Justin Kernes 8/14/19 Justin Kernes 8/14/19

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.

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.

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.

Hike On?

NoBo ->

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Justin Kernes 8/13/19 Justin Kernes 8/13/19

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

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

August 23, 2018 | Day 111
17 miles [2276.7]

Woke up at 7:30 A.M. and startled myself when I didn’t see any tents around; I got over nine solid hours of sleep. Packed in 14 minutes, a new record, and started cruising. Started to rise above the dense timber and saw Mt. Adams, no clouds or smoke, it was clear. We’re easily in the best spot in Washington and arguably along the whole trail: Goat Rocks. Mt. Adam’s was clear, huge, and glimmering. “Shocks” and I took a glorious morning snack break at Cispus Pass and studied the massif like a Renaissance painting while pounding stroopwafels. Pure bliss. The trail was adorned in fields of alpine flowers, bubbling waterfalls, and luxurious puffy clouds. Guthook indicated there were some possible campsites along the stock alternate at the base of Old Snowy and “Shocks” had a penthouse suite in mind. Took our sweet time and mosied to the stock alternate and was gobsmacked by Mt. Rainier. Looming. Jagged. Red. An amazing 360-degree view of the Knife’s Edge. Found a dirt patch exactly the size of two tents and set up. Cooked a Knorr side for lunch, one I had been toting around for at least 400 miles, threw in some butter, garlic powder, e.v.o.o., and pepperoni slices. Refueled and resisted the urge to nap by summitting Old Snowy, took tons of photos. The entire day felt like a great gift: good company with my brother, great weather—I can count the number of days without clouds on one hand. Certainly the best birthday in recent memory. For the last eight years I would be getting home from the Ranch, either by train or with Carter and Imara, followed by a quiet day at home. What a remarkable way to break the trend. The next ten years I feel will be successful. Commit to hard work each and every day on anything art-related, there’s so much to do.

Hike On?

NoBo ->

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Justin Kernes 8/12/19 Justin Kernes 8/12/19

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.

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.

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.

NoBo ->

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Justin Kernes 8/11/19 Justin Kernes 8/11/19

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.

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.

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.

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.

Hike On?

NoBo ->

<- SoBo

Justin Kernes 8/10/19 Justin Kernes 8/10/19

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.

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.

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.

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.

Hike On?

NoBo ->

<- SoBo

Justin Kernes 7/11/19 Justin Kernes 7/11/19

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.

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.

justin-kernes-oregon-washington-high-point-pct-self-portrait.jpg

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.

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Justin Kernes 5/8/19 Justin Kernes 5/8/19

PCT 2018: Day 40, Mount Whitney

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

June 13, Day 40
22.4 miles [772.7]

I actually slept as evidenced by waking, it took a few minutes to regain lucidity. Alarms aren’t meant to go off that early. While I threw a ration of snacks into my nearly empty backpack, a big, hot, ball of nerves filled my stomach. At 2:33 a.m. we set off into the void with headlamps which only provided a small swathe of understanding. Water crossings ran black with cold, a rare slip ended with wet, icy toes. I took a rest at the base of Guitar Lake and noticed a dozen or so faint pinpricks of determination slowly making progress up the switchbacks, a blanket of stars defining where the mountain wasn’t. With each gaining step I couldn’t help but remember my Scout troop’s six-day expedition where I celebrated my birthday, to the day, at the summit—I was 15 years old. We pressed on and it became clear we were going to miss sunrise by half an hour. Between Keeler Needle and Crooks Peak we stopped to enjoy the show from 14,000 feet. Shortly after, I got to the summit shelter and, much to my surprise, smashed a working “That Was Easy” button. Also found was “Trash Bath”, “Combo”, and “Gilligan” (previously Brett from the desert) celebrating their victory. It was almost like a reunion. Snapped photos and ate my victory gummies, then made our way down. Met “Brownstreak”, a talkative Hawaiian I struggled to keep pace with. We chatted about ski-bum life the entire way back. Took a fat nap before packing up camp and managed another six miles to Bighorn Plateau. Adam and I struggled to agree on a campsite and ended up getting testy with each other. It’s clear he is still unhappy with our current situation. I asked him what was on his mind and we ended up having the same conversation over again, not finding a resolute outcome. Though it’s clear; I’m ruining his time. He needs to be his own person—and so do I—but the thought of doing this alone scares me. I cannot quit, I’d hate myself more than I could possibly imagine. Despite having just been physically at the highest, tonight, I am emotionally at my lowest.

