Justin Kernes 7/12/19 Justin Kernes 7/12/19

PCT 2018: Days 88-92, Ashland to Crater Lake

Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 88-92 from Ashland to Crater Lake, mile 1,700-1,820.

July 31, Day 88
0 miles [1717.7]

Spent the night under a desk which was exactly my size. Slept in until 6 A.M. which counts as late, giving us plenty of time to enjoy a continental breakfast, an event which I usually find scheduled far too early to be useful. Enjoyed a couple hard boiled eggs and a bagel with an atrocious amount of single-serving cream cheese pucks as well as coffee and orange juice just like TV ads say I should. It was a stressful day but I’ve come to expect that from town and resupply missions. The girls took charge on deciphering the public bus system. Two bus rides later we made it to Medford which had a mega shopping center and everything we “needed”. Did Kohl’s first figuring I could spend less. I found a new shirt solution in the Men’s Athletic section for only $30 and said goodbye to my Frakensteinian spirithood creation. Gang had been fantasizing about REI and despite my frugal ethos I gave in with ease, after all, I needed pants. The kind associate took me to the kids section and grabbed a large after I insisted I was currently wearing a 30 and needed something smaller. They fit like a glove and for $50 I had to remind myself it was a necessity. Also picked up a new water filter—goodbye 6 min/L fill times. With most of our gear-related issues addressed, we couldn’t resist the smell of In-N-Out any longer. Cheeseburger, fries, and a Coke was all that I remembered, possibly more. Jimmy called and asked about my winter plans, said he has a room available! I’m stunned and stoked, deciding tomorrow. Got off at the “wrong” Post Office with “Snacks”—who knew there were two? Mailed home some extra trail weight and my thoroughly used pants. Safeway was practically the only option for resupply and it wasn’t ideal, expensive and lacking in variety. “Penguin” and “Trash Queen” planned on buying and sending the rest of their food, Washington included, from here. The smell of stress was palpable but to each their credit they got it done, something I couldn’t imagine Adam and I having planned for back at home. Figured out the bus back to the hotel and decompressed at the hot tub. Cleansed with an entire bag of spinach and the remainder of last night’s ranch wing dip. Almost as busy as a 30-mile day.

August 1, Day 89
23.6 miles [1741.3]

Another restful night under the Comfort Inn and Suites’ desk. The seven of us packed and slowly vacated our now grody smelling room and got breakfast. Shared the herb butter I accidentally bought and spread it on a few English muffins. Knew it was a hiking day and forced down a couple more hard boiled eggs. Gang spent almost an hour trying to hitch out because it was a poor location quite far from the trail and basically on the side of the highway. We split up and eventually “Flipper”, “Froggy”, and I got a hitch from some parents who nervously joked about not being killed. We insisted that any real instrument of harm was likely far too heavy to carry and we were relatively harmless besides our smell. Got dropped off at the trailhead and I called Jimmy back to confirm about winter. Stoked. Sluggish, unmotivated miles, no doubt a side effect from beer and of post-zero blues. Ran into a couple of locals who warned me a large rattlesnake was curled up on the trail. I nodded and smiled because this was clearly another spurious wildlife spotting from untested day-hikers. Sure enough, a few hundred feet up and coiled dead center in the trail in an area littered with downfall was the largest or possibly second-largest rattlesnake I have seen. I didn’t know they could be greener than olives. I extended my pole and gently tried to coax him along which got “Penguin” frantically yelling at me—it was almost more stressful than the snake which had begun rattling—he slithered on. Since lunch was a tuna taco, dinner was cold-soak Ramen and a peanut butter and Oreo dessert taco. Shared a campsite with an older man named “Tequila Jon”, his name seems pretty self-explanatory. Camping at Little Hyatt reservoir and it has the first water which distinctly tastes like pond; not a great place to christen my new filter. Happy August.

August 2 Day 90
25.9 miles [1767.2]

Despite getting good sleep I felt tired for the majority of the day. It was only 26 flattish miles but they seemed difficult, I booked the last four as if it would somehow bring me closer to the end. Took lots of frequent breaks. My apathy weighs more than my pack. I have been thinking a lot about hikers skipping this section due to smoke and fire, which has been improving each day, and it’s shameful to admit it makes me frustrated. We’re out here busting our butts just like any other hiking day, there’s no reason to skip—yet. It’s antagonizing to hear hikers justify their reasoning. Whatever, HYOH, you’re capable of more than you realize. Ignored my rationing mind and nearly finished my Airheads supply and crushed the one Miller I had packed out during lunch. Wandering thoughts turned to Colorado, working on art, and being able to use a kitchen. Water sources have spread out to more than 10-mile carries. Not ideal, it certainly made enjoying the terrain more challenging. “Conflicted” caught back up and it boosted my spirits, his banter provides much needed distraction. Lots of chatter on planned finish dates which makes me anxious. To what degree am I responsible for catching up to Adam to see our parents in Cascade Locks? As much as I want to be done, I love the people I’m with and would gladly go to the border with them. Gang is planning on being at Crater Lake in two days, Adam will certainly not be there but Sam Schoevaars is flying in, “Flipper” said it will be a surprise. I hate deciding. It’s all going to work out.

August 3, Day 91
26.5 miles [1793.7]

Another day where I felt off, this nicotine pen can’t be helping. Today was good, I’m just so tired of hiking. I want a vacation. Walking is my job, it doesn’t seem fun anymore. Perhaps it’s the ongoing lack of big views, there’s too much smoke and trees, we joke about the Green Tunnel and how that must feel. Stressed about leaving the group and making it Cascade Locks on my own. “Penguin” reminded me Washington is 353 miles away and it dawned on me that my parents will arrive in 13 days which means I need to average over 27 miles a day without any zeros to make this “deadline”. My group doesn’t plan on that pace and the longer I hang out the more miles I’ll have to make up. Realized I went through a few of the five stages of grief during today’s hike. There’s no reason to be angry at my folks, even though this will be their third visit. Morning temps were legitimately cold and it was hard to break a sweat. Another tuna lunch and ramen dinner. Ramen is calories at this point, I should probably stop carrying it in favor of better items. Legitimately low on food but perhaps it’s the lack of choice which makes me think this, I probably have day’s worth remaining. More long water carries today and another 20-stretch tomorrow. I need to get back to setting manageable goals, I’m planning too far into the future. A good head-space makes for easy miles.

August 4, Day 92
28.2 miles [1820.9]

Drunk, not in the mood to write. Uninterrupted sleep and an early start where I took the lead, something I never do—it seems like “Froggy” is always first—and enjoyed a clear morning. Easy, flat miles, the thought of arriving at Crater Lake is enough to make anyone keep putting one in front of the other. Had lots of solitary time to think about leaving my trail family. Great lunch break, tuna, of course, in the shade where you needed a jacket but unzipped, we just enjoyed each other's company. Arrived at Mazama Village and celebrated. “Goat Man”, “Dutchie”, and “Trash Queen” were all there and many other hikers I recognized but never met. Picked up my half of our resupply box Adam thoughtfully left me, I even got a nice note too. Bought quite a few $1.60 beers and gang decided to splurge for a meal at the resort restaurant. I had meatloaf, fries, and beans which looked like the most filling, cost-effective option. Under the table, “Flipper” secretly passed around a bottle of Jim from their resupply. Found camp and set up in the dark. Congregated around the hiker campfire and quietly proceeded to spiral out of control. I’m drunk, high, and overwhelmed about how I’m getting to Washington and what that’s going to look like. I feel alone again. I don’t want to leave—but I have to. I can’t afford the zero tomorrow and make consecutive 30’s. Everything will be OK, stop stressing, why worry?

(L-R) “Dutchie”, “Goat Man”, and “Penguin”.

Hike On?

NoBo ->

<- SoBo

Justin Kernes 7/9/19 Justin Kernes 7/9/19

PCT 2018: Days 100-104, Sisters to Cascade Locks

Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 100-104 from Sisters to Cascade Locks, mile 2,000-2,150.

August 12, Day 100
30.6 miles [2032.9]

Hard 30, quilt soaked for the second day in a row. Had a nice 360-degree view about six miles up, then took breakfast which was a peanut butter and bacon roll-up. Admired Three Fingered Jack. Spent a lot of the day in burned areas which is an odd mix of barrenness and austerity. Dried gear out at Rockpile lake during lunch. “Streak” was preparing for his 24-hour Challenge (read: napping, eating, and hydrating until dusk). “Horny Toad” was also there and recognized me from Hikertown back in the Mojave. Mount Jefferson peeked into view most of the day, eventually the trail opened up enough for a relaxed study. Nice break at Shale Lake with a few Polish hikers who I had been leapfrogging every week or so since Etna. We hung out and snacked—what a cool bunch. “Panda” caught up to us later in the afternoon. Saw a dead horse in the river, bloated and gray on the verge of bursting, thank God for nanofiber membranes. Finished the day cold and tired, must have botched my calorie intake. I was in decent spirits but I’ve realized “Shocks” likes to sleep in a little later and hike past dusk. Hungry, tired, and dark, we stopped at 8:45 P.M., but I guess if I don’t like it I can stop whenever I want and catch up in the morning. Had dinner in my tent: tuna taco and a Fireball chaser. Didn’t give much thought to Day 100. Remember, keep being awake. As the Avett Brothers sing, “it’s happening, right now to you.”

August 13, Day 101
31.7 miles [2064.6]

A few miles of incline to reach the top of Mt. Hood Wilderness and a first proper look at the monstrosity. Felt the urge to summit, perhaps one day. Fairly flat ten miles to Ollalie Lake where I had a relaxing hour-long snack break. An Illinois man by the name of “Slide” bought me a coffee since I was out of bills—such a nice gesture. Saw “Panda” as well and finally shook hands and met “MacGuyver (Boy)”, just as interesting as his penned name suggested. Listened to podcasts for most of the day and had a few quiet snack breaks to myself. Passed by ponds, streams, rivers, and lakes, they all looked the same. Had a good sit in a field of purple poodle-dog-esque flowers. Leapfrogged “Conflicted” quite a bit, he’s 24-ing all the way to Timberline, what a man. Kept dreaming about the buffet, the Guthook comments only entice me further. Met a section hiker named “Biscuit” at the end of the day and she set up camp beside “Shocks” and me. During diner conversation she elaborated on the finer points when one forages for mushrooms and crystals, an interesting person to say the least. I rolled my first joint in years and shared with “Shocks”, it was all loosey-goosey and bent. I need to figure out winter housing but there’s not much I can do. Sure hope it works.

August 14, Day 102
32.3 miles [2096.9]

First one to leave, thankful for the lack of bugs. Haven’t seen too many in the past few days, perhaps it’s because of the prolonged smoke. Took an early lunch/late breakfast at Little Crater Lake; peanut butter and GORP taco with wasabi soy almonds that “Conflicted” turned me on to. Tons of tourists, even a school bus’s worth of elementary school kids found their way to the small attraction. The adults in the group knew we were thru-hikers and told the kids. Most made a shocked face once they understood except for one kid who looked disgusted and sour, I cackled like a hyena—not a thru-hiker. Highway 26 had a little magic. Marilyn was all out of beef patties but had a veggie remaining. I figured enough charcoal, onions, mustard, and raw mileage could make any burger taste bovine. Potato salad was an added indulgence. A fair bit of fear-mongering for the last few miles into Timberline but the sandy terrain turned out not to be as bad as let on. In fact, the view more than made up for it; Mount Hood is incredible. Stupid-huge. Rolled my fourth joint in years (they’re getting better) and shared with “Panda” and “Shocks”. “Streak” left a note detailing his 24-hour Challenge results and physical condition. I knew he had it in him, but over 70 miles with a pack is crazy. Pulled into Timberline and spotted “Conflicted’s” tent. Tons of SoBos floating around the lodge and area. Called mom and she’s sending our next resupply, they are flying out tomorrow. Upon crawling into my tent, “Shocks” informed me we just did 96 miles in three days—bang bang! Got some new blisters which serve as a reminder of how good healthy feet can be. Still stoked on brunch.

August 15, Day 103
21.8 miles [2118.7]

Woke naturally around 6:30 A.M. and saw the hazy sunrise over one of Hood’s massive ridges. Packed and headed for the hotel lobby. Part of me was hoping the interior looked like The Shining but it was completely unique all its own, I should have snagged some photos but I was too preoccupied with eating followed by an immediate food coma. Piled my plate high with scrambled eggs, fresh croissants, greasy sausage patties and hot biscuits with gravy, juicy watermelon, and an ice-cold berry medley smoothie. “Conflicted” was feeling proud of his 24 Challenge and decided to have the buffet for a second day in a row. Did as much damage as I could, then utilized the WiFi and comfy lounge area while digesting to catch up on internet life. Got a promising email and phone call for winter housing. “Shocks” was better at escaping the vortex and left, “Conflicted” and I took a little longer to vacate. Headed out under the glory of Mount Hood. The haze obscured the peak somewhat but enough to truly recognize its beastly size. Saw some skiers heading for a lift and even a few distant ones making turns which practically gave me vertigo; skiing in the second week of August is weird, unnatural. Out of dabs, I rolled another joint and made slow time. A day-hiker who was returning from Ramona Falls saw me and assumed I was in need of a morale boost—perhaps it was my resting exhalation face—and gave me an overly excited “You’re almost at the falls!” to which I replied, “Nice, how far to Canada?” and her friends all exploded with laughter. The Falls were a lovely detour. Struggled through a tough 1,500 foot climb a few miles before camp and didn’t play the snack game well late in the afternoon on account of brunch. Border is close.

