This hike report is long overdue. I've taken a whole week off work to do this hike and apparently it took me over a week to come up with a sensible story about it. This is a long one, so bear with me. Or don't.

The idea to hike the Loowit Trail came to me way back, probably, around 2013, when my family and I visited Johnston Ridge Observatory.

I learned that there was a hiking trail right at the bottom of the breached side of the volcano, and I had this trail in mind ever since.

Mt. Loowit (St. Helens)

Throughout this post, sometimes I will refer to Mt. St. Helens by its native name, Loowit (Lawetlat'la, Loowit or Louwala-Clough to be precise). For centuries, the mountain had its name, but colonizers in their infinite arrogance decided to give it a new name. In 1792 Commander George Vancouver named this landmark after his friend British diplomat Alleyne Fitzherbert, 1st Baron St Helens.

Mt. Loowit is the youngest volcano in the Cascades. It is located on the indigenous lands of Cowlitz and Klickitat native people (now part of Yakama Nation). The slopes of the mountain above treeline are a Traditional Cultural Property of Cowlitz and Yakama tribal groups. For thousands of years, the mountain has been a central place in the culture and mythology of the tribes, where resources were gathered and young people were sent to test themselves.

Although I only ventured above the "treeline" once or twice along the Loowit trail, I can clearly see why this incredible place is at the center of indigenous cultures. I encourage you to take a look at some of the legends collected and passed down through generations.

Loowit’s Legend - Loowit (Mount Saint Helens)

Loowit is the name that early inhabitants gave to the mountain we call Mount Saint Helens.

Loowit (Mount Saint Helens)

May 18, 1980

Prior to May 18, 1980, Mt. St. Helens was a beautiful cone-shaped peak, sometimes referred to as Mt. Fuji of the Pacific Northwest. It all changed early on that day. There are a few fantastic documentaries about the infamous eruption and the subsequent largest landslide in recorded history.

Ever since the eruption, Mt. St. Helens fascinated scientists, hikers, photographers, writers and became a preserved natural treasure.  

The trail

Of course, there's a hiking trail around the volcano, it's PNW, what did you expect?! :)

The Loowit Trail circles the mountain at about 4400 ft of elevation, sometimes dipping as low as 2900 ft and soaring to over 4800 ft. Its length depends a lot on the approach, but generally it's considered to be between 30 and 35 miles, with total elevation gain around 9000 ft.

The trail is considered to be  Difficult to Expert level, and for a good reason: it throws every possible terrain and challenge at you, all the time! I don't know what I was thinking when I decided that I should totally hike it: I'm not in great physical shape and my backpacking experience prior to this hike was limited to 2-nighters. Anyway, I was set on hiking it during my time off, and when I'm set on an adventure, nothing can stop me (except for a broken leg, evidently)

Preparation

For this hike, I wen all-in on ultralight gear. Ultralight tent, ultralight quilt, ultralight sleeping pad, ultralight backpack, the list goes on. I trimmed my base weight to about 12 pounds, which is quite fascinating if you ask me. I also had 2 65 oz bottles for water and another 2-liter water bag.

So on the gear front, I was well-prepared and ready to go. Some things that I've taken with me I hadn't used a lot or even at all, but those were minor and inconsequential.

I was not as prepared physically as I thought I was, but will get to it.

On Sunday, I arrived at Climbers Bivouac, set up my tent, quickly drove to Portland to pay my respects to the folks protesting in front of the Injustice Center. I got back to the camp after dark and went straight to sleep. Tomorrow was going to be a long day.

Day one

I got up pretty late — most climbers were long gone. The weather was perfect for me: low overcast, fairly chilly and quiet.

First segment of the hike is approach to the Loowit trail. To get to the trail from the camp, you need to hike up Ptarmigan trail for about two miles and something like 700 ft of elevation, until you hit an intersection with Loowit trail. There, I took a right turn and proceeded counter-clockwise.

The trail was fairly light for the first few miles. It mostly went downhill, and the climbing segments were fairly light. The views were already quite impressive, especially if you consider that there's a looming volcano behind the clouds!

This first part of the trail, approximately between Climbers to Windy Pass has quite a few water sources, and it gave me a false impression that water is not going to be a problem. Yes, this water was silty and muddy, but it's water so who cares, right?!

I topped up my water containers here at the Chocolate falls and hit my first challenging segment: Worm Flows. This is basically a giant lava boulder field you need to cross. The trail is non-existent, and you hop from boulder to boulder navigating to the next white stake in the distance.

The day was going towards sunset at this point, so I pushed forward to hit my Day One target (about 7 miles) and set up camp for the night before dark.

And there you have it. Day one was in the books, I felt pretty good about my progress and the fact that I hit my first target. There were some wild animals sniffing around the tent all night, but nothing interesting happened, and I didn't find any interesting footprints in the morning.

Day two

When you backpack for days, at some point it's easy to sync with the sun. You wake up around sunrise and normally settle down for the night right after sunset. At least that's my experience.

Day two began early: I had about 6-8 miles to hike through pretty rugged terrain and under a full sun and clear skies. My goal was to push all the way to Windy Pass — the edge of the Restricted zone in front of the Breach — the part of the mountain that got destroyed during the eruption.

As mentioned before, terrain on this stretch of the trail is pretty rough. Looking back, it's not that rough, especially compared to some later segments.

The views were breathtaking. I paused every now and again just to stare in the distance, taking it in as much as I can.

Rugged boulder fields turned into a huge stretch of huckleberry fields. Quite literally, you're making your way on a narrow trail slicing an endless huckleberry field! The berries were ripe, juicy and so very tasty!

I was getting pretty tired. All these uphills, boulders, lack of shade began to take tall. I refilled my water at Muddy River, and realized that I'm probably not going to make it to my target area before sunset.

I pushed forward for as long as I could. The problem was that since I was tired, hot, and pushing, I drank a lot of water. And I was running out fairly quickly. I decided that I'll go until I find a water source and will break camp somewhere nearby.

I use Gaia GPS as my primary navigation app, and I truly love it. Aside from providing 100s of map layers (including cell coverage, air quality, and more), it has some unique data I relied on in this trip: campsites.

I was lucky enough to chat with a fellow hiker who let me know that the creek that looks to be running by the campsite here, in fact changed and is now running quite a bit to the West. This spot became my new goal for the day.

I arrived at the campsite right before sunset, set up tent, enjoyed the view for a bit and went to sleep.

Day three

When this is what you wake up to, the day just can't be bad!

I think now is a good time to mention a few things that very clearly went wrong by this point:

• I was running of water much faster than I could find water sources.
• I somehow punctured my inflatable sleeping pad and despite my repair efforts, it was deflating almost completely within 1-2 hours. My back wasn't happy about this, and sleep quality got pretty low.
• The food I brought with me was either dehydrated or too sweet for me to hold. By this point in time, I haven't eaten much in the past 2 days, yet it didn't bother me yet
• I was running ~3 miles behind schedule. With a Restricted Zone looming ahead — you must cross it's ~9 miles in one go, no camping allowed — I will have to cover these 3 miles and 9 miles of the Restricted zone today in order to camp legally. 12 miles is ok on easier trails, but by this time I realized that 12 miles in one day on this trail is probably beyond my abilities.

With all this in mind, I embarked on this most exciting part of the trail — the one that crosses the Breach and pumice fields left in front of the mountain by the 1980 blast and subsequent landslide.

The first few miles from my camp to Windy Pass were a breeze. Mostly flat prairie-like trail all the way to the pass. I enjoyed my walk a lot, and was wondering for a while whether I could've made it the day before. I probably could have pushed for a few more miles, break camp after dark beside the Windy Pass and shave these extra miles off of my Restricted Zone day.

