Pacific Northwest Trail - Glacier National Park

"Yo, where's Rocky?"

 Monday, July 6, 2015: In the belly of the beast...

With so many things having already gone wrong, logistically speaking, it should come as no surprise when we learn at 12:15 p.m. that we are waiting for the noon shuttle in the wrong place. We're at the ranger station, and when the shuttle doesn't show, we ask and find out the shuttle picks up at the resort up the road. It should be noted that we have no phone service out here, nor will we for much of this hike.

We hustle up to the resort. No shuttle there waiting. We're frustrated, pissed off. But not to worry. We meet some others waiting for the shuttle. Turns out it had a break down and was running behind schedule. We met a couple, Stumbling Norwegian and Honey Bee from the Seattle area who will be thru-hiking as well.

Everyone is relieved when Chris pulls up in the van. Some other passengers need to be dropped off before us at Many Glacier where there is a hotel. Chris won't let the rest of us go to Many Glacier, because we don't have park permits (not the same as back country permits, more bureaucracy). Chris drops us off in the tiny town of Baab and turns down the road with instructions that he will meet us here in one hour. We watch as he drives off with all of our backpacks.

There is a general store in Baab, and I grab lunch there. We see a young couple get dropped off having successfully hitch hiked there. I walk up the road to meet them. They planned to hitch up to where we were going. They are clearly better at hitching than we are, but I'm guessing it's because one of them is female. Soon they get a ride as we wait for Chris to come back for us. He arrives right on time.

Finally, at 2:30 p.m. Mountain Standard Time on Monday, July 6th, we are officially on the Pacific Northwest Trail. Hallelujah!

We follow the Belly River Valley for most of the afternoon and early evening, stopping often to take in the scenery. This is an easy hike, and now I'm seeing why the PNT route makers might think it's a better place to start than the route we took up and over to Two Medicine a couple days ago. Past the Belly River Ranger Station, we take a side trail down to the Gros Ventre Falls. This is just a taste of all the beautiful scenery we'll be taking in over the next few months, just amazing! Marathon decides to take a swim in the freezing water. He's still wearing the orange running shorts and gray running shirt he wore on the bus, the only articles of clothing he brought along other than socks, a rain jacket, and a down bubble jacket. Money Shot is busy getting lots of footage here.

Out here, near the western edge of the time zone, it stays daylight very late into the evening, nearly 11pm. Just before dark, we arrive at Glenn's Lake Head Campground. At the cooking and eating area, we entertain each other with "that's what she said" retorts, even when it doesn't really make sense. We meet a couple, Jeremy and Jodi, out hiking for a week's vacation. It turns out they live not far from where the PNT passes through Whidbey Island a couple months from now. Jeremy has a home brewery and we're invited to stay with them when we pass through those parts later in the summer. It begs the questions, will we still be hiking? will somebody get injured or sick? will we all choose to stay with it? will we stay together as a big group? Who knows what the future might have in store.

We crowded our four tents into a tight campsite just after dark and slept great in the stillness of the night.

Tuesday, July 7, 2015: Stony Indian Pass...

After breakfast, I head back to the camp to pack up. I hear splashing out in the shallow lake next to our campsite. I grab my camera and capture some shots of a large bull moose passing very near on his morning stroll... how awesome is that? I alert Money Shot and he too gets some great footage. What a way to start the day!

Unexpected breakfast guest

There is another significant climb today, up and over Stony Indian Pass. Again, we stop often for photography purposes. I've never seen anything like this place, a large canyon connecting lakes with snow fed streams originating at a snow pack high up on a mountain. We stop for lunch at a stream crossing and slowly make our way to the pass nestled between two peaks. I'm mesmerized by the wildflowers, fields of yellows, reds, whites, purples, just spectacular.

Approaching Stony Indian Pass and looking back

At lunch, we meet a hiker named Matt from Virginia, and he hangs with us for much of the day before taking a side trail to a lookout tower. At the pass, Honey Bee and Norwegian are playing in a snow pack. We all enjoy throwing snowballs at each other and making July snow angels.

There is more great scenery on the other side at the lake, but then the trail beyond the Stony Indian Campground becomes overgrown and remains that way for several miles. The Stony Indian Pass trail merges with the Waterton Valley Trail, and at this point we have joined the route of the Continental Divide Trail. Spiff most likely passed through here a day before us.

As we head north toward Waterton Lake, it's early in the evening and swarms of mosquitoes, the likes of which I've never experienced, are making life miserable. I had added a mosquito net to my gear for just this occasion. I slip it over my hat and over my face. I stop later to rub a deet wipe over all exposed areas. The others are struggling as well, and Marathon refuses to use the chemical repellents. I'm laughing as I hike behind him watching as he swats in vain at the dozen or more bugs on the back of his legs and arms.

We reach Waterton Lake where there is a small ranger station and a dock to board the ferry Canada, but it's late and there is nobody here. We continue on to find our camp. We reach the river and follow it a ways. Finally there is a bridge and then a side trail to the Waterton River Camp. Money Shot quickly builds a fire to chase the mosquitoes away. We enjoy a delightful evening under the stars, and we are the only campers here on this night.

Wednesday, July 8, 2015: Onward to the Hole-in-the-wall...

I'm first to wake up and pack. The others all have their own campsite in the complex, so everyone can wake up on their own terms today rather than when the first guy gets going. I have a couple hours on a very sunny morning, so I try out the solar charging panel that I added to my gear this year. It works great and charges my battery pack effectively. I'll keep it strapped to my pack on the sunny days. I'm also using a satellite communicator this year. Even without phone service, I can send/receive text and my family and friends can follow my track points and know where I am... the map share page can be found with a simple internet search of "where fitty at." The solar panel will keep it juiced.