Iceberg-Lake-sunrise-between-keeler-needle-and-crroks-peak.jpg

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Justin Kernes 5/6/19 Justin Kernes 5/6/19

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

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

June 18, Day 45
11 miles [831.0]

Drunken slumber wasn’t great but breaking my 44-day streak without a bed on a memory-foam mattress was heavenly. Immediately got coffee from the common area, took my bedraggled gear out to the patio and started evaluating. Water bottles were thoroughly scrubbed, with soap, and electronic devices got topped off while other hikers around me lanced blisters and patched holes in tents. Drank a third cup repackaging last night’s resupply, thank god this one’s only four days. Walked across the street with my fourth cup to Bronco’s Deli and got the daily special machaca and egg burrito, smothering it in as much fresh habanero salsa as I could tolerate. Back at the hostel, “Trash Bath”, “Shocks” and I mowed through a few dozen freezer cookies and the rest of the mint chip ice cream while looking for future problems to solve with a reliable internet connection. It dawned on me my first and only pair of shoes are legitimately starting to wear thin, I purchased the same pair, a half-size bigger (why not, everyone’s doing it), and had them delivered home for future request. Ordered new earbuds since the first pair have been destroyed and the backup set has already lost sound in one ear. Finally we summoned the courage to leave, ultimately getting three hitches to the trailhead. Sometimes I worry but all it takes a happy jig, a smile, and about twenty minutes. Hit the trail around 4 p.m. and had a blast going the “correct way” towards Bishop Pass—this must have been my eighth trip this direction. We passed Long Lake and “TB” took a dip, he’s trying to jump into 50 alpine lakes. Managed to get a mile or two away from the PCT before sundown and set up camp. An amazing zero, this time it actually felt restorative.

“Trash Bath”, “Tiny Slice”, and “Shocks” try to hitch to South Lake, Bishop, California.

June 19, Day 46
14.9 miles [844.4]

Warm sleep and good rest made for an easy departure, the group of dudes who politely tried to share our site late last night weren’t moving by the time we left. Within the first mile, as I rounded a switchback while picking out my morning music selection, I saw a grouse sitting on the trail. Before I could identify it any further, it flushed, thereby checking two separate items off my internal “Nature” list. Merged back with the PCT (hooray!) and started the climb up Muir Pass. Postholed for what felt like the entire 3,500 feet of gain, false peaks and crests made the ascent even more demoralizing. I was exhausted; a malaise only altitude is capable of. Muir hut seemed like an apparition until I swung open the hefty wooden door. We celebrated and tried to mute our collective agony by hotboxing the entire hut with a few joints. It seemed like the perfect occasion so I drank the Coke I packed out, taking care to chill it first in a pile of slush. Morale improved. Left the shelter just before 3 p.m. which only made things more challenging because the sun had thawed enough of the usable terrain which had turned it into a frigid stream. The alternative was more frustrating postholing through uncompacted drifts. Made it to the northern end of Evolution Lake which seemed to be a popular spot to set up camp. “Skinny Dip” and “Hot Pants” introduced themselves and we all ate dinner, swatted away skeeters, and bitched about the slow, difficult progress. A few more joints emerged and were passed around the dining rock, all of us believing in and hoping for its magical medicinal properties—my feet are raw hamburger. Didn’t even make it 15 miles, a feeling akin to being unable to run in a nightmare. However, the views were straight from fantasy.

Postholing before Mount Solomons, mile 837.

Sunset over The Hermit from Evolution Lakes, mile 844.4.

June 20, Day 47
21.2 miles [865.6]

Early rise in an effort to offset yesterday’s short gain. Just over five miles into the day came Evolution Creek which Guthook says is “often seen as one of the most difficult stream crossings in the Sierra.” Unbuckled my hipbelt which basically holds up my pants and took off my shoes per my mantra. As my thighs began to enter the frigid current, whatever soreness there was in my feet was replaced with sharp, stinging cold, pain to the point of questioning if I had sliced my feet on some of the rocks; the water must have been 33 degrees. My shitty too-big pants just made things more frustrating, I nearly tripped on the baggy cuffs trying to pull up the waist while also trying to use my poles to stabilize. Made it across with a wet taint but a dry pack. More downhill miles to Muir Trail Ranch where we took lunch. A few good items were in the hiker boxes but nothing nearly as miraculous as purported. “Shocks” found, made, and shared a peppered beef Mountain House while we tried not to judge the three fresh JMT’ers, all the while buzzarding over their resupply. “Hot Mess” managed to sweet-talk herself into a huge bag of pasta from one the guys. After a fat shade nap, we packed up and headed for Selden Pass. “Trash Bath” likes our company and it seems like he’s going to stick around. Camped directly on the pass in hopes of less mosquitoes but they found us anyway. Demolished a tuna taco and some mint cookies. Don’t know if it’s the altitude, blood loss, or miles, but I’m just whooped.