August 16, Day 104
28.1 miles [2146.8]

Waked and baked with my newfound rolling skills. Easy enough elevation gain and loss, but tough, jagged trails made for frustrating progress. Famed Eagle Creek alternate was closed and we missed the waterfall giving me yet another reason to return. Good snack break on Wahtum Lake, new favorite candy item are ginger-lemon gummies. I saw a few crayfish and was admiring nature so much I picked one up and was promptly pinched, let out a good squeal. I think I could’ve harvested a half-dozen for a cook-up. Met a hiker who immediately got into the “where did you start?” conversation and shared that she skipped a few hundred because of the smoke and wasn’t feeling guilty in the least. I smiled politely and nodded my head reassuringly in a hike-your-own-hike fashion but I can’t understand why people feel compelled to share those details. Now I know you skipped, you know you skipped, does it make you feel better? I guess it comes out easier when you think about it all day. Most of my afternoon thoughts revolved around leaving Oregon. Hiked until 6 P.M. and our parents met us just before Bridge of the Gods. Saw “Power Mode” at the bridge’s toll booth admiring another state completed, I haven’t seen her since around mile 300. It felt like California took a lifetime to finish, it’s hard to contend with another border crossing so soon—I was just at Crater Lake. Parents understand the game by now and we promptly found a pizza joint. “Conflicted” joined us and filled the entire conversation per usual (thank God). Two large pizzas and a salad disappeared. Drove to Vancouver, WA for the hotel. Shower and laundry. Parents are glowing but I’m already getting antsy. We did 350 miles in 13 days and I can’t help but feel like I missed something.

Hike On?

NoBo ->

<- SoBo

Justin Kernes 7/8/19 Justin Kernes 7/8/19

PCT 2018: Days 105-106 Cascade Locks and PCT Days

Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 105-106, Cascade Locks, Oregon and PCT Days.

August 17, Day 105
0 miles [2146.8]

First time in my life I was up at the same time as dad in a hotel room. We went to the continental breakfast and had a nice conversation about winter living, moving, and possible future trails. Went to Multnomah Falls, it was slam-packed—a big tourist attraction—pavement everywhere, and felt busier than Yosemite in late June. Picked up a resupply at Grocery Outlet and Dollar Store. I was fairly stressed, too much coffee didn’t help, and the stores were vibrating with a raucous din. Got the essentials and repackaged. Made a detour by Bonneville hatchery and saw Smart-car-sized sturgeon. Remembered what Rinella said about anadromous and catadromous fish types, something I never would have retained in school. Swung by PCT Days for an hour and a half, there was simultaneously a lot and nothing going on, plenty of expensive gear I shouldn’t buy. Had a pint at Thunder Island and a smoked salmon spread, a reminder that tuna tacos still leave much to be desired. Checked into the hotel and went out for BBQ dinner which was bar none and hands down the best any of us had had in recent memory. Parents bought us our own room tonight. Smoked one and only joint with “Shocks”, then watched Oceans 11 and Rush Hour until well past hiker midnight. Anxiety into alleviation.

Multnomah Falls during a very busy time of year.

August 18, Day 106
4 miles [2146.8]

Today was a whirlwind of fun, I’m so glad we turned back! Another hotel continental breakfast and good conversation with fam. Packed up and drove back to Bridge of the Gods and our parents walked across with us. It’s always hard to hit the trail after a zero. Warm, humid, and with everything freshly washed, we began hiking. Got about two miles out and received two phone notifications from friends in town. Bruce was visiting and Mitchy had somehow caught up. Sat on the side of the trail fraught with indecision to keep hiking or turn around, I think we were both looking for the other to make the move. I’ll give credit to “Shocks”, we turned back and it was such a monumentally great decision. Hung out with Bruce, got free Alehouse pizza and a $2 PBR with all the other hikers who made it for Trail Days. Saw tons of acquaintances and friends including “Panda”, Darby (who informed me she accepted my offering as “Dirty” for a name), Mitchy, “Conflicted”, “Sticky”, and “Dutchie” who had miraculously received my pen parts and delivered them to me, huzzah. Drank all day, even the brewery was giving out free pints for hikers. Bought a salad and more beer for my last snack of the day. Sunset on the Columbia River was fantastic and I took my camera out until dusk. There must be 500 tents set up on the island. Going to be a hard night of sleep, but no regrets at all. A great ending to a first double-zero.

Sunset over the Columbia River, Cascade Locks.

Hike On?

NoBo ->

<- SoBo

Justin Kernes 6/12/19 Justin Kernes 6/12/19

PCT 2018: Days 60-61, South Lake Tahoe and The 4th of July

Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 60 and 61 in South Lake Tahoe, mile 1,090.

July 3, Day 60
0 miles [1090.0]

Note to myself (and others): while getting cross faded at 7:30 A.M. feels amazing and bubbly, it will never lead you anywhere photographically. This was the only photo I took that day.

No one was in a rush to get out of their tent. As we packed “Trash Bath” waltzed around and handed out yesterday’s pot cookies. Not long after, “Streak” came back from the store and passed out pounders. It was a fantastic morning. Made tracks to the grocery store for breakfast and a plan. Got a freshly toasted bagel from the bakery section and “Shocks” and I split an entire eight-ounce block of cream cheese. Had coffee for what feels like the first time in weeks. Interneted hard and stressed over the newest map section. Someone discovered there was free food for thru-hikers at a nearby restaurant and it seemed like a worthwhile investigation. At Base Camp Pizza I met “Gula” and “Gabe”, two young guys with a limited break from the Air Force. I made sure to drag my fingers through the bowl my bacon-jalapeno Gouda mac was served in and enjoyed the blissfully idyllic weather shaded by an umbrella I didn’t have to carry or hold. Back to the grocery store where I finally cobbled together a resupply. It cost way too much—$82 for 120 miles. Got a free ride to the Post Office from an Uber driver who took one look at us and pulled over. While buckling he told us he had a friend who hiked the AT, suddenly we were having a conference call in an Impreza. “You’ve already made it, make sure to enjoy your time,” he said, almost as if he had rehearsed this message before. Slapped on the correct postage and said a cheery good riddance to my bear canister which has to be the easiest and most emotionally charged two-and-a-half pounds I’ve ever lost. Even with a fresh resupply I feel lighter on my destroyed shoes. Gang reconvened at the beach for low-key beers. I swam for a total of three minutes, long enough to break up the dirt and grime layer. While the gang sunned themselves I watched a wedding photographer politely haranguing 25 family members into new poses, busting his ass without an assistant to move the monolight, unadulterated Schadenfreude coursed through my buzzed body. As the sun set we hit up McDonald’s for the third time in two days, a haven for last minute snacks and internet. The place was packed with festive high schoolers unable to contain themselves with the impending holiday. Found a good spot to stealth and set up our encampment near the ski resort. Zero’s are legendary with friends. So unbelievably stoked for the 4th.

July 4, Day 61
17.7 miles [1103.2]

Peaceful night behind the residential area. Packed up and retreated to Mickey D’s for breakfast and a hitch out. Didn’t want to eat my trail food so I got two hash browns and two sausage burritos plus a coffee. I probably could have made a valid argument for being awarded the senior discount from the mileage on my knees alone. Tried to hitch for over 45 minutes, my longest attempt so far. I was losing faith and seriously considered walking when a man with clear oval frames sporting a scarf over his tie-dyed dancing bear T-shirt approached us. “Grateful Dad”, father of “Vinyl” (who gave me my trail name), was headed to Grocery Outlet and asked if we needed any help. Beaming, we hopped into his van. “Trash Bath” bought four eight-count boxes of Firecracker Popsicles which were gone by the time we parked at the trailhead. Profusely thanked our sandeled Angel and loaded the new map. “Sticky Fingers” grew up here and had a plan for our day. Must have passed more than 50 other day hikers in the six miles it took to get to Lake Aloha. Set up lunch on top of a 25-foot boulder with a shear drop-off facing the water. I watched all of my friends casually backflip and gainer into a seemingly shallow lake. I thought about the phrase I write in every trail log I’ve signed: 1) go fast 2) commit. It took some encouragement, but upon standing I made good on my axiom. The plunge made my dollar cherry pie all the more sweeter. Hiked on to Gilmore Lake near the base of Mount Tallac. Made camp, devoured a tuna taco, gathered all my layers and alcohol, and scrambled to the top just in time for sunset. A bottle of Fireball was passed around in an attempt to block the unyielding wind as dusk turned into twilight. I counted five distinct firework shows scattered around Lake Tahoe’s rim, the Milky Way silently stealing the show. Survived a fairly treacherous and pitch-black drunken Class 2 scramble down to camp. Forgot about the Ranch—even for just a moment.

Hike On?

NoBo ->

<- SoBo

Justin Kernes 6/11/19 Justin Kernes 6/11/19

PCT 2018: Days 62-65, South Lake Tahoe to Sierra City

Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 62-65 from South Lake Tahoe to Sierra City, mile 1,090-1,195.

July 5, Day 62
18.9 miles [1122.1]

Slept in as late as possible due to last night’s celebration. Ate a chocolate snack pie to give my sour stomach something to work on while we lounged at camp. Eventually started making slow, unmotivated miles at 9 A.M. Up and over Dick’s Pass which was the only section of “up” for today’s terrain that looked sucky. Easy cruise the rest of the afternoon. Stirred up an appetite for a packet of PopTarts after a few miles. I just took a zero and had an outrageously fun holiday, still I want a vacation. Dare I say I feel bored? Perhaps any day which follows one like yesterday will be a bit bland. I’m so tired of hiking. The five of us took a windy lunch on top of some rocks along Fontanillis Lake. Did a double-ramen cold-soak and had handfuls of Swedish Fish. More lakes and snack breaks which always turn to smoke breaks. Called it quits without even hitting twenty and made camp. Had a small fire to keep away mosquitoes. Didn’t have much to say, probably dehydrated. Chowed down hard on my usual tuna taco and followed it up with a peanut butter and butter, honey, Oreo, and M&M dessert taco. Enjoyed sunset trickling through the dense blanket of trees surrounding our small camp.

July 6, Day 63
24.5 miles [1146.6]

Went to sleep with the expectation today was going to be long. Prayed to the pit toilet gods that Barker Pass trailhead would be freshly stocked with TP. Completely empty. I’m out, hopefully the abundant lamb’s ear will suffice. Rare internet access and a wandering mind informed me Philmont won’t be open for crews this season; the early fires were too dangerous. I’ve been dreading “the one” for the last eight years, the time I’m not there, it happens. Tried not to dwell on things out of my control like potential fire which could consume this trail. Cruised along Alpine Meadows, ate my other chocolate pie and couldn’t help but notice the package design was being quite generous with their product depiction, then into Squaw Valley. Took a smoke break in the top-shack of the Granite Chief lift with “TB” and “Sticky” and fantasized about winter, sizing up all the shreddable sick ski lines. Pushed on to Tinker Knob in the howling wind. Had a brief see-ya-later with “Sticky” who parted ways for Truckee; hopefully we reconvene. A few sectioners passed us by, thoroughly done with their journey and headed for the highway, and gave me a Backpacker’s Pantry—major score. Half mile more to the only “campsite” on the bare ridge. Squeezed into the only tree cover with “River”, who we met back at Kennedy Meadows, and “Blue”, someone I recognize from around Tuolumne area. Shoveled in dinner and found a good spot to watch sunset. Our evening color show was absolutely bonkers. Wildflowers too numerous to document and identify, remarkably all in bloom for what feels like the last month, shimmered in the setting sun. Layers of clouds speckled and streaked the horizon.

Squaw Valley ski lifts, Lake Tahoe in the distance.

July 7, Day 64
22.3 miles [1168.5]

Windy night of sleep. “Trash Bath’s” tarp didn’t fare so well but I think he could sleep through anything except free food. Packed and hauled ass seven miles down to Highway 40 stopping only for a joint at Jerome chair. Word on trail was a free beer to any thru hiker provided by Donner Ski Ranch. The restaurant awarded me a 40 ounce King Cobra (malt beer, what a thirst-quencher) and we made use of the patio. Proceeded to get inebriated which lead me to order a patty melt with fries; I can barely resist the smell of charbroiled burgers sober, I’ll forget how much it cost. I caught a few moments of a World Cup match, enough to remember the USA still sucks at one global sport. “Trashcan” has been struggling with foot pain, I will sometimes notice him rolling out his arches during lunch. Perhaps it’s his slight cauliflower ear or maybe his constant furrowed brow, his very visage all but promises he’s never said “stop”. He’s decided to take a few days off here, the gang is dwindling. Utilized cell coverage and crushed five and a half miles drunk and distracted talking to a few friends in the outside world. It was a lonely and quiet ten more before we set up camp. There was hardly any laughing this afternoon, it seems like “Shocks” barely talks to me anymore. It still feels like he resents me for being here, like nothing has changed. In a weird space for dinner. Tired, done, just try and stay present.