Our hike today is 15 miles, including two miles off our primary route to Hole-in-the-Wall. The rangers tell us we are lucky, because it's the coolest spot in the park, and on a normal year, snow pack would prevent it from opening until August. The only reason we got in is because people were just unaware it was available for reservation this soon.

We enjoy a long lunch break at Lake Janet, and I must say, this is my kind of beach! Clear blue waters, and a pine forest on the opposite shore, flanked by jagged mountains painted with patches of white snow. My only complaints is the flies, so many pesky flies, and they love to land on us. They are slow witted however, and easy to swat.

Later, Marathon and I stop to water up at Hawksbill Camp. We rest by the fire ring in the hot sun, swatting at flies and watching red ants efficiently carry off the carcasses. Good times.

There is a large, beautiful pond where Thunderbird Creek falls from the mountain, and Money Shot and Marathon discover a rock to dive from into the chilly water. Then we begin a long ascent through more fields of wildflowers, and we approach a trail hanging precariously above a large canyon. The steep drops make me uneasy, but the views are tremendous. The whole time, we are looking for the so called "hole in the wall." Is it that cave over there?

A posted sign leads us off the main trail down a side trail. It continues to descend on switchbacks deep into the canyon. After more than half a mile, I spot the campground. There is a ranger there, and we learn that this giant canyon, the whole canyon, is the hole-in-the-wall. It was carved by two huge glaciers. It is a very unique place, surrounded by rugged mountains, lush and green with lots of streams running throughout, and more wildflowers, so many wildflowers!

A half-mile side trail down to the campground

There are several other campers here. We dine at the fire ring with some others. I set up my tent near a stream, and Marathon sets up next to me. Marathon has been struggling with frequent nose bleeds, something about the dry air and the altitude. He gets a bad one while making his camp, and by the time he is finished, it looks like there was a human sacrifice here.

Thursday, July 9, 2015: Goodbye to Glacier NP (and Charlie the marmot)...

Direct sunlight finally finds it's way over the ridge and I emerge from my tent to take in this glorious setting. I'd heard some commotion earlier, like a dog running about. But dogs are not allowed in the park. Then I saw it. A playful marmot visiting with campers from site to site. He smells the blood from Marathon's nosebleed episode from last night and tries to break into his tent. When he can't get in, he finds Marathon's trekking pole and chews a hole in the grip. I'm making a video of the whole thing and laughing. Marathon thought maybe I should've chased him away, but I hate to disturb nature from happening.

It kind of went viral!

I'm last to leave camp. I go to use the privy, and a couple rangers are there doing routine maintenance on it. I learn that this privy cost more than $100,000 to helicopter in here. They need a privy there because they don't want people pooping so close to the water sources, all the streams in the valley. Funny thing, the marmot, known as Charlie to the rangers, likes to eat the glue used in the manufacture of the plywood. He has decimated the structure. If I'm spending 100 grand on a toilet, you'd best believe I'm not building it out of plywood. The rangers finish their work, I knock out my privy business, and make my way up and out of the canyon.

After a couple miles, I'm back at Brown Pass and turn right onto the primary route. After a long descent toward Bowman Lake, it's a pretty uneventful day. I leapfrog the others a time or two, and after a 15 mile day, I'm at a beach on the south end of the lake. Money Shot and Marathon join me there, and we're hoping to score a ride to Polebridge to avoid a 6-mile gravel road walk. A guy named Bob, a retired military guy from Jacksonville is on a reunion with a couple of his Army buddies. He has a rental car and we squeeze in. Along the way, a female backpacker is heading that way, and we squeeze her in as well. We arrive at Polebridge around 7pm.

Thanks for the ride, Bob!

Polebridge is a tiny disconnected seasonal community, pretty much off the grid. It consists of a mercantile/bakery and an outdoor cafe called Northern Lights Saloon. We were reconnected with Spaceman Spiff who had taken a zero to wait for us. Norwegian and Honey Bee were there as well, but they were leaving the trail for a few days to attend a wedding back in Seattle.

We were enjoying food and many pitchers of beer when two very smelly young women showed up. Emma and Colleen were thru-hiking west to east, a couple months into it. They looked bad and smelled worse. They are students at Montana State University and are hiking all the way back to their school. They were getting a new food drop, so they gave us some of their hiker food they did not want. I accepted some beef sticks.

Our British friend Matt is now known as Mr. Bean, after the British comic movie character. I'm not sure if he is keen on the name. Mr. Bean is staying at the youth hostel at the edge of town.

The rest of us find out about free camping, just a mile back by a bridge, in National Forest land, where you can camp pretty much anywhere without fear of violating any laws. I leave the cafe first, right at dark, to start walking up the road. Halfway there, a pickup pulls over, and I hop in the back where my four buddies have scored a ride from a cafe employee. Free camping for the first time... Hooray! We set up camp in darkness with just the glow of our head lamps.

Friday, July 10, 2015: Return to Spiff Mountain...

his spot where we camped overnight is a popular launch for canoes and kayaks on the North Fork Flathead River, and we're awakened by a couple vehicles entering the parking lot next to us. We pack up and the four of us walk back to Polebridge for some pastries at the mercantile. I spend more than I'd hoped on hot food and a very light but very expensive resupply. This will be our last chance to purchase supplies until we reach the town of Eureka in a few days.