Muir Trail Ranch international hiker door.

June 21, Day 48
21 miles [885.1]

The best part about camping on a pass is knowing the next day will start with downhill. Even then it was hard for me to motivate for today’s hike. Made a rare slip on an early stream crossing and plunged both feet into the creek. My shoes managed to dry out before lunch. “Missing Person” was having worse luck and said he broke his phone; it fell out of his pocket and smashed on a rock. I recognized the look of despair on face, as clearly as he must have seen me wearing it back at Kennedy Meadows, while he told me and “Shocks” he was thinking of exiting—indefinitely—at Mammoth Lakes in order to solve this new problem. I gave him my fuel for a hot lunch. “How many Nutter Butters do you think I can fit in my mouth at once?” asked “Trash Bath”, not waiting for any guesses while furiously stuffing in six, somehow maintaining a proper airway. Put one in front of the other and trudged along, it’s hard to recall any outstanding events from the day—I’m sapped. Camped on top of Silver Pass in efforts to avoid mosquitoes. Pulled out two creamy chicken Top Ramen packets from my bear can, fished out a few garlic cloves skittering around on the bottom and sliced them, fired up my stove and fried the garlic wafers in olive oil with a few dashes of Tabasco. The aroma was powerful enough to mask our collective stench but not enough to ward off the clouds of skeeters, even at 11,000 feet. One less mythic property of garlic.

Sunset from Silver Pass with the Minarets in the distance.

Silver Peak and Sharktooth Peak, mile 885.1.

June 22, Day 49
23.5 miles [906.6]

Got a fairly late start on Silver Pass for the remaining 21.5 mile mostly-downhill haul into Mammoth Lakes. It seems as though mosquitoes can’t fly faster than 2.5 miles per hour, so I just tried to maintain or outdo that pace for the entire day. Don’t remember much from the hike, stream crossings, trees, and lakes blended together like backseat views on a cross-country road trip. By 5 p.m., “Shocks”, “Trashbath”, and I rolled into Red’s Meadow. Immediately, I hydrated with an IPA from the trading post and we all reveled at making it to another town. My bear can is empty but I didn’t go hungry; success, and it only took 900 miles. Hitching seemed like a distant possibility but an $8 bus ride was a worthwhile investment. The old bird who sold me my first beer, who also sold bus tickets, must have taken another good look at me while I was asking for a bus ticket, selling me my second beer. Grinned like an alcoholic, downed the first and took the second to-go, hoping the bus driver wouldn’t care. Gang decided on John’s Pizza Works and we settled on a supreme-style ‘za; out of the 16 slices I had four or five, nothing but the pan was left. Coke has never tasted so delicious. Ran into “Combo” who had apparently rocketed ahead by a few days in order to hang with his family—he looked real clean. Made a quick stop at the liquor store for beer before setting off into the residential woods of this ski town for a spot to stealth. Got pretty drunk and talked between tents just like all those fifth-grade slumber parties.

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

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

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

June 23, Day 50
9.3 miles [915.9]

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

“Trash Bath” rides the Mammoth Ski Resort gondola.

Devils Postpile National Monument, topside.

Hexagonal columnar basalt of Devils Postpile.

Fly fisherman on the Middle Fork San Joaquin River.

June 24, Day 51
20.1 miles [936.0]

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

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

“Shocks” admires Mount Ritter, mile 923.4.

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

June 25, Day 52
14.5 miles [942.5]

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

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Justin Kernes 5/3/19 Justin Kernes 5/3/19

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.

Thornburg Peak and a distant Hawkins Peak, mile 1057.6

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.

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Justin Kernes 4/9/19 Justin Kernes 4/9/19

PCT 2018: Days 5-8, Julian to Mike's Place

Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 5-8 from Julian to Mike’s Place, mile 80-127.

May 9, Day 5
17.6 miles [98.0]

Wow, I had the hardest day. At 2 a.m. Adam woke up with an 8-10-inch long centipede under his quilt, biting him. Like a scene from a horror film, I chased that f@&*er around, dispatching it with flurry of impassioned heel-strikes. I'm not sure now how I feel about cowboy-camping anymore. Neither of us got much sleep after the event. Today's entire hike was exposed. Alien. Wind hotter than hair dryers constantly caught my umbrella, whipping my hand and head, pulling me backwards. All that would seem tolerable, but all day yesterday I had a pain in my right knee upon extension. Tonight, three miles away from camp, I paused for a breather. When I went to move, it felt like a knife had pierced my kneecap, locking my leg in place—9/10 pain. All I could think about was 'failure'. I can't let it consume me. We made an early dinner and I chugged 1,000mg of acetaminophen. Adam insisted on taking my pack for the remaining few miles. What a champ. Eat more, drink more, go slow; you must.

