Photos of us hiking
We hike a lot. All day, every day. 20 miles per day. It's both exhilarating and awfully monotonous.
The sun sets over the Mojave Desert as we prepare for a night hike.
Beautiful alpine forests are my favorite!
Epic stream crossings in the Sierra. Dan did this one barefoot.
Our Belgian got all thugged out for Mt. Whitney.
Bearing the heat of the desert.
Walking along the L.A. aqueduct.
Vasquez Rocks. Half'n'Half was all smiles walking through this place.
I love when logs are laid out over stream crossings.
And then there was this staircase on the PCT. The John Muir Trail section gets fancy.
The approach to Forrester Pass. Dan (Soap Box) makes it look epic. It kinda was.
Cheers,
Jonathan
Looking back: My crew rolls deep
Midway, Quinoa, Barbie, Half'n'Half, Soap Box, Baggins and Wash Pot.
We are part of the herd. Well, maybe the pre-herd. We are still in a bubble of hikers. Because of the distances between water and the placement of campsites one often finds oneself camping with a larger group. Luckily all the people that flow in and out of our bubble are great people. On this particular afternoon we rolled nine deep into a pretty sweet campsite. Nobody messes with nine hikers.
j/k, people are actually repelled by our stench.
The exception was a gracious couple that pulled off the highway and unleashed a maelstrom of happiness and calories in the form of trail magic. Never before had I experienced multi-course trail magic. First came the sodas, then the clementines, then the candy bars and finally the fruit pies. Our gratitude towards people with such kind hearts cannot be understated. Seeing that couple pull off the road put smiles on all our faces. No amount of 'thank you's' can express how much that magic means to us.
Life in the backcountry
As much as I love sharing scenic views from the trail, most of life for a PCT hiker is walking, camping and spending time with hiker friends. These are the simple moments.
The boys are back outta town.
Setting up tents.
Dinner
Riding in the back of a pickup on the way back to the trail. Checking more activities off the American bucket list.
This is how you don't get scurvy.
Blogging in our sleeping bags.
Swimming in a dammed up lake
It's hot and we're tired.
Waiting for cars give us a hitch.
Peeing off the side of a mountain.
Searching for "gold" in rivers.
Finding ourselves exhausted by the mountains.
Sleeping on top of Muir Pass in the Muir Hut.
And then we keep walking.
Cheers,
Jonathan (Pedi)
The Bet
To some of you who live in civilization, this may seem a bit uncouth. To us hikers, there really isn't such a thing.
Back in Bishop Quinoa bought a pack of toilet paper and generously gave a roll each to Dan and I. Dan turns to me and says, "Hey, I've got an idea. I bet you I can make this roll last me until Oregon."
Ha. HA! Oregon? We got back on the trail right before mile 800. California ends just before mile 1700. That's 900 miles on a single roll of toilet paper. Lunacy I tell you.
"The loser has to buy a case of beer for the group." Dan adds.
"You're on." I replied without hesitation.
Who doesn't love free beer?
The Rules
He is allowed to use other toilet paper when we are in towns/taking a zero.
He is not allowed to borrow from other hikers on trail.
He is allowed to use alternative methods such as pine cones and moss to wipe. (Let's be real, if he manages to extend that TP through the use of "natural alternatives," he's earned it)
Ohhhhhh, the things we do to entertain ourselves on trail.
Cheers,
Jonathan
Scenes of the Sierra Nevada
I occasionally think of myself as a competent photographer. While landscapes and haven't always been my thing, it's hard to walk through these scenes and not try to capture or document them. I thought it had been going OK, but when we got to the high Sierra, something happened. I found myself wholly incapable of capturing the world around me in any decent sense. This is not to say that I'm rehearsing a sense of self-deprecation on a blog, but rather to say that the scenery here is so amazingly grand I'm at a loss. The photos that had previously looked as if they accurately and somewhat eloquently represented the views I encountered now appeared dull when compared to what lie before me.
The world that exists here is like none I've ever experienced. Not even close. In a word, it is rewarding. The nights are bitter cold and the sun beats down in the day. The altitude makes your lungs burn and your heart pound. But everywhere you look there are towering mountains, endless streams, waterfalls, lakes, valleys and forests. Each element is so immersive, so extraordinary. The Sierra really makes you work for it, but holy crap is the payoff sweet.
I hope this gives you an inkling of the feeling it gives me to be in its presence.