It's a nice sunny Friday morning, and Polebridge is bustling with activity. It's the only store around and a very popular stop for tourists and outdoor enthusiasts who are enjoying the delicious pastries baked onsite. We sit on the front porch, eating, people watching, and procrastinating. Morning turns to afternoon, and our loitering activity continues. We learn that the Northern Lights Saloon does not open until 4pm, but great news... It's pizza night! We decide to stay for pizza and hike out in the evening.

We meet another thru-hiker, a gray-haired skinny guy named Al. He's solo, and I would guess he's one of those professional thru-hiker types who has tried out all of the trails at least once. He has little to say and hikes on early in the afternoon, never to be seen by us again.

We meet a fellow from Missouri named Don, who is hiking with a dog he adopted just three weeks ago. Don has a huge backpack and is hiking in blue jeans and heavy boots. I sense he's been through some bad times and is out here on some kind of spiritual adventure. He hands us a paper with a bible verse on it, saying only that he wants to share something that helped him. From this point, we refer to him as The Preacher.

At long last, pizza night arrives. The five of us each order our own 14" pie. We share a few pitchers of beer and once again spend way more than we have budgeted. But these are the great times, and there is much laughter. Spaceman Spiff lifts a leg to rip a giant fart, unaware that Julie our waitress is approaching from behind to check on our table. We guilt Spiff into extending an apology when she returns with the check, a most awkward but hilarious scene. I capture a video of the apology process.

It's so much more than just a hike

During dinner, the wind kicks up and there is thunder in the distance. We wait for the storm on the porch, and Money Shot sets up his tripod in a failed attempt to capture footage of the lightning strikes in the nearby mountains. He never seems to have the camera pointed in the right direction. The storm skirts around Polebridge, and when the store closes at 9pm, we hike out.

Spaceman Spiff knows a place to camp a couple miles out of town. He'd camped there with another guy the night before the rest of us arrived in town. We walk along a gravel road and then turn right onto a less traveled road cut into a slanted thick forest. Darkness is falling, and a light rain begins. There is nowhere suitable for camping here, but Spiff points toward a ridge up the steep hillside where he believes there will be a flat clearing. It's a nearly impossible scramble to get up there, possible a 60-degree slope with very loose rocks. But we go for it. I'm cussing Spiff the entire time. After a 15-minute struggle, I'm at the top. It's not great, but we find a flat enough and clear enough in the brush to camp. We name the place Spiff Mountain.

Next Chapter: Pacific Northwest Trail - Northwest Montana

Here is a video recap of our trek through Glacier National Park, possibly the most incredible place I've ever seen!

Pacific Northwest Trail - Just Getting There

 

"Gotta drain the vein."

Wednesday, July 1, 2015: Sixty hours on a train... 

The train departs Baltimore mid-morning, stopping at Washington's busy Union Station and then proceeding into Virginia. I did not select the most direct route, but whatever, I'm in no hurry. I notice that we have entered the Shenandoah Valley, and when we pass through Waynesboro, I recognize some sites from a year ago while passing through these parts on the Appalachian Trail. At the time, I thought the A.T. would be my one and only thru-hiking adventure. But something happened along the way, and here I am, back for more rewarding torture. 

I'm on the Cardinal line, connecting New York and Chicago. It's the scenic route, and I'm enjoying the views of the New River Gorge in West Virginia, where I went on a white water rafting adventure or two back in the day. 

Just after dark, I am in Kentucky, a place near and dear to my heart, which I still consider "home." Around midnight, we stop in the Ohio River town of Maysville, where my forefathers settled only a couple decades after Kentucky became a state. We reach Cincinnati, and the annoying lady sitting next to me departs. A young fellow took her seat, who recently graduated high school and is heading to Bismarck to work alongside his father as a diesel mechanic. We talked awhile, and I told him he could call me Fitty. He said he is Buttons. I slept only a few hours before daybreak, just north of Indianapolis. 

Thursday July 2, 2015: Layover in Chicago, and more train time...

Riding on a train from the east coast to the Rocky Mountains seemed like a great new adventure, and for the first six hours or so, it was kind of cool. I can only say that it's a nice place to visit, but I wouldn't want to live there. 

Around 10am, the train mercifully arrives in Chicago, where I have about four hours to waste. This is the rendezvous point for me and my two mates. Spaceman Spiff, a fellow Marylander, was to arrive earlier on the Northeast Line, along with Marathon, who was coming from Cleveland. It was Marathon who had first suggested this adventure. I had met him a few times last year on the Appalachian Trail, and while somewhat of a character, I thought he would be an O.K. or at least tolerable hiking partner. Anyway, the PNT is probably not the best place for a solo thru-hike, in my opinion, for a variety of reasons. He also collaborated with Spaceman Spiff to form this unlikely trio. I'd met Spiff twice on the A.T., first at the Terry Adams trail magic cabin in Maine's 100-mile Wilderness, and then on the very last day when I was descending Katahdin as he and some others had stopped for a "safety meeting" on the way up. 

My two mates meet me outside the station in downtown Chicago, and we exchange pleasantries. Spiff does not remember either of our meetings last year, not too surprising given the circumstances. We walk around a bit, and Spiff purchases a device and some liquids for smoking vapors, an e-cigarette, used for "vaping." This is a bit of an odd group, Marathon being 20 years younger than me, and Spiff 10 years younger than Marathon. But if the A.T. taught me anything, it's that once we're thrown into the wilderness and facing the same bullshit every day, none of that stuff matters. Marathon and I have gained back all of the weight we'd lost from hiking 2,200 miles last year and need of this type of physical activity to get back into form, even though Marathon has run a couple marathons in the off-season. Spiff is still skinny and the only one of us still sporting a beard.

