PCT 2018: Days 93-95, Crater Lake to Shelter Cove
Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 93-95 from Crater Lake to Shelter Cove, mile 1,820-1,900.
August 5, Day 93
28.5 miles [1848.4 ]
Piss-poor drunken sleep, my mind was completely obsessed with leaving. Woke up in the same thought pattern I had fallen asleep to, like it was the same day. Listened to my own trail register advice which I’ve been writing for nearly two-thousand miles and Committed to packing. Gear on and sunrise breaking, I left a super-lame see-ya-later note for “Flipper & Friends”, then walked back to the restaurant with “Conflicted” for a cup of coffee. “Silver Fox”, a familiar hiker yet I’m unacquainted, paid for our brews; it was a wonderful gesture. About to leave when “Flipper” and Sam—honorarily “Sunburnt”—sat down for breakfast. Talked and hung out as long as possible, snagged a group photo for posterity sake; I can’t believe I know those hooligans from Philmont. Apologized for leaving once again, then “Conflicted” and I began hiking. I knew it was going to be smoky and thought about coming back rather than the marred view. The Lake sprawled much larger than I had imagined, much like my first visit to the Grand Canyon when I was 12—it must be even more incredible on a clear day. Tons of tourists and clean day hikers which was expected, it was fun being an utter bum and attracting looks and conversations about “those PCT hikers”. Took a lunch atop the Watchman and crushed the one beer I decided to carry, that didn’t last long. Cruised around the rim, slowly, it was at our backs. Met a total cutie at the highway water cache who only started yesterday and is planning on going to Washington; I called her “Locks”, maybe it sticks. “Brownstreak” caught up! He’s been behind since Tahoe, and not long after, “Sticky Fingers” showed up, looks like he’s not taking a zero either. Hiked behind “Goat Man” for five miles and talked the whole time about vanlife and taking life after trail to the next level—great guy. A fiery sunset swatting skeeters away. Coerced “Conflicted” into letting me use his stove for my gnocchi meal. “Sticky” gave me a spoonful of cookie butter and now I know what my first hit of heroin feels like. Tonight’s camp has faces I recognize and some I don’t.
“Conflicted” and Wizard Island.
State Highway 138, mile 1847.8.
August 6, Day 94
33.8 miles [1882.2]
Smoky night which turned into a damp and chilly dawn, my quilt had a fair bit of dewy condensation. The five or seven tents which were up last night had already dwindled to three before I was packed, strapped, and moving. It’s odd trailing a group of people “by myself”, but I guess that’s what the majority of hikers have already gone through. In the first mile “Sticky” caught up, he must have been looking for a friend too, and we did the morning-10 together. Had a good laugh beneath the base of Mt. Theilsen—”Stick’s” friend said it was “non-technical” and there couldn’t be a more sinister looking peak in the entire state; certainly Class 3 and above. Lunch with “Stick” and “Streak” where I had a pepperoni roll-up appetizer and tuna taco as a main. Kept a steady pace through meandering hills. Realized I’m going to hit 2,000 miles before Day 100 (what a positively gorgeous reduction) and I can’t stop smiling. Twenty a day is way better than counting chairs in a lift shack for eight hours. Crossed the Oregon high point which felt lackluster after all the trail’s had to offer, a fun milestone nonetheless. I pushed past Windigo dirt road after 6:20 P.M. and did another four, absolutely annihilating nearly 34 today and it feels great. Breakfast for dinner: a House biscuits and gravy, I still have lots of food left—oops, more tomorrow. Ha! Soaring spirits and another note from “Shocks”. Tomorrow, our trails cross.
“Sticky Fingers”.
Cowhorn Mountain, mile ~1878.
Sawtooth Mountain, mile ~1882.
August 7, Day 95
24.9 miles [1907.1]
Great sleep, got the lead out early and crushed 14.3 before 11 A.M. Finding my motivation since leaving Crater Lake has been an easy choice. Abundant water sources saw the vengeful return of mosquitoes which is kinda irksome. “Sticky” caught up to me by the afternoon and we cruised into Shelter Cove before 3 P.M. Despite having plenty of trail sustenance and picking up more, I was weak—like always—to resist real food and we split an absolutely FIRE chicken pesto pizza. I ate way too much, I haven’t hurt that bad since the AYCE buffet back at Harrah's. Waddled over to the lake, it’s gorgeous. Mountains are the purest form of escape but a large, secluded body of water does the trick. I realized kids who grew up in the Midwest and camped at lakes had a unique nature experience all their own, mountains or not. Uncomfortably stuffed my consciousness slipped like Altras on scree, it was warm and a cool breeze wafted through the shade; summer weather perfection. In my digestive haze, I met “Sassy-K” who remarked at my similarity with another hiker, then put it together and interrupted herself to mention that “Shocks” was probably looking for me. Adam is in great spirits and I’m stoked to see him. “Brownsteak” and “Conflicted” rolled in as well and all of us splayed out in the shade punch-drunk on mileage just like it was the Sierra. Everyone traded stories of Oregon-so-far. Decided it would be a rough night at the campground/resort and hoofed it back to the trail just as last light waned. Tipsy, full, and tired, we could have hiked another five but I found a good spot in less than a half-mile and everyone rejoiced. It feels good to hang with these four again.