July 8, Day 65
26.9 miles [1195.4]

Hot and emergent midnight poop, it felt absolutely gross. Managed to fall back asleep with relative ease. Sunrise came and we left. “Trash Bath” and I chatted for most of the first ten miles, then he bolted ahead and began running like he always threatens. I think we’re all thoroughly tired of this section. I saw “Shocks” only twice on trail. The other 17 miles were spent alone with me and my racing thoughts. The four of us managed to coalesce under the North Yuba River bridge just before the highway. “Combo” must have been feeling daredevilish; he launched two spectacular 30-foot gainers off of the steep rock outcropping. A rather unexpected and fast-earned hitch cut off a mile of asphalt walking into Sierra City as the sun began to set. Hand-written, sun-bleached signs indicate town is closed on Sunday/Monday’s, I can’t possibly see how that’s a smart business choice even for such a backwoods location. Place is quaint, but it mostly gives off a homely and secluded vibe ranging somewhere between a dilapidated 70’s ski chalet and outdated Chinese restaurant. Fortunately the Post Office is open tomorrow: 10a-2p (reminds me of college administration hours), our resupply and my desperately needed new shoes are in that box. Listened to Jordan Peterson on Joe Rogan’s podcast and he got me ruminating about my current situation with Adam. Lots of nasty and malevolent thoughts. Bad juju. Broke down and got a can of Coke for $1.50. The church has provided a free overnight area, there were already a dozen or so campsites set up in the modestly sized front yard. I laid out my tarp and collapsed. My soles are sore, my calves are tight. No booze and I’m out of weed, stuck in sobriety. Two tuna tacos in hopes of replacing the malcontent with fat and sodium. Hopefully our package shows up tomorrow.

Hike On?

NoBo ->

<- SoBo

Justin Kernes 6/10/19 Justin Kernes 6/10/19

PCT 2018: Days 66-70, Sierra City to Belden

Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 66-70 from Sierra City to Belden, mile 1,195-1,300.

July 9, Day 66
0 miles [1195.4]

All I wanted was a day off. I got one and instantly regretted it—what a hard day. It started out so nice. I splurged for coffee cake and an Americano at the cafe and ate on the patio with “Conflicted”, who I remembered meeting at lunch in S.L.T., and we talked about the MeatEater podcast. For twenty minutes he schooled me on the finer points of the Pittman-Robertson Act and how hunting drives conservation, how hikers think they’re stewards of the outdoors but really it’s dedicated hunters, taking every opportunity to interrupt himself and me at times to mock rabid social inclusivity in a type of Liberal comedy character. He’s awesome, unlike anyone I’ve ever met. Waited and caffeinated until the Post Office opened—no package. “Trash Bath” and “Combo” hung around patiently but eventually grew weary and bid us a hasty see-ya-later. A small part of me thinks that’s the last time I’ll see either of them, yet I’ve had that thought before and been wrong. We kept checking right up until he, the singular postal worker, closed at 2 P.M.—still no package. Demoralized by the consequences. Adam was visibly stressed and moody, I tried to give him space and chatted with other hikers congregated outside the country store and anxiously watched the day pass. Felt trapped. Tried to forget the time and drank a few pricey tallboys even though my subconscious told me I’m spending too much and it wasn’t going to help in any event. No resupply and with little food in my bag I ordered a “gutbuster” from the deli; a monstrous knife-and-fork burrito bordering on vulgar who’s contents tasted uniformly of everything I had seen exit the kitchen. Braved the free, frigid public shower long enough to turn my surface grime to sludge, I couldn’t hold out long enough to use soap. My towel probably took the brunt of my filth. Sat, sat, sat. Fell into the social media hole. Zeros aren’t fun, Sierra City kinda sucks. Currently it’s well past hiker-midnight, I wish the others around me would stop talking.

July 10, Day 67
20.6 miles [1216.0]

Another rude wake up by the local gang of bullish, squawking Steller’s jays. Began The Wait and saw lots of hikers arrive, many of whom I recognize. “Dingo”, who we met on Day 2; “Twerk”, pink shirt and all; even “Sticky Fingers” caught back up. Sarah and Kevin who have been immobile or asleep the past 48-hours have seemingly beaten their collective food poisoning and are looking much better. Talked with “Clean Turkey” who’s already been here for three whole days waiting for a replacement debit card. Yikes. Apparently she has made friends with the local family of loggers and was given some fresh roasted corn last night. Friendly postal worker Rick (we got to know each other on a first-name basis) had our resupply package. Huzzah. Snapped a hasty photo and laced up my new shoes. Snazzy, fresh, sproingy. Divvied up our food and immediately headed out. Hot. Hilly. Humid. An immediate 3,000 feet of ascent in the first eight miles. Forced myself to snack at Packsaddle campground, Adam cruised by me like the bump on a log that I was. I’m practically invisible to him, it seems. Beleaguered I shuffled up second steep, unrelenting hill, overwhelmed by dark thoughts. Sobbed and kept walking because you can cry and hike, sitting just feels even worse. Pulled myself together before camp. Dinner was our hard-earned gnocchi meal prepared with pepperoni and olive oil. Adam eked out a small smile and we made a few crass jokes, I felt a lot better. A guy in a wide-brim hat and pale blue Columbia PFG rolled into camp, introduced himself as “Tooth Fairy” and ate dinner with us. My calves and Achilles are exceptionally tight, I wonder if that’s the terrain or my new kicks.

My only two-pair of shoes which lasted almost 3,000 miles.

July 11, Day 68
35.0 miles [1251.0]

Better day but I’m certainly not getting my calories correct. Despite this, we absolutely crushed 35 miles! Not only a 30 but five more on top of that; my new longest day by more than six. I remember days in Scouts where ten miles seemed like another solar system away, hell that was a day’s worth of travel. Warmer start which was a nice motivating factor to leave the comfortable confines of my tent. Floated through miles and miles of dense, thick pines and firs covered in woolly moss like chartreuse spring vests. Hardly saw Adam at all, the few times I did he didn’t look happy about anything. Lunch cheered us both up. During a longer downhill section I ran (it’s still not clear to me why people like running). I nearly tripped and I let me knees buckle and sat down instead of hurling ass over pack. Stood from my burning wreckage and took limb inventory and noticed a hunk of skin missing from the knuckle of my thumb. Surprised not to be hurt worse. Note to self: don’t go home on injury. Passed more than 20 hikers, many of whom I saw in Sierra City. Water sources are getting farther apart, I should have filled up under the bridge but we pressed on. Used the last of my water to rehydrate a chicken risotto Backpacker’s Pantry for dinner. Legitimately thirsty but it’s hard to determine the true severity, just like hunger. There’s water a mile or two up trail. Body is sore but it’s nothing new. There’s a shrill whine of mozzies are all around me. Thirsty, just like me.

July 12, Day 69
30.0 miles [1281.0]

Started the day off with an eight-mile hill, the skeeters started even earlier. Just put one in front of the other with Foo Fighters on a loop. At the top of the hill was Lookout Rock—a vista name which must be on the same level of popularity as Main Street—which seemed like a worthwhile snacking point. Ate a few dozen handfuls of fruit snacks and chips and took in the view with AJ, a Day 3 acquaintance and Whitney summit appearance, and “Pilgrim”, someone I’d only seen from a distance. Upon closer inspection it became apparent his sole article of clothing is a bed sheet fashioned somewhere between tunic and toga. A few more miles to Bucks Lake road where Adam and I took a peaceful lunch in full recline. I gave my dusty, gritty footsies a bandanna bath and sat shirtless in reverence of the lack of mosquitoes. He’s in a good mood, it certainly cheered me up. Resupply is Philmont-heavy with items like Mojo bars, Larabars, and even those “Mark”-bars (rice crispy copy), all my rations bring back memories of hiking in the Sangre de Cristos. Elated to get a shirtless mile or so in the evening during that special time when the air temperature dips five degrees in less than five minutes, it was so relaxing I even got a shirtless poop without being attacked. Haven’t had the opportunity to do that since the desert. We busted another 30 which feels great to do, especially after yesterday’s feat. My feet feel sore but a discomfort relative to the amount of distance I’ve covered, Guthook shows just shy of 6,500 feet of elevation gain today alone. Currently we’re perched along the precipice of a massive canyon which is nearly 4,000 feet to the bottom, camp is hella windy. There are a few other hikers I recognize who rearranged their stakes and made as much space as possible. Big Belden hike is coming up, stop looking at the terrain map, it won’t make it any less steep.

July 13, Day 70
21.2 miles [1300.5]

Greeted by gorgeous clouds. Packed and practically fell with the rate of gravity towards Belden. Crossed some railroad tracks and entered “town” which seems like an unfair designation, there can’t be more than 12 people living here. Before I could even set my pack down, a bald man with a plush raccoon tail clipped to his floral print shorts approached and welcomed me before launching into his practiced whispered drug spiel like any hardened festival attendee standing outside the venue holding a cryptic sign proclaiming: “Need Tickets”. I’ve been out for almost a week and Adam let me borrow some cash. We followed “Meow Meow” (more alias than trail name) to his van parked in the back of the already dinky-sized town. His van is a converted refrigerator truck, mostly made out of glass, the clean interior reveals three things: a bed, hardwood floors, and a selection of four other raccoon tails. He filled my jar of wax before 10 A.M, problem solved. Had a fairly sketchy highway walk to Caribou Crossroads, by then I was absolutely starving. Patiently waited for biscuits and gravy with eggs and sausage and a famed blackberry milkshake, the reviews of which had been motivating me for the last few days. Ate and chilled with “Pilgrim”, “Tooth Fairy”, and AJ, as well as “RV”, who I now recall meeting a day outside of Tehachapi and have seen a handful of times since then, is finishing his 700-mile section here. As we wished each other well, I saw him with new eyes; a man well into his fifties who spent 40 days doing exactly what he wanted along with the loving support of his wife and eponymous vehicle which drove town to town for aid and care. It was hard to leave the shaded safety of the RV park but it was a smart choice, especially after losing time in Sierra City. “Tooth Fairy” thought it wise as well and joined Adam and me. Brenda, a true local and quite possibly the most badass grandma I’ve ever met, shuttled hikers back to trail, meanwhile with brash authority telling everyone in the vehicle that if her 6-year-old granddaughter can hike out of Belden without complaining, than gosh darn it, so can we. Began the 15-mile, 5,500-foot assault during the muggiest part of the day. A graffitied trail blaze had a poignant message: “either way, it sucks”. At one of the smaller stream crossings there was a waterfall which had carved out a body-sized pool. I stopped only to remove my shoes and waded in, fully submerged, and tried to escape the hill and heat. Finally made it to the top, crossed mile 1,300, and made camp. Rain looks promising in tonight’s clouds but so far I’ve only had sprinkles.

Hike On?

NoBo ->

<- SoBo

Justin Kernes 6/9/19 Justin Kernes 6/9/19

PCT 2018: Days 71-75, Belden to Burney Falls

Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 71-75 from Belden to Burney Falls, mile 1,300-1,420.

July 14, Day 71
31.8 miles [1331.3]

Today was exhilarating; always say “yes”. Peeped a little of the sunrise through my mesh door. Mobbed another 30 miles and my feet are beat, I generally ache. There was a 15-mile haul between water sources, the few options there were didn’t seem promising. Little Cub spring was 1) off-trail and 2) a gnarly 200-foot decline to access but at least it was ample. Regrouped on trail and ate first lunch with “Tooth Fairy” and “Upstream”. Hit the halfway point but honestly, it felt totally hollow. I remember how motivating the first 100-mile marker was in the desert or seeing the “10%” pile of rocks or getting the clap at Kennedy Meadows, but California is so long, it doesn’t feel like an accomplishment. Either way, we ate second lunch and came up with a plan for Chester, both agreed to go in tomorrow. Continued hiking downhill and wound up at the highway, plans be damned, praying for a hitch as dusk settled in. There was one promising lead for a Trail Angel who provided rides: “John Jacobs, I’ll try to give you a ride if you call me. I’m Chesterite ‘born and raised’”. An animated, fast-talking man soon arrived in a mid-90’s Acura Integra, miraculously the three of us squished our gear and stinky bodies inside. The entire ride into town was filled by John who, in the friendliest and most disarming way possible, told us the horrors of the judicial system, grow laws, and persecution he’s faced and evaded due to his self-proclaimed extensive knowledge of the law. He kindly dropped us off at Pizza Factory where Adam and I split a large garlic and chicken ‘za and a pitcher of domestic. Full and slightly buzzed we packed up and headed for the Lutheran Church to make camp. Upon approaching an intersection with a gas station, there appeared to be a man taking hot-laps around the pumps in a mobility scooter, the tail of his coonskin hat being lifted ever so gently by his modest speed. I looked away as to not draw any attention and crossed the street. Before the three of us had gotten halfway across, the man whizzed towards us, yelling “CITIZEN’S ARREST, CITIZEN’S ARREST” at the top of his lungs. It was 10:58 P.M. My heart was in my throat but after he slurred a few sentences, I realized he was completely hammered and bragging about his scooter—a gift for his infirmed father. “Shame you hikers don’t have beer or weed,'' he mumbled, changing topics drastically. “But at my house we do. Follow me.” He zoomed off into the night, tail following just behind. The three of us stood silently, realized we outnumbered him and had quite literally nothing to lose, and followed him. We ended up in his backyard where he promptly tossed us each a Bud Light and sparked a joint. The mosquitoes feasted on my thin blood but all I could think about was the kindness of strangers and the lengths people go to for camaraderie. He gave us his phone number and emphatically reminded us we had a job (growing related of course) whenever we wanted. I thanked him for his kindness and made one final comment on his savvy scooter purchase before we stumbled to the church. Chester is hella weird.