Going over the pass look intimidating at first, but was in fact fairy easy. The trail there goes along the hillside and is not very stable and has a few really sketchy spots, but overall it was easier than I expected.

The following few miles go over the side of the mountain slowly introducing the Breach — the side of the volcano destroyed by the blast in 1980. For me, this was the most exciting part of the journey. Walking on top of many feet of fairly new volcanic ash, seeing the destruction side of the volcano myself, and traversing many canyons, streams and erosion areas while seeing the mountain at a very unusual angle.

It's been 40+ years since the eruption, yet the mountain is still settling in. Constant rock fall noise, steam and ash floating in the air, ever-changing streams and riverbeds — it will likely take hundreds of years for all this stuff to calm down. Geologically speaking, 40 years is nothing, a blink of an eye, so from the volcano's perspective, it just erupted moments ago and the process of healing hasn't even started yet. Biologically, though, even in the blast zone, life is everywhere. From grass and weeds to all sorts of shrubs and sub-alpine flowers and native trees, it's all here. Chipmunks, coyotes, birds of every color, elk and deer, it's all here.

To say that this is an active and dangerous volcano would be an understatement. In the past 30 days, there were close to a dozen earthquakes under Mt St Helens, and every year there periods of swarm earthquakes: dozens of magnitude 1-3 shakes that happen within days and weeks. Something is still going on down there, and at any point the mountain can start erupting again (the same way it happened twice in 2006 and then in 2008).

This is the heart of the blast zone. Behind me is the gaping wound left by the eruption. You can't hear rocks falling, but you can see clouds of ash they send up in the air.

By this point, I'm exhausted. A few miles back, I hit an oasis: a little stream, ice-cold and absolutely clear, surrounded by some trees and bushes. I refilled all my water containers, relaxed in the shade for a bit, and pushed forward through the blast zone.

My goal for the day was to get to the South Fork Toutle River — the next water source and the place where the restricted zone ends and camping is allowed again.

By the time I left the breach area, I was at the end of my rope: I was tired, I practically ran out of water, and I still had about 4 miles ahead of me to get to Toutle River. There was no way I'd make it there, and it was time to admit it and plan accordingly.

I decided to push as far as I humanly can, again. With canyons turning deeper and deeper, and hiking mostly uphill at this point, this "as far as humanly possible" turned out to be about 2 miles or so. I found a spot (still in restricted area) and pitched my tent — there was no way I'd cross this canyon today. I fell asleep almost immediately.

By this time, I had exactly two sips of water left and 2 miles to hike up and down to the next water source. I was in trouble.

Day four

This was one of those days when you think: "Ok, how can I quit this now?" And the answer is, basically, you can't. At this point, there's no exit from the trail that would take you to people faster. There's no way around the upcoming Toutle Drop (I'll get to it in a minute). There's no quitting, only pushing ahead and hoping you can make it, which at this point was not a sure thing.

I had my sip of water for breakfast and hit the trail. Since I haven't eaten much and started to get fairly dehydrated, I got to the point of being slightly delirious. I had to take breaks every few hundred yards — taking my pack off, spreading my sleeping pad and just laying down for a few minutes. The next 2 miles were the longest two miles in my life.

Luckily, I met another hiker, who was generous enough to share half a bottle of water with me. I've taken a picture of him on his phone in return, and was incredibly grateful for the water and some tips on what awaits me ahead.

Ahead was the Toutle Drop. I don't think it's an official name of this feature, but every hiker I've met referred to it like this.

Right there, at the very bottom of this by far the deepest canyon on the trail, there is a tiny steam. It's Toutle River, and in fact it's not so tiny, it's just very far below.

The Drop is a sharp descent over a slope of the canyon. You go down on loose pomace and volcanic ash. One sloppy or unsteady step, and you will lose your footing and tumble hundreds of feet down to the bottom of the canyon.

By the time I got to the final ~30 feet rope-climb down to the river, I was set on spending the rest of my day right there, by the water. All the water I can drink! Flowing, roaring, splashing! Sweet, sweet unlimited water!

I spent about 3 hours by the river. There was not a spot of shade, so I covered myself with my sleeping mat, and just laid there for hours, drifting asleep, hot and tired. Every now and again, I'd go and refill my water bottle, drink it all, doze off for a bit and repeat. I even ate half of one of my sweet food items: even if I can't hold it and vomit it right away, at least I'd have enough water to recover quickly. It went fairly well, and provided some necessary calories and a slight energy boost.

In front of me was a daunting uphill stretch of over 2000 ft of elevation. Also there was an intersection where I could attempt to exit the trail: I could hike lower, take a trail that goes parallel to Loowit trail, and pop out at a road leading to the Climbers Bivouac. By my estimations, this path was about a mile longer but offered fewer elevation changes. The biggest downside was that the final mile or so was a roughly 1000 ft ascent, overall elevation gain would be approximately the same as at Loowit trail, and this other trail was unlikely to have any hiker traffic in case I pass out. At this stage of my hike, passing out became a real concern, and I had to keep it in mind.

I refilled my water containers for the last time: there will be no water for the next 8+ miles. Basically, there will be no water all the way to the trailhead parking. Or so I thought. I took another nap at the campground just above the river, and made an executive decision to attempt to exit the trail by taking this other trail I described above. There will still be a chance to return back to Loowit trail later without losing anything.

I hiked for a couple of miles through the forest, and set up camp right over a river besides a sturdy bridge over Sheep Canyon. It was a relief to find more water: it meant that I could have all the water I want for breakfast and refill once more before the final push to the parking lot. I was very much set on finishing tomorrow, no matter what.

Day five

I woke up early and was in a good mood. I was still weak, exhausted and ached all over from sleeping on a deflated sleeping pad, but it was my last day on the trail. The plan was this: I hike to the trailhead, get into my car, drive to Vancouver, WA, eat Wendy's Double Baconator and gulp a large diet Vanilla Ginger Ale, spend the night at a nice hotel, take a shower and do the laundry, and drive home the next morning.

Motivation, unfortunately, is not enough for pushing through 8 miles of very challenging mountain terrain. I've barely eaten in 5 days, poorly hydrated, sore all over; the sun is mercilessly shining, deep canyons with rope climbing and another set of lava boulder fields lie ahead.

Honestly, I remember very little about this day. I remember taking long breaks every few hundred yards. Just laying down for a few minutes (hours?), rationing water and dreaming about Vanilla Ginger Ale.

I set myself a miles countdown: 2 miles before parking lot, I'd hit the approach trail — 2 miles of 100% downhill. So I subtracted these 2 miles from whatever milage I had left. Roughly speaking, I just needed to push through about 6 miles of the trail to get to this final trail intersection and then just descent to the parking lot.

...Of course, I ran out of water about 3 miles before my target intersection.

...At sunset, I met two hikers who shared some water with me, and strongly suggested I spend the night in a little patch of trees right ahead of me: attempting to cross another boulder field at night in my condition concerned them gravely, and I concurred. I crossed a patch of boulders, entered a tree patch, spotted a tiny opening besides the trail and set there for the night. Words "Cowboy camping" popped into my clouded mind, and given that was pretty much unable to think straight or do much, I decided to give it a shot. Cowboy camping is, basically, camping without a tent. You just unroll your sleeping mat, lay down and sleep under the stars. Not in a nice hotel after a double baconator as planned, but right there in the bushes, with one of my dry sacks as a pillow and with a buff covering my face and ears from insects.

