PCT 2018: Days 112-116, White Pass to Snoqualmie Pass
Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 112-116 from White Pass to Snoqualmie Pass, mile 2,270-2,390.
August 24, Day 112
~19.5 miles [2295.5]
Not an ideal night. Rough and windy, I was awake for most of 11-2 A.M. hours with a billowing rain fly. Summoned the courage and removed the fly, then took a horrendous dumb under an almost blinding full moon, fully engulfed in a bank of clouds. Managed a little sleep before giving up. Sunrise was completely shrouded by fog and clouds, I couldn’t see ahead of me more than 50 feet except for a brief five-second window. “Shocks” and “Tumbleweed” weren’t lazy (also they were the only ones who camped higher than us) and got a photo, I didn’t even touch my camera. Big shame. Got to Coyote Junction, mile 2278.6, and started down Packwood Lake reroute. It felt like 15 miles of steep descent which took us from 8-1 P.M. Stumbled into the trailhead and got a lucky hitch inside a horse trailer who’s cargo was an ATV, two motorbikes, and two blonde girls also hitching. I think that was the oddest ride so far. Went for coffee and it looked like “Roadrunner”, “AutoPilot”, and “Colonel Sanders” had made it down and shared the same idea. Americano never tasted better. Hitched to White Pass, “Sticky Fingers” and “Brownstreak” showed up. Picked up our resupply box from the Kracker Barrel. “Stick” gave me his vape pen battery, “Tumbleweed” gifted me her concentrate pods, and “Shocks” gave me his headphone dongle! THE TRAIL PROVIDES! Nearby apartment was offering free chili. I washed it down with a microwaved burrito. Picked the trail back up at mile 2294.9 and got about a mile out before setting up camp. Velveeta dinner—the tenth and final portion of that meal—and another beer. Shared camp with “Cray-Nip”. The border is closed and I am thoroughly bummed. I didn’t do this trail for the border alone but I feel horribly cheated if I can’t cross.
Packwood Lake, Washington.
White Pass and Highway 12.
August 25, Day 113
28.2 miles [2323.7]
Nearly fell asleep before writing, I think I knocked out from 8-9:30 P.M. (I refuse to miss any entries). Chilly morning, I wore my rain/wind jacket most of the day. Passed by streams, creeks, and ponds of varying hues. About the time when afternoon clouds burned off it began raining and everything became damp and miserable. All my gear is wet, but not soaked, except for my quilt and sleep clothes. I spent a lot of time worrying about the consequences and how I’ll stay warm but I know I’ll learn as I continue. Lunch break at Bumping River and “Sticky” angled with his Tenkara. “Brownstreak” looked tired. Dense fog and mist swaddled me like a comforter made out of depression. Got to Chinook Pass and hunted for a suitable site just as the hypo began to set in. Hastily made camp and hung out in my tent with my remaining dry layers and ate a shit ton in an attempt to warm up. Somewhat concerned about tomorrow since it’s not going to be any warmer or drier. Cross that bridge when you get there. Just. Keep. Moving.
Pipe Lake, mile 2302.5.
Tipsoo Lake Junction near Chinook Pass.
August 26, Day 114
23.3 miles [2347.0]
Very fortunate to have slept warmly. Commanding/summoning the motivation to hike was brutal. It was probably 48 degrees and anything which wasn’t inside my tent was completely soaked. Pulling on wet pants is a depressing way to start anyone’s morning, I wasn’t a happy camper. Squished into my shoes, at least wool socks mitigate the misery. “Shocks” only groaned when I wished him well, he eventually caught up in the afternoon. It threatened to get warm but never actually did. “Sticky” and I hiked together for a while before taking a 20-minute snack break. No one could sit longer or else they were going to get too cold. Kept moving just to keep my body working, it seemed. Drank my only packed beer for the illusion of warmth and happiness. Trudged and trudged until there was a clearing in the fog and I saw the Mike Urich cabin. Comments made it sound like the place would be rife with non-hikers but much to my luck and amazement the tiny ski hut was being run by more than a dozen hikers. Cold, wet, dehydrated to the point of thirst, and in caloric-deficit, I guzzled a liter and crammed a ton of snacks. There was a fire in the wood stove and suddenly the entire room felt very smoky. I felt hot. Went outside on the porch and got fetal (where it was 48 and drizzling) took off my puffy and started breathing like I was a first-time passenger in an overactive F-16. “Miraj”, I’d never met him before, kept an eye on me and brought me water—the hero we all need. Ten minutes later, as rapidly as it had come on, I was back to 95%. “Sticky” was a generous god and gave me a bite of his cinnamon toast and cookie butter sandwich. Inspired, I took the remaining tablespoon of communal butter and bread heels and whipped up a beurre noisette for my grilled cheese. Fat is king. Foggy views through the burn area were ghostly and mysterious. Pure Washington. Going to be challenging to get good sleep but it has to be better than camping out in the wet.
August 27, Day 115
23.8 miles [2370.8]
Not terrible sleep considering claustrophobic cabin circumstances, I only woke up a few times. Took some rips from “Beehive” and “Miraj” gave me an IPA. Ate a few of the remaining communal bars on the table and set off into the dull and dreary world, word was clear skies around noon. Trudged through seven miles of haunting fog and finally it cleared and I saw the sun. Rejuvenating and life-affirming, I felt happy. My soul was warm. Clouds are the best for hiking though, gray mist is good for nothing. Dried my tent out and saw “Brownstreak”. Took lunch at the stream with “Taco” and “Cray-Nip”. Lots of little dirt road crossings today. I wonder how they got there? Wandering thoughts turned to Breckenridge and upcoming photobook. Shared camp with a guy named “Croissant” on one of those nameless and unused roads. I’m certain I lost my beanie yesterday which is a total bummer, I’ve had it since my first summer camp over 15 years ago. I suppose it’s just another material item. Looking forward to Snoqualmie, perhaps I’ll get the pancake breakfast and a hotel/hostel. Tired of hiking but it’s still enjoyable, I just feel depleted. Nearly there. Relaxing evening in the tent.