Mile 788
Mile 850
Mile 821
Mile 819
Mile 841
Mile 848
Mile 789
Mile 838. Sunset from Muir Pass
Mile 818. Lower Pallisades Lake
Mile 867. Northern view from Selden Pass
Mile 804
Cheers,
Jonathan
PCT? More like Pacific Crest Choose Your Own Adventure
There are quite a few big passes up in the Sierra Nevada. About one per day for a week or two. They are the highest points on the trail and are usually both preceded and succeeded by snow. Yes, there's a drought in California and yes, it's a low snow year, but we're up here pretty early in the season. There may not be a ton, buts it's here and it's changed the feeling of the hike tremendously.
One of the biggest changes the snow brings is navigating. Previously, the trail was easy to follow. Nowadays, not so much.
Sometimes you have to follow other people's footprints and hope they steer your in the right direction. Sometimes they do, and sometimes they don't.
Sometimes you glissade down and skip a bunch of switchbacks. Glissading can be very fun, but it is not without its dangers.
Sometimes there is absolutely no clear indication and you hope you can follow your maps well. That or you guess and hope you can navigate well in the blind.
Cheers,
Jonathan
Looking back: wind farms to Kennedy Meadows
The last stretch of desert before the central California section of the PCT is a doozy. We loved hiking through some exotic and interesting wilderness so far - remote desert, burned forest, high mountains - each treated us well except the wind farms.
The farms were smattered across our path from day 30 - day 36, almost the end of the Southern California section. We had nearly reached the Sierra Nevada mountains, but the desert wasn't done with us quite yet.
We arrived at a strange pit stop called Hikertown on day 30. The owners had a large garage they had converted into a hiker hang out, but they had also constructed what seemed to be an old west town. I mean a line of small shops, post office, a little city hall, and even a little jail. All these constructions were around 3/4 scale - large enough to enter, but not full size buildings. Oh, and the owners use the jail as a chicken coup. An interesting place, but they had ice cream, water and a place to get out of the sun because after Hikertown we had to cross the Mojave.
Pedi captures Hikertown's sheriff building and a few other parts of the miniature old west town.
In the evening of day 30 we left Hikertown. We walked along an aqueduct overnight to cross the Mojave Desert - it was a long flat stretch that would have been unbearable during the day due to intense heat and sun. After that it was the wind farms. Our night hike placed us right at the beginning of a cluster of turbines. Innocent, clean, white and a symbol of renewable energy, at first I thought they were elegant.
I caught Pedi walking on the aqueduct at sunset.
The aqueduct. Photo credit: Jonathan
That first night I realized what could be obvious about hiking and sleeping by wind turbines: extremely high winds, we rarely found great shelter, and water sources were many miles apart. Great way to ring in our first month on the trail.
On day 32 we hiked through some of the largest wind power installations in the country. Luckily we made it to a highway so the four of us could hitch into Tehachapi to get more food. Also, the nonstop 40 mph gusts might have driven me insane. A couple trail angels helped us get to and from town, they took us to the restaurant they owned, called the Apple Shed, and told us stories about Tehachapi (incredibly kind, interesting people). Then it was back to the wind.
Side of the Apple Shed.
On day 33, Quinoa was nearly blown off the first mountain we ascended as we left Tehachapi. I was getting tossed side to side with each step. I thought I was going to break a trekking pole as I used them to cling to the rocky trail. We slept in a ditch using our packs as windbreaks. The gale force winds stole Pedi's hat. As we crossed the Tehachapi valley we were beginning to leave the desert, but it felt like the desert wasn't finished with us.
Areas of high wind just after the Mojave section.
The trail angels from Tehachapi informed us we had reached the transference region - where two mountain ranges met, separated by Tehachapi Valley. This signified a kind of boundary between the desert (San Gabriel Mountains) and the Sierra. The ending of Act 1, of sorts.
On day 34 we climbed in altitude and saw the high Sierra in the distance. We were getting out of the constant wind and dryness. Our group of four was excited for what was coming.
Day 35 was hot; we had to gain elevation while hiking in wind and loose sand. Still the turbines seemed to haunt us. Finally as the morning wore on we had reached Walker Pass, and even though it rained we were only two days away from Kennedy Meadows, our last resupply before the high Sierra. Also of note, we met (The) Yogi, kind of a PCT celeb as she was getting ready to cook pancakes for thru-hikers at Walker Pass.
Day 36 we climbed Bird Spring Pass and had two more days to the end of the Southern California section of the PCT. Our destination was Kennedy Meadows. We hiked 25 then 27 miles days with ever-lighter packs, inspired by what was coming. As we arrived in Kennedy Meadows the Central California section started, we had completed over a quarter of the trek.