In all honesty, it wasn't too bad. And the night sky was absolutely, incredibly covered with stars with Milky Way visible so clearly I didn't know it was even possible to see it like this. As for the insects — my biggest concern — aside from a few random ants crossing my legs a few times, no one bothered me.

Finale

Well, this Saturday had to be my last day. With just about 2-3 miles to the parking lot trail and 2 miles of downhill, I had to make it there today. I woke up about 6 o'clock, and by then I knew what to expect. In a few minutes, runners will start passing by. About an hour or so later, I'll meet first hikers. In about 2 hours, I'll meet the majority of people who started the trail today. By this time, all of it was clear and very predictable. I got up stuffed my dew-soaked quilt into the pack and started my final hike.

I ran out of water pretty quickly. I didn't have much to begin with, probably 4 or 5 sips, and the adventures of the week took their tall — I had to drink. I met a few people in the next mile or so, mostly runners, and you don't ask runners for water: they are on the clock, and they have smaller water reserves. I was lucky, again, to meet a fellow hiker who looked at me after I asked for a sip of water and just refilled my whole bottle. He explained that he's been in a similar situation more than once, and it was time for him to pay it forward. I was so grateful! A full bottle of water! I drank half of it within minutes :)

Crossing the last boulder field, dried out Swift creek and — finally — here's the intersection with a trail going downhill to the parking lot! I made it!

About an hour later, I put my backpack in the trunk of my car, and left Climbers Bivouac. Alive, hungry, dehydrated, sore and aching all over, dirty but happy that I made it.

Lessons Learned

Dehydrated food is nice, but it's useless without water. Same goes for sweet food. Also, always test any new trail food before taking it with you. There's a chance you are not compatible with it.

Fewer moving parts next time: no inflatable sleeping pad — no problem. No stove, no problem. You get the idea.

Water planning and management is key. Especially if you drink a lot. Consider trails with water readily available instead of hiking trails known for their long dry stretches.

Cowboy camping is ok. Not a fan, but it's totally an option in an open space. Wouldn't do it in a forest, though.

If you're set on a trail that you think may be more challenging than what you can handle, consider your exit strategy. More than once I though about exiting the trail. And every time I convinced myself that I shouldn't. If I had a clear strategy of when, where, why and how I could exit, I'd probably cut the trip short but also wouldn't suffer as much :)

Have your location beacon ready. More than once I was this close to pushing SOS button and just giving up. I passed out a few times and had difficulty standing up, and thought that this is it, an SOS situation. Ironically, it gave me a sense of confidence: well, I can always call for help, so let me just try and push a bit further, and if I absolutely cannot move anymore, I'll do the SOS thing. I never did, of course, but this option was very much on the table.

Now what?

For about 3 days after I got back home, I was recovering from severe dehydration and also eating like crazy. I bought a watermelon, a bunch of grapes, and a ton of other juicy fruit. I drank a lot, and it's hard to appreciate tap water enough until you have no access to water for days. All things considered, I recovered fairly quickly. But I still haven't unpacked my backpack.

For about a week after my return home, I was absolutely, 100% done with backpacking forever. Never again will I voluntarily subject myself to this kind of experience! NEVER!

About 2 weeks later, as I finishing this story, I'm thinking about where can I go next? What short, 1-2-night hike is easy enough yet interesting and exciting? And as of the time of this writing, I've got a few ideas ;) But to be completely honest, my 2020 backpacking season is probably over. I'm likely to take a few day hikes, an overnight maybe, but that's about it. Next year, I'll do this whole Loowit trail again, clockwise this time, earlier in the year when the water is abundant and all creeks are still flowing. With this experience, it's going to be a breeze and walk in a park! Right? RIGHT?!

I took a week off from hiking and planned to resume my adventures last Wednesday after work. I've got two days off (Thursday and Friday) and decided it's a great opportunity to try and go on a 3-night & 23-mile backpacking trip near Glacier Peak. Let me just say that it ended up being a 12-mile 2-night trip... 20 miles away from the trail I've initially planned to hike. It's a funny story, actually.

Let me back up a little. I plan my hikes in advance, and I put quite a bit of work into this planning. I want to know what to expect, what to prepare for, what to look forward to. Before I arrive at the trailhead, I usually have a map, a backup map, a plan, a route, planned campsites, Plan B campsites, water sources, sketchy river crossings and more. I also try to tailor the gear and supplies I take with me to the specifics of the trail I'm about to spend a few days on.

This trip was no exception. I planned to hike a 23-mile loop, starting at North Fork Skykomish river trailhead and going counter-clockwise via Cady Ridge towards Dishpan Gap and back along the river. It supposed to take me 3 full days (allowing for unexpected) and included climbing Benchmark Mountain and hiking about 6 miles of the Pacific Crest Trail.  

I planned to arrive at the trailhead before dark on Wednesday; it sounded like a sure thing. The road to trailhead was a fairly straight line from Index, WA which is fairly close to my house. With offline maps in hand, I packed my pack, got into my car and took off.

Now. When you turn a corner and see an old mossy sign saying that the road is closed ahead, don't disregard it. Maybe the sign is there for a reason, and Google Maps, Apple Maps and some other maps just don't know better. This was my first mistake — trusting technologies instead of a road sign. Anywho, about 13 miles from the trailhead I stopped at a road barricade saying "Road Closed". I was in such a shock that I didn't even make a photo, but here's the exact spot of the barricade.

Or here.

Anyway, suffice to say, the "Road Closed" sing was ironic redundant. Apparently, this section of the road washed away in 2006, and is now North Fork Skykomish river 🤷‍♂️

Picture this: 30 minutes before sunset, you're in the middle of nowhere. Your GPS tells you to take the riverbed for another 30 minutes, and you have no Plan B for this type of situation. What to do? Go home, admit defeat, regroup and try again tomorrow? But then 3-night hike would turn into a 2-night hike, and also it's just lame. Try to find a different road? Perhaps, but who knows how long it would take, and also what if there is no other road?!

Well, regroup and adapt is basically my life motto. So I regrouped. And adapted. What other trails I know in the vicinity that would guarantee at least 3 days worth of backpacking, have campsites and I know something about the trail itself? Bingo! There's a spot where PCT crosses Highway 2 just 30 minutes east of Index. I know PCT. I know there are campsites, water sources, and attractions, and boy does PCT guarantee 3 days worth of hiking!.. Onward!

At sunset, I arrived at Stevens Pass. I decided to take northbound trail; I parked my car, geared up and stepped on the trail. It's going to be an adventure!

About half a mile in, I realized that I forgot my hiking poles in the trunk. It wouldn't be a problem if my tent didn't require these poles. Alas, I went all the way back to the parking lot, mumbling quite elaborate curses under my breath. By the time I stepped on the trail again, it was dark. I already made the decision to attempt my first actual night hike (disregard forced night hike at White Pass!), so I strapped on my headlamp, turned it on and went ahead.

This section of the trail goes through ancestral land of Skokomish Nation. This particular section is on the very outskirts of their lands since the tribe historically lives along the Skykomish river, still this is Skokomish Indian Tribe land.

The new plan was to reach Valhalla Lake. Ironically, it's one of the super-popular hiking destinations in the area — I try really hard to avoid popular hikes at all costs. But remember? Regroup and adapt! So the new plan was to attempt this 6+ mile hike (~1,800 feet of elevation gain) and set up camp at the lake. Next day, hike along the PCT as far as I can, and the day after, push to get back in one go. Plan B was to hike right now as far as I can or until I find a suitable place to pitch up my tent. This Plan B very soon turned into Plan A. Hiking at night in the relative wilderness on an unfamiliar trail is very exciting, but since my ultimate goal was to get back home in one piece, I decided that I'll stop as soon as I find a good place for a tent.