July 15, Day 72
11.4 miles [1340.7]

I woke up slightly before 5 A.M. with an odd, cold sensation on my face and I heard other tents rustling, then my lucidity arrived. It was beginning to rain, the entire PCT population of the Chester Lutheran church were furiously scrambling to throw on their flys, everyone unprepared from last night’s clear skies and muggy temps. Went to Kopper Kettle with “Conflicted” and “Tooth Fairy” for real breakfast: endless ceramic beige mugs of cheap coffee—a constellation of creamer cups filled the table—with biscuits and gravy. I’m stressed about this section and it seems the majority of hikers are as well. My shirt is toast, it lasted more than a thousand miles and is ripping apart from the shoulders. Dollar General was the only location which served my resupply and, somehow, clothing needs. I got a Hanes “Sport” cotton tee which isn’t a suitable replacement for my long-sleeve but at least my shoulders will be covered. Also my pants are ripped and flapping at the ankles which made walking more exhilarating and tripping more likely, I’ve been rocking my board shorts and boot-cut socks for the last three days. As for food, I scored some decent supplies, namely a small tub of mayo, a bottle of olive oil, and plenty of tuna. Repacked and consolidated in the shade of the church while drinking a Bud. Sewed my hood from the old shirt onto the new shirt and giggled at the result with “Tree Beard” for five solid minutes. Called it a success and cut off the arms as well and stashed them for later reattachment. Said goodbye to “Tooth Fairy” who has completed his remaining California sections and is finished for this season. Had a hard hitch out, but like always, it worked in our favor, there was even a trail angel handing out sodas at the trailhead. Hiked with “Conflicted” who’s neurotic yet undeniably hilarious and fun. I put in a solid hour before stopping to evaporate. As I pulled out my bag of snacks I instantly recognized the bearded guy in a straw trilby was Brett Callaghan, now “Flipper”. A huge, triumphantly-sweaty bearhug later, we acquainted group members and caught up on The Trail So Far. It’s hard to process how a long-time Philmont friend who Adam and I both know is hiking the same trail at the same time. Small world, infinite universe. Adam agreed to spend a few days hiking together but pointed out we hadn’t even made one-third our usual mileage today and our last zero was five days ago. Groups may not travel fast but they provide a morale boost worthy of many extra miles.

July 16, Day 73
30.0 miles [1369.7]

Restful sleep until dawn, then tossed and turned before giving up and getting going. Took a little side trek to Terminal Geyser (not a geyser) and Boiling Springs Lake which was both worthwhile and underwhelming, I wish I could have gotten closer. Received trail magic from “Ham”, a girl on trail who was zeroing with her folks. They gave me a Budweiser and an intensely sweet and juicy fresh peach which is the only fruit I’ve actually fantasized about on trail. Hiked all day with “Flipper’s” trail family and got to know “Froggy”, “Snacks”, “Trash Queen”, “Penguin”. Lots of hot spots before lunch and my feet have fucking blown up, there are massive blisters on both big toes and my arches are knotted and stiff. I’ve taken for granted how nice healthy feet are. Gave them a good scrub in hopes of knocking down the grit, swelling, and heat during lunch at Twin Lakes. I started and ended my experimentation with cold-soaking noodles, after a little over two hours, they took on a bubble-gummy texture similar to fresh Big League Chew except alfredo flavored. Twelve more miles to the next water source, Hat Creek, where we called it quits for the evening and so did quite a few other hikers. There were some nice clouds for a few hours but it was generally hot, I hope I didn’t get burned in my half-shirt-tall-socks-and-shorts combo. Rain will come soon. With “Conflicted” and “Shocks”, dinner was practically a family event. I saw Sarah and Kevin across the river, even “Sticky Fingers” came by to hang out for dessert. Way too much flat terrain, never thought I find myself wishing for hills and altitude.

July 17, Day 74
27.1 miles [1396.8]

Holy cow “Trash Queen” is an early riser, I have to remember to set up farther away. She probably had the right idea since it was hot as balls, dare I say prohibitively hot today. Subway Cave was a point of interest and a small detour took us to an underground lava tube requiring puffys. Against all of our better judgments we smoked out one of the alcoves offending, no doubt, several civilians. “Shocks” needed to go to Old Station for a package, he left after we emerged from the refreshing depths. Made it a few more hours before seeking shelter under a few scraggly pines for lunch. “Froggy” pulled out salami slices and began lathering up a tortilla with mayo, I can’t believe I haven’t done the same thing yet, they will most certainly be on my next resupply. Hat Creek Rim was brutally hot, I was completely unprepared. My calves certainly got burned from wearing shorts, I bounced my umbrella from side to side trying to cover as much bare skin as possible. Water is sparse, if it wasn’t for a maintained cache it would have been a 29 mile carry which seems on the verge of not possible for this stretch. Just when I thought it couldn’t get any hotter, or my water any warmer, we stumbled into an ice chest under a lone tree. It’s funny how your heart rate increases and you pray it’s not full of trash. There were two choices: Coke or Sap, a maple-flavored soda which I grabbed immediately and much to my amazement I had enough restraint for one item though I was reminded Coke is always a superior choice among pops. There was also a bag of Cuties, a fruit which I didn’t know I missed. Tonight’s sunset was the type which people compare other sunsets to and struggle to find the correct, descriptive words but ultimately say “cool” and “colorful” to a point of cliche. Currently laying shirtless on my pad, no quilt, sweatin’ just like everyone else. I’m ready to be done with California.

July 18, Day 75
23.2 miles [1419.0]

I got up and moving around 6:30 A.M., “Flipper” and “Froggy” nowhere to be seen. Busted an easy 13 miles to Burney Mountain Guest Ranch, another 10 before 10. It was shaping up to be another warm one so we hung out for most of the afternoon. Immediately purchased a gigantic pickle and Coke to combat lost electrolytes. Saw Sarah and “Sticky Fingers” lounging in the shade, they confirmed doing a 40 yesterday—gross. Utilized the down time and my recent calf-burns to sew the ripped ankles of my pants, they turned out functional and durable beyond my wildest hopes. Still, there’s about four inches of extra waist-room in these suckers. Gave my socks several rounds in the sink until the water ran a tea color and not Folgers extra dark. “Numbers”, a PCT alumnus I remember meeting back at Hiker Heaven, seemed to be a vague authority and gave hikers a quick tour of the place. Had a cheeseburger for lunch and bought a few sleeves of PopTarts and Oreos from the convenience store to hold me over until Shasta’s resupply. Much to my amazement there was a billiards table, remarkably, a decent one, which was available for use, they trust us dirty hikers way too much. I ran the table all three games I played while waiting for my burger. Left the vortex and made it another ten miles to Burney Falls and hung out while the rest of the gang showed up. Saw an Angel in the parking lot who was trying to meet up with her hiking friend, she offered us watermelon slices and a Gatorade. Took the obligatory side trip to the falls, they were impressively large, it took up nearly my entire field of view. I found by defocusing my eyes, similar to those 3-D repeating pattern optical illusion puzzles, the water seemed to hang in suspension with the always static land whizzing by. It was a trip. Set up at the campground and scored two ramen packets which I cold-soaked for dinner, another meal I don’t have to worry about. Met “Happy Feet” and she did my sleeve, rather, she saw me struggling to find a way to sew my detached arms onto my t-shirt and gave me a quick lesson on a running stitch. It’s odd how I have nothing but time and it took me more than a week to address this issue.

Hike On?

NoBo ->

<- SoBo

Justin Kernes 6/8/19 Justin Kernes 6/8/19

PCT 2018: Days 76-79, Burney Falls to Mount Shasta

Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 76-79 from Burney Falls to Mount Shasta, mile 1,420-1,500.

July 19, Day 76
32.1 miles [1450.1]

Woke to crinkling pads and polycro being stuffed around 5 A.M. and panicked, I hate playing catch-up. Packed my shit, shit and left in just under an hour. My headphones are beyond FUBAR, the headphone adapter doesn't make a solid connection and audio cuts out, start/pause in an endless loop, or the absolute worst, restarts track from the beginning which is beyond frustrating for podcasts. Fairly certain my backups are busted and any solution seems far too challenging and time consuming on trail. Perhaps it’s time to start hiking without another distraction. Lunch was an enjoyable event per usual. Broke out the ground cloth, fully spread out and lounged hard with “Penguin”, “Trash Queen”, and “Shocks”. I have enough food to last until next resupply but I’m still worried about running out. I’ll survive, it just might not be ideal. I’m having trouble recalling any other events, perhaps that’s what happens when you devote the whole day to making miles and not taking “unnecessary” breaks. Thirty-mile days still whoop me and there’s gonna be another, even longer, one tomorrow. My plantar fascia are unbelievably sore, I must have massaged them for twenty minutes before feeling drowsy. Tonight’s camp has a breathtaking view of Mount Shasta. I’m ready for sleep, then it’s time to do it all again. Yippee.

July 20, Day 77
31.8 miles [1481.9]

By now I’m habituated to hearing “Trash Queen” deflate her pad in the blue of predawn but today I’m especially glad I chose to get up-and-out instead of snooze; Mount Shasta sunrise was almost more unbelievable than last night’s sunset. Pooped as quick as I could and got moving, this area is mosquito dense. I don’t have snacking food so I made three tortilla meals which worked but definitely not ideal. Breakfast was an Oreo and peanut butter with M&M’s wrap. Lunch was a Spam and mayo taco with a side of cold-soaked ramen. Dinner was two tuna burritos with more peanut M&M’s for dessert, I'm low on options. Briefly saw “Froggy” during lunch at Ash camp. Everyone in our group, even other hikers, is fixated on the town of Shasta. The last three miles before camp were some of my most discomforting. My arches were screaming, my knees felt fat and stiff to a point where I contemplated the possibility of hiking-induced compartment syndrome. Nearly 63 miles in two days, I’m hurting. This camp is absolutely slammed and there aren’t too many other options in the area, other hikers have congregated here and there are more than ten people in a site for five. I’ve noticed a small hole in my tent where the bathtub floor meets the nylon walls. Nothing survives the trail unscathed. A patch of duct tape should hold from further tearing. Adam mentioned his stomach was feeling off since this morning, I hope it’s just a bit of indigestion and not something more serious.

July 21, Day 78
19.3 miles [1501.2]

I was one of the last to leave, every hiker had vacated before 6 A.M., the desire to get to town is powerful. With screaming soles I arrived at Interstate 5, with each step closer there appeared to be a white EZ-up with scattered chairs, hikers, and ice chests underneath. Trail Magic. Shared a bag of carrots with Adam and mopped up any remaining hummus. I was handed two PBR’s and a shot of Jack—I was drunk. It certainly made the hitch into town much easier, I didn’t have a care in the world. Made a beeline for Taco Bell, a drunk hiker stomach can barely discern between “calories” and “not calories”, my wallet thanked me. Waddled over to Shasta Base Camp and tried to nap off my drunk and the afternoon heat. Dozed off and on for ten minutes under the smell of dog poop which wafted my way every few minutes but I was too tired to move. Saw “Penguin” taking a bird bath with a garden hose and decided to wait my turn. My clothes, however, were in need of more, there was a laundromat next door and it seemed like an appropriate occasion to purchase a load, my first machine wash since Sonora Pass nearly 500 miles ago. Rallied and got two more beers from the grocery store during the rinse cycle, one for now, the other for trail. Chilled hard with fam. Used the time and sewed on the other sleeve, my hybrid sun shirt is now complete. Resupply tomorrow, stoked for new food options.

July 22, Day 79
0 miles [1501.2]

Breakfast at Blackbear Diner where I had a big, messy plate of huevos rancheros with coffee. Sat with Adam and “Conflicted” and just felt lonely, something was clearly weighing heavy on his mind. Resupplied at Rite Aid and was surprised by the decent selection. Drank a ginger soda while I shopped. Got a beer and a peach, sadly only half of it was delicious, the other half dry and mealy. Adam was cagey and secretive all day. Told me he’s going his own way, finally. It makes sense—it’s time. I’m the one that needs to grow. Found a carton of chardonnay in a hiker box and muted my feelings by eating, drinking and smoking the rest of the afternoon away with “Sticky” and Brett. Watched “Conflicted”, “Trash Queen”, and Adam hitch out and I fought the revolting urge to follow. I fear losing the will to continue, I guess that’s been a fear from the beginning. But the thought of quitting now seems even more ridiculous than it did at Kennedy Meadows. Confided some darker thoughts with “Penguin” and felt disgusted at how weak and codependent I sounded. It reminded me that this was my hike and I’m the only one who’s going to hike it—time to be a man. Hearing “TQ” talk about the impending fire reroutes stressed me even further, it sounds like a labyrinth of exposed roads with limited signage. Oh, and I don’t have a Canada entry permit. Ugh. Slurped up a pint of ice cream before going to Taco Bell with Sarah and Kevin. Good friends are here, I don’t know why I have to keep reminding myself.

Hike On?

NoBo ->

<- SoBo

Justin Kernes 6/7/19 Justin Kernes 6/7/19

PCT 2018: Days 80-83, Mount Shasta to Etna

Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 80-83 from Mount Shasta to Etna, mile 1,500-1,600.