August 28, Day 116
23.4 miles [2393.2]
Aardvarks “Hurry Curry”, in Snoqualmie; an explosion of nearly-forgotten flavors.
Enjoyable hike which was mostly full of hills. Psyched myself out about some inclines, but overall, very doable. Low on food but I knew about town and resupply. Ran into “Taco” and “Miraj” and we cruised under the lifts and down into Snoqualmie. Found some trail magic just before town. There was a food stand called Aardvark Express which served a very highly regarded “hurry curry”. Ordered one and was thoroughly amazed, so many flavors like long-lost friends I thought I had forgotten: cardamom and cinnamon chicken curry over rice with pineapple cornbread, cilantro, spinach, green apple, and spouts, a one-and-a-half-pound flavor masterpiece. Free Rainier beer to wash it down. Did a stealthy load of laundry at the Inn and emailed my references for housing. Picked up and sorted out resupply, bought beer, and road walked to the Alpine Club. It was an eclectic chalet with local mining and skiing memorabilia strewn about the stone and wooden walls. Very cool except for a skeevy old guy who is the on duty manager of the house, the kind of person who thinks he manages the universe. One of the loquacious and stronger-willed hikers got confrontational later in the evening; being a bum in the woods can have an impact on one’s self-confidence a little too much. Tried to stay clear and took a legit shower with a beer. Electricity and new friends meant we all stayed up late—a flameless campfire. Had a nice chillout with “Cray-nip”, “Doobie”, and “Miraj” outside with good laughs and more Rainier. Midnight snack of fine salami, probably left over from other hikers, I must remember to eat more tomorrow...with eggs.
PCT 2018: Days 117-120, Snoqualmie Pass to Skykomish
Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 117-120 from Snoqualmie Pass to Skykomish, mile 2,390-2,465.
August 29, Day 117
10.4 miles [2403.6]
I managed to sleep until 8 A.M. which is pretty good for a bunk bed in a hostel. Brewed coffee and chilled with the gang: “Cray-nip”, “Doobie”, “Taco”, “Miraj”, and “Shocks”. There was a new guy running the place and he inquired about the “situation” last night, hopefully we didn’t ruin anything for the trail community. Chilled hard at the Alpine Club. I made myself a proper breakfast—a buttery and runny three-egg scramble with salami which I deemed communal—a wonderful zen task I haven’t done since I started. Refilled my coffee mug for the second time and was buzzed. Hung out in the rec room and flipped through a photo book on turn-of-the-century logging in the Snoqualmie area, giving me thoughts for my book. Scrolled through lots of social media which is never particularly useful. Called Jimmy to confirm, it looks like we’re (nearly) roommates. Made lunch with the same package of salami except I threw it in a tortilla (you can’t change some habits) with nearly half a head of romaine and some seasoning; as close to pranzo on the Arno as I could get. More chillaxing, that vortex was exceptionally comfortable. Pulled the ripcord and left at 2 P.M. and straight into six miles of incline which wasn’t as bad as it looked on the map. Rocky and mountainous, more mysterious and brooding terrain begging to be explored. I picked the campsite which turned out to be a dry pond bed on the side of a ridge which doesn’t look like a great idea under dark skies. “Hard to imagine we’re less than 20 days away—”, “Shocks” interrupted me, “it’s more like 10, do you even know the cities left?” Big sigh. Weird feelings.
Joe Lake and Huckleberry Mountain.
August 30, Day 118
24.3 miles [2427.9]
Lounged until 8 A.M. and greeted by more stormy and cold weather. Shocks seemed to want a buddy today so I hung around closer than normal. Stuffed bars into me, a hiking machine only requires calories. Clouds cleared enough to reveal some staggering mountainous terrain with trees and flowers which seemed quintessentially Washington. Used the mottled sunlight to dry off quilts and tents. The sun helped but it was a tough day to find motivation. Two big hills which were each six-plus miles. Tuna and cracker lunch restored some energy. Caught up to “Cray-nip” and “Beehive” for the last five miles which felt long but were all downhill. Set up camp along the Waptus River. Dinner was pasta primavera with a package of chicken as well as olives and some honey mustard bread pieces. It’s very difficult to contend with nearly being finished. My mind seems to have already moved on to Breckenridge, I’m ready to be there. Remember to slow down and enjoy these final few days.
Spectacle Lake.
Chimney Rock, mile ~2420.
August 31, Day 119
22 miles [2449.9]
The last day of August greeted me with drizzly and damp surroundings. “Beehive” and “Cray-nip” didn’t mess around and left. I was slow to start especially with a 10-mile hill, I was wheezin’ hard. Played a lot of the temperature regulation game by altering various combinations of jacket and buff. Blessed with an early 10:30 A.M. drying session when “Dingo” (mile 30 and mile 1,195!) passed us. We congratulated each other like war buddies who had made it back alive. His friend mentioned the border had reopened and I bellowed a triumphant howl, a roar from the deepest parts of my calloused feet and heart. This is big news for me, “Shocks” seemed unphased. Lunch was at a cascading stream, I had tuna with Combos, GORP, and a Milky Way bar. Took quite a few long, relaxing breaks which were peaceful. Completed the second hill and set up camp at the bottom of a frigid canyon, I’m going to snug up tonight. More aimless thoughts on Breckenridge, I should start envisioning less free-time, lord knows I’ll be stuck trying to earn money. I’m just excited to start this book. Dinner was chicken and rice Knorr with some tuna dumped in. A trail casserole? In typical fashion, I couldn’t wait to eat and most likely scorched my tongue. It’s been hard to motivate since the Alpine Club—got to take it in before it’s all over.
The shores of Deep Lake, mile 2543.