Crossing streams in the dark with only a headlamp illuminating the way is such a surreal experience! The shimmering water, sparkling rocks, and complete darkness. A thrill!

About 3 miles in, I found a spot by a creek and decided to spend the night there. Since setting up my tent in the dark is now my second nature, it only took me about 10 minutes to get all set for the night.

I didn't get much sleep. Not sure if it was the excitement of an adventure, anxiety about ruined plans, or something else entirely, but I woke up groggy and sore. I refilled my water, had breakfast and spent probably an hour just relaxing, enjoying nature and not doing jack squat. At this point, I made an executive decision to hike to lake Valhalla and reassess my options. Should I hike further? Or should I spend the night at the lake and go back? 🤔

The hike was beautiful, as expected. Pretty easy, gentle incline, lots of shade and places to pause and breath.

The views are stunning, and I got really lucky considering a bunch of rain in the forecast.

Around 2 in the afternoon, I arrived at Lake Valhalla. It's a regular lake. Just a lake. Like, just like any other lake. It's pretty, but it's not a gem or something.

Whatever. By the time I got there, it was clear that my sleepless night left me no choice but to setup camp and take a nap. Which I did.

I napped for a few hours with bees buzzing in the background and hungry mosquitoes staring at me through the net side of my tent. When I woke up, I decided that I'm not going anywhere today. I'll stay here, make dinner, get some good night sleep and see how it goes. Do I hike further? Do I turn back? I'll think about it tomorrow.

When tomorrow came, I was conflicted about my immediate future. On one hand, I came here to hike, and turning back is admitting defeat. On the other hand, I have nowhere to hike, really; I don't know if there are significant features further down the trail, I don't have mile count in place to make sure I can return in time. I already wasted almost a day at the lake napping. Well, I guess it only makes sense to cut this short, return to the trailhead, and go back home. Breakfast, water refill, packing — and off I go.

It was raining half of my way back, and I was too lazy to put on my rain coat. What's the point? I'll be in my car in, like, an hour, and will dry out within minutes. Also, who doesn't love rain? What's wrong with you?! :)

On my way back home, I thought I'd get some closure and find the road to my originally planned trailhead. Before doing so, I stopped for a quick minute in a tiny town of Skykomish (~200 residents) and went to their world famous Great Northern & Cascade Railway museum. It's tiny, but welcoming and cute, and if you ask nicely, they'll show you their collection of telegraph keys and tell a story about 20,000 telegraph operators who were serving the road in the past and refused to teach their trade to anyone outside of their immediate families.

And after some more research, I figured out the road to the trailhead I was originally planning to go to. It took me over an hour to cover something around 20 miles from Skykomish to the trailhead, but I did it.

At the end of the day, I got to hike for a bit, spend two lazy days in nature, spooked a marmot, and found a way to the trailhead. Good times!

Next week is my vacation week, and I'm doing the Loowit trail — a 33-mile loop around Mt. St. Helens.  

Loowit Trail — Washington Trails Association

Ready for a stunning long hike through the otherwordly landscape of Mount St. Helens? The Loowit Trail reveals the volcano and the blast zone in all its raw glory.

This week my report comes a bit late but for a good reason. I just returned from my 2-night hike to White Pass, and jeesh was it rough! Now I'm thinking it would be madness to attempt the Stevens Pass to Snoqualmie Pass, Section J, of the PCT this year. Hell, I'm not even sure I can do my Plan B, the Loowit Trail anymore! But hey, let me decompress a little, think, plan some more and see how it goes.

60,000+ steps, 600 floors.

I also lost 8 lbs in 2 days.

The plan was simple: arrive at Sloan Creek campground on Thursday, camp for the night. On Friday hike to White Pass. On Saturday hike back. Simple enough.

As always, I had a plan B: hike to Mackinaw shelter, camp there, and hike back on Saturday. This would be a chill and relaxed 12 miles over two day.

North Fork Sauk River — Washington Trails Association

Some trails go to lakes, some to high viewpoints. This trail is all about the forest, and what a forest it is! Old-growth trees reach for the sky on either side of a brush-free trail, since understory is minimal when the big old trees block out the light. Find fantastic mushrooms here in the fall a…

Hike by WTA Correspondents: Jim Kuresman

North Fork Sauk to White Pass

Distance 9.40 mi | Time 9:48:03 | Pace 1:2:31 min/mi | Elevation 6,151 ft

White Pass to Sloan creek

Distance 9.97 mi | Time 8:09:33 | Pace 49:08 min/mi | Elevation 1,927 ft

Adventure

This was my first Hard trail, and I didn't expect it to be any less then a painful struggle with payoff in a form of spectacular overview of Washington's Cascade peaks and chill evenings in my tent.

Of course, nothing went according to plan.

I arrived at the parking lot later than planned. I knew that Mountain Loop highway was pretty bad, and indeed 16 miles from Darrington down to Forest Service road 49 (it's actually marked as NF-49, National Forest road) and then about 7 miles to the trailhead took me over an hour. The road is rough but passable, even for someone in a Civic Coupe.

Anyway, Thursday night was pretty empty at the campground, and I had no issue setting up my tent in a secluded area not too far from the river.

It was raining a little bit, and setting up a new tent for the first time in the wild was not too fun. Moreover, apparently, I didn't bring enough ground stakes. As a result, I didn't get proper ventilation inside the tent overnight and I woke up all damp and wet: condensation is a bitch.

After breakfast, I hit the trail towards Mackinaw Shelter, a known landmark at the end of the North Fork Saul trail right before it climbs uphill to White Pass. Unfortunately, the shelter collapsed a few years ago. Now it's just a bunch of rubble :(

Still, there's a nice campground area around with river access, and it's perfectly suited for a nice and chill overnight or a relaxing lunch break.

The trail all the way to the shelter goes relatively flat along the North Fork Sauk river through Sauk-Suiattle native land. It's mostly shaded and crosses a bunch of tiny streams. There's only one place on the trail that requires some scrambling due to a downed tree.

Quiet, chill stroll among the old growth forest. A lot of moss, green, shade, a lot of little critters running around. Mosquitos are a concern.

Anyway, after a quick lunch at Mackinaw Shelter campground, I made an executive decision to proceed all the way to White Pass, 3,000 ft ascent over ~3 miles. It was around 4 pm and I figured I'd be there before dark. Boy, was I wrong.

The trail starts at around 3,000 ft of elevation, and for the next 3 miles it goes straight up. Yes, there are switchbacks, but it's for real, a full-on ascent non-stop. There are no flat segments. The trail itself is much different from a soft forest trail. It's very rocky in places, there are a few spots where the trail becomes a stream for a few yards; on my way back, I slipped and fell flat on my butt in one of these streams 😂

I was moving very slowly. I was taking short breaks every few hundred yards, long breaks every 500 ft of elevation gain. Yes, my pace was at about 2 hours/mile, but I'm absolutely convinced that this approach is the only reason I was able to make it all the way to the top. But you know what they say: HYOH.

The weather was fairly clear, but the ascent was so strenuous that I took only a few pictures. "After I get to top, tomorrow, I'll make all the pictures in the world, from a better position!", I though.