July 23, Day 80
24.3 miles [1525.5]

Didn’t laze about in my tent in hopes of getting to the restroom before the rest of the hikers woke. “Flipper” packed while I hastily scrawled a sign to hitch out. Sounds like “Froggy” is going to do his own thing for a while too, I guess everyone needs their own time. Got picked up in less than five minutes and soon we were back on-trail. Completely sweat through my undies onto my pants, a personal swamp-ass record has been set, yesterday’s booze fest only made things worse no doubt. I was feeling good from a zero but after 20 miles all my ligaments and joints returned to their baseline dull aches. Despite the disgusting heat and slight hangover, I had a better day. In quieter moments I wondered why I didn’t hike out with “Conflicted and “TQ” and realized this was the first time I’ve let FOMO feelings creep in since starting. Don’t dwell. My pack feels heavy, I guess it always does. Is there a weight at which it won’t feel heavy? Saw “Dutchie” making camp and we decided to call it short by a few miles. “Penguin” arrived while I was making dinner. Had my usual tuna taco, this time with Doritos. Splurged on two Oreo dessert wraps. Today was just another day, don’t know why I was so worried. Big miles tomorrow, gonna crush it.

July 24, Day 81
30.4 miles [1555.9]

While we packed up “Dutchie” made the call to hike back to Shasta and go to the doctor for her feet. I could tell it was a hard decision, more than just hiking in the “wrong direction” for 25 miles. “Flipper”, “Penguin” and I soldiered on. Lunched hard; sipped a little vodka and got a five-minute doze. If there’s an afterlife I wish it was like Lunch. No one was stoked to make more miles after eating, still we cranked them out. NorCal’s scenery is mostly timbered views and volcanic rock, today no exception. Weather was outright enjoyable up until the last few miles before camp. Rain was imminent and I freaked out a little, this is my first day of real rain and I’m out of practice. Being wet sucks. “Flipper” invited us over to his tent (I can’t believe he’s using a Hubba Hubba) and we enjoyed family dinner at his place just as it began to come down in earnest. Each clap of thunder bolted me back to monsoon season at summer camp. We cracked the vestibule zippers and a few joints later the storm passed. It feels like I’m racing to Oregon, rightfully so, I’m beyond done with California. Thought about Adam and “Trash Bath” having fun without me which is silly. Silly and I know it. Absolutely crushed another 30, they still bring a sense of accomplishment. Furthermore, tuna tacos are still good. Thankful for lack of bugs and great friends—that’s all I need

July 25, Day 82
25.2 miles [1581.1]

Sleep felt nourishing but wakefulness came far too quick. I’m never ready for it to be over. Got my feet moving by 6:30 A.M. and it was hazy and smoky, clearing only a little by the afternoon. Water sources were plentiful, thank God. Everyone has Etna on their mind. Ran into “Shocks”, “Conflicted”, and “Trash Queen” at lunch which was a cool surprise. Dudes seemed whooped, “TQ” with bubbly spirits per usual. Broke today into three segments of eight miles—an easy day. I’ve noticed manageable chunks are now 6-8 miles when they used to be only two. Sometimes I’ll still check the map every 0.1 but I think everyone does. The sensation in my right thigh, or rather lack thereof, is becoming more concerning. The day went quickly. I’m wishing to be done and I might get my wish—slow down. There’s so much to enjoy which feels like a reminder more than a revelation. It’s been almost three months since I started at the border. NorCal has challenged me and I find myself longing for the Sierra like a dysfunctional ex.

July 26, Day 83
21.7 miles [1599.8]

Tossed and turned every few hours but slept decently. Fortunately our 18 mile hike to the lonesome Sawyers Bar Road was shaded. Popped out of the trees and saw four other hikers splayed out roadside—our group made seven. More than a half-dozen trickled in over the next half-hour, in that same time I saw only one vehicle pass by. I was slightly worried but I’ve learned there’s nothing you can do except be hopeful. Really stoked I held on to my umbrella, it was clutch while waiting for a hitch. The next two cars stopped to help which put the odds at getting a ride above a coin-flip, an unbelievable ratio. “Flipper” and I piled into the bed of a rusted-out pickup and found some squatting room among a pile of firewood, an opossum-sized live animal trap, and a few bags of trash (our company and effects excluded) and waved see-ya-laters to the remaining hikers, still I managed to doze off on the ride into Etna. Heat and winding roads are my cradle. Stopped briefly at the hiker hut to drop packs and take inventory. Ate at Dotty’s, had a patty melt on rye with stone-ground mustard and horseradish, intense flavors I haven’t tasted in weeks. I think city-Slice would give it a 10/10. Resupplied at Dollar General for a few buffer items, then walked back to the hut, it was hotter than balls. Finished repackaging my food just as “Flipper” came back to the table dripping wet, rummaging for his towel. “Sprinkler was real nice” he said while combing his beard, skin noticeably a few shades lighter. Forgot everything I knew about avoiding sprinklers and made a beeline for the stream while stripping down to my undies. I’m never paying for a shower—ever. Paid “Lionheart”, owner of the hiker hut, for a ride back to the trail. It was a glorious summer night and the weather was reminiscent of perfect late-summer baseball games, ones where the stadium lights turn on somewhere around the fourth inning. “Froggy” was camped by the road, we unfurled our ground cloths and joined him. The five of us talked past sunset until the stars began to sparkle, a slumber party I won’t soon forget.

Hike On?

NoBo ->

<- SoBo

Justin Kernes 6/6/19 Justin Kernes 6/6/19

PCT 2018: Days 84-87, Etna to California-Oregon Border

Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 84-87 from Etna to the California/Oregon border, mile 1,600-1,700.

July 27, Day 84
29.2 miles [1629.0]

The near full moon and constant wind gusts mixed with cowboying next to everyone else didn’t lead to great sleep. I glanced over to see “Froggy” nearly packed, folding his tarp and clipping buckles by headlamp. Pooped and got moving, my usual regimen. Had some gut pain which only got worse with each step. I hadn’t even made it two miles before I found myself hunched over, pack off, sitting and sweating, worrying if I was lucky enough to get appendicitis on trail. Let out a few gnarly farts and ate a Pop-Tart and found myself regaining hiker-stasis. Today’s terrain was freshly burned, probably in the last two years, a dusty haze hung around ghoulish trees illuminating their blackened bark. Set up lunch overlooking Fischer and Marten Lakes and prepared two salami and dijonnaise roll-ups, shooting “Froggy” looks of “I-can’t-believe-it-took-me-this-long-to-buy-cured-meat”—tuna tacos have a new contender. “TQ” insisted we help with her one-pound squeeze-bottle of Welch’s jelly and I slathered myself a PB&J wrap. The last few miles of the day were spectacular, everything is blooming with a furious intensity; Marble Mountain Wilderness is magnificent. We set up and shared camp with some weekenders at Paradise lake where I relaxed and scrubbed out the grit from between my toes. Currently the soles of my feet are the only body part which is regularly sore, tonight is no exception. Got good and stoney for dinner, everyone rejoiced at nonexistent bugs. Running dangerously low on power which has me more nervous than I care to admit but I’ll make it work. I haven’t had to ration my music yet.

July 28, Day 85
27.4 miles [1656.4]

Knew we were in for a huge, mostly downhill slog into Seiad and left around 5:45 A.M. “Froggy” introduced me to Ello Govna—a drinking game which they had adapted to play on trail—the rules became PI questions you could answer differently each round. Our game got wild: 1) favorite color 2) 'hey “Surge”' 3) $10,000 car 4) sports-related memory 5) bad job 6) grateful for 8) ? 9) Philmont memory 10) *weird noise* 12) collection from childhood 13) what hiking gear do you covet? 14) life goal 15) road trip memory 16) *hootie-hoo* 17) *orgasm noise* 18) birthday memory 19) compliment someone 20) trail friends 21) best day on-trail. Played for six hours and made it 20 miles before breaking for lunch at Grider stream. The girls already had a dunk and were setting up a lunch spot while us guys took our turn to bathe. Tried to ignore my self-consciousness and stripped off my undies with a pitiful lack of authority. God, I’m a prude. The day only got hazier as we road-walked six miles into Seiad Valley, all the while eagerly looking for ways to ford the dangerous and way too large Klamath River to cut off a ridiculous amount of trail, more as a means of distraction from the carbonized heat. Triumphantly arrived at the general store, took a hot lap around and bought a few dollar-pies and beers. Stoked to see “Shocks” as well as “Conflicted” who’s convinced the State of Jefferson is the future and filled the silence with talks of secession, I’m glad they’re doing well. Ate tuna taco dinner outside the store with the whole gang and utilized every last minute to charge electronics. I was stunned to see “Snacks” catch back up, he’s pulled some crazy days! Every hiker here knows Oregon is closer than ever, this is the last California town. “Trash Queen” even said the upcoming border was “the most monumental border”, which we all had a good laugh at, but in a way, she’s right. Walked a few miles down the road to one of the largest oak trees I’ve ever seen, a tree so old and large you can’t help but play out its history like a stop-motion silent film in your head. Set up and circled the trunk to cool off (it’s still gotta be above 80F) and meditated in its grandeur. Huge 10-mile climb tomorrow, one final challenge.

July 29, Day 86
31.3 miles [1687.7]

Had a hard night anticipating today’s big climb, the stagnant midnight heat wasn’t comforting. By 5:45 A.M. the only thing left in camp were a few tent stake holes. Played all my saved Heavyweight podcasts to distract from the hazy onslaught. At one point I passed “Conflicted” who’s exhalations were purely muttered obscenities—he was having a tough time. Looking at the map makes everything worse. I can’t recall anything during snack break and the only thing memorable from lunch was seeing “Shocks” who fixed my vape pen. Once the hill climb was over, Oregon and many retrospective thoughts took up the rest of my day and my wandering mind. It’s hard to remember anything after 30 miles. Got to the last water source, gang took a slap-dash vote and decided to cross the border tomorrow. Surprisingly “Flipper” and “Froggy” took different sides and all six of us started to have a hard time, no one wants to be in Cali-fucking-fornia anymore. Everyone was hungry, tired, and ready to zero. Unsurprisingly I was wishy-washy (good photos or Commit?) and tried to be nonchalant—looks like I haven’t learned anything. Whatever. There’s still plenty more hiking to do. We set up camp four miles out. Tomorrow has a new map, hotel, beer, and shower. OREGON.

July 30, Day 87
32.0 miles [1717.7]

Camp was a ghost town before 5:30 A.M. and I had the same singular thought as everyone else. Arrived at the nondescript border and only felt more excited. High-fives and coyote howls all around—we walked to Oregon! Luckily “Goat Man” was there and took our photo. Had to psyche myself up for the remaining 26 miles to the highway and raced through both snack and lunch breaks. Strong cell reception approaching the highway so I made a few phone calls to chew up the remaining miles: a quick update with mom and dad; no luck on Sam Anderson; Jake Moye and I laughed about being hiker trash. With just two miles left, mid-sentence with “Flipper”, I fell. Hard. I could have broken a bone, but luckily all I suffered was losing my mile-zero water bottle. Knee hurts pretty good, thankfully tomorrow is a day of rest. Arrived at Callahan’s and saw that “Dutchie” was there too. Plopped down at the bar and proudly redeemed my free beer on tap, IPA of course. The bartender was having a slow afternoon and treated us to a few pours of pilsner leftover from a wedding. We toasted to our accomplishment. “Dutchie”, being international, charming (and female) schooled us all on how to land a hitch. It took her three minutes, the first car pulled over as if we had money—she’s a natural. The five of us squeezed into her subcompact and took off for Ashland. Arrived at the hotel, it was time to celebrate “Froggy’s” birthday in earnest. Had a real shower, with hot water and soap, for the first time since Bishop—day 44. HA! “Snacks” did the beer run and made us all proud; craft as well as cheap and plenty of them. Gang attempted to order pizza half in the bag. After much deliberation and chatter, we made the delivery call. Wings, ‘za, and beers. Lots of laughs. To friends, birthdays, and zeros.

Oregon/California border and six happy hikers.

Hike On?

NoBo ->

<- SoBo

Justin Kernes 5/10/19 Justin Kernes 5/10/19

PCT 2018: Days 31-36, Tehachapi to Kennedy Meadows

Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 31-36 from Tehachapi to Kennedy Meadows, mile 570-700.

June 4, Day 31
22.1 miles [592.9]

By some grace of God I got decent sleep thanks to those two robust bushes. Loaded a new map into my phone and couldn’t help but feel a small sense of accomplishment. Took a nice, lengthy stop at Golden Oaks spring 12 miles from camp. Avoided the heat and cameled-up in the shade all while hanging out with “Mio”. Tried to make a dent in my food because my pack weighs an absolute shit ton—it’s kind of demoralizing. I must have eight days worth and only need six; I guess I can eat as much as I want. I should buy less crackers next time. The wind seemed to subside the further north we went but it still felt like a hiking through the business end of a hairdryer. Hopefully this is the last of the wind farms. Adam seemed to be in a mood, the desert must be getting to him too. We’re probably both dehydrated. Wrapped up the day with tuna taco while dodging a few mosquitoes. They’re only going to get worse from here.

A Mojave sunrise and the last of the wind farms.

A stoveless resupply which is a little heavy on crackers.