September 1, Day 120
17.3 miles [2464.2]
Damn—what a day. Slept until 7 A.M. and started hiking by 8:15 A.M. Easy enough terrain, flowy with a few small hills, a great hiking day with bro. Arrived at Steven’s Pass with hopes of food, but “Shocks” took a look at the menu and suddenly we both remembered what resort food entails. Ate some snacks and hung out on the pavilion watching mountain bikers, it got me excited for another ski season. Hard highway hitch but finally scored one going to Skykomish. Finally had a real lunch at 3 P.M. from Sky Deli and Liquor which was a garlic-chicken panini and an iced Americano, it actually tasted like espresso. It’s Labor Day weekend and it didn’t seem worth the three-day-wait for our resupply. Hitched to the Dinsmore’s with “Gandalf”, a goofy kid we met in Mammoth, he’s ending his hike here. Met Jerry and thanked him for his kindness. Dropped our gear and scored a hitch to Gold Bar by 6 P.M. Even remote areas of Washington have a vape and/or dispensary within walking distance. They were both open and had everything we wanted, hot damn. Resupplied at the Family Grocer—decent selection. “Shocks” yogied us a hitch from a guy who initially sketched me out and made me doubt strangers in the first place. “Jason” wanted to show us a local waterfall in the pitch black night. We stumbled down an embankment and onto the river rocks, just when I thought I was about to die, I realized he was a quirky dude who was just excited to talk to some hikers, he might have been one of the warmest souls I met. Thanked him for our last ride of the day, then did the shower and laundry shuffle. We did it—four hitches. Watched “The Informant!” and I read a few pages of “Yogi’s” book while winding down and she summarized thru-hiking: you feel invincible.
Trap Lake, mile 2452
Skykomish bridge
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PCT 2018: Days 121-126, Skykomish to Stehekin
Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 121-126 from Skykomish to Stehekin, mile 2,465-2,570.
September 2, Day 121
12.4 miles [2476.6]
Rough night at the Dinsmore’s. Trains ran by what seemed like every hour, plus, being well hydrated with beer and water meant an out of the ordinary witching-hour piss. “Shocks” woke me at 8:30 A.M., he and “Gandalf” were almost packed. Jerry wasn’t up and around to thank which was a little disheartening, I can’t see this place being around much longer. Caught a hitch out with a current trail work volunteer “Spider” who was a part of rebuilding the brand new (and freshly re-opened) northern terminus monument. Hopped out at Skykomish and headed to the Cascadia Inn for brunch. All you could eat, I filled up on scrambled eggs, sausage and crispy bacon, hash browns with biscuits and gravy, plus fresh fruit; watermelon, pineapple, and strawberries. Coffee with real cream. The meal made up for more than one rainy day. Made a hasty sign and tried to hitch, eventually we ended up sweet talking a couple fueling up. Got to Steven’s Pass and “Shocks” gave a short phone call to the parents, then it was time to hike. On the way towards the trail we saw “Trash Queen” and “Penguin” trying to get the same challenging hitch from the highway. We hugged and caught up, looks like we all want to end on the same date. Hopefully we can meet and celebrate at the terminus. The weather was absolutely sublime. Saw a shit-ton of weekenders, many of whom congratulated us, it’s hard to contain my excitement when I tell people I started at Mexico. I felt unbelievably stoked and proud. Clear and cold night, no fly to watch the stars. Moments of anger about the Ranch, only because of Facebook. Who cares, move on.
September 3, Day 122
23.6 miles [2500.2]
That was the last flyless night I ever try in Washington. At 3 A.M. I woke to some cold sprinkles on my face and scrambled to put on my cover. Got a little more sleep and started moving by 8:30 A.M., snarfed a Pop Tart with butter. Stoked to hit the 2500 milestone. My nose has been constantly leaking in this cool weather. The forest is alive with color, rich hues of rust, umber, and olive. By the afternoon it had cleared up to reveal lots of nice clouds, a good reminder of how much time I spent without them, the sun and warmth felt wonderful during snack breaks. “Larry Bird” spotted a porcupine, I’ve never seen one in the wild before. It looked as though some quills were missing, just a little bedraggled. “TQ”, “Penguin”, and “Bear Can” caught us and we all shared camp at Reflection Pond. They are all aiming to finish on the 10th and doing 28 tomorrow, I’m not about it. Hopefully I see them again. Tuna taco with pepperoni and Cheetos. Remember to make your food last three days.
September 4, Day 123
25.4 miles [2525.6]
Restful slumber until “Trash Queen” and “Penguin” packed up, they left at 7 A.M. and we left an hour later—not in any rush. It was exceptionally gusty but a decent hiking day with more huge ups and downs, the last decline was 3,000-feet in five miles. Not a single flat section, the terrain was brutally technical with lots of rocks. Traversed a few miles which couldn’t have been the actual trail, just dozens and dozens of hikers making the same mistake at a hidden junction which wore in a new and more recognizable path. The tread was at an ankle-breaking angle with gnarled bushes and roots which clawed at your toes. During lunch “Shocks” was doing a poor job of holding back tears, offering no response. We trudged on. Just when I thought I was finished with the last hill, Milk Creek was full and didn’t have any available campsites which feels like my fault, of course they would be all taken, the spread of sites is stupid. The terrain is garbage. Looked at the map and started freaking out about another five mile incline as dusk was rapidly approaching. By the grace of St. John and his random pit toilets, there was a small clearing for a random pooper about a mile ahead which had barely enough room for three tents. We set up and made room for a third which was later filled. During dinner, “Shocks” briefly mentioned he was having a hard time with being finished. We sat quietly, not saying anything. I don’t feel the same currently but I know I will—I’ve always been that way. I’m going to miss this, deeply. Looking forward to the future, however, the present has been fucking sweet.
Fire Creek Pass, mile 2520.
White Mountain and White Pass, mile 2502.
September 5, Day 124
27.2 miles [2551.8]
Slanted sleep, then a precarious poop less than 20 feet away from my tent which was my only unfavorable choice on location. Lathered up another Pop Tart with butter and began moving. Today’s terrain looked like a cross-section of a collapsed souffle, the final hill was a steady eight miles. It’s hard to silence the part of my brain which dreads hills, however I know I’ll be over and through it soon—a lesson on life. I only have one day of food remaining, not a half-day more, which has me slightly stressed. Guess I’ll have to snack-up at Holden Village. Low on podcasts once again and a wandering brain doesn’t feel good to have at the moment. Knees and legs are sore tonight. Our campsite is killer, we’re right on top of Cloudy Pass which is part of the fire reroute, alpine peaks in a smoky haze have me right back in the Sierra. Fought off more negative thoughts about the Ranch—not ideal. My lacking food situation makes it tough to stay positive. Big day ahead tomorrow, it’s all “off-map” which is going to be fun. Took a page from “Shocks’” cook book and made a Cheetos and Oreo peanut-butter-and-butter taco. He’s definitely on to something.