I ended up traveling the last mile and a half in complete darkness. My headlamp died on me, it started drizzling, and a thick fog settled around. So here I am, in the dark, on a narrow trail on a mountainside with about 3000-feet drop on the right and a vertical hill on the left; by this time, I ran out of water, and illuminated my way with my iPhone flashlight. After a Fucking Fuck creek (yes, I named a dried out creek, sue me!), I finally came across a stream and refilled my water bottle. I successfully made it to the intersection of my trail with the PCT, and from there it was a fairly easy hike to White Pass camp area.

When my iPhone died, I found another, dimmer flashlight and used it to navigate the camp area. In the fog, at night and through drizzle, it was not easy. So much so that as soon as I saw a lit tent in the distance, I started to look for any flat surface to pitch my tent. While stumbling around a meadow, I startled a bunch of deer, who didn't expect me there at that hour, I guess.

Now, I'm in some meadow, exhausted, wet, aching all over, my backup flashlight is about to die, and I need to pitch a tent that is still very new to me. It took me about 20 minutes to complete this task, and by the time I got inside and set my sleeping system, it was close to midnight. I sent a check-in message to family and dropped asleep.

Yeah, morning was refreshing. It was cloudy and foggy, and you couldn't see anything anywhere. Which is a pity; one of the points of hiking this high and seeing all the peaks and volcanoes... Oh, well.

Here's a picture of gorgeous 10,500-feet Glacier Peak, known in the Sauk-Suiattle dialect of the Lushootseed language as "Tda-ko-buh-ba" or "Takobia". It is the most isolated stratovolcano in the Cascade Range. Beautiful, isn't it? It's the 4th highest point in Washington after Tahoma, Pahto, and Kulshan (Rainier, Adams and Baker)

After breakfast, I refilled all my water containers, and headed back to the parking lot. White Pass is a pretty busy area at this time of year with a lot of hikers and climbers arriving on Saturday morning. By this time I looked dirty, wet and tired enough for incoming hikers to ask me where the nearest water source is, how to get to the camp or this other trail, where toilets are and so on. On my long and fairly slow descent, I met a lot of people (mostly climbers) and we had a few brief conversations. A bunch of people who overtook me were in my camp of disappointed by the weather.

A quick peak-a-boo of Mt. Jackson is all I've got on my way back. I can only imagine how fantastically beautiful the scenery is on a clear day!..

I wanted to stop at Mackinaw Shelter again on my way back for a break and water refill, but I missed it. I was looking for a creek crossing first, never crossed this creek, and when I finally got to it, well, Mackinaw Shelter was like 2 miles back.

The creek I was looking for was Red Creek; it has a nice camping area with a ton of spacious dispersed tent spots, firepits and such. But for me, it was all about the creek at that point. I just laid on my back besides roaring water before refilling my water bottle and heading straight back to the parking lot.

About a mile away from the trailhead, another peak-a-boo happened, that I didn't really expect. It was just after sunset, and it was a nice (if a bit ironic) closure to my peak-watching hike.

Notes

I forgot my hat and had to fashion headgear out of a face mask (?)

Looks like, as always, I carried 70% more food than needed. I literally only had 2 breakfasts and 2 snacks. I brought 4 full meals and most snacks back.

After my hactic night arrival at White Pass, my pack got disorganized beyond repair. By morning, I was unable to organize it back to the proper state. Need to learn this skill.

My hiking shoes are .5 size too small. I mean, they are half a size larger then I'd normally wear, but it's still too small. Will try to exchange them for a bigger pair at REI 🤞

I ran out of bug spray. There must be some other way to repell mosquitos without bathing in bug spray 🤔

Never ever under any circumstances cut costs on your headlamp. Buy the best and most reliable one, it could save you not only a ton of comfort at night but also a leg or your life.

I love using hydration bladder, it's so convenient. But it's such a hassle to refill it (take it out of the pack, wash it, fill it, put it back, connect a filter). Not sure what to do about it.

Lessons Learned

• I can hike 3,000 feet up over 3 miles and not die.
• I can setup an unfamiliar tent in total darkness in the rain with only a phone's flashlight.
• Going down is easier, but it will still fuck you up in the end, although not as much as going up.
• When I'm exhausted I turn numb: I no longer feel pain in my muscles, or remember to drink or eat. This is a blessing and a curse: I can go farther and longer as a result without much pain or suffering, but I also get dehydrated, could injure myself mildly without realizing it for a while, become less aware of my surroundings and get generally sluggish and a bit wobbly.
• I need to fit my pack better. Something happened to it along the way, and it really did a number on my shoulders and upper back.

P.S. Here's what the views behind the clouds were

I'll definitely have to do this hike again. Because here's what I've missed.

Backpacking the White Pass/Pilot Ridge Loop in the Glacier Peak Wilderness - TrailChick

3 days backpacking the White Pass/Pilot Ridge loop in the Glacier Peak Wilderness. Wildflowers, green meadows, alpine lakes, and mountains for miles.

TrailChickTrailChick

Glacier Peak Summit via White Pass and Glacier Basin

Bagging the most remote of the Cascade volcanoes after a long approach and a ton of elevation

Fred VogelMyCrookedPath

Time for my weekly hiking report. For further accountability, I'm planing a week-long PCT hike from Stevens Pass to Snoqualmie Pass in early September, and that's a big reason why I'm trying to stick to this weekly training schedule. The hike I'll attempt is 63-mile stretch of the Pacific Crest Trail with total elevation gain of over 15,000 ft, so it makes sense to give my best shot at shorter and easier hikes at first, and gradually increase difficulty. Unsurprisingly, ever hike is much easier to hike than the one a week earlier: it's like my body really missed this kind of thing, and soaks it all in. Also, there's certainly a kind of low base effect: my fitness level is barely above zero, so it's fairly easy to make progress :)

This week I hit a trail that was marked as moderate in difficulty and heavy trafficked. It was one of the most enjoyable hikes I had so far, and while I wouldn't consider it "easy", it's probably on the easier side of "moderate".

Goat Lake — Washington Trails Association

A nice hike with plenty of variety. Beautiful forest, a rushing creek, waterfalls of all shapes and sizes, history, and of course a large blue-green lake surrounded by snowy peaks. At 10.4 miles, it can be either a day-hike or a quick early season overnight. You won’t be alone, though – this is a…

Mike Scavezze

The trail goes over Sauk-Suiattle ancestral land — it's basically next door (right across the ridge) to the Monte Cristo trail I hiked last week. It gently eases you into gradual ascent, offering some truly stunning views along the Elliot Creek. The creeks flows out of the Goat Lake, originally called Sweetleehachu by Sauk-Suiattle people. As soon as you get to the top of the waterfall, you've reached your destination.

There's a section of the trail where you can choose your own adventure: hike like a normal person on a bunch of switchbacks but miss the bottom of the waterfall, or go straight to the bottom of the waterfall.

If you choose to check out the falls, you'll have to then climb (and I mean climb) about 150 feet, pretty much vertically, over about 130 yards of distance. It's fun, a change of pace and it was a bit of challenge for me. Just a couple switchbacks later you get a first glimpse of the lake:

The lake is absolutely gorgeous. It's quiet, serene, clear and ice-cold. Although the trail is marked as heavily trafficked, I only met, like, 5 other parties along the trail, one other group at the lake, and when the left, I got the whole lake to myself.

My lunch spot this time was right on the lake shore, but I was not hungry enough to cook. I munched a few strips of bacon jerky, refilled my hydration pack with filtered lake water, chilled for a bit an headed back, leaving this view behind.

On my way back with about 1.7 miles left to the trailhead, I had my first wild bear encounter. We didn't exchange pleasantries, but gave each other a nod: two apex predators, one — stinky, grumpy and dangerously hungry, and the other one — a friendly American black bear.

