner. I had my eye on the exposed half-mile of trail leading up to the cabin while I ate dinner, passively hoping that some unknown PNT hiker would come join me. They didn’t, and I camped alone.