Crescent Lake.
Breakfast snack.
New pad/old pad.
Chicken pesto pizza.
Hike On?
PCT 2018: Days 76-79, Burney Falls to Mount Shasta
Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 76-79 from Burney Falls to Mount Shasta, mile 1,420-1,500.
July 19, Day 76
32.1 miles [1450.1]
Woke to crinkling pads and polycro being stuffed around 5 A.M. and panicked, I hate playing catch-up. Packed my shit, shit and left in just under an hour. My headphones are beyond FUBAR, the headphone adapter doesn't make a solid connection and audio cuts out, start/pause in an endless loop, or the absolute worst, restarts track from the beginning which is beyond frustrating for podcasts. Fairly certain my backups are busted and any solution seems far too challenging and time consuming on trail. Perhaps it’s time to start hiking without another distraction. Lunch was an enjoyable event per usual. Broke out the ground cloth, fully spread out and lounged hard with “Penguin”, “Trash Queen”, and “Shocks”. I have enough food to last until next resupply but I’m still worried about running out. I’ll survive, it just might not be ideal. I’m having trouble recalling any other events, perhaps that’s what happens when you devote the whole day to making miles and not taking “unnecessary” breaks. Thirty-mile days still whoop me and there’s gonna be another, even longer, one tomorrow. My plantar fascia are unbelievably sore, I must have massaged them for twenty minutes before feeling drowsy. Tonight’s camp has a breathtaking view of Mount Shasta. I’m ready for sleep, then it’s time to do it all again. Yippee.
Lake Britton Dam
July 20, Day 77
31.8 miles [1481.9]
By now I’m habituated to hearing “Trash Queen” deflate her pad in the blue of predawn but today I’m especially glad I chose to get up-and-out instead of snooze; Mount Shasta sunrise was almost more unbelievable than last night’s sunset. Pooped as quick as I could and got moving, this area is mosquito dense. I don’t have snacking food so I made three tortilla meals which worked but definitely not ideal. Breakfast was an Oreo and peanut butter with M&M’s wrap. Lunch was a Spam and mayo taco with a side of cold-soaked ramen. Dinner was two tuna burritos with more peanut M&M’s for dessert, I'm low on options. Briefly saw “Froggy” during lunch at Ash camp. Everyone in our group, even other hikers, is fixated on the town of Shasta. The last three miles before camp were some of my most discomforting. My arches were screaming, my knees felt fat and stiff to a point where I contemplated the possibility of hiking-induced compartment syndrome. Nearly 63 miles in two days, I’m hurting. This camp is absolutely slammed and there aren’t too many other options in the area, other hikers have congregated here and there are more than ten people in a site for five. I’ve noticed a small hole in my tent where the bathtub floor meets the nylon walls. Nothing survives the trail unscathed. A patch of duct tape should hold from further tearing. Adam mentioned his stomach was feeling off since this morning, I hope it’s just a bit of indigestion and not something more serious.
July 21, Day 78
19.3 miles [1501.2]
I was one of the last to leave, every hiker had vacated before 6 A.M., the desire to get to town is powerful. With screaming soles I arrived at Interstate 5, with each step closer there appeared to be a white EZ-up with scattered chairs, hikers, and ice chests underneath. Trail Magic. Shared a bag of carrots with Adam and mopped up any remaining hummus. I was handed two PBR’s and a shot of Jack—I was drunk. It certainly made the hitch into town much easier, I didn’t have a care in the world. Made a beeline for Taco Bell, a drunk hiker stomach can barely discern between “calories” and “not calories”, my wallet thanked me. Waddled over to Shasta Base Camp and tried to nap off my drunk and the afternoon heat. Dozed off and on for ten minutes under the smell of dog poop which wafted my way every few minutes but I was too tired to move. Saw “Penguin” taking a bird bath with a garden hose and decided to wait my turn. My clothes, however, were in need of more, there was a laundromat next door and it seemed like an appropriate occasion to purchase a load, my first machine wash since Sonora Pass nearly 500 miles ago. Rallied and got two more beers from the grocery store during the rinse cycle, one for now, the other for trail. Chilled hard with fam. Used the time and sewed on the other sleeve, my hybrid sun shirt is now complete. Resupply tomorrow, stoked for new food options.