May 10, Day 6
11 miles [109]

Crossed a big milestone today—mile 100. Exited Anza-Borrego and San Felipe Hills, it feels like I'm finally out of another desert. Tried to stay on top of hydration, but nonetheless, my knee hurt all day. Luckily we only planned on making it to Warner Springs—11 miles. I spent way too much time thinking about the implications of injury. Found our way to the Community Center and was surprised at what they had to offer. We both took bucket showers and laundry which were much needed. I also purchased a pair of two-ounce flip-flips which are going to be a big score for camp-life and future showers. Made a small trek to the Post Office to pick up our resupply box. Stopped at the golf course on the way back; there was a closeout sale on junk food. Score. One of the employees was clocking out; she offered us a ride back in her bitchn' 80's Tacoma.

Hiking through Warner Springs Meadows, mile 103.4.

Adam hitches in a pickup truck on Highway 79, mile 109.5.

A very nice Angel from Warner Springs Golf Grill.

May 11, Day 7
0 miles [109]

We took our first zero today; not stoked about needing the rest so early on. I don't think Adam wanted to stop but it's clear he's worried about me. Fortunately, we both got to sleep in due to overcast skies. I wore my puffy all day; finally a nice day in the desert. We used today's downtime to rethink gear, trying not to get sucked into social media. I bought a much needed hooded shirt from 2 Foot Adventures since my right nipple had been rubbed raw by my cheap button-up. This is a major boost in my quality of life. Adam realized his pad popped in the wake of the centipede kerfuffle, but at the end of the day, a Z Lite found it's way into the hiker box. Adam snatched it up—huge score! We also ordered odor-proof bags to store food after a rogue crow took a packet of ramen from our resupply box when I wasn't looking. Finished the day with a life-affirming footbath and ate dinner in the tent.

May 12, Day 8
18 miles [127]

Got an early start leaving Warner Springs; I can finally wake up and pack camp in under 40 minutes. The entirety of today's hike was overcast! Gorgeous Bay Area clouds blanketed the sky which kept me cool during our 18 miles of rolling hills. My knee felt much better for the first nine miles or so, but soon after, a dull and constant pain returned. Challenging. Fortunately, we stayed at Mike's Place tonight. “Off-Trail” made us feel at home by giving us beers and cooking legit wood-fired pizzas. He even offered to let us cook—Adam made a spectacular 'za. Hung out with a dozen other hikers we had seen the past week and reminisced about our short time on trail. Possible chance of rain tonight.

Adam makes pizza at Mike’s Place, mile 127.0.

Hike On?

NoBo ->

<- SoBo

Justin Kernes 4/7/19 Justin Kernes 4/7/19

PCT 2018: Days 13-16, Cabazon to Big Bear

Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 13-16 from Cabazon to Big Bear, mile 211-266.

May 17, Day 13
17.3 miles [229.0]

It wasn't a bad dream, our shelter blew down before dawn—it sounded like a tornado. Capitalized on the misfortune and got an earlier start. Once again, “Mio” lead the charge while the rest of us tried to keep up. Entered Section C and was blown away by the views. Angular piles of rusted rock among dozens of agave species surrounded me. At the Whitewater Preserve junction, we found a note from “Mio”. He has always been trying to catch his friends; it was only a matter of time before he split. I sincerely hope I see him again. We celebrated in his honor by taking a long siesta at Whitewater River to beat the midday heat. Everyone dropped down to their skivvies and took a refreshing dip. We played spades and passed around Adam's small flask of vodka. I won by going nil on the last hand—a real dirty move! Left and busted out another nine miles before dinner. Knee hurt, but not nearly in the same way it has the past few days. Improvement.

Ryan in the San Gorgonio Wilderness, mile ~223.5.

Erin crossing Whitewater River, mile 220.1.

San Jacinto peak near Whitewater River, mile 221.5.

Sand to Snow National Monument, mile ~217.

May 18, Day 14
19.7 miles [248.7]

Gang wanted to wake at 4 a.m., but when my alarm went off no one was moving. Dozed for another hour then got moving. Followed Mission Creek up a canyon for 10 miles. Tons of elevation but a few clouds made it tolerable. Took another 4-hour lunch break to avoid the heat, hydrate, and play more spades. Darby shared her kippers with me at lunch; I might have discovered a new item I can pack out. It paired well with a dollar lemon pie and several spoonfuls of peanut butter. Lots of laughs with Ryan and Mitchy; I'm still amazed we get to hike with another pair of brothers. Stoked for Big Bear tomorrow. Stinky, grimy, sore feet, but my knee's feeling good.

Looking towards Sugarloaf Mountain, mile ~241.

Sand to Snow National Monument sunset, mile 248.7.