June 5, Day 32
23 miles [615.9]

Said goodbye to the last of the wind farms (I made sure to double-check on the map) and made it 10 miles to Robin Bird spring only stopping briefly two times. My stamina is improving. The long-anticipated arrival of “Mio’s” Marine buddy “Bigfoot” had finally happened, I got to know him a little better over the course of the day. We took over an hour in the shade to rest and rehydrate. Barely making it another mile up trail, we stopped again. “Vinyl” and her friend Norah were sprawled out beside a Subaru under a makeshift canopy of towels and umbrellas held together with gold duct tape and good vibes. I met her yesterday and suddenly remembered talks of her birthday party. They welcomed us to their huge picnic spread which had; brie and bread; watermelon and Oreo cookies; kombucha and Sanpellegrino in all flavors; and most importantly, a homemade blueberry pie. Huge portions were being served and I didn’t think there was going to be enough to go around. “I’ll take a tiny slice, please”, I said timidly. “Vinyl”, plastic cutlery in hand, locked eyes with me and a devious smirk crept below her sunglasses. “Sure you can—‘Tiny Slice’” she snarkily said, plopping a huge piece on my paper plate. It killed, the crowd roared. Everyone commemorated the party by spray-painting their hiking poles gold. Adam and I left the shanty-town, pushing another nine miles before making a dinner stop. The weather was prime and legs felt good, ultimately we did another four miles as dusk slowly turned into night. “Tiny Slice”—it could be worse.

Blueberry pie responsible for my trail name.

June 6, Day 33
24 miles [639.9]

Greeted by a soul-warming sunrise. Despite an intensifying sun and miles of washboarded trail filled with shoe-consuming sand, it was still nice to hike in the limited morning hours with a cool breeze. Just before Bird Spring Pass I came across, quite possibly, the most idyllic Joshua Tree I’d ever witnessed. Even dozens of weekend campouts I spent at the namesake national park never lead to the discovery of such a magnificent specimen. Perhaps it was dehydration, perhaps it was a lack of sittable shade from the last 100 miles, but I was mesmerized. I dropped my pack and flopped down, eyes heavy with midday heat. For the briefest of moments—or maybe it was five minutes—I was thoughtless. Wonderfully adrift. Somehow, I managed to leave. Only a few miles later and we ran into some totally-clutch trail magic. Jim had the full spread: cold cuts, soda, chips, and cooler full of beer. I thanked him profusely, sandwich in hand, and asked about his involvement with the trail. He humbly replied, “I raised a lot of hell when I was younger, so, here I am giving back.” Finally gathered the gumption to leave and made it another nine miles before stopping for dinner and a camp spot. While assembling a dessert burrito, a flock of what I could only assume to be western bluebirds, at least 100 strong, buzzed overhead. Hadn’t even made it halfway through my burrito before realizing we were being assaulted by an army of ants. Still being surprised in the desert.

June 7, Day 34
24.4 miles [662.7]

Tossed and turned until 6 a.m. Uneventful hiking all the way to Walker Pass so I filled the time by listening to more music than usual. At the highway we were greeted by “Coppertone” who happens to be sort of a trail legend. He provided plenty of camp chairs under an awning, a hiker box where Adam scored a new shirt, as well as various snacks laid out on a table. “Coppertone” also offered everyone a float: vanilla or strawberry, root beer or cream soda? I opted for the nontraditional version which several hikers said was the superior choice. Tried to enjoy it slowly but did a poor job. All the while, a helicopter circled unusually low around the campground, only to land several hundred feet away from us. Slurping down the remainder of my float, I saw a flash of orange darting through the trees on a ridgeline above. Just before I began to worry, “Coppertone” offhandedly quipped, “some government officials came by and said they’d be running some tests today”. Twenty minutes later the heli took off, I could just barely make out an orange jumpsuit through the open bay doors. As the chopper left, quiet finally returned. We still needed to confirm a few resupply details with our parents which meant hitching into Lake Isabella or making a phone call. Neither of us had reception, so while I danced around on the shoulder, thumb extended, looking positively too positive, Adam spotted hiker friend “Pocket Rocket” who was in the middle of a phone call. Fortunately, we were able to use her phone and avoid the half-day jaunt into town. With the ‘extra time’ we double-backed to Walker Pass to hang out and hydrate more. I got a few Z’s in on a particularly comfortable camp chair. With most of the heat beat, we pushed another eight miles before finding a spot to cowboy. A terrific tuna taco while avoiding skeeters. Gosh, this has to be the last of the desert, the mountains are nearly here.

US Navy helicopter drills near Walker Pass.

June 8, Day 35
24.5 miles [687.2]

Spent the first three hiking hours without music or podcasts in an effort to save any remaining phone battery (currently at 9%). The terrain has started to morph once again, perhaps it’s a sign we’re getting closer to the mountains. I’ve cinched my belt quite tight, flaps of fabric now bunch around my waist; my clothes don’t fit anymore. Even though there was nearly 12 miles of solid uphill today, the actual ascents weren’t problematic. I’m just so fed up sweating from every inch of my body with a ‘hot face’. It just sucks. Found a good spot for lunch and a snooze 15 miles in. Climbed a second big hill to finish the evening. A gentleman we’d been leapfrogging all day arrived at camp just as we finished setting up. He introduced himself as “Missing Person”, and without missing a beat said, “you must be brothers, right?” It was almost refreshing to hear someone say it so confidently, most people had been giving Adam and I double-takes, asking if we were twins and which one was older. He flashed a smile of admiration undeniably different than others I had seen. “Mind if I crash your site?” We nodded. The three of us talked and ate dinner, sharing stories from the desert. Offhandedly, he mentioned he hiked the AT 25 years ago—largely in memoriam of his late brother. I tried to keep eating chili cheese Fritos but they just dried up in my mouth. My tent is scheduled to arrive tomorrow, hopefully that eases the tension between Adam and me.

June 9, Day 36
15 miles [702.2]

Broke camp and high-tailed it to Kennedy Meadows. I sniped at Adam the last few miles, saying some really dumb shit. 'Got the clap' as we approached the general store—other hikers applauded each new arrival's success. If I smiled any harder I probably would have ended up in tears. Today was the lowest I've been in recent memory. Even those hard days early on in the desert pale in comparison to the neurotic, worthless feelings I subjected myself to today. Bought some beers and tried to mingle with the dozens of other hikers, hoping to take my mind off of me. Signed up to take a shower in one of the jankiest homemade stalls I've ever witnessed (I should have just taken my towel to the Kern river.) I skipped the washing machine since it had a sign-up list longer than my sleeping pad, opting to have another beer and wash my socks under the spigot. Parents arrived with our resupply and loving support. They treated us to dinner at Grumpy Bear's Retreat, the only restaurant in the area, for a burger. I managed two bites before unraveling, bemoaning problems Adam and I should have managed ourselves. They drove six hours for me to treat them like a petulant child. I feel sick to my stomach. It feels shameful to admit how close I was to quitting, especially when the getaway vehicle was being driven by mom and dad. Grow up, Justin. After dinner, I tried to turn the evening around and bought everyone beers. We started joking around and laughing, sharing stories like the clogged toilet and photos of unbelievable desert sunrises: Kernes family therapy. Divvied up the resupply and setup my new tent. Tried hard not to be awkward as our parents drove out. Later, “Missing Person” came up and said we looked down and out at the diner. I smiled weakly, “family things.” He congratulated us on making it out of the desert. I'm overjoyed to be finished.

Hike On?

NoBo ->

<- SoBo

Justin Kernes 5/7/19 Justin Kernes 5/7/19

PCT 2018: Days 41-44, Mount Whitney to Bishop

Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 41-44 from Mount Whitney to Bishop, mile 766-831.

June 14, Day 41
19.2 miles [791.9]

Frost on my bag once again, another cold start. Still a little bummed out and attempted to wake and bake my woes away. Definitely harbored some anxiety about today’s terrain and what it would bring but I quickly got enamored in the grandeur of the Sierra. In the first few miles I forded Tyndall Creek rather than take the time to find an ideal rock-hop-spot which resulted in soaked shoes ending in torn blisters. Slopping around in slushy snow didn’t help either. I have to remember to keep my shoes dry. We got to the final approach and looked up at the remaining 700 feet of gain while filtering water. It looked like Forester Pass was going to fall into space. A nearly vertical wall of snow was clearly visible from the bottom—the most highly anticipated and fear-mongered location so far. People had asked “are you going to bring microspikes? Where’s your ice axe?” There I was, time to cross the bridge, a phrase I’ve come to love. Intimidation abated with each step taken closer to the saddle. I glided across the snow-covered section with ease. Another hiker who had been tailing us the entire way up had halted before the snow. From 200 feet away, it was easy to tell he wasn’t a happy camper. “You got this”, I yelled over the chasm, “it’s way better than it looks!” He nodded, flashing a thumbs up, then took cautious steps all the way across. We saw him at the top, beaming. After a snack break we glissaded down the backside and continued to Glen Pass; it kicked my ass. Low food with a rationing mentality lead to me bonking. I was whopped, Adam was light years ahead of me. Two passes in a day is ridiculous. The thought of food kept me moving—50 miles to Bishop.

Forester Pass and the Kings Canyon and Sequoia National Parks boundary, mile 779.5.

Northern side of Forester Pass, mile 780.

June 15, Day 42
23.8 miles [815.7]

Warm sleep for having camped above 11,000 feet. Got up and out with intention because it’s hard to lie on my back with how tender my heels are—I can feel my heartbeat throbbing in my feet. Nervous about how well I would do but blisters are a known quantity, it really can’t get much worse than this. Just have to keep putting one in front of the other. Only a few miles in, I took my shoes off in order to cross between Rae Lakes with certain dryness. After yesterday’s water-logged experience my new mantra is still ringing in my head: wet is worse. Drifted throughout treeline, dozens of half-frozen alpine lakes speckled the rocky terrain. Pinchot Pass wasn’t forgiving, albeit much easier than Forester and Glen. Intense beauty was all around but I found myself looking down most of the time, the sheer discomfort pulling me away. However, I must have hopped over 50 streams and at each one, with enough searching, there were enough slick rocks or creaky downed limbs for a strategic jump-and-pray, each leap followed by a gratifying mental ding of success—I felt like a video game character. During one of my searches I found a half-full bottle of olive oil bobbing in an eddy which went spectacularly with our pasta dinner. At this point my food bag is mostly bag and trash, free calories were a godsend. Pushed to the base of Mather Pass and set up camp as spumoni skies faded into starry oblivion.

Adam gives me “knucks” for getting over Pinchot Pass.

Marmota flaviventris, yellow-bellied marmot. — *Marmota flaviventris*, yellow-bellied marmot.

Sunset in Upper Basin, Mather Pass, mile 815.7.

June 16, Day 43
27.3 miles [831.0]

Heard other hikers packing and instantly craved more sleep. I stuck my head out of my vestibule and found Adam already breaking down his tent. Hustled and got up and over Mather, then began 4,000 feet of descent for the Bishop Pass trail junction. Obsessed about food to the point of fantasy. Played a mental game where I tried to imagine foods I wouldn’t eat even if offered to me right then and there (I didn’t come up with anything). It worked well at keeping my mind off my feet which are completely fucked up. Cold mornings, soggy shoes, sharp rocks and crusty socks, 25-mile days, and low calories, never have I had this many blisters. Arrived at the junction and devoured my last packet of tuna—dry. Adam and I have both done Bishop Pass many times but always the northern approach, never from the other side. It was brutal. The first three miles might have been my hardest physically. Had a few excruciating moments of wanting to “Stop”; to just not hike anymore, to sleep and get as close to death as I could, but those moments faded just as they always do. A mile before the pass, Adam threw out one of his usual outrageous suggestions. “We could always push for the parking lot”, he dryly said, both of us drenched in sweat and sucking wind, the sun already having set behind massive granite peaks. He was just as done as I was. Somehow, delirious, I agreed, adding another six miles to our day. At 10:30 p.m., broken, tired, and hungry, we arrived at windy South Lake parking lot. My resupply had two packets of Probar Bolts, a highly coveted gummy snack lovingly saved from summer camp, I had already eaten the first pack on top of Whitney, saving the final pack for a special occasion. I chewed them slowly, trying not to think too much about what I’m going to eat tomorrow.

June 17, Day 44
0 miles [831.0]

A windy night continued into the morning, I had on all my layers while waiting for a hitch. Didn’t sit long before meeting our lord and savior, weekend warrior, Thomas, who by his own account was headed home a day early since he “wasn’t feeling it”. Got dropped off at the famed bakery and I limited myself to a chocolate croissant, chocolate covered espresso beans, and a large coffee which covered a large portion of my vices. Dined al fresco and watched clean tourists before heading over to McDonald’s for the “real food”; two chicken sandwiches, a large fry, and a coke, all while refilling my podcast supply. Wandered through a few gear shops and found two things: a replacement water filter and “Trash Bath”. The three of us formulated a plan for the upcoming section while booking a room at the Hostel California. There weren’t any laundry services so I dumped out my remaining crusty packet of drink mix and a few straggling raisins from my bear can and threw in my fetid garments with a few hefty squirts of dish soap—the socks took four rounds alone. Adam pointed out that it was opening weekend for “Incredibles 2” and the dinky two-screen theater probably still had a few tickets left. We made use of the free bikes and purchased tickets before taking a quick pit stop at the grocery store for beer and munchies. Even though the theater was completely full with 8-year-olds, the movie was amazing. Stayed well past the credits, then biked back to the grocery store for a full resupply and tonight’s dinner. At the hostel, I cooked brats and onions, in a real kitchen on a real stove no less, Adam made a salad, and “Trash Bath” shared his gallon of mint chip. Feeling the vortex hard on this spectacular zero, it’s not going to be easy to leave.