“Trash Queen”.
The dirtiest pair of pants ever.
Squaw Valley Creek bridge crossing.
July 22, Day 79
0 miles [1501.2]
Breakfast at Blackbear Diner where I had a big, messy plate of huevos rancheros with coffee. Sat with Adam and “Conflicted” and just felt lonely, something was clearly weighing heavy on his mind. Resupplied at Rite Aid and was surprised by the decent selection. Drank a ginger soda while I shopped. Got a beer and a peach, sadly only half of it was delicious, the other half dry and mealy. Adam was cagey and secretive all day. Told me he’s going his own way, finally. It makes sense—it’s time. I’m the one that needs to grow. Found a carton of chardonnay in a hiker box and muted my feelings by eating, drinking and smoking the rest of the afternoon away with “Sticky” and Brett. Watched “Conflicted”, “Trash Queen”, and Adam hitch out and I fought the revolting urge to follow. I fear losing the will to continue, I guess that’s been a fear from the beginning. But the thought of quitting now seems even more ridiculous than it did at Kennedy Meadows. Confided some darker thoughts with “Penguin” and felt disgusted at how weak and codependent I sounded. It reminded me that this was my hike and I’m the only one who’s going to hike it—time to be a man. Hearing “TQ” talk about the impending fire reroutes stressed me even further, it sounds like a labyrinth of exposed roads with limited signage. Oh, and I don’t have a Canada entry permit. Ugh. Slurped up a pint of ice cream before going to Taco Bell with Sarah and Kevin. Good friends are here, I don’t know why I have to keep reminding myself.
Hike On?
PCT 2018: Days 80-83, Mount Shasta to Etna
Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 80-83 from Mount Shasta to Etna, mile 1,500-1,600.
July 23, Day 80
24.3 miles [1525.5]
Didn’t laze about in my tent in hopes of getting to the restroom before the rest of the hikers woke. “Flipper” packed while I hastily scrawled a sign to hitch out. Sounds like “Froggy” is going to do his own thing for a while too, I guess everyone needs their own time. Got picked up in less than five minutes and soon we were back on-trail. Completely sweat through my undies onto my pants, a personal swamp-ass record has been set, yesterday’s booze fest only made things worse no doubt. I was feeling good from a zero but after 20 miles all my ligaments and joints returned to their baseline dull aches. Despite the disgusting heat and slight hangover, I had a better day. In quieter moments I wondered why I didn’t hike out with “Conflicted and “TQ” and realized this was the first time I’ve let FOMO feelings creep in since starting. Don’t dwell. My pack feels heavy, I guess it always does. Is there a weight at which it won’t feel heavy? Saw “Dutchie” making camp and we decided to call it short by a few miles. “Penguin” arrived while I was making dinner. Had my usual tuna taco, this time with Doritos. Splurged on two Oreo dessert wraps. Today was just another day, don’t know why I was so worried. Big miles tomorrow, gonna crush it.
Castle Crags State Park, western face.
July 24, Day 81
30.4 miles [1555.9]
While we packed up “Dutchie” made the call to hike back to Shasta and go to the doctor for her feet. I could tell it was a hard decision, more than just hiking in the “wrong direction” for 25 miles. “Flipper”, “Penguin” and I soldiered on. Lunched hard; sipped a little vodka and got a five-minute doze. If there’s an afterlife I wish it was like Lunch. No one was stoked to make more miles after eating, still we cranked them out. NorCal’s scenery is mostly timbered views and volcanic rock, today no exception. Weather was outright enjoyable up until the last few miles before camp. Rain was imminent and I freaked out a little, this is my first day of real rain and I’m out of practice. Being wet sucks. “Flipper” invited us over to his tent (I can’t believe he’s using a Hubba Hubba) and we enjoyed family dinner at his place just as it began to come down in earnest. Each clap of thunder bolted me back to monsoon season at summer camp. We cracked the vestibule zippers and a few joints later the storm passed. It feels like I’m racing to Oregon, rightfully so, I’m beyond done with California. Thought about Adam and “Trash Bath” having fun without me which is silly. Silly and I know it. Absolutely crushed another 30, they still bring a sense of accomplishment. Furthermore, tuna tacos are still good. Thankful for lack of bugs and great friends—that’s all I need
July 25, Day 82
25.2 miles [1581.1]
Sleep felt nourishing but wakefulness came far too quick. I’m never ready for it to be over. Got my feet moving by 6:30 A.M. and it was hazy and smoky, clearing only a little by the afternoon. Water sources were plentiful, thank God. Everyone has Etna on their mind. Ran into “Shocks”, “Conflicted”, and “Trash Queen” at lunch which was a cool surprise. Dudes seemed whooped, “TQ” with bubbly spirits per usual. Broke today into three segments of eight miles—an easy day. I’ve noticed manageable chunks are now 6-8 miles when they used to be only two. Sometimes I’ll still check the map every 0.1 but I think everyone does. The sensation in my right thigh, or rather lack thereof, is becoming more concerning. The day went quickly. I’m wishing to be done and I might get my wish—slow down. There’s so much to enjoy which feels like a reminder more than a revelation. It’s been almost three months since I started at the border. NorCal has challenged me and I find myself longing for the Sierra like a dysfunctional ex.