May 19, Day 15
17.4 miles [266.1]

Managed 17 miles to Highway 18 on very little food. Grandma's cookies, a packet of ramen, and a tortilla—I was running on fumes. At the Highway I met “Jitterbug”, a thru-hiker from '16 who cooked us tacos. Said our thanks and hitched into Big Bear where we all agreed on more Mexican food. Darby and Mitchy split a vegetarian “Big Juan”—a 7-pound burrito in less than 45 minutes for a free T-shirt. We were all a few pitchers of margaritas in and they had only made it halfway. The hostess kindly reminded everyone a man ate two in the allotted time. We digested and played spades covered by a small sliver of shade in the parking lot and waited for “Mountain Mama”. Her and “Papa Smurf” are trail angels who have opened up their house to hikers. I'm glad we had their contact info for a place to sleep. Otherwise, I had drawn the short straw to rent a U-Haul under my name for the next two days. Town is huge, I certainly don't remember it being this expansive on our family trips all those years ago.

US Forest Service trail sign, mile 259.6.

Ryan engages in full hiker-trash, Big Bear, California.

May 20, Day 16
0 miles [266.1]

Got a decent night's sleep for being directly under a streetlight. It was a slow morning, we played cards to pass some time. Our parents arrived and showered us with love and food. I sent back a camera lens. We went to an authentic German deli for lunch, their potato salad was unreal. I spent about 45 minutes after lunch calling Sprint trying to unlock my cell phone from the previous owner. Jesus Christ, I'd rather be hiking. We regrouped with our hiking family and piled in our car for a resupply at the Dollar Tree. Back at the house, we said our love-you’s and thank-you’s and watched our folks drive off. I overheard someone say the toilet was “severely clogged”, a few hikers who had arrived that morning seemed uncomfortable about the situation and began to leave. I saw “Mountain Mama” high-tail it into through the front door with what I later confirmed to be a drain snake. With absolutely zero experience, Adam and I politely took over. Two YouTube videos later, we were trained experts in home plumbing. I luckily fished out a rogue Dixie cup from the wreckage. We cleaned up everything, going through an entire roll of paper towels in the process. It was stressful and exhilarating to say the least. “Papa Smurf” returned home and quickly relaxed. Zero days are weird; I can’t wait to get hiking again. Knees feel good!

Mitchy and dog from Big Bear, California.

“Trash Bath” shows his Pop-Tart likeness.

Hike On?

NoBo ->

<- SoBo

Justin Kernes 4/6/19 Justin Kernes 4/6/19

PCT 2018: Days 17-21, Big Bear to Wrightwood

Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 17-21 from Big Bear to Wrightwood, mile 266-376.

May 21, Day 17
16.2 miles [282.3]

Leaving our host's house was quite challenging. A few hikers still needed to do some errands which felt like it took forever. Adam and I got dropped off at Von's for a few supplies, then waited patiently for our ride to show up. While standing at an intersection, a braceleted arm shot out of a '01 Toyota Camry, waiving a $20 bill. Two girls, their Coachella sticker prominently displayed on the rear window, iced Starbucks in hand, were looking right at us. I yelled back “Hiking!”, then immediately realized I wasn't above accepting free money while I watched them speed off. Oh well. Finally, around noon, we arrived back at Highway 18, resupplied, showered, and rested. I felt amazing. Did 16 miles before setting up camp on top of a small mountain Mitchy insisted we check out. He wasn't wrong, the view was completely worthwhile. Crushed a tuna taco—I could get used to these.

The gang gets dropped off at highway 18, mile 266.1.

Dog goes for a ride, Big Bear, California.

Scrub oak and setting sun, the colors of California.

Sunset over San Bernadino National Forest, mile 282.3.

May 22, Day 18
27.8 miles [310.1]

New longest day at 27.8 miles in addition to crossing the 300 mile-marker! Got decent sleep, started hiking by 7 a.m. Didn't talk much with the group, knees felt good so I just kept moving. At one of the Deep Creek Canyon crossings there was a collapsible ice-chest with fresh apples and caramel which was quite refreshing in the afternoon heat. Most of the day just went by until Adam and I arrived a the Deep Creek Hot Springs. I soaked my feet and cleaned off the past few days of dust and sweat in the soothing, warm water. We waited for an hour but our group didn't show up. With daylight left and camping at the hot springs illegal, we did a few more miles while dusk settled in. Finished the day with tuna taco and avoided mosquitoes. I guess they exist in the desert too. Bastards.

