How a road side farm stand in Stehekin, Washington turned into one of the best pieces of life advice I’ve ever received.
I started hiking at noon from Mazama, Washington to make it 19.5 miles to the remote town of Stehekin, Washington. I needed to make it to the forest service road by 6pm to catch the last bus that I read would take hikers to and from the trail into town. For those unfamiliar with the difficulty of this feat, it’s like being 35 minutes from work with rush hour traffic, and you need to be there by 8am and it’s already 7:30am. Which is to say, I was going to have to be all gas no brakes for the next 6 hours, and luck would have to be on my side for me to reach the bus before it left.
I raced down the trail, anxious every moment that the bus was going to leave me stranded. I kept my snack and water breaks less than 5 minutes and held about a 3.2 mile per hour pace to make it just in time to catch the bus. I was so relieved. Stehekin was said to be the most beautiful trail town on the entire Pacific Crest Trail, and I wanted to soak up as much of it as I could before I more than likely would leave never to return.
The bus made it’s way down the road, passing off-grid “resorts” and locals homes. As we got closer to town, we passed the local bakery – which was said to have the best cinnamon rolls on the trail – and eventually came to the edge of Lake Chelan where the town, or better yet, settlement, of Stehekin was located.
Finally able to take in the view with my own eyes, the stories I heard had not done this place justice. The mountains surrounding the end of the lake shot straight out of its depths standing sentinel around the perfectly blue, glacial water. The bus stopped in front of the Hotel which doubled as campground, general store, post office, and restaurant. A dock ran out from the edge of the road filled with boats of various kinds and the occasional float plane. The sun began to set behind the western mountains opposite to where I stood watching the colors of dusk dance with the sinking sun. I wasn’t sure if paradise on this earth existed, but if it did, I had just found it.
The following day was filled with bakery runs, swims in the lake, sunbathing on the dock, and catching up with friends finally making their way into town. Eventually, Papa and Peach, my close friends that I had started the trail with, came in on the last bus of the day. I was so excited for them to arrive because I knew they would love this place as much as I did. I had another incredible night on the dock watching the sun set with all my friends, and telling them all about how wonderful Stehekin was.
At first take, I was simply enjoying a beautiful place, and that was enough.
But as life often does, there was more to learn in this little remote village, and it came in the form of Carl.
The morning I was set to leave Stehekin to continue my journey south to Mexico, Me, Papa, and Peach decided to make one last bakery run to savor the experience of what truly was the best bakery on the PCT and to pack out a few pastries for the road. The bakery was only about a mile from the hotel, so we decided to walk back and see what we could find along the way.
Halfway between the bakery and town, we came upon a fence on our left that surrounded the most beautiful garden we had ever seen. As we approached the open gate, a simple welcome sign invited us to come wander around the place. Our feet veered off the road as the open door drew us in like a moth to a flame.
A center pathway lead through ran through perfectly symmetrical rows of flowers, plants, fruits, vegetables, and other various crops to the back of the lot where a pavilion stood with benches, tables, and shelves of prepackaged produce. The more we roamed, the more things began to pop out. A bee farm stood in the back right corner of the garden, and beyond that a was a goat pen.
“Well hello there!” Came a voice from around the other side of the pavilion. “Welcome to my little garden.”
A older gentlemen stood there with the biggest smile on his face as he beckoned us over to a table around his prepackaged goods. His bare feet were dirty and calloused from years of farming (to this day, I think he purposefully didn’t own any shoes). His teeth looked they hadn’t been brushed in years. His clothes were also covered in dirt. His skin was tanned again by years of sowing and reaping in his garden. And his attitude was so welcoming as he excitedly explained his crops.
Our curiosity got the better of us. Questions flew from our mouth as we wanted to know where he was from, how long he’d been there, and how he survived in such a remote place with cold winters. He was so humbled by our eagerness to learn about him. He was from Seattle, but quickly became disenchanted with life in the city. Corporate America, pursing the American dream, and following the paths everyone else took were draining him. So, he found a plot of land in Stehekin, bought it, and started a garden.
As I kept looking around the garden, I thought his house had to be somewhere close by. Within the goat pen stood a small, beautiful log cabin.
“Is that your place?” I asked.