July 26, Day 83
21.7 miles [1599.8]
Tossed and turned every few hours but slept decently. Fortunately our 18 mile hike to the lonesome Sawyers Bar Road was shaded. Popped out of the trees and saw four other hikers splayed out roadside—our group made seven. More than a half-dozen trickled in over the next half-hour, in that same time I saw only one vehicle pass by. I was slightly worried but I’ve learned there’s nothing you can do except be hopeful. Really stoked I held on to my umbrella, it was clutch while waiting for a hitch. The next two cars stopped to help which put the odds at getting a ride above a coin-flip, an unbelievable ratio. “Flipper” and I piled into the bed of a rusted-out pickup and found some squatting room among a pile of firewood, an opossum-sized live animal trap, and a few bags of trash (our company and effects excluded) and waved see-ya-laters to the remaining hikers, still I managed to doze off on the ride into Etna. Heat and winding roads are my cradle. Stopped briefly at the hiker hut to drop packs and take inventory. Ate at Dotty’s, had a patty melt on rye with stone-ground mustard and horseradish, intense flavors I haven’t tasted in weeks. I think city-Slice would give it a 10/10. Resupplied at Dollar General for a few buffer items, then walked back to the hut, it was hotter than balls. Finished repackaging my food just as “Flipper” came back to the table dripping wet, rummaging for his towel. “Sprinkler was real nice” he said while combing his beard, skin noticeably a few shades lighter. Forgot everything I knew about avoiding sprinklers and made a beeline for the stream while stripping down to my undies. I’m never paying for a shower—ever. Paid “Lionheart”, owner of the hiker hut, for a ride back to the trail. It was a glorious summer night and the weather was reminiscent of perfect late-summer baseball games, ones where the stadium lights turn on somewhere around the fourth inning. “Froggy” was camped by the road, we unfurled our ground cloths and joined him. The five of us talked past sunset until the stars began to sparkle, a slumber party I won’t soon forget.
Hike On?
PCT 2018: Days 31-36, Tehachapi to Kennedy Meadows
Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 31-36 from Tehachapi to Kennedy Meadows, mile 570-700.
June 4, Day 31
22.1 miles [592.9]
By some grace of God I got decent sleep thanks to those two robust bushes. Loaded a new map into my phone and couldn’t help but feel a small sense of accomplishment. Took a nice, lengthy stop at Golden Oaks spring 12 miles from camp. Avoided the heat and cameled-up in the shade all while hanging out with “Mio”. Tried to make a dent in my food because my pack weighs an absolute shit ton—it’s kind of demoralizing. I must have eight days worth and only need six; I guess I can eat as much as I want. I should buy less crackers next time. The wind seemed to subside the further north we went but it still felt like a hiking through the business end of a hairdryer. Hopefully this is the last of the wind farms. Adam seemed to be in a mood, the desert must be getting to him too. We’re probably both dehydrated. Wrapped up the day with tuna taco while dodging a few mosquitoes. They’re only going to get worse from here.
A Mojave sunrise and the last of the wind farms.
A stoveless resupply which is a little heavy on crackers.
June 5, Day 32
23 miles [615.9]
Said goodbye to the last of the wind farms (I made sure to double-check on the map) and made it 10 miles to Robin Bird spring only stopping briefly two times. My stamina is improving. The long-anticipated arrival of “Mio’s” Marine buddy “Bigfoot” had finally happened, I got to know him a little better over the course of the day. We took over an hour in the shade to rest and rehydrate. Barely making it another mile up trail, we stopped again. “Vinyl” and her friend Norah were sprawled out beside a Subaru under a makeshift canopy of towels and umbrellas held together with gold duct tape and good vibes. I met her yesterday and suddenly remembered talks of her birthday party. They welcomed us to their huge picnic spread which had; brie and bread; watermelon and Oreo cookies; kombucha and Sanpellegrino in all flavors; and most importantly, a homemade blueberry pie. Huge portions were being served and I didn’t think there was going to be enough to go around. “I’ll take a tiny slice, please”, I said timidly. “Vinyl”, plastic cutlery in hand, locked eyes with me and a devious smirk crept below her sunglasses. “Sure you can—‘Tiny Slice’” she snarkily said, plopping a huge piece on my paper plate. It killed, the crowd roared. Everyone commemorated the party by spray-painting their hiking poles gold. Adam and I left the shanty-town, pushing another nine miles before making a dinner stop. The weather was prime and legs felt good, ultimately we did another four miles as dusk slowly turned into night. “Tiny Slice”—it could be worse.