Encountering a bear was a fresh experience. Throughout this hike I heard weird noises more than a few times. Snapping branches, strange grumbling sounds, random tree shaking and such. So I was well aware that there's wildlife around me and was actively scanning and making occasional noises to make sure I don't startle an animal. As a result, this little fella knew I was nearby when our eyes met. The bear had a look of something between mild curiosity and indifference, so I braved taking this grainy picture from about 30-40-yard distance and was on my way back to the trailhead.

Just got back from my weekly hike. This one was fairly relaxing, and I'd even say it was more of a walk in a park but with extra steps (and obstacles). The first obstacle was the drive: the trailhead is 1.5 hours away from my house, but it's an easy and nice drive on a day like this.

...In 1907 the township of Monte Cristo had been abandoned by the miners and eventually turned into a resort of sorts. Recreational enterprise turned out to be more successful than mining operations, and the town survived for a few decades. In 1983, after the Lodge was destroyed by a fire, the town was finally abandoned for good. It stays there for the past almost 40 years as a ghost of itself. Very few original structures from the late 1800 and early 1900 remain on site, and it's safe to say that the site now has more recreational than historic value.

Still, it's a ghost town, and you can only get there by following the old Monte Cristo Road turned into a hiking trail.

The trail goes over Sauk-Suiattle ancestral land, mostly along the Sauk river. The name "Sauk" comes from the Sah-kee-ma-hu — the name of the tribe in Lushootseed, one of the Coast Salish languages native to Pacific Northwest. The river is ice cold and furious at times, with roaring rapids and cute little waterfalls.

The trail is fairly level and flat with about 790 ft of elevation gain along its 9-mile out-and-back course. Plenty of shade, scenic rest spots, and only a few rough and rocky segments.

The trickiest part is crossing the Sauk early on: the bridge and old road got washed away and the only way to cross is either by fallen trees or ford it. It's shallow enough to cross in waterproof shoes.

In all honesty, the township itself is underwhelming. Just a few building (all of the are "new"), an old mining cart, a railroad turntable, and a few artifacts from the old town. It would be better if the trail was called "Old Monte Cristo Road" to establish proper expectations.

Monte Cristo Ghost Town — Washington Trails Association

Hike to an old mining town by heading up a long-closed road along the South Fork Sauk River. This route largely sticks to the old route taken by miners over a century ago.

All in all, a nice relaxing hike perfect for a lazy day-off. It's worth mentioning that there's plenty of camping spots and campgrounds along the trail, so I may be checking it out again for a quick overnight someday.

The Heather Lake trail is located in the North Cascades' Mt. Baker-Snoqualmie National Forest, one of the most visited forests in the country. The trail itself goes over ancestral lands of the Stillaguamish people, and climbs along and across the hill, mostly along the Heather creek. The trail features old growth forest, waterfalls, a few streams along, across and on the trail, and finally a fairly nice lake in a quite spectacular setting.

Heather Lake — Washington Trails Association

After you’ve explored a few trails with your little one, the Heather Lake trail makes a wonderful next step. It’s the perfect place to take children on their first ‘real’ hike. The trail is short, but steep and challenging--it’ll give a child a real sense of accomplishment once they reach the lake. …

Linda Roe

A few years ago, I broke my leg. It happened just a few months before my wife and I were supposed to hike to the rim of Mt. St. Helens (originally known as Loowit by the Cowlitz and Klickitat people). I haven't hiked ever since. I'd even go as far as to say that I haven't hiked since we moved from Portland are to Seattle.

Anyway, last week I desided that it's time to get back in the game. I plan to do one hike every week, and do an overnight hike somewhere in the North Cascades by the end of summer.

There are different reasons for hiking. Some hike because it's a workout, some tend to go on a hike to hunt for Instagram photos. For some it's a conquest: to claim, to get to the top, to finish a 50-mile loop in a day. For me personally it's an adventure. I walk, through woods, rivers and mountains, I explore this "wilderness", I make some camping food for lunch making it with the river water. I don't care about elevation gain or distance (other than in practical terms: can I make it?); I don't care about the scenary per se, although I like when I can bring back some pictures. I don't care if I finish the trail. I don't care if I overcome something, "survive" or whatever. I only care about the adventure, exploration and lunch.

Wallace Falls State Park — Washington Trails Association

An accessible hike for seasoned veterans and neophytes alike, Wallace Falls provides visitors with breathtaking views of the Wallace River and the surrounding falls on a relatively low difficulty, scenic 5.6 mile round-trip. Although well attended and often busy, the trail stands as a true showcase …

Conor Dempsey

In recent days, I was brutally humbled into this realization that I have not a clue about what’s going on in this country. I've been calling America my home for the past 8 years, but apparently I know nothing about its history, culture, struggles and pain; how it came about, who built it, and what happened along the way. I’ve been looking for resources that could help me learn and understand more. I want to share some of these resources: I can’t be the only person who had no idea how deep and systemic racism is in America and elsewhere.

There are many, many more fantastic resources to get you started. I should probably catalog them in a more organized format.

Seeing White

Phenomenal podcast series, must-listen. Uncomfortable, painful, enraging, humbling.

Seeing White

Dismantling White Supremacy And The 5 Stages of Grief

As straightforward as it sounds. Most importantly, prevents you from fucking up unnecessarily in the very beginning of your journey.

Dismantling White Supremacy And The 5 Stages of Grief

So, for many white people, the past two years have been sort of a earth-shattering wakeup call regarding the realities of living in the United States and in many other parts of the world. Many of you…

KimCrayton1 🏢 💻🎙Medium

Uncomfortable Conversations with a Black Man

After going through other resources first, this video didn't feel as uncomfortable as it might've been just a week ago. But make no mistake: this is not something that's going to validate your "not-racism".

How to Be an Antiracist

An essential how-to for White people on going from being a harmful “I’m not a racist” (basically, just a racist but with extra steps) to becoming, in fact, an anti-racist.

How to Be an Antiracist

From the National Book Award-winning author of Stamped from the Beginning comes a “groundbreaking” (Time) approach to understanding and uprooting racism and inequality in our society--and in ourselves. “The most courageous book to date on the problem of race in the Wester…

Bookshop

Algorithms of Oppression: How Search Engines Reinforce Racism

This one is directly applicable to what we as an industry do. It's really no just about search engines, but about everything we do in tech.

Algorithms of Oppression: How Search Engines Reinforce Racism

A revealing look at how negative biases against women of color are embedded in search engine results and algorithms Run a Google search for “black girls”--what will you find? “Big Booty” and other sexually explicit terms are likely to come up as top search terms. But, if you type in “white girls,” …

Bookshop

13th (2016)

A movie set free by Netflix and available on Youtube now. Disheartening and shocking.

Last Week Tonight: Police

The latest installment of John Oliver’s brutally honest look at white supremacy and the role police play in enforcing it.

The Hate U Give

Inspired by a true story. By any true story of an unarmed Black person being killed by police with impunity. I haven't watched a movie, but it exists and available as well: The Hate U Give (2018)

The Hate U Give

8 starred reviews ∙ Goodreads Choice Awards Best of the Best ∙ William C. Morris Award Winner ∙ National Book Award Longlist ∙ Printz Honor Book ∙ Coretta Scott King Honor Book ∙ #1 New York Times Bestseller!“Absolutely riveting!” --Jason Reynolds”Stunning.” --John Green”This story is necessary. Th…

Bookshop

How to Be Black

Funny and light yet brutally honest, as most things Baratunde does.