Hike On?

NoBo ->

<- SoBo

Justin Kernes 5/5/19 Justin Kernes 5/5/19

PCT 2018: Days 50-52, Mammoth Lakes to Tuolumne Meadows

Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 50-52 from Mammoth Lakes to Tuolumne Meadows, mile 906-942.

June 23, Day 50
9.3 miles [915.9]

Decent rest for having slept near a road, drunk. “Shocks” shared his other Torpedo while we packed up and waited for “Combo” to come pick us up, the four of us went to Von’s for resupply. A disgruntled shopper got confrontational when he scrutinized my 23 items, not the stated and illuminated “15 or less”, most likely because I look homeless. While sitting at a table repackaging my food, a motorcyclist who was parking came within inches of colliding with me, even grazed my shoulders with his handlebars, the old man didn’t even acknowledge the incident to anyone at our table of four. Justin’s of the past would have handled both of those situations far worse; I just ate my Talenti in the shade and enjoyed not moving. We said our see-ya-laters and “Combo” dropped us off at the resort. Started chatting up lifty Sinona who gave us the nod for a free ride in the gondola. At the top I pilfered 10 mayonnaise packets from one of the restaurants while we watched mountain bikers bomb the slope and charged our electronics. I killed my remaining beer from last night. Met “Gandalf”, a kooky fellow, who was also waiting out the midday heat. Caught the return bus to Red’s meadow where I drank more beer. Spent a moment being touristy at Devils Postpile and admired the basalt columns. Struggled through nine miles of mosquitoes before setting up camp to seek refuge where I had my first fire of the entire trail. After 50 days, I’m finally starting to get the hang of this.

“Trash Bath” rides the Mammoth Ski Resort gondola.

Devils Postpile National Monument, topside.

Hexagonal columnar basalt of Devils Postpile.

Fly fisherman on the Middle Fork San Joaquin River.

June 24, Day 51
20.1 miles [936.0]

Waking up doesn’t seem to be any easier on trail, no doubt thanks to yesterday’s diet of beer. I got up late and took my time packing and hydrating. I hope the pictures I take somehow remind me of the sheer grandeur of the Sierra—it feels trite to keep calling everything gorgeous, amazing, and beautiful. Easy enough hike to Thousand Island Lake where we met a young family of four just about to leave. They had two sons under 13, everyone carrying remarkably high spirits, and informed us they were doing “just a 100 mile section”. I remembered the odd level of enjoyment and suffering backpacking taught me from Scouting. I took care to fist bump those little dudes with an extra level of coolness that only a group of three smiling, wild thru-hikers could provide. Was beyond stoked to take an extended lunch break staring at Mount Ritter but as soon as we sat down the skeeters began their assault. So far, the highs and lows of trail life are a natural and common occurrence, but it was then that I reached maximum frustration. I just feel helpless, my life has been reduced to two states: either moving constantly, never enjoying the solitude of rest outside of a netted shelter, or to accept it, like some sort of self-immolating monk, waiting for the possibly diseased swarms to suck me dry and cover me with itchy reminders for the upcoming weeks. I’m already chewed up, what’s the use in fighting? Sailed over Donahue Pass to find cleaner air and was rewarded with my new favorite view (so far). Another five miles before calling it quits and making camp. Pleased my tuna taco game has been fully optimized. A thoroughly squeezed mayo packet, a glug of olive oil, and a few heavy shakes of Old Bay goes into an awaiting tuna pouch. The gloopy contents is spooned onto an awaiting, crumbly tortilla and garnished with a heaping handful of hot Cheetos, tonight I had two. I’m utterly exhausted, but not hungry. And fuck mosquitoes.

Island Pass, Thousand Island Lake, and Mount Ritter, mile 922.5.

“Shocks” admires Mount Ritter, mile 923.4.

Donahue Pass, Lyell Fork, and Lyell Glacier, mile 930.5,

June 25, Day 52
14.5 miles [942.5]

Enjoyed sleeping late, then read until just past 7 A.M. Just as we were about to head out, I recognized Casey, the girl who “Shocks” and I met and hadn’t seen since the terminus, was about to sail by and I shouted out her name. She raced over and gave me a monstrous bear-hug, pack and all. It was strange because my only form of human contact on trail so far has been entirely fist-bumps. We chatted and caught up over the next few miles before she zoomed ahead. I don’t think I’m going to catch her. Arrived at Tuolumne Meadows and enjoyed the loving embrace of a picnic table. There were a dozen or so lonely sodas and beers with no accompanying notes and after deliberating, I took one of each. A young man with black frames and a hot pink shirt appeared to be holding court at one of the other tables. I recognized his face from scrolling through social media and asked if “Twerk” had taken his photo, a name I heard back at Casa de Luna. “I am ‘Twerk’”, he said sweetly and the table erupted behind him. It’s refreshing to find someone making original content, we talked shop for just a few minutes. Sat there feeling apathetic about moving, but “Trash Bath” wants to hike, he’s never been to Yosemite. I buckled and got a double cheeseburger with a hot coffee from the grill which seemed to boost my spirits. The three of us hemmed and hawed but agreed a $6 per person campsite was a good purchase. Set up camp and decided that Cathedral Peak—a pinnacle of angry, wicked granite—was a worthwhile summit. I snagged another beer from the convenience store before we blazed into the unloaded portion of our digital maps. Navigated to the trailhead and began the ascent, Cathedral sharply looming over us the entire time. The higher I climbed, the more exposed the terrain became, I should have figured a rock spire would be treacherous. With each step towards the peak I wanted to turn back, but I ignored the scared, weak boy who just wants to sleep and drink in the void of all things difficult. Class 2 morphed into 3, then suddenly 4, I scrambled past a pair of climbers practicing rappelling techniques, death a very real possibility. My brain loudly reminded me this was the second most exposed I had ever been without gear and rapidly was becoming number one. I pushed until I was 20 feet from the top before my wits and reptilian brain won out; this was good enough. Made it safely back to the trail portion, we all trail-ran, knocking off three miles of descent in less than half an hour. Stumbled onto the main road just before the convenience store closed. I got a carton of Merlot and we retreated to the very full backpacker’s campsite. Met “Sticky Fingers”, a friend of “Trash Bath’s”, he offered me a draw off his Makers Mark. There was a half a liter of Coke which I used to make kalimotxos, educating everyone with a full cup who gave me quizzical looks. Absolutely blitzed but I earned it; a reason to celebrate.

Hike On?

NoBo ->

<- SoBo

Justin Kernes 5/4/19 Justin Kernes 5/4/19

PCT 2018: Days 53-56, Tuolumne Meadows to Sonora Pass

Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 53-56 from Tuolumne Meadows to Sonora Pass, mile 942-1,020.

June 26, Day 53
20.3 miles [962.8]

Unsurprisingly, I woke to hikers ‘quietly’ retrieving their smellables from the bear lockers. Read a few pages of Desert Solitaire before poking my head out and confirming “Trash Bath” and “Sticky Fingers” had made good on their promise to sunrise Cloud’s Rest; their tents were empty. Packed up and headed down to the post office and grill. Got two cups of coffee which had me buzzing. In typical fashion, just before 8 A.M., garbage trucks rumbled through the valley, dumpsters were being violently emptied—Welcome to Yosemite. Even though I had been there less than a full day, being steeped in the huddled masses of one of the most popular National Parks has started to bum me out. A van of Euro hippies which had parked next to the tables opened all their doors and musical instruments started appearing. About twelve seconds into the free-form pan flute session harmonized by a banal conversation from some try-too-hard Instagram model types sitting adjacent, “Shocks” and I decided to leave. Cruised through a few miles of open, lush meadows before taking a long lunch with “Combo”. Five, ten, fifteen, the miles melted. Took a bird bath at Miller Lake, mainly for my feet and pits. Struggled to cross Matterhorn Creek and made it half mile more before calling it quits. Nearly two decades of Scouting beat into me to never, under any circumstances, have food in, near, or around one’s tent for fear a bear would be attracted and attack. However, I am so fed up with mosquitoes, I welcome the possible grisly encounter and ate dinner in my tent with only a shrill, unyielding whine penetrating the glorious mesh. Suckers.

Unique color and corrosion of Soda Springs.

A hiker suns herself beneath Tuolumne Falls.

Mosquitoes which made it under the rain fly.

Tuna taco with wasabi peas and chili cheese Fritos.

June 27, Day 54
19.5 miles [982.3]

Blessed to have only a singular mosquito bum-rush me during my AM BM, after which any portion of flesh was in critical danger. Disassembled my tent while attempting to move at two miles an hour. Rolling start out of camp only to be stopped by a ranger, my first, who in predictable fashion asked to see my permit only after the briefest of greetings. “Can you fit all your food in your bear canister?” she asked, groping my pack for a rigid and dense confirmation. I nodded enthusiastically, handing her my permit with a mouth full of Poptarts, a bag of Cheez-its prominently strapped to the outside of my pack, silently thinking if I continued to eat at double my current input, yes. Hiked mostly alone much like yesterday, I feel utterly zonked. Walking all day is the hardest easy thing I’ve ever done. There’s a certain calming quality in the gorgeous monotony. Benson Pass proved to be a breeze but Seavey Pass was seriously steep. Dusk soon arrived and I set up camp didn't have much to say. Annihilated a tuna taco and somewhere around the fourth bite, had an out of body epiphany: mayo is king. The delectable, savory spread makes any dry packet of tuna taste luxurious. Much like any addiction I can’t imagine life sans substance. How do people survive on ramen and instant potatoes? I don’t think I’ll ever understand the mayonnaise haters. Killed the remainder of the wine while enjoying another night safe in my tent. Kennedy Meadows North is in 38 miles but I’m looking forward to tonight’s sleep more.

June 28, Day 55
23.6 miles [1005.9]

I should be elated, I should be proud. This afternoon I crossed the 1,000 mile marker, a new significant figure has been added to my trail log. But there wasn’t anyone around to celebrate with. As I got out my camera and wondered how I was going to take a photo of me and the ground simultaneously, fortunately “Combo” showed up and was a great human tripod, but he seemed to be in a real hurry (probably the skeeters) and bolted after snapping a photo for his own memories. Didn’t see anyone I recognized for the rest of the day, I just kept leapfrogging the same pair of vaguely international women who don’t seem to enjoy sharing the English language. Set up my tent while looking over my shoulder like an addled, twitchy squirrel, hoping and praying to see any member of my trail fam come into camp; no such luck. It took 55 days and finally it’s my first night ‘alone’. That fact bums me out even further. To top it off, most of my days are spent tuning out the drudgery of putting one in front of the other. Each day seems so long, each hour seems to be another brutal reminder that I didn’t even make it another three miles since the last hour. There’s a small chance I’m behind, my plan is to get moving an hour before we normally depart. Either way, I’m sure I’ll see someone before the highway. While filling water to cut down on tomorrow's morning chores, I misread the ground and sunk to my ankle in mud. I had to curl my toes to keep the shoe from being slurped up like a tender baby back rib. Washed it in the creek, there’s nothing better than starting the morning off with wet feet.

Mile marker 1,000 on the Pacific Crest Trail.

June 29, Day 56
14.8 miles [1020.7]

Of course my shoe froze, that novelty quickly thawed. But you know what? THIS smart guy snuggled with his water filter all night. Not learning that lesson twice. Crammed my shoe into a spare Ziploc and stuffed the whole mess into my puffy while I packed up everything inside my tent. Raced out of camp in efforts to ditch the nagging demons telling me I was behind. Had over ten miles worth of intrusive thoughts, loneliness being the main culprit despite passing and being passed by a dozen other hikers. Met “Captain” who remarked on my similar looks to another hiker he had just seen and I asked if he had met a “Shocks” or a “Trash Bath”. He told me I was about four miles ahead. I strolled down to the highway and snagged a beer from the parking lot magic and waited for my tramily to appear. Watched seven people to squeeze into a mini trailer, later I found out there wasn’t even tailgate. Gang showed up and we caught a ride into Kennedy Meadows North from a gentleman shuttling hikers for the afternoon. Arrived at the meadows and promptly bought a six pack, convincing “Combo” and “Shocks” to split a load of laundry with me. Ravaged a cheeseburger during the rinse cycle. Whole crew is back, I feel like an utter fool for having been so bummed. Scavenged a decent resupply from the convenience store before packing up one last time and heading out to the road. Hitching was getting tough—it was 6 P.M.—most of the tourists using the secluded road had already headed home. As the occasional car went by, everyone stood up and threw out thumbs smiling as hard as possible. With each missed opportunity my morale kept getting goofier; positivity attracts vehicles. A Mercedes Sprinter van zoomed by with no indication of slowing. “Sorry, we have TOO much space!” I yelled in my most sardonic tone to the exhaust fumes, the gang chuckled as they sat back down. Not thirty seconds later, much to everyone’s surprise, the Sprinter van came back and offered to help. I was absolutely stunned. The eight of us criss-cross-apple-sauced our limbs and gear into the rear and I politely handed the driver my camera while he pulled out his phone for the same purpose. “We haven’t seen this many people in the back of a van since India” he said with amusement, snapping our photo. The doors slammed and we rocketed off onto windy Highway 108. We screamed through tight corners and steep drop offs while our two intrepid chauffeurs told us plans of a second attempt at a Rainier summit. In some turns, I swore I could feel the back tires beginning to break. Said a few prayers and fortunately we arrived back at Sonora Pass. Made it a few miles up trail and set up camp. Happy to have lived, happy to be alive; remember that.