Sunset on a distant Owens Peak.
Blueberry pie responsible for my trail name.
June 6, Day 33
24 miles [639.9]
Greeted by a soul-warming sunrise. Despite an intensifying sun and miles of washboarded trail filled with shoe-consuming sand, it was still nice to hike in the limited morning hours with a cool breeze. Just before Bird Spring Pass I came across, quite possibly, the most idyllic Joshua Tree I’d ever witnessed. Even dozens of weekend campouts I spent at the namesake national park never lead to the discovery of such a magnificent specimen. Perhaps it was dehydration, perhaps it was a lack of sittable shade from the last 100 miles, but I was mesmerized. I dropped my pack and flopped down, eyes heavy with midday heat. For the briefest of moments—or maybe it was five minutes—I was thoughtless. Wonderfully adrift. Somehow, I managed to leave. Only a few miles later and we ran into some totally-clutch trail magic. Jim had the full spread: cold cuts, soda, chips, and cooler full of beer. I thanked him profusely, sandwich in hand, and asked about his involvement with the trail. He humbly replied, “I raised a lot of hell when I was younger, so, here I am giving back.” Finally gathered the gumption to leave and made it another nine miles before stopping for dinner and a camp spot. While assembling a dessert burrito, a flock of what I could only assume to be western bluebirds, at least 100 strong, buzzed overhead. Hadn’t even made it halfway through my burrito before realizing we were being assaulted by an army of ants. Still being surprised in the desert.
June 7, Day 34
24.4 miles [662.7]
Tossed and turned until 6 a.m. Uneventful hiking all the way to Walker Pass so I filled the time by listening to more music than usual. At the highway we were greeted by “Coppertone” who happens to be sort of a trail legend. He provided plenty of camp chairs under an awning, a hiker box where Adam scored a new shirt, as well as various snacks laid out on a table. “Coppertone” also offered everyone a float: vanilla or strawberry, root beer or cream soda? I opted for the nontraditional version which several hikers said was the superior choice. Tried to enjoy it slowly but did a poor job. All the while, a helicopter circled unusually low around the campground, only to land several hundred feet away from us. Slurping down the remainder of my float, I saw a flash of orange darting through the trees on a ridgeline above. Just before I began to worry, “Coppertone” offhandedly quipped, “some government officials came by and said they’d be running some tests today”. Twenty minutes later the heli took off, I could just barely make out an orange jumpsuit through the open bay doors. As the chopper left, quiet finally returned. We still needed to confirm a few resupply details with our parents which meant hitching into Lake Isabella or making a phone call. Neither of us had reception, so while I danced around on the shoulder, thumb extended, looking positively too positive, Adam spotted hiker friend “Pocket Rocket” who was in the middle of a phone call. Fortunately, we were able to use her phone and avoid the half-day jaunt into town. With the ‘extra time’ we double-backed to Walker Pass to hang out and hydrate more. I got a few Z’s in on a particularly comfortable camp chair. With most of the heat beat, we pushed another eight miles before finding a spot to cowboy. A terrific tuna taco while avoiding skeeters. Gosh, this has to be the last of the desert, the mountains are nearly here.
US Navy helicopter drills near Walker Pass.
Owens Peak Wilderness.
June 8, Day 35
24.5 miles [687.2]
Spent the first three hiking hours without music or podcasts in an effort to save any remaining phone battery (currently at 9%). The terrain has started to morph once again, perhaps it’s a sign we’re getting closer to the mountains. I’ve cinched my belt quite tight, flaps of fabric now bunch around my waist; my clothes don’t fit anymore. Even though there was nearly 12 miles of solid uphill today, the actual ascents weren’t problematic. I’m just so fed up sweating from every inch of my body with a ‘hot face’. It just sucks. Found a good spot for lunch and a snooze 15 miles in. Climbed a second big hill to finish the evening. A gentleman we’d been leapfrogging all day arrived at camp just as we finished setting up. He introduced himself as “Missing Person”, and without missing a beat said, “you must be brothers, right?” It was almost refreshing to hear someone say it so confidently, most people had been giving Adam and I double-takes, asking if we were twins and which one was older. He flashed a smile of admiration undeniably different than others I had seen. “Mind if I crash your site?” We nodded. The three of us talked and ate dinner, sharing stories from the desert. Offhandedly, he mentioned he hiked the AT 25 years ago—largely in memoriam of his late brother. I tried to keep eating chili cheese Fritos but they just dried up in my mouth. My tent is scheduled to arrive tomorrow, hopefully that eases the tension between Adam and me.