From Chicago, we board the Empire Builder for another long train ride. I learn that there will be a fourth member to this party, a kid named Alex from Wisconsin who learned through social media and the PNT forums that we would be doing this. So when the train stops in Milwaukee, he hops aboard and we all meet for the first time. Alex recently graduated from a digital cinematography program at Northern Michigan University. He plans to document this entire adventure out west for a documentary project for his portfolio. I'm sitting next to Alex on the Empire Builder as we get acquainted. It's his first thru-hike attempt, but he has much outdoors experience from his years in Michigan's Upper Peninsula, the U.P. One thing I notice, even though we have yet to so much as lace up the hiking boots, Alex is already kicking out hiker stench like he's been out there a week. Soon enough, we'll all smell like that and none of us will notice.

We all hop off the train in the Twin Cities after dark for a quick stretch. On my second night of trying to sleep on a busy train, it goes much better. Tomorrow, I'll get to sleep in a bed at a Montana hostel. 

Friday, July 3, 2015: Sixty hours on a train, day three...

After a better than expected sleep, I awaken refreshed as the train chugs through North Dakota. I'm amazed at the number of deer roaming around on the distant ranch lands. We stop for a stretch break in Minot and say goodbye to Buttons, who will be meeting his dad here to begin his new job.

The western part of North Dakota morphs from lush prairies and into parched and rocky areas known as the Badlands, so dry and desolate. Montana is much of the same.

It is another long day on the train, and the Empire Builder is running behind schedule. Amtrak borrows these tracks from freight lines, and frequently we must wait. We finally arrive at our destination, East Glacier Park, around 8pm. It's a half-mile walk to Brownie's Hostel, and we need to hustle to get there and check in before the staff leaves.

Finally!

Brownie's is the perfect place to regroup, featuring a store and bakery on the first floor with private and semi-private rooms above. Not all of us have reservations, and after some discussion with the manager, we're able to rent the women's dorm which had not been booked for about $20/person. We have six bunks for the four of us. We enjoy pizza and beer from the store, and I grab a shower for the first time in several days, probably the last for a while.

Alex had made arrangements to meet up with a PNT hiker from England. We meet Matt, the fifth member of our tribe. He flew into Seattle and took the train a few days before us. He's anxious to get hiking, as are the rest of us. We need to get transportation to the PNT's eastern terminus, near Chief Mountain at the Canadian border, about 60 miles north of here. We can pay $60/person for a shuttle or try our luck at hitchhiking. Alex has prepaid the shuttle fee online. Additionally, none of us have back country camping permits for the first few days through Glacier National Park, and we'll need to go to one of the three ranger stations where we can take care of this.

We're all pretty excited to start this journey and to see what the trail has in store for us.

Saturday, July 4, 2015: Change of plans, the first of many...

It's the Fourth of July, and the first day of our adventure... maybe. We get fed and packed up. We still need our permits for probably three nights in the national park. None of the three ranger stations are convenient. Two are on the east side of the park, Two Medicine and St. Mary. Logistically, this makes our day difficult. We decide to hitch to Two Medicine, the closer of the two. But hitchhiking in a predominantly touristy area is never a sure thing. We meet a fellow hiker, Rainbow Brite, who rode her bike here from Los Angeles to begin hiking west to the Pacific. A couple hours go by and it's past noon now on this absolutely beautiful day. This is when the first of many "Plan B"s gets hatched.

Looking back now, I think it might've been my idea. Here we are in this beautiful place, Glacier National Park. Why not just hike through GNP along the Continental Divide Trail to the place where it meets up with the PNT? Somehow, everyone agrees this is a good idea. The only real debate comes from the purist perspective; we would be skipping the first 20 miles or so of the PNT. But we would more than make up for it by adding a bunch of new miles at the beginning. Why does the PNT not just do that anyway, start at the train station and eliminate the need for the expensive shuttle? Alex is okay that he wasted 60 bucks on a shuttle ticket.

So here we go, a 10 mile day hike over a couple mountains to Two Medicine with hopes of arriving before the ranger station closes. We got a few extra groceries at the store for the extra days before our first resupply option. We immediately can't find the trail head and turn back after walking up the road a bit. This will become the norm on this thru-hike.

I knew the first week or so would be physically tough. I'm out of trail shape, and my food is heavy. What I forgot to factor in is the altitude. After we get misdirected for a second time, we find the correct route up the mountain. I was so fatigued and could not catch my breath. The other guys, decades younger, get far ahead of me but always wait until I catch up. I put myself on a reward system, "get to the next switchback and you can catch your breath for 20 seconds." It is brutal.

Okay, I'm exhausted.

There are so many scenic vistas, and Alex takes many opportunities to capture photographs, time lapse, and video. With the great measures he takes to get the perfect picture, I suggested the perfect trail name for him... "Money Shot." The name sticks.

Getting the "Money $hot"

We descend into Two Medicine Lake much later than expected, everyone overestimating abilities and readiness. The ranger station is closed to back country permitting until 8am tomorrow. We're looking for a free place to camp and hang around the camp store, but there are no free tent sites, and it's getting late. We set up our five tents at a camp site in the front country campground, and I put the $20 fee in an envelope at the kiosk. After a warm afternoon, a chilly breeze ushers in light rain overnight.

Sunday, July 5, 2015: Government bureaucracy...