Dumbell Mountain and Lyman Lake from Cloudy Pass.
Dolly Vista Trail Camp, mile 2532.
September 6, Day 125
~21 miles [2551.8]
Warmer than usual morning which had me hiking by 7:15 A.M. Absolutely stunning terrain, hard to imagine how much great trail is out there we otherwise would have never seen. Low on food, I was coasting on fumes, drinking water to fool my gut. Arrived at Holden village and missed the morning ferry by five minutes which left us with the option of waiting a few hours to take a $10 bus and an $8 ferry or hike out, both seemed to be the same amount of time. The lunch meal choice was a vegetarian sandwich which also didn’t sound like a great value for money. Somewhat dejected, I bought a few candy bars to chase my Clif bar and followed “Shocks” to the trail. Made it over the hot and hellacious Hilgard Pass which had to be more than six miles and was rewarded with downhill for the remainder of the day. Got to a large river crossing at dusk where there were a few other hikers attempting to find or make a suitable campsite. On the crossing I promptly plunged my foot into the current—mistimed my jump. “Shocks” and I eyeballed the topo and he voted to bust out the last four miles in the dark but my money says it was closer to six, plus, it’s not PCT-grade, we could have gotten a nasty, unknown surprise. Found the flattest ground with the least amount of rocks and made camp. Savored my last tuna taco with a handful of dusty and broken chips along with a package of M&M’s. It’ll work but I’m definitely hungry. Stoked for the final resupply, I think there’s one gnocchi meal remaining.
Lyman Lake and Dumbell Mountain.
September 7, Day 126
6.5 miles [2571.8]
Uncomfortable setup as my back later revealed but I slept well nonetheless. Up and moving by 7 A.M. with my puffy for about two miles, it was shady and cool. No map-checking so I took what came to me. Cruised six miles or so to the road (definitely more than four) and made a quick assessment: go to the bakery. Devoured a pesto, onion, and Swiss croissant pocket which was a sincere 9/10, lots of coffee too. Caught the free shuttle to Stehekin and was blown away by the waterfront of Lake Chelan—chill vibes, gorgeous sun. Saw “Brownstreak” and “Miraj” at the lodge! Sat and talked, drank two beers, and went through our final resupply box. Also managed to download two podcasts on their slow network. Picked up a permit for zero miles which seemed to bum “Shocks” out, but I knew “Panda”, “Doobie” and a few others were gonna stick around at the bridge. Shuttled back to the bakery for a bacon and onion quiche and I got suckered into paying $3.50 for a root beer. Caught the bus for High Bridge Ranger Station with a few other hikers. Rain is in the forecast and certainly threatening at the moment.
Crossing Stehekin River.
Lake Chelan plane.
Hike On?
PCT 2018: Days 127-130, Stehekin to Canada-USA border
Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 127-130 from Stehekin to the Canada-USA border, mile 2,570-2,652.
September 8, Day 127
27 miles [2598.8]
Had a hard time falling asleep which is rare. The threatening rain had turned to wet clouds, we hit the trail around 7 A.M. and I ate a Probar. Very long but not exceptionally strenuous 20-miles uphill to Rainy Pass was easy enough. Elon’s interview was a pretty fun distraction. Had a cool and quiet lunch break before the pass; peanut butter on day-old biscuits and jerky with Nutter Butter dessert. Drank caffeinated Mio like I was dehydrated in the desert. Met “Skaggit Ed” at Highway 20 and he had magic. He handed me an IPA and some amazing fudge. Did a few miles with “Panda” before the pass. It’s another cold night, there’s snow in the forecast. I’m not worried, rain is by far the hardest challenge. Cooked a jambalaya as best as possible and followed it with a Snickers. Started a list of things to do at home before moving to Colorado. Trail was quiet today, didn’t see many people. The end is on the tip of my tongue.
Cutthroat Pass.
September 9, Day 128
24.7 miles [2622.0]
Brisk morning, rolled out close to 8 A.M. and headed for Methow Pass, shoveled Mojo bars into my mouth like coal into a locomotive. Harts Pass is closed northbound for a few miles which makes this our third reroute (I think). Listened to The Avett Brothers interview for the fourth time. It was cloudy all day and threatening rain, a typical sight. Spam and cracker lunch just as it began to drizzle but fortunately it never developed any further. Saw “Panda” and his pops at Hart Pass and learned his real name. They spoiled us and he let us raid all his extra food supplies, we took chicken and candy. Leapfrogged “Butters” and “Hot Mess” and I finally remembered their names without having to ask again. Man, I think we first saw them in the desert. “Shocks” and I smooshed our tents together and cooked in between the vestibules—chicken and noodles. I’m so unbelievably close to being finished: I want it so bad and not at all, at the same time.
September 10, Day 129
~25.1 miles [2644.3]
It’s my last night on trail. I woke up at 4:45 A.M. to light sounds of rain, like the crackling of fading fireworks. Tossed and dozed for four hours and finally got the gumption to pack. It was drizzly and wet most of the day, I spent the first four miles in the puffy and rain jacket, I was actually cold. My pants soaked up all the moisture from the overgrown brush. Kept putting one in front of the other, I ran out of podcasts and music long ago. Saw “Panda” one last time, saw “Brownstreak” one last time; they’re headed back to Harts Pass. Saw quite a few people I’ve met over the past few days but never took the time to officially meet and learn names. My hands were numb most of the day, feet pruney from wet socks. It’s currently raining and I need to pee. Tomorrow, I will become a thru-hiker. It’s taken over a year and more than what I spent on my car, probably 3,000 miles and almost more nights camping in a tent than my entire BSA career. There’s so much more to do, I’ve only just begun.
September 11, Day 130
16.3 miles [2652.6]
“Shocks” and “Tiny Slice”, PCT northern terminus.