“Missing Person” sets up his camp.
Granite with quartz vein.
Sunset from Chimney Peak Wilderness.
June 9, Day 36
15 miles [702.2]
Broke camp and high-tailed it to Kennedy Meadows. I sniped at Adam the last few miles, saying some really dumb shit. 'Got the clap' as we approached the general store—other hikers applauded each new arrival's success. If I smiled any harder I probably would have ended up in tears. Today was the lowest I've been in recent memory. Even those hard days early on in the desert pale in comparison to the neurotic, worthless feelings I subjected myself to today. Bought some beers and tried to mingle with the dozens of other hikers, hoping to take my mind off of me. Signed up to take a shower in one of the jankiest homemade stalls I've ever witnessed (I should have just taken my towel to the Kern river.) I skipped the washing machine since it had a sign-up list longer than my sleeping pad, opting to have another beer and wash my socks under the spigot. Parents arrived with our resupply and loving support. They treated us to dinner at Grumpy Bear's Retreat, the only restaurant in the area, for a burger. I managed two bites before unraveling, bemoaning problems Adam and I should have managed ourselves. They drove six hours for me to treat them like a petulant child. I feel sick to my stomach. It feels shameful to admit how close I was to quitting, especially when the getaway vehicle was being driven by mom and dad. Grow up, Justin. After dinner, I tried to turn the evening around and bought everyone beers. We started joking around and laughing, sharing stories like the clogged toilet and photos of unbelievable desert sunrises: Kernes family therapy. Divvied up the resupply and setup my new tent. Tried hard not to be awkward as our parents drove out. Later, “Missing Person” came up and said we looked down and out at the diner. I smiled weakly, “family things.” He congratulated us on making it out of the desert. I'm overjoyed to be finished.
Bakeoven Pass and unnamed peaks.
Kennedy Meadows General Store by night.
Hike On?
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.
Hike On?
PCT 2018: Days 53-56, Tuolumne Meadows to Sonora Pass
Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 53-56 from Tuolumne Meadows to Sonora Pass, mile 942-1,020.
June 26, Day 53
20.3 miles [962.8]
Unsurprisingly, I woke to hikers ‘quietly’ retrieving their smellables from the bear lockers. Read a few pages of Desert Solitaire before poking my head out and confirming “Trash Bath” and “Sticky Fingers” had made good on their promise to sunrise Cloud’s Rest; their tents were empty. Packed up and headed down to the post office and grill. Got two cups of coffee which had me buzzing. In typical fashion, just before 8 A.M., garbage trucks rumbled through the valley, dumpsters were being violently emptied—Welcome to Yosemite. Even though I had been there less than a full day, being steeped in the huddled masses of one of the most popular National Parks has started to bum me out. A van of Euro hippies which had parked next to the tables opened all their doors and musical instruments started appearing. About twelve seconds into the free-form pan flute session harmonized by a banal conversation from some try-too-hard Instagram model types sitting adjacent, “Shocks” and I decided to leave. Cruised through a few miles of open, lush meadows before taking a long lunch with “Combo”. Five, ten, fifteen, the miles melted. Took a bird bath at Miller Lake, mainly for my feet and pits. Struggled to cross Matterhorn Creek and made it half mile more before calling it quits. Nearly two decades of Scouting beat into me to never, under any circumstances, have food in, near, or around one’s tent for fear a bear would be attracted and attack. However, I am so fed up with mosquitoes, I welcome the possible grisly encounter and ate dinner in my tent with only a shrill, unyielding whine penetrating the glorious mesh. Suckers.
Cathedral Peak from Soda Springs.
Unique color and corrosion of Soda Springs.
A hiker suns herself beneath Tuolumne Falls.
Mosquitoes which made it under the rain fly.
Tuna taco with wasabi peas and chili cheese Fritos.