How to Be Black

The Onion’s Baratunde Thurston shares his 30-plus years of expertise in being black, with helpful essays like “How to Be the Black Friend,” “How to Speak for All Black People,” “How To Celebrate Black History Month,” and more, in this satirical guide to race issues--written for black people and thos…

Bookshop

Also check out his amazing TED talk:

Just Mercy (2020)

Free for a limited time on Apple platform. A story of a backwards justice system, in which justice is a privilege defined by the color of your skin.

Just Mercy on Apple TV

A powerful and thought-provoking true story, “Just Mercy” follows young lawyer Bryan Stevenson (Jordan) and his history-making battle for justice. Aft…

Apple TV

Salute (2008)

Many have seen this famous picture: three athletes, two of them Black with their fists raised. But there's so much more to this story.

Salute (2008) - IMDb

Salute is a movie starring Christopher Kirby, Bob Beamon, and Ralph Boston. The black power salute at the 1968 Mexico Olympics was an iconic moment in the US civil rights movement. What part did the white Australian who ran second...

IMDb

I can't believe this has to be said out loud again and again in 2020.

I can't believe some people find this controversial.

I can't believe some people are more outraged by property damage than by routine murders of unarmed black Americans by the police that go unpunished.

I can't believe someone can be a white supremacist, racist or nationalist and not be shunned by society.

Racism is bad. Racists are bad.

A wise man once said: "A riot is the language of the unheard". I wholeheartedly support protests around the country. If you have to riot, do what you have to do. Try to be safe. Avoid hurting local small businesses if possible. Stand up for you community. Make sure you're heard by any means necessary.

I don't post about civil matters too often. But sometimes I just can't keep quiet.

So, I guess it's a series now. In our last installment, we walked through the reason behind the project and my vague ideas about how to go about it.

Todoist Smart Reschedule

Instead of looking for Todoist alternatives, I decided to implement my own Smart Reschedule feature, which they removed from the app not long ago.

Art RosnovskyRosnovsky Park™

Now, I've been tinkering with the project for a little bit and want to share some of my observations and where things stand at the moment.

Not much has changed in how I think I will approach task rescheduling. However, I tweaked the parameters a bit. Let me recap:

• Task age in days multiplied by -(Task priority) = Reschedule Score: a five-day old task with a no priority (Task priority:4) gets a score of -20. A two-day old task with top priority (1) will get a score of -2.
• Tasks are divided into two groups: overdue and future. Tasks within each group are sorted descending by Reschedule Score: a task with the score of -2 will be ranked higher than a task with a score of -20.  I bet there's a more elegant solution, but for now this will do.
• I removed the number of times the task had already been rescheduled before: it's evident to me now that this datapoint is not relevant: if a task has been rescheduled 20 times, it doesn't add anything to its importance (likely, the other way around). For now, I removed it from the equation.
• Extra data: I decided to also fetch labels and projects from Todoist. I don't know yet how I'm going to use it exactly (other than showing what task belongs to what project/label). I also decided to fetch my overall Todoist stats (completed tasks, Karma and so on), so that if I get to creating a UI, I have all the data I want to showcase.

Next steps

Next, I need to figure out how to go about, well, rescheduling tasks. As of this moment, the plan is this:

• Figure out a good way to grade future days based on how many tasks they have and how important these tasks are. Maybe, priority multiplied by number of tasks? I need to figure out a way to reverse priority so that top priority task weighs more than low priority. A day with 3 medium priority tasks and 2 top priority tasks will then have a day score of 12. I can set a maximum capacity for a given day of 15 points, so for such day I'll only be able to add one top priority task or 1 medium priority and 1 low priority, or 3 low priority tasks. Not sure it's smart enough, though 🤔
• Figure out the actual rescheduling process. I mean, literally, how do I reschedule tasks using Todoist API? Do I need to specify due time and date or is the date enough? Can I reschedule tasks relatively, as in "reschedule this 5 days in future if task score fits day's capacity"?
• Do I need a backup? Should I store fetched tasks somewhere just in case?
• Is there any existing "science" behind rescheduling stuff?

TypeScript

I get distracted by shiny new objects really easily. Last night, I came across two fairly old talks on TypeScript:

As a result, I've completely rewritten my little serverless fetchTasks.js in TypeScript. It's a fantastic low-pressure introduction. Since TypeScript compiles to plain JavaScript, it remains a valid serverless lambda function, while I get to take full advantage of TypeScript: types, amazing IDE support, suggestions and so on. And since I'm at a ground level of this project, it was really easy to figure out what types and interfaces I need and where I can get the most benefits moving forward.

Typed JavaScript at Any Scale.

TypeScript extends JavaScript by adding types to the language. TypeScript speeds up your development experience by catching errors and providing fixes before you even run your code.

Visual Studio Code - Code Editing. Redefined

Visual Studio Code is a code editor redefined and optimized for building and debugging modern web and cloud applications. Visual Studio Code is free and available on your favorite platform - Linux, macOS, and Windows.

Visual Studio Code

Anyway, stick around if you want to see me stumble around and make this thing happen after all!

Bonus

Here's a sneak peak of what my current funcion returns. Future tasks are also included. All of this is also sorted by rescheduleScore and importanceScore for past due and future tasks respectively. As you can see, there's an interesting bug/feature: tasks that are due tomorrow (within a few hours from now) are considered overdue (which is a bug), but receive the highest rescheduleScore (which is a feature). I will fix this later  by making sure that tasks with zero days left are not considered overdue 🤷‍♂️

It's been just over 6 month since I joined Auth0 as their newest Developer Support Engineer. A bunch of my highbrow friends were very condescending. "Oh, tech support. Good for you. With time, you'll become a real engineer". I shrugged these comments off back then, but now I think it was cute of them to say things like this. As in "Aww, honey. You have no idea what you're talking about" :)

New Job: Auth0

I started this year with a resolution, that I will upgrade my job, and will not compromise on anything in the process.

Art RosnovskyRosnovsky Park™

The main reason for my chirpy attitude towards my then-new position has always been the fact that I enjoy troubleshooting and solving unexpected and obscure practical, real-life problems. I also really enjoy helping smarter people figure out stuff that I know more about. Not only does it expose me to a wide variety of systems and engineering approaches, it also gives me a chance to connect with some fantastic people and soak in a ton of exclusive experiences. When you get to collaborate with some of the brightest engineers from the most forward-looking companies in the world on their critical cybersecurity infrastructure, it's something that is very easy for me to enjoy.

I came up with some quick observations as well as misconceptions I want to share.

People who ask for help are not stupid

A common misconception in the IT world is that people who reach out to their support are dumb. They can't figure things out on their own. They don't know what they are doing. They ask dumb questions. You get the idea. This can't be further from the truth.

In my case, identity and cybersecurity is extremely complex (to put it mildly), and smartest people, smartest engineers reach out to us when they exhaust every other option available to them. There's nothing else they can do without some very specific expertise. In no way am I implying here that I now possess this expertise, but I certainly am in a better position to provide helpful advice. Sometimes, this advice is very specific to Auth0, but sometimes it's more specific to identity quirks (and by identity I mean authorization, authentication, user identity, role-based access control, OAuth, OIDC and multitude of other protocols, and so forth). It's so cool, I can't even.

Be clear who's side you are on

This can be a bit controversial. I always make it clear that even though I work at Auth0, I'm here to represent the customer within Auth0. I first consider whatever the pain they encountered to be our fault. It's kind of an "innocent until proven guilty" approach: a customer got in a pickle and it's on us until or unless I can prove otherwise. I find this perspective to be quite helpful. You don't ask "have you tried turning it off and on again", you assume that you are the last resort for the customer. They tried everything, and ended up nowhere. Is it because our docs are bad? Is it because our product is difficult to use? Is it a bug on our end? An outage? Until I can rule these out, it's on me to make sure the customer is aware of what I'm looking for first.