May 23, Day 19
25.5 miles [335.6]

Another 25-plus mile day. Had a Snickers and washed my feet on the last crossing of Deep Creek. Made great time and managed 18 miles to Silverwood Lake where we stopped for lunch. I'd noticed over the past few days Adam has been quieter than usual, his playful snarky demeanor replaced with quiet somberness. It was bumming me out. I inquired and he told me he wants more independence, something I'm shocked I didn't realize sooner. We left the lunch spot, not saying another word. I guess I could do this hike alone—I just don't want to that badly. Bad thoughts. It was hard to think about anything else for the remainder of the day. Only the hope of tomorrow's McDonald's was enough to keep my legs moving. We set up camp, distant train horns filled the still air every 20 minutes. While eating dinner, we met “Kickstand” who mentioned he's working on a calendar year triple crown. It took me a few moments to realize the extent of his plans. “Mind if I crash your campsite?” he asks, taking off his pack and pulling out dinner. We both nod, tired from the days efforts. “Man, it's so cool that you guys are doing this. My brother would bitch and moan about Tuna Creations or filtering water.” Nervously laughing, I found myself holding back tears. It had been an exceptionally hard day.

Cleghorn Mountain, outside of Big Bear, mile 331.8.

May 24, Day 20
26.1 miles [361.7]

Today hurt the most since it was our third day in a row doing over 25 miles—but I'm still stoked. Woke up covered in dew which made me nervous about packing away my quilt. Made it to McDonald's like it was the last mile of the Boston Marathon. When we arrived we saw “Kickstand” impatiently waiting, he begrudgingly mentioned it was closed due to a power-outage. Also waiting were two other hikers, Will and “Two for Two”. With all layers on we waited in the damp clouds watching tourists and commuters get out, throw a small fit their Micky-D's was closed, and drive off. I wanted to inform them this was our only water source for another 21 miles. After an hour, they finally opened. I ordered a McMuffin, two hash browns, two sausage burritos, and a coffee, devouring it quicker than it took to make. Will, wracked with hiker-hunger, had some trouble understanding exactly what was included in the combo meal, taking several laps with the cashier. I made sure to call him “Combo” for the rest of the day. A quick stop at the gas station for a beer to smash and one to pack out and we were back on trail. The clouds burned off and we were left hiking up a huge hill, hot, exposed, and buzzed. Had another tuna taco and the other Steel Reserve.

Agave americana, mile ~362. — *Agave americana*, mile ~362.

Hiking in the mist towards Cabazon, mile ~363.

Adam admiring an agave bloom, mile ~347.

May 25, Day 21
14.5 miles [376.2]

Woke up to an island in the sky—a huge bank of clouds covered the valley floor—and saw where we were five days ago. Took a relaxing snack break on the Discovery chair lift at Mountain High. Hitched into Wrightwood and got a free hot dog with fixin's at the market. Resupplied at Jensen's, then celebrated our hard work with a BBQ chicken pizza from Mile High splurging for cinnamon twists, what the heck. Got a ride out from Ed in his BMW 328i and tried to levitate over his leather seats. Neglected to fill up water and found myself needing more only a few miles after starting. Made a naive call to filter water at Jackson Flat which was off trail and probably not necessary. Adam wasn't thrilled. Aimed to get as close to Mount Baden-Powell as possible; the cool evening air made the ascent far more enjoyable. Cloud cover which had hung out all day suddenly began to glow with the setting sun. Rich cotton-candy hues filled the fog around me. It's going to be a cold night.

Pinus lambertiana, sugar pine, mile ~376. — *Pinus lambertiana*, sugar pine, mile ~376.

Ascending Mount Baden-Powell, mile ~376.

Hike On?

NoBo ->

<- SoBo

Justin Kernes 4/14/18 Justin Kernes 4/14/18

The Road Trip Day 1: Barefoot in Monterey

6:37a.m.; I beat my alarm clock by three minutes. A softly rising sun streamed through my bedroom window while I quickly dressed. Coffee brewed and poured...

Pacific Coast Highway, California

May 7, 2015

6:37a.m.; I beat my alarm clock by three minutes.

A softly rising sun streamed through my bedroom window while I quickly dressed. Coffee brewed and poured, and with a few more weepy goodbyes from my parents, we piled in the car and headed off.

Opting for the scenic route, we chose to drive along California's famous highway, the Pacific Coast Highway, or as hip locals say, “the P-C-H, dude”. Miles evaporated while excitement and tunes freely flowed throughout our vehicle.

Lunch time sped up on us.

Pizza lunch on a table in San Louis Obispo, California.

After a quick reference from Yelp, we pulled off the highway and headed for Pizza Solo in San Louis Obispo. We opted for a bacon, chicken, and pepperoni pie. #treatyourbodylikeatemple. It got snarfed down immediately.

Back on the road.

We headed further North. With Los Angeles a considerable distance in the rear-view mirror, heavier and darker clouds began to permeate the sky.