June 27, Day 54
19.5 miles [982.3]
Blessed to have only a singular mosquito bum-rush me during my AM BM, after which any portion of flesh was in critical danger. Disassembled my tent while attempting to move at two miles an hour. Rolling start out of camp only to be stopped by a ranger, my first, who in predictable fashion asked to see my permit only after the briefest of greetings. “Can you fit all your food in your bear canister?” she asked, groping my pack for a rigid and dense confirmation. I nodded enthusiastically, handing her my permit with a mouth full of Poptarts, a bag of Cheez-its prominently strapped to the outside of my pack, silently thinking if I continued to eat at double my current input, yes. Hiked mostly alone much like yesterday, I feel utterly zonked. Walking all day is the hardest easy thing I’ve ever done. There’s a certain calming quality in the gorgeous monotony. Benson Pass proved to be a breeze but Seavey Pass was seriously steep. Dusk soon arrived and I set up camp didn't have much to say. Annihilated a tuna taco and somewhere around the fourth bite, had an out of body epiphany: mayo is king. The delectable, savory spread makes any dry packet of tuna taste luxurious. Much like any addiction I can’t imagine life sans substance. How do people survive on ramen and instant potatoes? I don’t think I’ll ever understand the mayonnaise haters. Killed the remainder of the wine while enjoying another night safe in my tent. Kennedy Meadows North is in 38 miles but I’m looking forward to tonight’s sleep more.
Wave clouds.
June 28, Day 55
23.6 miles [1005.9]
I should be elated, I should be proud. This afternoon I crossed the 1,000 mile marker, a new significant figure has been added to my trail log. But there wasn’t anyone around to celebrate with. As I got out my camera and wondered how I was going to take a photo of me and the ground simultaneously, fortunately “Combo” showed up and was a great human tripod, but he seemed to be in a real hurry (probably the skeeters) and bolted after snapping a photo for his own memories. Didn’t see anyone I recognized for the rest of the day, I just kept leapfrogging the same pair of vaguely international women who don’t seem to enjoy sharing the English language. Set up my tent while looking over my shoulder like an addled, twitchy squirrel, hoping and praying to see any member of my trail fam come into camp; no such luck. It took 55 days and finally it’s my first night ‘alone’. That fact bums me out even further. To top it off, most of my days are spent tuning out the drudgery of putting one in front of the other. Each day seems so long, each hour seems to be another brutal reminder that I didn’t even make it another three miles since the last hour. There’s a small chance I’m behind, my plan is to get moving an hour before we normally depart. Either way, I’m sure I’ll see someone before the highway. While filling water to cut down on tomorrow's morning chores, I misread the ground and sunk to my ankle in mud. I had to curl my toes to keep the shoe from being slurped up like a tender baby back rib. Washed it in the creek, there’s nothing better than starting the morning off with wet feet.
June 29, Day 56
14.8 miles [1020.7]
Of course my shoe froze, that novelty quickly thawed. But you know what? THIS smart guy snuggled with his water filter all night. Not learning that lesson twice. Crammed my shoe into a spare Ziploc and stuffed the whole mess into my puffy while I packed up everything inside my tent. Raced out of camp in efforts to ditch the nagging demons telling me I was behind. Had over ten miles worth of intrusive thoughts, loneliness being the main culprit despite passing and being passed by a dozen other hikers. Met “Captain” who remarked on my similar looks to another hiker he had just seen and I asked if he had met a “Shocks” or a “Trash Bath”. He told me I was about four miles ahead. I strolled down to the highway and snagged a beer from the parking lot magic and waited for my tramily to appear. Watched seven people to squeeze into a mini trailer, later I found out there wasn’t even tailgate. Gang showed up and we caught a ride into Kennedy Meadows North from a gentleman shuttling hikers for the afternoon. Arrived at the meadows and promptly bought a six pack, convincing “Combo” and “Shocks” to split a load of laundry with me. Ravaged a cheeseburger during the rinse cycle. Whole crew is back, I feel like an utter fool for having been so bummed. Scavenged a decent resupply from the convenience store before packing up one last time and heading out to the road. Hitching was getting tough—it was 6 P.M.—most of the tourists using the secluded road had already headed home. As the occasional car went by, everyone stood up and threw out thumbs smiling as hard as possible. With each missed opportunity my morale kept getting goofier; positivity attracts vehicles. A Mercedes Sprinter van zoomed by with no indication of slowing. “Sorry, we have TOO much space!” I yelled in my most sardonic tone to the exhaust fumes, the gang chuckled as they sat back down. Not thirty seconds later, much to everyone’s surprise, the Sprinter van came back and offered to help. I was absolutely stunned. The eight of us criss-cross-apple-sauced our limbs and gear into the rear and I politely handed the driver my camera while he pulled out his phone for the same purpose. “We haven’t seen this many people in the back of a van since India” he said with amusement, snapping our photo. The doors slammed and we rocketed off onto windy Highway 108. We screamed through tight corners and steep drop offs while our two intrepid chauffeurs told us plans of a second attempt at a Rainier summit. In some turns, I swore I could feel the back tires beginning to break. Said a few prayers and fortunately we arrived back at Sonora Pass. Made it a few miles up trail and set up camp. Happy to have lived, happy to be alive; remember that.
