We left Stehekin, after loading up on bakery food, with a big group of people. We got hiking and were moving at a really good pace. A bit later into the day I came around a corner to find my friends, Sad Fish and Shutter, helping a man up from a creek crossing. Nothing looked wrong at first until I noticed the man's sopping wet clothes and Sad Fish told me about a large gash on the back of his head. Being a wilderness first responder, I jumped into action and started to check out the man's wounds. He was very lucky to only have minor injuries from the fall that he took. He did not have a concussion and the head wound had already stopped bleeding. I cleaned him up and told him to get some dry clothes on. Luckily he had a friend with him so I sent them on their way and told him to see someone when the got into town early the next day. We made it to camp after the ordeal and had a nice dinner together, chatting about how close we were to the end. We were lazy the next morning and didn't get out of camp till ten, which meant night hiking again. The next day we had a bunch of miles to make up for the day before so we began our last marathon day. It was very cold all day and we night hiked into camp. Apparently we arrived ten minutes after a bear had come through, losing our last chance to see a bear on the trip. We went to bed feeling giddy, knowing tomorrow we would walk across the border into Canada. Suddenly on the last day, we ran into a ton of people. Some I hadn't seen since the desert(they had caught up by hitching around areas mostly). We moved fast and the excitement was palpable. A mile from the border I started to get a very weird feeling in the pit of my stomach. I thought "this is it. In 20 minutes I'll have completed this journey I never thought I would finish." Instead of being ecstatic, I felt incredibly bittersweet. Was I ready for this all to be over? To leave the people I've spent my life with everyday for months? I wasn't ready. As I walked up and saw the monument in view, a small part of me wanted to turn around. There was a large group who cheered and I was welcomed with a large Sad Fish hug. I touched the monument and let out a sigh of relief. I had made it. 2,660 miles in five months and five days. A couple minutes later, the rest of our group came in and it finally felt right. We hung out at the monument for hours, taking pictures and reading the final trail register. We camped close by and made it the nine miles put to a town the next morning. We ran into our final piece of trail magic as we hit the road and enjoyed a glass of champagne. Through everything, hiking the Pacific Crest trail was the best decision I have ever made with my life. If you've ever had an inkling to do it, DO IT! You won't regret it. Just put one foot in front of the other.