PCT 2018: Days 107-110, Cascade Locks to Goat Rocks
Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 107-110 from Cascade Locks to Goat Rocks, mile 2,150-2,270.
August 19, Day 107
25.6 miles [2172.4]
Right before I turned out my light, a medium sized (only after seeing “Shocks’ encounter) centipede was scurrying around in my tent. Not terrible sleep considering the Woodstock vibes and creepy-crawlies. ALDHA provided a breakfast of bagels, schmear, and coffee, a perfect meal for soaking up last night’s booze. Headed out and over the bridge for a third and (hopefully haha) final time. Called Carter and spoke to Carly and Lee as well. I miss my Philmont friends. Way too much incline—11 miles and 3,500 feet worth—my pack is sincerely too heavy, I was hurting. Swamp-assed completely through my undies onto my pants. Dehydrated from yesterday’s beer-fest and felt gross most of the day. Made it to Three Corners Rock with “Sticky Fingers” and smoked a joint at the top. Powered through another 10 miles which turned out to be another 1,500-foot yo-yo. Felt things getting dark; I was tired and hurt and light was fading. Real down-and-out. Got to camp around 8:30 P.M. and had an expedient dinner with an IPA. Whooped, beat, thrashed, and damp. Washington is gorgeous.
View of Thunder Island from Bridge of the Gods.
Bridge of the Gods crossing into Washington.
Three Corner Rock.
August 20, Day 108
32.9 miles [2205.3]
Sloggy, long day which felt good at the beginning but I just wasn’t “into it” for some reason. Pleased to bust out big miles, anything over 30 still feels like a major accomplishment. Saw a 6-inch green slug, it must have been a banana slug, attempting to cross the trail. My gross-factor never turned to interest. Filled up at Panther Creek, the ferns and trees seemed straight out of Jurassic Park. Another 10 miles of uphill from 10:30-2 P.M. which sapped most of my morale, “Brownstreak” and “Sticky” were ahead for most of it. Lazy lunch break restored some energy. Passed by some magic spots which were fairly picked over like a barren hiker box. Drank some caffeine to combat the mileage. Between the Buried and Me’s Colors is still an amazing album, I head-banged like a lunatic to White Walls. Lots of green tunnel vibes, lots of smoke. Pushed to Blue Lake and made camp. Met “Avatar” and “Big Feet”. Tuna taco and got rid of my second beer, glad to have it gone.
Blue Lake, mile 2205.3.
August 21, Day 109
29.2 miles [2234.5]
First ten miles were a breeze, I averaged above 3.5 mph. Sort of psyched myself out for another full day of hiking, especially with nothing to distract me—I guess that speaks volumes. Moments of angst, but nevertheless, it was a good hiking day. “Shocks” mentioned he was having some stomach pain and I guessed it was TFG, but couldn’t be certain. Tried not to think about worst-case scenarios. Took breaks every five or so miles, then a great lunch at Trout Creek and he seemed relieved. Yesterday’s junglesque views morphed into decidedly more forested tunnels. Bushwhacked down a creek bed and met “Roadrunner” and “AutoPilot”, names I’d been seeing always two or three days ahead of mine in the trail logs. I offhandedly remarked about the Zia next to “Roadrunners” name; “New Mexico, it’s neither” and the three of us got to chatting while filling up water. A few degrees of separation later, “AutoPilot” told me her grandfather is Carl Gilmore—my WFR instructor from the Ranch, what a small fucking world! Picked either huckleberries or the largest blueberries I’ve ever seen, little gems of sweet-tartness. Ten-outta-ten staggering views of Mt. Adams just poked out of some burn area, we made camp in a small, lonely meadow. Ate dinner with our new friends though I don’t think I’m going to be at their same pace. Tuna taco with pepperoni and bacon bits, yummo. Fraught with nerves about the fire closures and impending, looming border closure. I guess I’ll cross that bridge when I get there, too.