Emigrant Wilderness, Stanislaus National Forest.

Burgers and beers with restorative powers.

Hike On?

NoBo ->

<- SoBo

Justin Kernes 4/10/19 Justin Kernes 4/10/19

PCT 2018: Days 1-4, Campo to Julian

Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 1-4 from Campo to Julian, mile 0-80.

May 5, Day 1
20.5 miles [20.5]

I am absolutely stunned at how beautiful it all is. Met Ian and got my portrait taken, he says he'll be at the northern terminus sometime in October. Twenty minutes into our hike, we crossed the first of many milestones; mile-marker 1. It was hard not to smile. Two miles in, we double-backed into Campo for water. I later realized Hauser Creek was 15 miles away and the two liters of water I initially brought wasn't even going to last 10 miles. Saw a dozen or more hikers and found myself jumping to conclusions about their abilities. They probably knew about the lack of water sources though. Before Morena Mountain, we met “Charlie”, a weathered man on a motorbike. “You guys know you're crazy, right?” We chuckled and declined his offer for water—that lesson already learned. Adam seemed to be a wizard with Guthooks; kicking myself for not trying it out sooner. “The malt shop closes at 8 p.m., that's my goal” he said dryly as the sun was setting. At 7:59 p.m., we arrived wet and tired. Split a shake and french fries. Can't help but think this wasn't 'deserved'. Today was a butt-kicker, I've got to remember to drink more water—take care of yourself.

“Charlie”, somewhere near Morena Mountain.

May 6, Day 2
19 miles [39.5]

First full day on-trail! It got intensely hot quickly; tomorrow we're going to need to start earlier. A few miles in we stopped and chatted with a woman who introduced herself as “Nona From Nowhere”. She waved a bag of peanuts still in their shells at Adam and I. “You guys got names yet?” We shook our heads, smiled, and introduced our real names. “Hey Illinois, want some peanuts?” she said to Casey, the girl we'd been leapfrogging all morning. A big grin covered her face, “you know, I'm a Triple-Crowner,” she said wryly. “I angel a little bit up in Vancouver—you'll see me later.” She bid us a safe journey and we thanked her for the peanuts. The rest of the afternoon was rather uneventful. In the evening, when I went to put away my umbrella, I was stunned to find my second hiking pole was missing. It must have snagged on a branch and been stripped from my pack. My music was far too loud to have heard anything. Adam and I double-backed for more than a mile to no avail. Bummed to have lost a piece of gear so early, but I can't imagine a day when I won't need the umbrella. For now, #onepolepatrol.

“Nona from Nowhere”, has hiked all three long-distance trails in North America.

May 7, Day 3
20 miles [59.5]

Started the morning strong with a Snickers bar. Made it to Pine Tree Lodge for some biscuits and gravy and a fresh espresso—I couldn't resist. Briefly stopped at the Mount Laguna general store; got a Budweiser and some chips. What a quaint little town. Today was also my first trail magic! At Roadside Lookout, we met Andrew and Jamie, who gave us ice-cold sodas and regaled us with stories of just how bad Scissors Crossing was going to be. Got moving after a nice long break, cool breezes made today tolerable. Filled up water and crushed the beer at Penny Pines Point; this carry has to last until Julian tomorrow—28 miles. After the sun had set, I took of my shirt for the last few miles of the day. Refreshing evening air filled the canyon as stars slowly began to appear.

Sunrise trailhead campsite at night, mile 59.5.

May 8, Day 4
20.9 miles [80.4]

I'm getting better at waking up earlier; today we started hiking at 6:40 a.m. Although it seemed like there was only a few hours of tolerable hiking weather before it got insanely hot. The entire slog to Scissors Crossing was novelty-hot. My water tasted about 95 degrees. Every few miles I saw a full, unopened Lifewtr, each bottle scrawled with “the desert is a cruel bitch” in Sharpie. There were rumors of a guy who didn't carry enough water and had to turn back—apparently these bottles were his offering. Finally we made it to Scissors Crossing, I Was nervous how my fist hitch was going to pan out. Five minutes later, we were zooming into Julian with our new friend, “Monica from Santa Monica”. Hikers in town said pie couldn't be missed; but we opted for jalapenos and sausage at Romano's instead.

Hike On?

Nobo ->

Justin Kernes at the northern terminus of the Pacific Crest Trail.

Justin Kernes is a photographer and writer who thrives in the great outdoors.

From 2010-2017, he worked in the backcountry at Philmont Scout Ranch in New Mexico.

In 2018 “Tiny Slice” successfully thru-hiked the Pacific Crest Trail.

Search the Blog

Featured Posts

Featured

PCT 2018: Day 111, Goat Rocks and my 30th Birthday

Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers day 111, Goat Rocks and my 30th birthday.

PCT 2018: Days 93-95, Crater Lake to Shelter Cove

Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 93-95 from Crater Lake to Shelter Cove, mile 1,820-1,900.

PCT 2018: Days 76-79, Burney Falls to Mount Shasta

Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 76-79 from Burney Falls to Mount Shasta, mile 1,420-1,500.

PCT 2018: Day 40, Mount Whitney

Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers day 40, Mount Whitney.

PCT 2018: Days 45-49, Bishop to Mammoth Lakes

Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 45-49 from Bishop to Mammoth Lakes, mile 831-906.

PCT 2018: Days 1-4, Campo to Julian

Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 1-4 from Campo to Julian, mile 0-80.

PCT Thru-Hike: Gear Review – What Worked, What Didn't, and Things I Would Change

In 2018, I thru-hiked of the Pacific Crest Trail. In this blog post I will share my thoughts and give a thorough review of the gear I used. Here’s where you can see all my PCT articles, including my daily journal and photos.

PCT Thru-Hike: By the Numbers – Time, Cost, and Tuna Packets

In 2018, I thru-hiked the Pacific Crest Trail. Here are the stats, the aftermath, the by-the-numbers account of my time on trail.

PCT Thru-Hike: Before – Planning, Preparing, and Problem Solving for 2,650 Miles

In 2018, I thru-hiked the Pacific Crest Trail with my brother. Before the trail, we watched dozens of YouTube videos and read countless gear reviews. In the spirit of giving back—and recording my memories for posterity—here's what we did before either of us set foot on trail.

Photoshop Tutorial: How to Edit a Portrait or Headshot Workflow

This tutorial will cover my typical post-processing workflow for a portrait or headshot using Adobe Photoshop and Bridge.

July 31, Day 880 miles [1717.7]

August 1, Day 8923.6 miles [1741.3]

August 2 Day 9025.9 miles [1767.2]

August 3, Day 9126.5 miles [1793.7]

August 4, Day 9228.2 miles [1820.9]

Hike On?

August 12, Day 10030.6 miles [2032.9]

August 13, Day 10131.7 miles [2064.6]

August 14, Day 10232.3 miles [2096.9]

August 15, Day 10321.8 miles [2118.7]

August 16, Day 10428.1 miles [2146.8]

Hike On?

August 17, Day 1050 miles [2146.8]

August 18, Day 1064 miles [2146.8]

Hike On?

July 3, Day 600 miles [1090.0]

July 4, Day 6117.7 miles [1103.2]

Hike On?

July 5, Day 6218.9 miles [1122.1]

July 6, Day 6324.5 miles [1146.6]

July 7, Day 6422.3 miles [1168.5]

July 8, Day 6526.9 miles [1195.4]

Hike On?

July 9, Day 660 miles [1195.4]

July 10, Day 6720.6 miles [1216.0]

July 11, Day 6835.0 miles [1251.0]

July 12, Day 6930.0 miles [1281.0]

July 13, Day 7021.2 miles [1300.5]

Hike On?

July 14, Day 7131.8 miles [1331.3]

July 15, Day 7211.4 miles [1340.7]

July 16, Day 7330.0 miles [1369.7]

July 17, Day 7427.1 miles [1396.8]

July 18, Day 7523.2 miles [1419.0]

Hike On?

July 19, Day 7632.1 miles [1450.1]

July 20, Day 7731.8 miles [1481.9]

July 21, Day 7819.3 miles [1501.2]

July 22, Day 790 miles [1501.2]

Hike On?

July 23, Day 8024.3 miles [1525.5]

July 24, Day 8130.4 miles [1555.9]

July 25, Day 8225.2 miles [1581.1]

July 26, Day 8321.7 miles [1599.8]

Hike On?

July 27, Day 8429.2 miles [1629.0]

July 28, Day 8527.4 miles [1656.4]

July 29, Day 8631.3 miles [1687.7]

July 30, Day 8732.0 miles [1717.7]

Hike On?

June 4, Day 3122.1 miles [592.9]

June 5, Day 3223 miles [615.9]

June 6, Day 3324 miles [639.9]

June 7, Day 3424.4 miles [662.7]

June 8, Day 3524.5 miles [687.2]

June 9, Day 3615 miles [702.2]

Hike On?

June 14, Day 4119.2 miles [791.9]

June 15, Day 4223.8 miles [815.7]

June 16, Day 43 27.3 miles [831.0]

June 17, Day 440 miles [831.0]

Hike On?

June 23, Day 509.3 miles [915.9]

June 24, Day 5120.1 miles [936.0]

June 25, Day 5214.5 miles [942.5]

Hike On?

June 26, Day 5320.3 miles [962.8]

June 27, Day 5419.5 miles [982.3]

June 28, Day 5523.6 miles [1005.9]

June 29, Day 56 14.8 miles [1020.7]

Hike On?

May 5, Day 120.5 miles [20.5]

May 6, Day 219 miles [39.5]

May 7, Day 320 miles [59.5]

May 8, Day 420.9 miles [80.4]

Hike On?

About the Blog

Search the Blog

Featured Posts

July 31, Day 88
0 miles [1717.7]

August 1, Day 89
23.6 miles [1741.3]

August 2 Day 90
25.9 miles [1767.2]

August 3, Day 91
26.5 miles [1793.7]

August 4, Day 92
28.2 miles [1820.9]

August 12, Day 100
30.6 miles [2032.9]

August 13, Day 101
31.7 miles [2064.6]

August 14, Day 102
32.3 miles [2096.9]

August 15, Day 103
21.8 miles [2118.7]

August 16, Day 104
28.1 miles [2146.8]

August 17, Day 105
0 miles [2146.8]

August 18, Day 106
4 miles [2146.8]

July 3, Day 60
0 miles [1090.0]

July 4, Day 61
17.7 miles [1103.2]

July 5, Day 62
18.9 miles [1122.1]

July 6, Day 63
24.5 miles [1146.6]

July 7, Day 64
22.3 miles [1168.5]

July 8, Day 65
26.9 miles [1195.4]

July 9, Day 66
0 miles [1195.4]

July 10, Day 67
20.6 miles [1216.0]

July 11, Day 68
35.0 miles [1251.0]

July 12, Day 69
30.0 miles [1281.0]

July 13, Day 70
21.2 miles [1300.5]

July 14, Day 71
31.8 miles [1331.3]

July 15, Day 72
11.4 miles [1340.7]

July 16, Day 73
30.0 miles [1369.7]

July 17, Day 74
27.1 miles [1396.8]

July 18, Day 75
23.2 miles [1419.0]

July 19, Day 76
32.1 miles [1450.1]

July 20, Day 77
31.8 miles [1481.9]

July 21, Day 78
19.3 miles [1501.2]

July 22, Day 79
0 miles [1501.2]

July 23, Day 80
24.3 miles [1525.5]

July 24, Day 81
30.4 miles [1555.9]

July 25, Day 82
25.2 miles [1581.1]

July 26, Day 83
21.7 miles [1599.8]

July 27, Day 84
29.2 miles [1629.0]

July 28, Day 85
27.4 miles [1656.4]

July 29, Day 86
31.3 miles [1687.7]

July 30, Day 87
32.0 miles [1717.7]

June 4, Day 31
22.1 miles [592.9]

June 5, Day 32
23 miles [615.9]

June 6, Day 33
24 miles [639.9]

June 7, Day 34
24.4 miles [662.7]

June 8, Day 35
24.5 miles [687.2]

June 9, Day 36
15 miles [702.2]

June 14, Day 41
19.2 miles [791.9]

June 15, Day 42
23.8 miles [815.7]

June 16, Day 43
27.3 miles [831.0]

June 17, Day 44
0 miles [831.0]

June 23, Day 50
9.3 miles [915.9]

June 24, Day 51
20.1 miles [936.0]

June 25, Day 52
14.5 miles [942.5]

June 26, Day 53
20.3 miles [962.8]

June 27, Day 54
19.5 miles [982.3]

June 28, Day 55
23.6 miles [1005.9]

June 29, Day 56
14.8 miles [1020.7]

May 5, Day 1
20.5 miles [20.5]

May 6, Day 2
19 miles [39.5]

May 7, Day 3
20 miles [59.5]

May 8, Day 4
20.9 miles [80.4]