At the Two Medicine Ranger Station, our plans to hike through GNP are quickly squashed. There are no campsite vacancies between here and there, and we're unable to get the permits we need to hike through. We go to the store to hang around, eat, and brainstorm. Plan C is hatched. In 10 minutes, the shuttle driver, a retired ranger named Chris, comes by the store, and we each pay $15 for a ride to the Saint Mary Ranger Station. Maybe they can accommodate us with a route out of there. We pitch in to cover Money Shot's shuttle fee, after having talked him out of taking the shuttle in the first place.

By noon, we arrive at Saint Mary. It's much more mainstream and touristy than Two Medicine. The Going-To-The-Sun Highway passes through here for folks who are driving through the park. There is a resort near the park entrance. Chris drops us off there; he can't drive us to the ranger station because we don't have park passes to enter the park by vehicle (more government bureaucracy). After a few hours of studying maps and talking with junior rangers at the permit desk, we have a plan, but not a great one, and the rangers discourage us from trying it this late in the day. All of us heed their advice except Spaceman Spiff. The ranger writes "Route Not Recommended" on his permit. He takes a free shuttle into the park to a place called "The Loop," where he can connect with the CDT. We tell Spiff we'll meet at Polebridge at the other end of the park in four days.

As for the rest of us, well, we'll be spending another night camping in a pay site, this time at the Saint Mary Campground. We did get permits that will get us through the park in three nights. But here's the kicker... we'll be starting from Chief Mountain after all, a couple days later than if we'd just done it in the first place. We laugh at ourselves.

We make arrangements for Chris, the shuttle driver, to meet us tomorrow for the drive up to Chief Mountain. We find a place near the resort for burritos and beer and then set up camp for the night. Our British friend Matt still needs a trail name. He finds a stick in the woods and carves it into a nice walking stick. Money Shot learns that if you're using Heet for a home made beer can stove, be sure to buy the yellow bottle and not the red one. Rookie.

Matt, Marathon, Spaceman Spiff, Fitty Shrimp, and Money $hot

Next Chapter: Pacific Northwest Trail - Glacier National Park

Pacific Crest Trail 2017 - A Song of Ice and Fire

I chose the Summer of 2017 for my Pacific Crest Trail thru-hike attempt because it just fit into my schedule nicely. I could not have picked a worse year. The record-breaking snow levels from the winter and spring frightened me into delaying my start date by two months to mid-May, but the ice-covered Sierra and overflowing streams still presented great challenges. Additionally, I took a week off the trail to escape a dangerous heat wave in the Mohave Desert. And now, hikers face more uncertainties as a very active fire season has resulted in wide swaths of trail closures further to the north in Oregon. It's late August, and most aspiring thru-hikers have hitched a ride around the closed sections. Others have flip-flopped all the way to the Canada border to hike southward in hopes that the closures will reopen. Many others have simply quit altogether.

August 22 - Echo Lake mile 1092
to August 31 - Belden Town mile 1287

My ride out of South Lake Tahoe drops me off at the trail head off Route 50, and soon I reach Echo Lake. My plans are uncertain, one day at a time, but now I'm on my own, just like when I started way back in May at the Mexico border. But now there are far fewer aspiring thru-hikers remaining out here.

After entering into the Desolation Wilderness, I wait out a thunderstorm in my tent, then wander off the trail and get lost for a bit, and then pass Lake Aloha just before sunset. This time, getting lost proves to be a lucky break because the exiting storm clouds paired with the setting sun beyond the lake paints a surreal and beautiful orange landscape.

One of my favorite sunsets of all time.

Lake Aloha, Desolation Wilderness.

For the first time, I feel like I'm hitting my groove on the PCT. By starting my days early in the morning and hiking until about dusk, I'm able to knock out 20 to 25 miles a day without much discomfort. My cardiovascular system is as good as it's ever been after hiking in the High Sierra for the past month. My breaks are less frequent and of shorter duration. Things like balance and agility are also much improved. I don't dread the all day uphill sections. Crossing a swift creek on a narrow fallen tree seems less treacherous. The snow and ice is basically not an issue at all any more. My thoughts flow freely to pass the time as I walk. My daily routine is firmly entrenched, and by solo hiking, I feel like there is no limit to what I can accomplish. Humans were meant to walk; we are all wanderers by design and through evolution, and only in the past few generations have we as a species gotten away from that. I know this to be true now from my personal experiences.

Dicks Lake and Fontanillis Lake, Desolation Wilderness.

The next resupply town is Sierra City, and I'm hoping to catch up with some other hikers there. I make my way through the beautiful Desolation Wilderness catching an occasional glimpse of Lake Tahoe off to the east. I pass by the ski resorts at Alpine Valley, Squaw Valley, and Sugar Bowl near Donner Pass.

At the Donner Pass, I enjoy a cheeseburger lunch while making an amazing realization. By my calculations, I can still make it to the Canada border this year. All I have to do is average 25 miles a day and hope it does not snow in the North Cascades before Halloween. I make a commitment to myself to go for it, and I share this commitment on social media just to make it real. That's just 1500 miles in 60 days, with an extra week built in for zero days. It's a stretch, but very doable, weather permitting of course.

Granite Chief Wilderness

Tinker Knob

Donner Party Memorial at the I-80 rest stop.

With renewed vigor, I push on toward Sierra City, always minding that 25 mile-per-day pace, but not fretting if I come up short by a couple miles. I arrive in time for a late breakfast, a double breakfast actually, of pancakes and a breakfast burrito. After purchasing a few provisions and exchanging strategies with a couple fellow hikers, I arrive back at the trail late in the afternoon for an evening hike up to the Sierra Buttes, which turns into a bit of a night hike before I find a spot flat enough and clear enough to pitch my tent. I immediately regret forgetting to charge my head lamp batteries in town because I can barely see in front of me for the last hour in the dark.