When we implement a change that affects customers, I made it a point to get a clear message to them: I will raise hell internally to make sure that the customer's voice is heard loud and clear, and that their concerns will be taken seriously.

Screw-ups happen

In the last 6 months I screwed up more than once. I've sent a response meant for one customer to a different person with a different issue. I sent responses that were factually wrong. I misassigned a case in such a way that it went unnoticed for a week. I probably missed an SLA for a ticket resolution more than once. These things do happen and will happen, even in such a diverse, distributed, remote team of talented personalities as we have. They do happen less often with experience, yet there's no way to avoid this stuff entirely. Which brings us to my next point.

Sincere apologies go a long way

There are a few ways to apologize for your mistakes. One way is to say that you apologize for the poor experience. Another one it to express something along these lines:

Shit, I screwed up :( Like, I'm so very sorry. Jeez, what a disaster. This is not at all how I want you to experience Auth0. I'll make it up to you.

Obviously, the phrasing is different, but the sentiment remains clear. Whenever possible, I follow up with specifics: here's what happened, here's why I screwed up, these are the steps I'm taking to fix it, and here's why it will never happen again. Only once it didn't go too well: a customer got all snarky and passive-aggressive. Yet, I don't blame them; apologies are not a "free get out of jail" card. They are meant to convey, with 100% transparency, your fuckup exactly as it happened and what you're doing in response. That's it. If an occasional customer doesn't accept it, it's their right. At least, I'm doing all I can.

It's worth saying that in the absolutely vastest majority of cases, a sincere apology turned a disgruntled customer into a raving fan supporter.

You can't know everything

Sometimes I feel like I'm drowning in a sea of information, knowledge, tricks, quirks, specifics, edge cases and so on. One of my much senior colleagues demonstrated early on that there's no shame in not knowing something. Not because it's ok to be lazy and stop learning things, but because there's absolutely no way a single person can possibly know everything, even in their special area of expertise. If I don't know something, I just go and learn about it and move on. That's it.

You know the product better than most

This one is my favorite. As developer support engineer, I get to touch pretty much every aspect of Auth0 products. I mean it: from sales to UI all the way to the core underlying tech and concepts. And I venture here and there on a daily basis. I won't pretend that I, in fact, do know our products better than most, not by a long shot. But also — not yet. Being exposed to all sorts of complex problems each element of Auth0 deals with and solves, not only helps me stay on my toes but also offers a great 30-thousand-feet view of everything we do as well as specific lines of code that are responsible for every aspect of the product.

I've been sad recently since Todoist removed the Smart Reschedule feature from the application. For me personally, it was one of the most used features. Whenever I get overwhelmed with overdue tasks, usually on Fridays, I'd just hit "Reschedule". Todoist would just move all overdue tasks to the next week, minding their priority, existing daily task load and so forth. Now that it's gone, my first instinct was to look for a different tool. Unfortunately, there's nothing there that I like enough to switch. And then I thought: wait a second, why can't I implement something like this myself? I mean, there's an API available from Todoist, I've got my VS Code and some spare time on my hands... So here goes.

Honestly, I have no idea where it's going or whether something will come of it. I'm just going to document it for the time being and see how it goes.

Plan

So, Todoist has an API available to developers. There's a bunch of stuff I'll be using, but first and foremost — authentication.

With this out the way, let's move on to the sync endpoint. This endpont provides us with whatever we're looking for, by resource type (literally, it's called resource_type).

https://developer.todoist.com/sync/v8/

I can request all tasks right here by specifying resource_type=["items"]. Now we are getting somewhere. Here's what a sample item looks like.

{
      "day_order": 3,
      "assigned_by_uid": null,
      "labels": [
        268788653,
        2154348394
      ],
      "sync_id": null,
      "section_id": null,
      "in_history": 0,
      "child_order": 11,
      "date_added": "2020-04-03T20:17:03Z",
      "id": 3794087901,
      "content": "Follow up [REDACTED]",
      "checked": 0,
      "added_by_uid": 536129,
      "user_id": 536129,
      "due": {
        "date": "2020-07-05T20:00:00Z",
        "timezone": "America/Los_Angeles",
        "is_recurring": true,
        "string": "every 1 months at 13:00",
        "lang": "en"
      },
      "priority": 4,
      "parent_id": null,
      "is_deleted": 0,
      "responsible_uid": null,
      "project_id": 2225607519,
      "date_completed": null,
      "collapsed": 0
    },

What we need here is item's priority, due date information, content, date added to figure out the item's age, whether it's deleted or not and whether it's completed or not. This is the bare minimum, that would allow us to know if we should care about the item (not completed, not deleted), is the item overdue (is the due date in the past), how old the item is, what's its priority and what it's all about.

Just for the sake of argument, here's a basic function to fetch some of this data:

// I'm using Netlify Functions so we need to require node-fetch
const fetch = require("node-fetch");

// We don't need the `req` object here, but I was wondering what kind of stuff can I get if I trigger a webhook whenever a task is updated or created. How else could I trigger this function regularly?..

exports.handler = async (req) => {
  const itemsArray = [];
  const data = await fetch(`https://api.todoist.com/sync/v8/sync`, {
    method: "POST",
    body: JSON.stringify({"resource_types": ['items']}),
    headers: { "Authorization": "Bearer ...", "Content-Type": "application/json" }
  })
  const items = await data.json();
  const list = await items.items // don't ask
  
  const processItems = async (list) => {
// initially, I wanted to just validate the items and return those I'm concerned about
const validItems =[]; 
    const validItemsCheck = list.map(item => {
      if(item.due && item.due.is_recurring === false && Date.now() > new Date(item.due.date).getTime() && ...){
        const itemObject = {
          item: {
            id: item.id,
            content: item.content,
            due: item.due,
            rescheduleScore: item.priority * 10 // magic coeffecient
          },
        }
        validItems.push(itemObject)
      }
    })
    return validItems;
  }

  return ({"body": JSON.stringify({"overdue": await processItems(list)}), "statusCode": 200})
}

It's not perfect, but it works. What I get in return is an array of items of interest with some of their metadata. Great start. Let's leave it at that for now.

What's next

Now that I've got items I'm interested in, time to think what am I going to do with them.

Analyze

First, I need to analyze the situation for 10 upcoming days. Why 10? No reason. I need to figure out how many upcoming tasks of each priority I've got on each individual day. This will give me a map of the future. With this information, I'll be able to find out the exact number of free spots and how many tasks of different priorities I can reschedule to each day.

Process the tasks

I need to check some stuff for my overdue items first.

• When was the task created? This point may or may not be important later since it indicates how old the task is. A task I scheduled 2 years ago is probably something important, and I don't want it to slip through the cracks.
• When was the original due date? Basically, how long has it been since the task expired? What day of the week was it? I'll try to see if I can reschedule this task to the same day of the week, if possible.
• What's the original priority? If the task is important, it gets rescheduled first.
• Come up with a "score". In order to properly prioritize how I reschedule tasks, I will assign them a score. I tried to come up with some sensible way to do this:

Not sure if any of this makes sense, but what I finally came up with is this:

Reversed Priority * (Task age in days + how many times has it been rescheduled)

We'll see if it works or not. For now, I'll stick to this.

I'll post as soon as I get the above working to some extent. Stay tuned.

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