August 22, Day 110
26.2 miles [2260.7]
A cold night which usually makes for easy sleep but my mind was awake, I don't know how that’s possible after a nearly thirty mile day. Woke to frost on meadow grass and on my tent and didn’t get moving until 8 A.M. Hiked the first quarter-mile in my puffy, all the while staring at Mt. Adams. Good God. I found myself understanding mountaineering on a non-verbal level, I want to summit harder peaks. Lot of angsty and wandering thoughts about trail closures, I had to stop and remind myself of good things: health, working gear, nice weather, ample food. Day progressively got better. Took lunch at Lava Springs and met “B”, a wild man who seemed more intent on living outdoors with his dog than hiking the trail. He had a fire going and I did a mediocre job of not letting it bother me. Mowed through a ton of food which is always good practice. Caught up to “Avatar” during a water fill-up and joked around, I haven’t seen many hikers this stretch. Camp is buggier than usual tonight. Swirling thoughts about turning 30. Age doesn’t signify much, just legal stuff (why did I write that?). Age doesn’t matter, just look at “Sassy-K”, she’s absolutely Living It; an inspiration for a floating soul. What a way to close out my twenties, more good things to come.
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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 96-99, Shelter Cove to Sisters
Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 96-99 from Shelter Cove to Sisters, Oregon, mile 1,900-2,000.
August 8, Day 96
31.2 miles [1938.3]
I can’t believe I slept until 6:15 camped next to four other people and still managed to be the first one out of camp. First seven miles ahead, then I took a nice hour-long break at Maiden Peak shelter; I think I waited 30 minutes before “Brownstreak” sat down and ate a thawed microwave-burrito. It felt hard to find or make motivation, yesterday’s diet certainly did not help. Caught wind of trail magic at Charlton Lake and suddenly forgot about my sluggish woes. “Ducky”—2-for-3 on the trails—and his dad were super eccentric and holding court with at least six hikers. There were a pair of ladies, Hannah and “Sparkles” who were much more introverted and manned a grilled cheese station. I was lame and didn’t really chat much with our hosts past the usual profuse thank-yous, everything hurt and all I could see was food. Both parties were beyond well-equipped and more than a dozen hikers sat and ate to their heart’s content. I had two grilled cheese with fresh tomato and pickle toppers, Doritos and choc-chip cookies, plus a Coke and two IPAs. There were Ben and Jerry’s pints(!) but “Sticky” and I were stuffed once again and chose to split a Cherry Garcia. Pack on, waddled out, and found a pace and cranked miles out, passing dozens of scummy ponds between massive meditative lakes. Didn’t see anyone else and only two hikers passed me. Dusk set in and I thought I was behind, the trail was smooth, and I was angsty so I ran the last three in under a half-hour. It got dark and I set up—it’s officially my first night alone. It’s boring, nice, sad; I’m tired and proud. The mosquitoes at this lake are savage but I’m safe in my tent sanctuary just like everyone else.
August 9, Day 97
27.5 miles [1965.8]
All-over, a hard day. Good sleep after 10:30 P.M. once the few other late hikers settled in—looks like I didn’t camp alone after all. It also turned out camping by a lake meant no respite from mosquitoes and I packed in a constant orbit around my camp, never pausing to get bit. Hike was hard despite an easy downhill morning, I think I had strained a few ligaments on the arch of my left foot from last night’s panicked run to catch up. Thought a lot about being behind and how I just managed to reconnect with “Shocks”, I worried about being on my own once again. I thought I beat this? It was a hot afternoon and I found a decent stream in the shade which was a good excuse to wash socks and deduct 12-ounces of beer weight—I chilled it in the stream while scrubbing. Hot afternoon and being sore didn’t help. Turned out I was ahead. “Shocks” caught up and we took lunch, salmon taco, and split my other beer. The last few miles were pretty nice; South Sister is straight up epic and Mt. Jefferson looks dope—I’m ready to ski. Filled up at an extremely milky creek which filtered clear, don’t want to think about what it did to my filter. “Lost Dog” produced a quart-zip stuffed with bud from a trail angel and offered me a handful. Dinner was Velveeta salsa mac, then we set up in the meadow. “Conflicted” and “Sassy-K” said they both struggled; today’s terrain was tough and we all agreed it probably had something to do with the lack of views despite the last few spectacular miles. Out of spare power and it’s stressful, but it’ll work out. Less than 40 away from the 2K milestone—in under 100 days!