Deadman Creek.
Emigrant Wilderness, Stanislaus National Forest.
Burgers and beers with restorative powers.
The hitch that almost never happened.
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PCT 2018: Days 9-12, Mike's Place to Cabazon
Photos and stories from my thru-hike of the PCT. This post covers days 9-12 from Mike’s Place to Cabazon, mile 127-211.
May 13, Day 9
18.4 miles [145.4]
Today sucked. Why does life seem so much harder for me than everyone else? Stupid. We woke up in the clouds at Mike's, everything was soaking wet—in the desert. I hastily tried packing the tent only to end up arguing with Adam about something minor and borderline meaningless. Didn't manage my calories well at all and me knees bothered me the whole day. The cloud cover didn't even last long. By 9:30 a.m. I was sweltering once again. Adam made a call home in the afternoon, and somehow, I ended up talking with Mom. Exhausted and dripping, I was curt and rude. Fuck. I hate the phone. I'm so tired of being a goddamn weather-vane of emotions.
Beavertail pricklypear cactus.
Chihuahua road, Lost Valley, California, mile 127.3.
May 14, Day 10
6.4 miles [151.8]
Today we hiked with a group we had been seeing on and off the past few days. This morning, Ryan, Mitchy, “Mio”, Erin, Adam and I all woke soaking wet having cowboy-camped at “Mary's Water”, another morning in a cloud. I was legitimately cold last night. Everyone swiftly got moving, I was the last person to fully pack up. Mood was much better today, I was motivated for town and a burger at Paradise Valley Cafe. It was a short hike to Highway 74 where the owners gave us a hitch back to their cafe. I ended up going with biscuits and gravy and a beer. Very contented, very happy. Knee hurt, but a low-mileage day was helpful. Hitched into Idyllwild; I volunteered to sit shotgun and keep the driver company. Purchased a group campsite, laundry and coin-op showers, more beer and snacks, and a full resupply—five full days worth. Dinner was chili with Fritos and real cheese. What a fun group.
Erin hitching to Idyllwild, mile 151.8.
Adam at Mt. San Jacinto Park.
May 15, Day 11
12.7 miles [186.6]
Spent the morning trying to sleep in with little success. State campgrounds are never going to be quiet. The gang lazed around in the shade and rested up. I medicated with a few Budweiser's. We left Idyllwild in the afternoon and took the Deer Springs trail towards Mount San Jacinto—our goal was sunset on the peak. I now understand this means I skipped 31.7 miles of trail. I knew it had been closed due to fire, but I didn't realize our group didn't plan on going back for the alternate. Note: this doesn't feel great. I should take great caution if I feel the need to do this again. Found myself missing PCT-grade trails and was generally pissed most everyone is faster than me. However, the summit views were intense. Gorgeous, rich hues filled the hazy valley; Palm Springs glowed like a dull ember. We made a hasty camp and cooked Knorr garlic shells by headlamp. “Mio” wants to leave by 3:45 a.m. Ugh.
Adam scrambling on San Jacinto peak.
Deer Springs trail back to the PCT, mile ~183.
Sunset over San Gorgonio mountain.
Sunset over Santiago peak.
The city of Palm Springs, California lit up at dusk.
May 16, Day 12
25.1 miles [211.7]
My alarm rudely went off at 3:30 a.m. I quickly found myself towards the back of the pack during the long, grueling slog down Jacinto. As painful as it was, “Mio” was right—we needed all the time we could get. More than nine hours of descent, my legs are dead. Yesterday we added Darby, to our hiking group. While we waited, rested, and snacked at the water faucet, she taught us “hinky-pinky”, a rhyming word-game. Lots of laughs. Regrouped, we made tracks for Interstate 10. Four miles through sand into a forceful headwind made for rough hiking. We crossed under the overpass and found trail magic! We met Ken, a hopeful hiker for 2019, who offered to drive us anywhere we wanted. Everyone nodded in unison at the idea of In-N-Out in Cabazon. After snarfing down a couple double-doubles, we piled back into the pickup bed and tried to look inconspicuous. I split up an 18-pack of beer; three cans weighs too much. We ended a few miles away from the highway, resulting in my new longest day—25 miles.
Sunrise on Fuller Ridge, mile 187.5.
Descent off Mount San Jacinto, mile ~191.
Seeking shade in the California desert, mile ~196.
A distant San Gorgonio mountain, mile ~195
Mount San Jacinto, north of Interstate 10, mile ~211.
Interstate 10, mile 209.5.
Sunset on Mesa Wind Farm, mile 211.7.
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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.