Sierra Buttes night hike.

I'm a couple days from the next resupply point where the trail passes through tiny Belden. On the way, I opt for a road walk into Bucks Lake for a burger and a beer. It cuts some trail miles as I loop back, but the added road miles actually increase my total for the day. Again, it's a bit of a night hike up the mountain before I spot a clear patch where I can sleep. This time, I've remembered to charge my batteries during my burger stop, very useful.

Middle Fork Feather River.

I had seen familiar names on the registers at the trail heads, and I had heard from a southbounder that many of my friends had taken a side trip to Reno for a couple days, so there is hope that I'll catch up to them soon. I don't mind the solo hiking, and in fact, I rather enjoy it. But human interaction is necessary from time to time, and I'm happy to find many of them hanging out in Belden when I arrive there on the evening of August 31st.

Some of the hikers in Belden had been there for the past four nights. The quirky little town has a way of drawing hikers in and not letting go, with its hotel, restaurant, bar, store, free camping, and population of fewer than 20 rather eclectic souls. The residents occupy campers by the creek or rent tiny cottages along the main drag through town. I can't help but wonder if this is some strange bizarro world, and I think this might be the actual Hotel California... you can check out anytime you like, but you can never leave.

It's Labor Day weekend, and one of the locals, Shawn, has cashed his disability check and is throwing a party for all hikers in town and any locals from here or the nearby canyons. It's one of the strangest days of my life, but I'll save that for another story at a later time.

Hiker trash reunion in Belden, last of the NoBo's.

September 2 - Belden Town mile 1287
to September 16 - Interstate 5 / Dunsmuir mile 1501

By Saturday at noon, I'm ready to get out of here. They are expecting an annual gathering of about 100 motorcycle enthusiasts who are said to not interact well with the hiker trash. Even though the temperature is 100F, I finally make my way up one of the longest and most dreaded ascents along the PCT. By this time tomorrow, I will have gained more than 7,000 feet of elevation, much of which is in treeless burn scar areas.

Farewell Belden Town, you weirdo!

The hike out of Belden is not only hot but also solo. It seems that the group that got hung up there this week is bailing out. Some of them have a ride to Quincy and plan to hike the Oregon Coast Trail. Others are flipping to a point north of the fire closures. I decline the offer to join them. Now it feels like I'm the very last of the true northbound thru-hikers still out here.

Two days later, I awake to an eerie site after camping near an old burn area. Thick smoke has settled into the valleys around me. I can't tell if it's smoke drifting in from far off wildfires or if there is a new fire nearby sparked by the previous evenings thundershower. Regardless, it's a bit unsettling, and I'm sure I'll have to make some decisions soon about how to handle the closures in Oregon, about 350 miles of closed trail, possibly more.

I pass the halfway point of the PCT and score a ride into Chester from a very cool state trooper. I decide to get a room for the night to shower and explore options. The next day at the library, Twister is there researching alternative plans with a couple other hikers. They are going to join the ranks of the refugee PCT'ers who have hopped onto the Oregon Coast Trail.

It's here where I learn about a new fire that has closed the trail in Northern California beyond the town of Etna. This, for me, is a game changer. I've come to terms that I'm not going to make it to Canada this year after all. I revert back to my original plan to go only as far as the I-5 near Dunsmuir where I can hop on the Amtrak and work my way back east. I guess I'll come back to California next year, if it's in the cards.

Evening thundershower, sweet rainbow.

Apocalyptic scene.

So I get a hitch out of Chester back to the trail head. I hesitate because of the ominous echos on the weather radar, but I go for it anyway. This is a decision I quickly regret. About two miles from the highway, I find myself surrounded by relentless lightning strikes with no place to take shelter. The skies finally let loose and I pull a tiny tarp over my pack and myself, crouch down, and wait out the downpour for about 40 minutes. I'm reminded of a similar situation on the Appalachian Trail in Virginia back in June of 2014.

Check out the volume and frequency of the thunderbolts in this clip...

From Chester, it's only 170 miles to the train station, but I believe there are still many great memories to be made out here. The next day, not long after entering the Lassen Volcanic National Park, I take a side trail to check out the Drakesbad Guest Ranch to inquire about the dinner buffet. I meet some pretty cool people there, and in the process, I score some unexpected trail magic: free dinner, a free late-night soak in the hot spring pool, and a free bed in one of the cabins... AMAZING!

A couple days later, I roll into Old Station late in the morning. I take advantage of a diner there and grab a light resupply at the gas station next door. I'm meeting quite a few southbound hikers these days, but almost no northbounders. I visit with a guy named Bandit who is heading south to complete his triple crown (Appalachian Trail, Continental Divide Trail, and Pacific Crest Trail). Bandit was able to get through Oregon before all but one of the fire closures, and he barely beat the California closure at Etna. Late in the afternoon, I start up along a significant waterless stretch, camping on a ridge high above Hat Creek.

The days are flying by, and I'm sad that this hike is coming to an end in just a few days. I stop in at the Burney Mountain Guest Ranch for a night, with dinner and breakfast included in the camping fee. On their computer, I book a flight from Portland to Kentucky, but not for two weeks. I receive a message from Madjac and his wife Jacque, who I met on the Appalachian Trail a few years ago, and I'm invited to spend some time at their family property on the Oregon coast at the end of my hike. I think I'll take them up on this offer, sounds nice!