My last cold start. Woke up, wide awake, at 4:30 A.M. thinking about the last day. Put on all my layers once again and got moving. My knee panged throughout the night and hiking certainly didn’t improve my condition. In some weird turn of events it was the only thing I could concentrate on. Less than nine miles to the monument and then I saw it—and felt nothing. When I went to pen my name in the log book I was trembling, my entire body welled up like I was going to implode—I made it. Celebratory joints with “Beehive”, “Cray-nip”, and “Feather”, “Shocks” surprised me and pulled out a small bottle of Jack. Also at the terminus was “Roadrunner”, “AutoPilot”, and “Colonel Sanders”. Everyone congratulated each other sincerely, we are the only ones who know what we went through. Time to leave, no sense in lingering it seemed. Hike to Manning Park was rough, I limped the whole eight miles. Got to the cafe and drank the as-advertised free coffee with as much cream as they would bring me. Hardest hitch was the final one, but after an hour of looking hopeful on an international highway near a border, Ramayaan was our savior and picked us up and drove us to Coquitlam, more than 100 miles. Starbucks for internet and a quick and dirty A&W burger (not worth it) before we figured out a metro train into Vancouver. Mistimed our transfer train and it took us a few tries of hopping off and on to figure it out—it’s so much easier to correct your mistakes at walking pace. No hotels, so we bought a 6 A.M. flight on our phones. After walking an extra block since we couldn’t remember where we got off, we took the last train into the station. Bought a Canadian Wendy’s burger and set up a makeshift camp in the lobby and got our packs ready for tomorrow. Today? It’s 2 A.M.; I’m a fucking thru-hiker.
The border.
Hike On?
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.
Making phone calls.
Shirt, v2.5 will be missed.
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?
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.
August 5, Day 93
28.5 miles [1848.4 ]
Piss-poor drunken sleep, my mind was completely obsessed with leaving. Woke up in the same thought pattern I had fallen asleep to, like it was the same day. Listened to my own trail register advice which I’ve been writing for nearly two-thousand miles and Committed to packing. Gear on and sunrise breaking, I left a super-lame see-ya-later note for “Flipper & Friends”, then walked back to the restaurant with “Conflicted” for a cup of coffee. “Silver Fox”, a familiar hiker yet I’m unacquainted, paid for our brews; it was a wonderful gesture. About to leave when “Flipper” and Sam—honorarily “Sunburnt”—sat down for breakfast. Talked and hung out as long as possible, snagged a group photo for posterity sake; I can’t believe I know those hooligans from Philmont. Apologized for leaving once again, then “Conflicted” and I began hiking. I knew it was going to be smoky and thought about coming back rather than the marred view. The Lake sprawled much larger than I had imagined, much like my first visit to the Grand Canyon when I was 12—it must be even more incredible on a clear day. Tons of tourists and clean day hikers which was expected, it was fun being an utter bum and attracting looks and conversations about “those PCT hikers”. Took a lunch atop the Watchman and crushed the one beer I decided to carry, that didn’t last long. Cruised around the rim, slowly, it was at our backs. Met a total cutie at the highway water cache who only started yesterday and is planning on going to Washington; I called her “Locks”, maybe it sticks. “Brownstreak” caught up! He’s been behind since Tahoe, and not long after, “Sticky Fingers” showed up, looks like he’s not taking a zero either. Hiked behind “Goat Man” for five miles and talked the whole time about vanlife and taking life after trail to the next level—great guy. A fiery sunset swatting skeeters away. Coerced “Conflicted” into letting me use his stove for my gnocchi meal. “Sticky” gave me a spoonful of cookie butter and now I know what my first hit of heroin feels like. Tonight’s camp has faces I recognize and some I don’t.
“Conflicted” and Wizard Island.
State Highway 138, mile 1847.8.
August 6, Day 94
33.8 miles [1882.2]
Smoky night which turned into a damp and chilly dawn, my quilt had a fair bit of dewy condensation. The five or seven tents which were up last night had already dwindled to three before I was packed, strapped, and moving. It’s odd trailing a group of people “by myself”, but I guess that’s what the majority of hikers have already gone through. In the first mile “Sticky” caught up, he must have been looking for a friend too, and we did the morning-10 together. Had a good laugh beneath the base of Mt. Theilsen—”Stick’s” friend said it was “non-technical” and there couldn’t be a more sinister looking peak in the entire state; certainly Class 3 and above. Lunch with “Stick” and “Streak” where I had a pepperoni roll-up appetizer and tuna taco as a main. Kept a steady pace through meandering hills. Realized I’m going to hit 2,000 miles before Day 100 (what a positively gorgeous reduction) and I can’t stop smiling. Twenty a day is way better than counting chairs in a lift shack for eight hours. Crossed the Oregon high point which felt lackluster after all the trail’s had to offer, a fun milestone nonetheless. I pushed past Windigo dirt road after 6:20 P.M. and did another four, absolutely annihilating nearly 34 today and it feels great. Breakfast for dinner: a House biscuits and gravy, I still have lots of food left—oops, more tomorrow. Ha! Soaring spirits and another note from “Shocks”. Tomorrow, our trails cross.
“Sticky Fingers”.
Cowhorn Mountain, mile ~1878.
Sawtooth Mountain, mile ~1882.
August 7, Day 95
24.9 miles [1907.1]
Great sleep, got the lead out early and crushed 14.3 before 11 A.M. Finding my motivation since leaving Crater Lake has been an easy choice. Abundant water sources saw the vengeful return of mosquitoes which is kinda irksome. “Sticky” caught up to me by the afternoon and we cruised into Shelter Cove before 3 P.M. Despite having plenty of trail sustenance and picking up more, I was weak—like always—to resist real food and we split an absolutely FIRE chicken pesto pizza. I ate way too much, I haven’t hurt that bad since the AYCE buffet back at Harrah's. Waddled over to the lake, it’s gorgeous. Mountains are the purest form of escape but a large, secluded body of water does the trick. I realized kids who grew up in the Midwest and camped at lakes had a unique nature experience all their own, mountains or not. Uncomfortably stuffed my consciousness slipped like Altras on scree, it was warm and a cool breeze wafted through the shade; summer weather perfection. In my digestive haze, I met “Sassy-K” who remarked at my similarity with another hiker, then put it together and interrupted herself to mention that “Shocks” was probably looking for me. Adam is in great spirits and I’m stoked to see him. “Brownsteak” and “Conflicted” rolled in as well and all of us splayed out in the shade punch-drunk on mileage just like it was the Sierra. Everyone traded stories of Oregon-so-far. Decided it would be a rough night at the campground/resort and hoofed it back to the trail just as last light waned. Tipsy, full, and tired, we could have hiked another five but I found a good spot in less than a half-mile and everyone rejoiced. It feels good to hang with these four again.