Fields of grass along Cabrillo Highway, California.

After another hour and a half, it was time to get out, stretch our legs, and check out the beach.

Caleb Jennings at Arroyo Laguna State Beach, California.

A peaceful moment at Arroyo Laguna State Beach.

It was a spectacular afternoon.

This is the first time I have ever traveled along the PCH. California natives, mostly retirees, regularly discuss driving its entire length.

There was no shortage of amazing coastal scenes. Mile after mile of winding and soothing coastline filled the windows.

Here's an excerpt from my journal:

Man looking out over the ocean at Arroyo Laguna State Beach.

“The [trees] looked a lot like snarled Bristlecone pines. Dunes and mountains were covered in colorful native brush. Steel blues, muted mustards, and olive grasses adorned the rolling hills. The entire time, hugged by the crushing ocean—jagged rocks breaking through the madly frothing surface of sapphire and turquoise foam.”

Another hour of winding and cruising later, about 70 miles before our hotel, we made one more stop.

There weren't any signs, but there was a large pull-off area on the opposite shoulder. We parked, hopped out, and inspected our surroundings.

North view of cape San Martin, California.

What a scene to be rewarded with.

West view of cape San Martin, California.

The three of us silently stood still and enjoyed a cool sea breeze. A gentle rumble of breaking waves below us kept an even tempo.

Carter gently reminded us we still had a bit farther to go.

We arrived at our hotel just as it stopped sprinkling. After a quick unpacking, we went downstairs seeking dinner recommendations. The lobby had complimentary wine and cheese.

Dinner options were within walking distance. Not soon after setting out, my homemade moccasins were thoroughly soaked from the soggy pavement.

I removed them. Socks too. The concrete was cool and wet.

We continued searching for something other than pizza.

Hey, want a ride?

Turn it around:

The Road Trip

Stick your thumb out:

Day 2

Justin Kernes 4/13/18 Justin Kernes 4/13/18

The Road Trip Day 2: Foggy Mountain Monoliths

Woke up with yesterday's cloudy skies still hanging around. The coastal air was crisp. We packed up and drove with the windows...

Yosemite National Park, California

May 8, 2015

I woke up to yesterday's cloudy skies still hanging around. The coastal air was crisp.

We packed up and drove with the windows down. Today's journey was less than 200 miles and we had a camping reservation. The goal was to head out early, take our time, and enjoy the views.

Pacheco Pass Highway, just before San Luis Reservoir.

Slowly, we gained in elevation. The temperature kept dropping.

It was cloudy and ominous all day.

Upon arrival at Mariposa Grove, we were surprised to find at least three inches of snow on the ground. Water dripped from the trees, plunking loudly on our car's roof. We each took turns peering through the sunroof watching large droplets splash on the glass.

Carter Smith watching rain through a car sunroof.

We got out and took a walk.

Walking through Mariposa Grove, Yosemite, California.

It was cold!

Yesterday's overcast delight spoiled me. I hope I brought enough warm clothes for the entire trip.

Caleb Jennings enjoying the cool air at Mariposa Grove.

With temperatures hovering in the mid 30's, there was talk of finding an alternate plan. We were not prepared to camp in the snow.

Snowy, foggy road in Yosemite National Park

The decision was to find and rent a room for the next two nights. After all, we are on a vacation.

Headed to Tunnel View via Wawona Tunnel.

After exiting the park, we found a room with a reasonable rate. Camping would have been rough; my sleeping bag is only rated to 20 degrees.

Dinner was Mountain House pasta primavera and a generous glass of whiskey. I lost two cribbage games.

Tomorrow's plan is to hike the Mist Trail.

Hey, want a ride?

Turn it around:

Day 1

Stick your thumb out:

Day 3

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

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

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

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

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August 19, Day 10725.6 miles [2172.4]

August 20, Day 10832.9 miles [2205.3]

August 21, Day 10929.2 miles [2234.5]

August 22, Day 11026.2 miles [2260.7]

Hike On?

August 23, 2018 | Day 11117 miles [2276.7]

Hike On?

August 24, Day 112~19.5 miles [2295.5]

August 25, Day 11328.2 miles [2323.7]

August 26, Day 11423.3 miles [2347.0]

August 27, Day 11523.8 miles [2370.8]

August 28, Day 11623.4 miles [2393.2]

August 29, Day 11710.4 miles [2403.6]

August 30, Day 11824.3 miles [2427.9]

August 31, Day 11922 miles [2449.9]

September 1, Day 12017.3 miles [2464.2]

Hike On?

