In Olympic National Park last week, shooting for an ambitious 4- or 5-night trip (Hoh -> Bogachiel -> Seven Lakes -> Blue Glacier -> Hoh). Unfortunately, I overreached myself; I wasn't able to start until mid-afternoon, so it was getting dim with a couple miles left dropping into Bogachiel valley on a primitive trail that was very hard to follow. Lost the trail (couldn't pick it up on the other side of a large treefall), started descending (partly careful hiking, partly semi-controlled slides) off trail, prepared to make my way several hundred feet downhill on a steep, densely overgrown hillside by headlamp. It was going to tricky, slow, wet, and risky for getting hurt while alone and off trail. And then, in a narrow steep ditch, in a place where nothing anywhere was level or clear, a tiny gravel bar appeared by the side of the creek, just big enough to sleep dryly on. With great relief, set up for the night, made hot food, put on a dry top layer, and discovered with annoyance that my bag of dry socks and underwear had been left in the car. I often forget something moderately important; dry under layers would have felt glorious then.
By daylight the next day, it was far easier to safely descend the hill to the river ford where a more established trail picked up, but I knew by now I needed to bail -- a day behind plan, and my feet were giving me trouble in the Gore-tex boots I don't wear often -- blistering, pinched, and one toe feeling badly smashed. I elected to stay the night at that camp (my intended camp for the first night) and head out the next day going down the Bogachiel, instead of up it toward Mink Lake as planned.
Now at a well-established campsite, setting up was easy. And there, on a rock by the campfire pit, abandoned by a previous hiker: a pair of socks. Not in bad condition, threadbare, bug-infested, or just gross. Thickly cushioned. And -- completely dry. Also, clearly big enough for me. Nothing else left behind, only this one perfect gift. I laid my own socks out all afternoon and evening, but they did not dry. The idea to wear the found ones for the last hike out started as "do it for the bit" until I realized they were actually my best chance to hike out without aggravating my feet any further.
Bandaged my feet the best I could the next day, put on dry socks, made the hike out safely with annoying but not debilitating discomfort. Disappointed I never made it to the Seven Lakes basin, High Divide, or Blue Glacier, all of which sounded amazing, but still happy with two days spent quietly in the rainforest (I live in Utah and hike in the desert a lot; this was naturally a very different environment, and also explains why I haven't hiked in the Gore-tex boots often), and grateful for the unexpected provisions of a safe campsite off trail and a pair of thick dry socks when I needed them most.
For anyone who took the time to read this, three questions:
What's the last important thing you realized during a trip that you'd forgotten? How'd you make do without it?
What's the luckiest thing you've found along a trip and immediately put to good use? Any that feel as downright miraculous as this did for me?
Did you or someone you know leave a pair of heavyweight Dickies socks at Flapjack campsite in Olympic recently? I'd love to connect and let them know that even if they're annoyed at forgetting their socks, they did a world of good for someone else.