Crescent Lake.
Breakfast snack.
New pad/old pad.
Chicken pesto pizza.
Hike On?
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.
Someone had a great campsite.
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?
PCT 2018: Days 57-59, Sonora Pass to South Lake Tahoe
Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 57-59 from Sonora Pass to South Lake Tahoe, mile 1,020-1,090.
June 30, Day 57
28.8 miles [1049.5]
Deuced, then bounced; this group is fast. Hiked the majority of the morning with “Trash Bath”, “Combo”, and “Sticky Fingers” and, much to everyone’s delight, “Brownstreak”, who had caught back up. We chugged through miles of incredible vistas, even this mountain of rocks with a lone gnarled and dead tree. Took a late lunch, borrowed needle and thread and used the opportunity to sew up the holes on my right shoulder. First rip and it nearly made it a thousand miles. “Sticky’s” friends who were in last night’s hitch have joined our group: Sarah and Kevin, who seemingly reject trail names, and “Trash Can” are all new faces from the past day. We were all chatting at lunch when a pair of JMTers or sectioners (they didn’t seem like thru-hikers) told us there was trail magic at Ebbet’s Pass ending at 7 P.M. The map said 11.9 miles away and it was a quarter to three. My new friends bolted, it was a mad dash. I didn’t stop at all except to pee twice. With two minutes to spare I stumbled over the highway, legs pulsating with small spasms. A group of hikers were lounging near a vehicle and a foldable table. There was a full-on pizza oven, a kind of ludicrous contraption you might see buried in the pages of a SkyMall, which fit over a massive portable propane camping range. I collapsed against a tree with the other hikers and tried not to look too desperate. Immediately, I overheard they were out of pizza. Sarah who must have beaten me by only five minutes shared her slice with me; I don’t think I’m capable of a gesture that benevolent. The kind family noticed us last few stragglers and told us they would “make something work”. Out of their ice chests came containers of a homemade soba noodle dish. It had cilantro, green onion, pineapple, Thai basil, cabbage, all doused in a spicy sesame sauce--the most fresh vegetables I’ve had in over a week. A moment of lucidity informed me I would’ve happily paid $26.89 for it a trendy LA fusion restaurant, already having eaten two meals of my choice that particular day. I licked my cup clean just as logs of fresh mozzarella and heirloom tomatoes were passed out. “Now who has the balsamic” I joked to the hikers, beyond satisfied at the provided bounty. “Sticky Fingers” leapt up with a mischievous and elated look, he struggled to hold back a grin. Shoulder-deep, his arm emerged triumphantly from his pack with and adorable single-serving bottle of balsamic vinegar. There was clapping. Snagged the remainder of the fresh basil and made caprese, sharing with anyone still hungry. My life feels complete. The remaining dozen or so hikers all amassed and we thanked our angels with dirty, sweaty hugs. “Your kindness can never be repaid,” I said squeezing tight, their eyes glistening and sparkling with love.
July 1, Day 58
20.6 miles [1070.1]
A sporadic crinkling of pads and tents began before the sun had risen. At some point I had acquired three packets of Folgers instant crystals, the tipping point in critical mass for achieving any type of altered state, and wiped out the straggling soba noodle from my cup and made a coffee-slurry. Reynolds and Raymond Peaks were a stunning sight and we crushed the first seven miles easy. Any moment of stillness I had was immediately filled with thoughts of the Harrah’s buffet—everyone’s going, hell “Dixie” put it on her top five. Managed to take a rare lead and hold it until lunch. I picked a spot at Lower Sunset Lake and left a note for those behind; when there’s a lake, there’s a reason to take a long lunch. Enjoyed the packet of kippers I had been saving while cold-soaking two bricks of ramen. Fruit Snacks have been a recent discovery and I must have inhaled four baggies of the little suckers. At that point the gang had arrived fully and we were all splayed out at the water’s edge, deep in lunch. A couple rolled up in their Jeep and began unloading two kayaks from the roof. They saw us, filthy and partly nude, in the shade and politely offered us water to which we politely declined. “Oh, well, in that case do you guys want some beer?” Everyone leapt up faster than I had ever seen, myself included, trying not to look too eager. Soon, a very unofficial rock-skipping competition broke out while a few joints were rotated around. “Sticky” and “TB” inflated their pads and paddled out about a hundred feet onto the lake, and with stunning success, lazily rafted. The dream had to end, we packed up and had a hilly, hot hike out, but intense mountain views were enough of a distraction. Gang got tired around 5 P.M., I was ready to hike further but opted to hang out. Had a campfire whereupon “Brownstreak” produced a two-inch cast iron pan out of his already minuscule Pa’lante. He sliced up a few fingerling potatoes and a clove of garlic, cooked it over the modest coals, dumped the whole affair into a Mountain House and passed it around. One of the rare times music seemed appropriate so I played a few bands out of my phone and everyone shared the sweets portion from their food bags. I offered up my whiskey and we all laughed until the embers slowly faded cold. My feet feel great, my muscles feel limber, I’m stoked for Tahoe and the 4th of July. And that buffet.
Mokelumne Wilderness.
Thornburg Peak and a distant Hawkins Peak, mile 1057.6
Therm-a-rest rafting.