A day out of Burney, I stop for an extended break at McArthur-Burney Falls Memorial State Park. The falls spill 129 feet from a spring fed creek into a magical misty basin. It rates among the most beautiful waterfalls I've ever visited.

Burney Falls.

Later in the day, I notice flakes of ash falling on me. Later, I spot a wildfire on a neighboring mountain. Soon, a recconaissance plan circles the mountain, and I'm a bit spooked that I might be walking into the fire. A large C-130 flies low above me to water bomb the fire which seems to be only a couple miles away as the crow flies.

Here's a video clip of the fire with the recon plane off to the right...

The trail eventually zags away from the fire, so there is no imminent danger. Still, it makes me more comfortable with my decision to end my adventure soon.

A few days later, on the morning of Saturday, September 16th, I reach the service road along I-5, thus ending my hike at about the 1500 mile mark. I'm saving the remaining 1150 miles for a future adventure, probably next year, but we'll see.

Castle Crags, I'll start here next year.

Unwinding in Oregon
September 18 - 26

While the hike is over, the summer adventure continues on. My flight out of Portland is over a week away, so I've made arrangement to travel to the Oregon coast, taking Madjac up on his generous offer to host me. So after two nights in Dunsmuir, I hop on the pre-dawn northbound train to Albany, Oregon, followed by a shuttle bus ride to the coastal town of Newport. Madjac meets me there early in the evening.

We grab a few groceries and head up the coast to Otter Rock, where Madjac's family has owned a vacation home since the 1970's. His mother still lives there, in the original structure, and the attached A-frame serves as the guest house for family and friends. The A-frame was constructed when there was a risk that the main house atop a high bluff would be lost to the encroaching sea.

Jacque and Madjac prove to be great hosts, and we have a very nice visit. For me, it's the perfect buffer between trail life and heading back east to the so called "real world." On the second day of my stay, we're heading back to the house after a bowl of clam chowder at Mo's, and I spot a group of four backpackers finding shelter from a rain shower in front of the fire department. Madjac asks, "Do you know those guys?" After a minute, it hits me.... "Yes!" I cross the street and realize that it's a mix of different people I met along the PCT at different times, but now they are hiking the Oregon Coast Trail as a group. Our meeting here at Otter Rock is purely by chance.

The foursome is invited to spend the night with us at the A-frame, and in typical hiker fashion, they accept. Turning down trail magic is almost unheard of in the backpacking and thru-hiking community.

Madjac and Jacque, wonderful hosts!

Whale watching

Dreamcrusher, Moonwalker, Highlander, and Constantine join the mix

View from the A-frame's deck, beautiful!

Up that bluff to lunch

Soup at Mo's

Madjac with his mother, Eleanor

Devil's Punchbowl

The reunion with the guys is a lot of fun. The next day, they try their best to drag me along for the last week or so of their hike along the coast. Unfortunately, I don't have enough days before my flight to do this, or I would. So after lunch, they pack up and I watch as they head south.

Happy trails, boys!

After four days on the coast with my friends, there is one more reunion to be had before my flight. I've made arrangements to spend a few days with my Sierra hiking mates, Coach and Advisory, in Eugene. Madjac and Jacque need to drive over there anyway for supplies, so we all meet there at the Costco.

Coach's parents live outside of Eugene, and I'd met them earlier in the summer when they vacationed in their RV along the PCT just south of the Sierra section. They have offered up the same RV for my use during my days in Eugene, and it works out perfectly.

It's more good times hanging with Coach and Advisory, but alas, the trip is coming to an end. Advisory will remain in Oregon for another month until her visa expires and she returns to Australia. The two of them will try to sort things out as far as the future of their relationship which began when they met about day two on the trail back in May.

My plan, as of now, is to return to northern California next summer to pick up the PCT right where I left off. This has really been an amazing summer, and I'm so happy I decided to hike along the Pacific Crest Trail for four months.

High Sierra - Part 3

After two nights in the resort town of Mammoth Lakes, and having bid farewell to our friends who have opted to end their hike here, Coach, Advisory, and I make our way back to the trail. With our trail family having been cut in half, we expect to pick up our daily mileage a bit.

Matterhorn Creek in Yosemite National Park

August 6 - 13
Reds Meadow mile 907
to Sonora Pass mile 1017

We decide to get a cheeseburger dinner at the Reds Meadow Cafe before an evening hike out. After a side trip to the Devils Postpile National Monument, we set up camp, after only a few miles, next to San Joaquin River Middle Branch. After back-to-back zero days, it still feels like an accomplishment. A new tradition starts when Coach breaks out a pint of bourbon, and we each take a swig as a symbolic end to the day's hike.

The unique hexagonal basalt columns of Devils Postpile

The trail meanders into the eastern sections of Yosemite National Park. The terrain is still difficult, and some of the streams are still raging. This late in the season, there are very few snowfields to traverse, which is a good thing in my opinion. As expected, we're doing more miles per day here in the northern Sierra. The John Muir Trail, which shares the tread with the Pacific Crest Trail through these parts, branches off temporarily north of Devils Postpile, but only for 12 miles. The reduction in trail traffic is obvious, and we enjoy the increased solitude during that stretch. The trails rejoin at Thousand Islands Lake, and there is a small mob of JMT hikers there during lunchtime.

Lunch break at Thousand Islands Lake

The PCT traverses the less popular sections of Yosemite and avoids the more popular attractions like Half Dome and Vernal Falls. After an early morning trek up and over Donahue Pass, elevation 11,038 feet, which I found to be especially exhausting for some reason, we descend to the Lyell Canyon and follow it all the way to the camp store at Tuolomne Meadows. It takes us less than 48 hours to complete the 36 plus miles from Reds Meadow, and we reward ourselves with chili dogs at the cafe.