“Oh no,” Carl laughed. “That’s my goat hotel or, as I like to call it, my goatel.”
“Wow. They’ve got a nice place. Where’s your house?” I replied, shocked by how truly remarkable this goat cabin really was.
“Oh it’s back there,” said Carl, pointing into the woods behind the pavilion we stood under.
Peering through the trees and overgrowth, I noticed a shack hidden amongst the forest. I couldn’t believe it. This man’s goats seemed to live in a nicer place than he did. But he didn’t care. He was so proud of his garden, and he was so happy to be telling us all about it. I’d never met someone so content in my life.
Our time was short, but our curiosity kept getting the best of us. My buddy Parkes leaned over and said, “I’ve got to ask him more about this place. I want to learn how to do this when I get back home from the trail. Do you think he has an email?”
“Judging by this guy’s place, I doubt it, but you never know,” I said. “But if you’re going to ask him about it, now’s the time because we’ve got to get back to town to get our stuff together and catch the bus.”
So Parkes walked over, asked him how to start a garden, and asked for an email address or a way to contact him in the future.
The answer we got in return was so far from what we expected to hear. In the moment, we were left in shock. All these years later, it’s still one of the more profound things I’ve ever heard, and I’m still finding out the depths of truth in what Carl had to say.
“Haha all I know is that there’s nothing to know, but everything to experience,” laughed Carl.
What had we just heard?
What could have been a simple “no, I don’t have an email, sorry,” turned into this piece of wisdom that sat with us the rest of the day.
Nothing to know. Everything to experience.
We tried unpacking that phrase all the way back to town. Intellectually, I understood the meaning of trying things and figuring things out as you go, but, for me at least, the gravity of truly experiencing life as it comes was very fresh.
I was 26 years old at the time, and although I had some good life experience under my belt by that point, life had been a good balance of both learning from others and experiencing things for myself. I know hiking across the country is a crazy scary thing to do, but I had read enough blogs and seen enough YouTube so get a general idea of what to expect. For the most part, all my life had been like this trail: learning enough beforehand to figure things out along the way.
However, life had never hit me in the mouth.
I had never had a moment where life decided to rear back and sock me right between the eyes leaving me to stumble around until I figure out how to come back to my senses and hit back. This idea, I think, is the heart of what Carl was trying to say. He had left a good job in the city to move off the grid and face blizzards in the winter and fires in the summer. He knew nothing about farming, and he just had to figure it out over the 40 years he had been in Stehekin. If anyone has been hit in the mouth, it’s him.
A few years after finishing the trail, I got a taste of blood in my mouth as life finally had its way with me. Long story short, I almost lost my mom to major heart reconstruction surgery, and I did lost both my grandmothers and my beloved aunt all within a two year time period. I wasn’t prepared for any of that. I had no idea how to become a caregiver for months on end while also grieving for the losses of loved ones. I had no idea the toll it would take on my relationships with other people. I had no idea the affect this time period would have on my outlook on the future.
Life is nothing to know, but everything to experience.
That line has wrung so true as of late. Some things in life you simply cannot and will not understand. Life is experiencing. It’s exploring and discovering. It will give you the highest of highs and the lowest of lows. You may never know what it was about, but it will teach you something whether you like it or not.
So experience it. All of it. Be courageous. Do not turn from hardship when it comes, and enjoy the magic when it happens. Face everything life throws at you, and do not shy away from things you do not like nor things you don’t understand. Do not let pride keep you from learning. Again, you have everything to experience so be curious about everything.
That was my takeaway. I’m not sure what you’ll make of Carl’s wisdom, but maybe one day down the trail, you’ll come back to it too.
Before we left the garden, Carl wanted to make sure we bought some fresh fruit for the road. He had the most delicious looking Rainer cherries I’d ever seen.
Seeing no power outlet and having no cell services, I said, “Carl, I appreciate you talking with us so much, and I am so sorry, but I don’t have cash.”
“That’s ok. I take credit cards,” said Carl, pulling a credit card reader out from under the table.
If only we’d had time to find out all of Carl’s secrets and sayings.
Thanks for the wisdom and the cherries, Carl. Three years later, they’re still appreciated.
Wandering with Ralston 
Leave a comment