July 2, Day 59
19.9 miles [1090.0]
“Trashcan”, the resident chief snorer and earliest-riser, made moves before 6 A.M. Carson Pass came and went, soon after we were at the information station where the kind staff provided thru-hikers with fresh cherries and ice cold Cokes. Took a few moments in the shade and people-watched at the busy Highway 88. Cranked out 15 more sticky, stagnant, sweltering miles, the buffet, part motivation and part hallucination, was the only thought on my mind. Made it to Highway 50 where we promptly split into groups and tried to hitch. I hopped in the back of a pickup with “Trash Bath” and “Combo” knowing full-well the other half of our group would catch up. Had to grab a second hitch to get closer into town. A few miles down the road, “TB” casually mentioned he was looking to re-up and our driver shot us all a knowing glance and whipped a u-turn, making a beeline for his apartment. After meeting his friendly dog and eating some normal brownies, we continued back into town, pockets full of therapeutic cookies and a fat baggy full of recovery. Gang reconvened at Taco Bell and decided we couldn’t possibly wait another day for the buffet. We headed towards the hotel and looked for a place to stealth. Directly behind the Harrah’s parking lot was a small wooded area which seemed secluded enough. With responsibilities taken care of, “TB” smoked us all out in preparation for our feast. Achieved a nearly uncomfortable level of high, I was paranoid my horrible stench was unable to mask the smell of drugs. None of us were Diamond members so we patiently waited in line, having arrived ten minutes after opening. Once the velvet rope had been lifted we hurriedly walked into the farthest region of the dining area, with the other hikers, as to draw the least amount of confused, comatose stares from the other patrons. I didn’t know what to expect but I knew I wasn’t about to load up my first plate in giddy, childish delight, slopping together whatever my lizard brain was craving. Weak. There’s one rule at a buffet: when the door’s close. After much restrained contemplation, I took a warmed plate and stood in line for prime rib, opting not to live up to my namesake when I was being served. I slowly enjoyed each jus-covered morsel, satisfied by how much it didn’t taste like tuna. Sarah was impressed by my singular first choice, her plate considerably less of a postmodern mess than “Trash Bath’s”. Red meat begged for a salad, on my second plate I heaped together as many fresh vegetables a bed of spinach and romaine would allow for and doused the whole affair in ranch which was an unbelievably nice vacation from olive oil. Having sated two of my biggest food urges (fresh meat and veg), my tastes turned ethnic and I had a wonderful chili pork stir-fry alongside a cold shrimp dish. Fairly certain I went back for another go-round, but in my binge, I can’t remember. Fifth course was dessert, I had an eclair and a handful of chocolate covered strawberries. Somehow I skipped sushi so I decided to sample their selection with my post-meal coffee. Any remaining room and/or neurosis which told me to get my money’s worth was filled with bread; empty, free calories I can get anywhere. Waddled behind the casino and set up camp. Full with a capital “F”, ready for a legendary zero.
Moon set over Elephants Back.
Carson Pass, mile 1074.9.
Hike On?
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.
In 2018, I thru-hiked the Pacific Crest Trail with my brother, “Shocks”. It was the first thru-hike for either of us. 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.
Other Blog Topics
Planning | Analysis | Gear Review
An overall map of the PCT. Photo Courtesy Pacific Crest Trail Association.
From Where to Where?
“The what? The Pacific Crest Highway? Mexico to where? Are you bringing a gun? Walking? The entire thing?” These bombastic questions and more will randomly greet you once you decide to hike. Few will ever understand the power of long distance hiking, but you are different.
You are a dirt-bag vagabond. Hiker trash in the making.
One Year Out
Deciding to Hike
I've always been an outside cat kinda person; living in the great outdoors genuinely appeals to me. Over the years I saw friends of mine set off, posting their progress online. I'm ashamed to admit jealousy was always the first feeling I had.
The spring before we started, Adam approached me and declared his intentions to hike. I remember thinking there wasn't anyway in hell I was going to allow myself to be jealous of my brother. Rather than try and find a way to be proud of him from home like a mature adult would do, I decided it was time to realize my dream and take the leap as well. He welcomed me; I owe him everything.
All you really need is a permit, a backpack, some money saved, and a way to get to the terminus. You probably already have the desire. If you're like me, seeing posts on social media of friends long distance hiking makes you envious. Use those emotions to fuel your hike. This is something you want to do, or you wouldn't be reading this. But the best advice I got was from two Class 2017 hikers; “don't over-plan”. After talking with other hikers on the trail, it became apparent just how much planning a person can do. From planning every meal, to having nights on trail determined, to amount of zeros they were going to take. Nothing against that method, but my motto was, and has always been; “cross that bridge when you come to it”.
I would be remiss to mention Adam did all the work; no hyperbole. I spent my days reading camera reviews and working on old photography projects. Any gear he meticulously researched and bought, I also bought because I valued his reasoning and research.
“Bones or Clams or Whatever You Call Them.”
It's no surprise the Pacific Crest Trail costs money even if you are technically homeless and eating Top Ramen twice a day. And like most things in life, money is usually the prohibitive factor for most people. Not only are you spending for the entire 4-6 months, you're also not earning any money (unless you got mad-hustle and prior investments). Most people I met on trail weren't well-established in the work force, meaning not salaried without benefits. Financially secure hikers were out there, but in my eyes, certainly weren't the majority. Most had saved up or were already living frugal lives and took it to the next step.
During my three-month summer employment (with free room and board), I hiked a lot more instead of spending time at the St. James (local bar). During the winter, I worked lots of six-day weeks for overtime pay. I went out even less than I normally do. I shared an apartment with Adam and cooked as many cheap meals as possible. Frugal living started well before life on trail.
For my particular situation, I knew I would have to save up close to $8,000. I was expecting to have an 'average' trail experience in terms of spending, but I also knew I had to find a place to live after the trail. I didn't have solid plans to move back to Colorado, but I knew what to expect in the event I should (spoiler: I did).
For more information, here’s an entire blog post on what the PCT actually cost me.
Training to Hike 20 Miles a Day
Adam shredding Way Out bowl in Breckenridge, Colorado. Totally counts as training.