The camp was forced to open quite late this year, just a week before our arrival, because of the heavy winter and spring snows and the many downed trees that had to be cleaned up. It's filled to capacity with RV people, families, vacationers and the like. We spend the night crammed into a spot in the hiker section of the camp ground. A ranger gives a talk about bears at the little amphitheater as curious deer boldly snoop around the perimeter, nice entertainment before bedtime.

A small resupply at the camp store

After downing pancakes and picking up another pint of bourbon and a few other resupply items, we make our way out of Tuolomne Meadows. Some hikers opt for a side trip and hitch a ride to Yosemite Valley to visit those popular attractions. Others wait at the Post Office for a resupply package to arrive. The John Muir Trail hikers branch off a separate trail down to the Valley where their hike will end. Coach, Advisory, and I, along with our friend Constantine, hike up the road and hop back onto the PCT to continue our quest.

That's Constantine approaching Lembert Dome

Glacier-scraped landscape

Delivering provisions to rangers and outposts

Tuolomne Falls

It will take a couple more days to hike through Yosemite National Park. We trek through a series of canyons divided by high passes. It's a similar pattern... ford a river, then up, up, up, then down, down, rinse, repeat. The shoes and socks never completely dry out. It's actually a bit tedious, but being in the wilderness with my new friends is better than any alternative I can come up with. The most notorious of the Yosemite stream crossings is the Rancheria Creek, which claimed the life of one hiker just a month ago. We choose a crossing 100 yards upstream from the trail and there are a few tense moments, but we all make it across without issue.

Coach crosses Piute Creek at a log jam

Pure serenity

Just past Dorothy Lake, there is a snowy pass with a sign marking the northern border of the national park area. Soon after that, we reach the 1000 mile mark of the PCT. I'm happy to have discovered the rocks in the dirt spelling out the number, because before that, I was worried that I had gone the wrong way at a fork in the trail a while back. The others catch up to me and we do the obligatory photo session.

Constantine at mile 1000!

That night, we camp next to the creek in Kennedy Canyon. It's an extra chilly night, and thin sheets of ice form along the creek side overnight. This would be our last day in what is considered the Sierra section of the PCT, to Sonora Pass. There are still some snowfields covering the trail, but we opt for a steep detour eliminating the snowy switchbacks and pushing straight to the top.

No need to treat this icy mountain water

Sonora Pass should be the last bit of snow-covered trail

By mid afternoon, we arrive at the highway and get a hitch down the mountain to the Kennedy Meadows North resort area. We enjoy a huge dinner at the restaurant there and camp in the PCT site with several others. In the morning, a pancake breakfast has me feeling groggy. We decide to take a zero day, which turns into a double zero day. Needless to say, we enjoy the rest break, the food, and the camaraderie.

I enjoy traveling with Advisory and Coach. But it is just a tiny bit weird since they have been boyfriend-girlfriend since their first days on the trail way back in May. It's not a big deal, and I don't mind being third wheel. It seems that we have these occasional team meetings to discuss plans. When this happens, it usually means we're going to take a zero day. Zero days are usually expensive, in terms of food, accommodations, and time off the trail. I'm not sure how far I can make it this year, but I had hoped to at least get to the Oregon border.

We rented this cabin at KM North for two nights

August 16 - 20
Sonora Pass mile 1017 to
US 50 (S. Lake Tahoe) mile 1092

Once we finally get motivated to head back up to the trail, we have a tough time thumbing a ride. We wait hopelessly for about 90 minutes with no takers.

So pathetic

We step up our game and incorporate some choreography. Finally, a couple from New Zealand in a rental car pull over and we all cram into the back seat. Check out our moves in this video clip below...

We don't get too far, maybe five miles, before the skies begin to darken and thunder rumbles. We find a place to pitch our tents and decide to wait out the rain. When it stops, it's too late to bother with any more miles. The next morning, I get an earlier start than my mates. I wait around during breaks, but they don't show up. I'm fine with flying solo for a bit, so I proceed on, scratching notes in the dirt and leaving them other clues along the way.

Vibrant colors

Joining up with the Tahoe Rim Trail

After a few days, I reach the end of the section at Highway 50. I'm able to get a ride into South Lake Tahoe and even score a nice motel room at a reasonable price. After cleaning up and doing some laundry, I make my way down the street a bit to the Nevada State Line. The first casino I come to is Harrah's. I walk past all the ringing slot machines to the elevator, because my focus here is the all-you-can-eat buffet on the 18th floor. Four plates later, I'm ready for bed.

Plate #1 of 4 overlooking Lake Tahoe

Advisory and Coach roll into town the next day, sharing harrowing video of a hail storm they survived the prior evening. Coach has arranged for us to stay with trail angels that night, parents of a friend. We get pizza and beers, and then take care of our town business. I purchase some trekking poles, repair my broken tent pole assembly, and ship home my snow gear. We take a taxi to our hosts and they are super nice and accommodating.

We have another team meeting, and it becomes clear that Coach and Advisory will soon be ending their hike. They aren't exactly sure when and where, so they will take a second day off to think about it. I'm going to move on without them and complete as much of the trail as I can. The next morning, after breakfast at a local diner, we share hugs and well wishes, and our host drives me up to the trail head at Echo Lake. And just like that, I'm on my own.

Photo credit to Katie Allwood for the pictures of me. :)