August 10, Day 98
30.1 miles [1995.1]
I must have set up on a queen mattress; the meadow grass and cold, wet air made for a glorious night of sleep. Another challenging day but the views more than made up for it; sparse, tortured trees, expansive meadows, streams and rocks, I would hike Oregon again for this stretch alone. Took a lengthy break at Sister Spring. “Conflicted” was a constant stream of gender pronoun jokes and I was nearly brought to tears with laughter; the best kind of breaks. Obsidian Falls was a nice surprise. Arrived at McKenzie Pass later in the afternoon and found a magic cache which had Doritos, Coke, and the juiciest, best peach of the entire season. Spotted “Coppertone’s” tell-tale RV and got a root beer float and took a nice sit. Nobody was stoked to figure out there were 13 more through some treacherous lava fields for a reliable camp. Found the courage to leave and struggled the entire time, each step pinched and stabbed, sharp rocks tenderized my poor feet, I would have rather walked through a pit of gnashing crocodiles. Rewarded, almost on a spiritual level, with a fiery sunset who’s rusted hues from smoke backlit ghostly, bone-white trees. It might well have been Mars. “Brownstreak” and “Shocks” caught up and we stumbled into Big Lake Youth Camp as the last bit of light vanished. I was immediately reminded of Philmont, all summer camps have a similar vibe: cute overall map, dining hall and meal hours, and someone who invariably exclaims “Hi, welcome to camp!” in a cheery and effervescent tone which borders too closely on psychosis. Directed to the “hiker area” and “Shocks” and I settled on a beach outcropping with a volleyball net. The sand feels great but I know everything will be soaked tomorrow morning. Oh well.
Mount Washington Wilderness and the Three Sisters.
North and Middle Sister.
Big Lake Youth Camp by stars.
August 11, Day 99
9.7 miles [2002.3]
As predicted, I woke up soggy on the volleyball sand near the water’s edge, a wall of low fog obscured the opposite bank of Big Lake. Huge windfall to have the hiker hut open a full hour earlier than posted. The shower I scouted yesterday was empty, no towels were hanging up, no one was loitering; I snagged the first one. Split a load of laundry, fueled up on coffee, and responded to the renter’s application. Ate at the dining hall and heard the clamoring of rowdy chow-hall kids and could feel myself drifting back to camp. I’m happy where I am but I can’t help but think about another summer, perhaps that’s always going to happen. Untoasted bagels two-ways; butter and tomato, then cream cheese and raspberry jelly followed by fresh strawberries and watermelon chunks and a side of yogurt made for a complete breakfast. Fully charged and clean, “Streak”, “Shocks”, “Conflicted”, and I headed a measly six miles to Santiam Pass, despite being offered a ride—everyone’s mood seemed to be in a hiking spirit. Crossed mile 2,000! Almost had a difficult hitch into Sisters before a pickup picked us up, I managed to konk out on the highway, wind and hair whipping me deaf in the bed. Hitch took us two miles too far which was stressful for “Conflicted” and I let him wind me up, plus it had been a few hours and miles since anyone had eaten. Found a lunch spot and had a chicken-bacon-brioche number with a 10-outta-10 habanero hot sauce (Aardvarks) and waffle fries. Used their free wifi and refilled my podcast feed. Temporarily sated, we made our last resupply for Oregon. Managed to reconnect with Sam Anderson and also got a surprise call from Pete Bergene. Hard hitch back to trail but I know now it always works out, easy to remember two beers deep dancing with my thumb outstretched on the side of a highway on a warm summer’s night.
“Brownstreak” and “Conflicted”.
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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.