“What training did you do for the trail?” was a question I received constantly. I'm still not quite sure how to answer. It stands to reason most people mean conditioning when they say training. And in that sense, I didn't do any conditioning. I didn't even buy my shoes until last-minute (would not recommend). Perhaps I walked 10 miles a week to and from work in my ski town. Not exercising wasn't the best idea (duh, hello), but I wasn't completely inactive. I was working 50 hours a week as a lift operator in Breckenridge, Colorado. Six months of shoveling, skiing, and living above 10,000 feet. I was “active” to say the least. No doubt, I could have used a lot more conditioning.
I did, however, have extensive backpacking experiences to draw from. Training is a learned skill or behavior, and by this measure, I was well ahead of the learning curve for most first time thru-hikers. Backpacking wasn't brand new to me. Years of family car-camping and a solid tenure in Boy Scouts was ample training. What essential items to bring, what to leave behind, how much food I needed, how much water I should carry, what to do when it rains all day; all these factors and more weren't troubling me pre-trail.
Logistics
Transportation To and From the Trail
BEFORE: Arriving at the southern terminus wasn’t difficult. We had a few friends offer to drive us since we are SoCal natives. We ended up taking the train to San Diego and stayed at a friend’s house the night before; he drove us to the terminus in the morning. I don’t think we knew much about Scout and Frodo’s until after the fact. It would have been a cool experience to participate in, but I’m kinda glad we did it our way. Apparently 2019 and 2020 will be their last years hosting hikers.
DURING: One doesn’t just simply walk into Canada. I had my passport at home ready for delivery to the Oregon/Washington border. I found out in Mount Shasta, California that I was going to need an additional Canada Entry Permit (thanks Dad and friends). Dad helped me get it processed while I was hiking.
AFTER: We hiked into Manning Park, Vancouver, Canada in the late afternoon and still had to find a way to get home. With no solid plan, a mind for frugality, and lots of hope and trail experience, we thumbed a ride into Vancouver. The Greyhound bus which ran in prior years wasn’t running in 2018. After a few Google searches we found plane tickets for that next morning and took a metro system to the airport where we spent the night. Less than 24 hours later after becoming PCT thru-hikers, we landed at LAX.
Food and Resupplying
Most likely, you will choose to prepare a portion of food before you leave. Popular advice suggested sending resupply boxes to 10 locations, so we followed suit. Adam calculated the distances between ‘known’ resupply points figuring on 20 miles per day average and came up with an idea for how many total days of food we were going to need.
It should also be mentioned we saved quite a bit of food from our summer employer, Philmont Scout Ranch. To be clear, this was not stolen food. All food came from swap boxes (basically, a hiker box), taken at the end of the day. I think that covers me for possible future employment. What can I say? Kids don’t like Mojo bars.
With that said, we found ourselves in late April at a local Grocery Outlet armed with a shopping cart and only the vaguest of ideas as to how much food we each were going to need for those 10 boxes five months from then.
After amassing all the food we both saved and bought, everything got dumped out onto the living room floor and an inventory list was made. We tested a few methods before finding one which seemed like it was going to work.
We estimated one day's food requirement and then we made dozens of one-day food piles, replicating the 'meal plan' with some slight menu variations. Each of those piles were then packaged into a Ziploc in either one or two day quantities. The reasoning being 1) we roughly know how much we're going to eat each day 2) we knew which towns we wanted delivery to. The biggest variable seemed to be knowing how many days we were going to hike once we got to one of those known resupply towns. Some hikers would buy a lot of food a few towns ahead and mail it to themselves in a known hard spot to find cheap and reliable food.
Our idea was to share resupply boxes to save on shipping and since we planned on hiking together. Our parents graciously offered to cover the postage fees to mail out our resupply boxes; this was a pretty nice windfall. And we could certainly count on them to mail the food.
Final Thoughts
Saving enough money, buying appropriate gear, and conditioning yourself are the first of many problems you will solve along your journey. Don’t over-plan, it’s easy to get excited and make lists. Save enough money, but have a mind for frugality. Don’t plan every meal, but go on a few hard all-day hikes to see what you consume. Don’t buy top-of-the-line gear for everything, but splurge on a few good items. You can’t plan for everything.
“Sow the seeds of expectation; reap disappointment.”
The Road Trip: Three Friends Tour America's West
For the better part of the last three months, Carter, Caleb, and I have been planning a two-week long road trip throughout the western United States.
Brea, California
May 6, 2015
I can't wait for tomorrow.
For the better part of the last three months, Carter, Caleb, and I have been planning a two-week long road trip throughout the western United States. Every stagnant pause at the dinner table, every quiet car ride around town, all of my available thinking time has been dedicated to this trip.
You could say I'm excited.
Just a little bit.
Here's an overall map and where we plan on staying. Quite a swath of land to discover in only 13 days. (Click image to enlarge)
Although we intend on having a fair bit of time for relaxing, our itinerary has been rigorously planned, every roadside attraction has been accounted for. But as you can see, our main goal is visiting National Parks.
List of our upcoming attractions:
Yosemite National Park — Days 2 & 3
Sequoia & Kings Canyon National Parks — Days 4 & 5
Death Valley National Park — Day 6
Zion National Park — Days 7 & 8
Bryce Canyon National Park, Capitol Reef National Park, and Grand Staircase-Escalante National Monument — Day 9
Arches National Park and Dead Horse Point State Park — Day 10
Canyonlands National Park — Day 11
Mesa Verde National Park — Day 12
At 2 p.m., a thunderous knock came from the front door.
My heart was pounding in my ears. I opened the door to find two goofy grins staring back at me—Carter and Caleb. The three of us met when we worked for Philmont Scout Ranch in the summer of 2013 at Sawmill camp. We quickly became close friends that season.
As for proof, a goofy pic of our entire staff.
Caleb Jennings is the hippy without shoes, Carter Smith is the giant with a 3/4 ax, and I'm the imp with a nut-collector. Yep, what a crew.
The three of us went out for dinner and drinks; a celebratory commencement.
We came back home for ice cream and a living room showing of Reservoir Dogs.
My duffels are packed, my goodbyes to my family have been said. After much anticipation and waiting, the time has come.
Wheels up, 7 a.m.
Tomorrow, it begins.
The Road Trip has started.
Hey, want a ride?
Stick your thumb out:
About the Blog
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.
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Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers day 111, Goat Rocks and my 30th birthday.