September 2, Day 12112.4 miles [2476.6]

September 3, Day 12223.6 miles [2500.2]

September 4, Day 12325.4 miles [2525.6]

September 5, Day 12427.2 miles [2551.8]

September 6, Day 125~21 miles [2551.8]

September 7, Day 1266.5 miles [2571.8]

Hike On?

August 5, Day 9328.5 miles [1848.4 ]

August 6, Day 9433.8 miles [1882.2]

August 7, Day 9524.9 miles [1907.1]

Hike On?

June 13, Day 4022.4 miles [772.7]

Hike On?

June 18, Day 4511 miles [831.0]

June 19, Day 4614.9 miles [844.4]

June 20, Day 4721.2 miles [865.6]

June 21, Day 4821 miles [885.1]

June 22, Day 4923.5 miles [906.6]

Hike On?

June 23, Day 509.3 miles [915.9]

June 24, Day 5120.1 miles [936.0]

June 25, Day 5214.5 miles [942.5]

Hike On?

June 30, Day 5728.8 miles [1049.5]

July 1, Day 5820.6 miles [1070.1]

July 2, Day 5919.9 miles [1090.0]

Hike On?

May 9, Day 517.6 miles [98.0]

May 10, Day 611 miles [109]

May 11, Day 70 miles [109]

May 12, Day 818 miles [127]

Hike On?

May 17, Day 1317.3 miles [229.0]

May 18, Day 1419.7 miles [248.7]

May 19, Day 1517.4 miles [266.1]

May 20, Day 160 miles [266.1]

Hike On?

May 21, Day 1716.2 miles [282.3]

May 22, Day 1827.8 miles [310.1]

May 23, Day 1925.5 miles [335.6]

May 24, Day 2026.1 miles [361.7]

May 25, Day 2114.5 miles [376.2]

Hike On?

Pacific Coast Highway, California

May 7, 2015

6:37a.m.; I beat my alarm clock by three minutes.

Back on the road.

It was a spectacular afternoon.

What a scene to be rewarded with.

Hey, want a ride?

Turn it around:

Stick your thumb out:

Yosemite National Park, California

May 8, 2015

It was cloudy and ominous all day.

We got out and took a walk.

It was cold!

Hey, want a ride?

Turn it around:

Stick your thumb out:

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August 19, Day 107
25.6 miles [2172.4]

August 20, Day 108
32.9 miles [2205.3]

August 21, Day 109
29.2 miles [2234.5]

August 22, Day 110
26.2 miles [2260.7]

August 23, 2018 | Day 111
17 miles [2276.7]

August 24, Day 112
~19.5 miles [2295.5]

August 25, Day 113
28.2 miles [2323.7]

August 26, Day 114
23.3 miles [2347.0]

August 27, Day 115
23.8 miles [2370.8]

August 28, Day 116
23.4 miles [2393.2]

August 29, Day 117
10.4 miles [2403.6]

August 30, Day 118
24.3 miles [2427.9]

August 31, Day 119
22 miles [2449.9]

September 1, Day 120
17.3 miles [2464.2]

September 2, Day 121
12.4 miles [2476.6]

September 3, Day 122
23.6 miles [2500.2]

September 4, Day 123
25.4 miles [2525.6]

September 5, Day 124
27.2 miles [2551.8]

September 6, Day 125
~21 miles [2551.8]

September 7, Day 126
6.5 miles [2571.8]

August 5, Day 93
28.5 miles [1848.4 ]

August 6, Day 94
33.8 miles [1882.2]

August 7, Day 95
24.9 miles [1907.1]

June 13, Day 40
22.4 miles [772.7]

June 18, Day 45
11 miles [831.0]

June 19, Day 46
14.9 miles [844.4]

June 20, Day 47
21.2 miles [865.6]

June 21, Day 48
21 miles [885.1]

June 22, Day 49
23.5 miles [906.6]

June 23, Day 50
9.3 miles [915.9]

June 24, Day 51
20.1 miles [936.0]

June 25, Day 52
14.5 miles [942.5]

June 30, Day 57
28.8 miles [1049.5]

July 1, Day 58
20.6 miles [1070.1]

July 2, Day 59
19.9 miles [1090.0]

May 9, Day 5
17.6 miles [98.0]

May 10, Day 6
11 miles [109]

May 11, Day 7
0 miles [109]

May 12, Day 8
18 miles [127]

May 17, Day 13
17.3 miles [229.0]

May 18, Day 14
19.7 miles [248.7]

May 19, Day 15
17.4 miles [266.1]

May 20, Day 16
0 miles [266.1]

May 21, Day 17
16.2 miles [282.3]

May 22, Day 18
27.8 miles [310.1]

May 23, Day 19
25.5 miles [335.6]

May 24, Day 20
26.1 miles [361.7]

May 25, Day 21
14.5 miles [376.2]