Dan hiking towards Hikertown. Photo credit: Jonathan
Happy hiking!
Dan
Ascending Mt. Whitney
The desert has come to an end. As we hiked our way up into the Sierra Nevada our jaws dropped at the beauty we saw around us. We haven't managed to pick our jaws back up yet. 60 miles later we found ourselves at the trail juncture that would lead us up to the top of the tallest peak in the lower 48 states, Mt. Whitney. At 14,505 feet, it's a doozy. There are an endless number of ways to "do Whitney," and we thought it would be cool to ascend in the afternoon to see the sunset, sleep in the Smithsonian shelter at the summit overnight, watch the sunrise and then descend that morning.
Sleep didn't come too easily, but what do you expect at 14,000 feet sleeping head to toe in a small hut? No worries though, we kind of expected that. It was worth it.
The morning was bitter cold and windy, but nothing could dampen our spirits as the sun began to rise over the eastern Sierra.
Then our friends started showing up. One by one, Bomber, Siesta, Butters, Cheese, Midway, Barbie, Freedom, Friendrik, Washpot and Baggins reached the summit, each of them having started in the wee hours of the morning. We all crammed ourselves back into the hut to celebrate the reunion. Soon enough, however, it was time for us to head back down the mountain.
The views were awe inspiring, completely breathtaking. Or was that the lack of oxygen that was breathtaking? Who knows. It was astounding. But enough of my jibber jabber. Why don't I show you.
The valley below.
West of Whitney.
Half'n'Half pushes through the struggle of breathing at high altitude.
Soap Box being epic most of the way up.
The teeth near the summit.
WE MADE IT.
Obligatory group photo on the summit.
Sunset did not disappoint.
What strange things are amok outside the shelter? I think it best to stay warm in the hut.
Soap Box, Half'n'Half and Pedi (me) bundled in our bags at dawn.
Photo/Quinoa
Cheese feeling victorious.
Cheers,
Jonathan
On shoes and conformity
Almost immediately and instinctively you start noticing other hikers' footprints on the trail. You figure out the shape of each comrade's footprint and can easily ascertain who is in front of you. Having a unique shoe-print helps, but you pick it up either way.
When we all (my group of four) started this trail, we each had a different pair of shoes. Two kinds of Solomons, a pair of La Sportivas and some Asics. It made discerning one another's footprints a breeze.
With more than 700 miles between us and the Mexican border we have all moved on to at least our second pair of shoes. And now are all wearing the same model of shoe: Brooks Cascadias. By far the most popular shoe on the trail, each of us fell prey to the allure. Nearly every person I saw with them would receive the question "How are you liking your Cascadias?" as if I'd receive some sort of new answer. Unanimously, people swore by them.
Boy do I love these shoes. People were right and I couldn't be happier, mostly.
While the shoe itself feels wonderful, my whole crew now bears the same footprint, along with a ton of other hikers on the trail. At this point, I cannot tell who is in front or who is behind, only that I am on the PCT and that people are indeed in front of me.
We're part of the crowd now.
Cheers,
Jonathan
How we remember the trail
There are lots of ways we catalog memories from life in a physical sense. That's how we get memorabilia. I've loved seeing how PCT hikers create their own memorabilia to look back on later in life. Obviously, for me it's a photo narrative. For Butters though, it's autographed baseballs. He has each thru-hiker he sees sign the baseball. When the ball is full, he sends it home and gets a new ball. What a cool way to capture a piece of each thru hiker to reminisce about down the line.
Cheers,
Jonathan
Scenes of the desert
The desert is so many things and has so many varieties. There's low desert, high desert, hilly desert, sandy desert and on and on. It's not as glamorous as snow covered mountains, but we have given much of our lives to it of late.
mile 220
mile 224
Mile 226
Mile 285
Mile 312
Mile 337
mile 315
Mile 345
Mile 344
mile 387
Mile 343
Mile 540
Mile 522
Mile 515
mile 524
Mile 656ish
Now the desert comes to a close as we ascend up into the Sierra Nevada. The mountains look grand and beautiful.
Cheers,
Jonathan
Learning moderation
While I have loved my time on the PCT thus far, it has not been without its trials and obstacles. Mostly they have come in the form of pain from either blisters or leg strain. Some of this was unavoidable, but perhaps others might have been of my own doing. It seemed like I had two modes: injured or I WANNA GO FAST. I was either trailing behind my group with a nasty limp or I was full speed ahead leaving them to play catchup. The past few days have been good lessons in being steady. I can feel the Sierra looming. Gotta stay healthy.
Cheers,
Jonathan
Poodle-dog bush
This is poodle-dog bush.
Also known as common turricula, this plant has altered our trek from Mexico to Canada. It thrives in areas affected by wildfires - where tree cover has been removed (burned). We're hiking in SoCal. Thus, drought and lots of burned areas. Ergo, tons of PDB.
Easy to identify and reeking like pot (or certain thru-hikers), you know when it's near. It's like the poison oak of the San Gabriel mountains, except more dangerous. PDB has grown so thick along the PCT that there are detours to avoid sections overrun by the plant.
It's kind of pretty, but I'll be happy to never see it again.
Mt. Baden Powell
A few days ago we ascended the 9400 foot Mt. Baden Powell after leaving Wrightwood, Ca. We made a fantastic camp at 7500 feet elevation (above the clouds and in the high 30s overnight).
View from Baden Powell looking towards Mt. Baldy.
The next morning we gained the summit after climbing through an old growth pine forest - and old means a tree 1500 years old (trees that were young in the Dark Ages). On the summit we found a memorial built by Boy Scouts in the 1950s - they hiked the mountain with concrete to build it. From the summit we could see Mt. Baldy, another giant of the San Gabriels Range.
For those not in the know: Lord Baden Powell was the founder of the World Scouting Movement and this little bit of rock was renamed for him in 1931 (originally it was called Little Baldy). As an Eagle Scout I owe ol Mr. Powell. Also, I can't imagine hiking to the summit with backpacks filled with concrete (definitly not Ultralight).
1500 year old tree.
Julius Bude, Julius-pct2014.blogspot.com
USGS seal at the top of the mountain.
Pedi, Half'n'half, Quinoa hanging out at the monument.
The monument built in the 1950s.
This sign says says something about the tree being 1500 years old.
Visual update
This is what we look like after 500 miles and almost a month on the trail.
Soap Box
Pedi
Half'n'Half
Quinoa
Thanks, Black Diamond
I have had a few unfortunate happenstances on the trail so far. Luckily, the trail provides. By mile 300 one of my trekking poles snapped. I let the manufacturer know and they immediately sent me a fresh one. Solid customer service, Black Diamond.
Happy Mother's Day
Hiking the PCT is a really great experience, but it's something that likely wouldn't be possible without the support of my mother. Monday she will mail three boxes full of food and gear to our next resupply point on the trail. Without the help of my mom Dan and I would literally starve in the Sierra Nevada.
I'm sad I can't be with her on this Mother's Day, but I'll never forget how much her love and support has meant to me. Thanks for being OK with me wandering in the wilderness for five months Mom.
Cheers,
Jonathan
P.S.:Vicki, thank you a million times over for all of your support and kindness throughout this whole trip!
My mom and I the day I graduated from college
The McDash
Mile 342 of the Pacific Crest Trail has a McDonalds 0.4 miles away from the trail. Hikers choose to gorge themselves at this haven of free wifi, food and clean water. Even hikers outwardly against McDonalds plan to camp within easy hiking range to gain the Golden Arches the next day.
We were overcome by hunger, you see. Not starvation, but knowledge that $10 could get you 3000 calories of already prepared food and maybe a milkshake, this fact drove us all.
The day before we had hiked over 20 miles and managed to find a lake to swim in. After finding a place to camp 13 miles away from McDonalds, the Dash was on. Pedi and Quinoa flew down the trail while Half'n'Half and myself held a steady pace. Beautiful country with great gashes in the landscape from seismic activity - we were hiking over the San Andreas fault. Finally I saw highway 10 and was within sight of my goal. Upon arrival Pedi welcomed me with the most divine 10pc chicken nuggets, and after that the afternoon was a blur of burgers, fries and fountain soda.
At one point the PCT hikers outnumbered the regular guests. A pair had fallen asleep in a booth, cell phones and camera batteries hung from the ceiling like stalactites, and the trays of empty fries and burger wrappers filled the tables.
After gorging ourselves we had to rally to hike up and away from sanctuary and back into the mountains. After eating all that food it felt good to put some miles behind the place where we shamed ourselves.
People on mountains
"DUDE, this place is beautiful."
Moonshine's beard.
Most of the way up San Jacinto.
photo/probably Half and Half
Soap Box, Pedi, Half and Half, and Quinoa at 10,800 ft atop Mt. San Jacinto.
photo/random nice couple
We climbed over many a fallen tree at higher altitudes.
Jonathan hiking through the fresh snow.
Jonathan descending, seeking warmer climbs.
Half and Half snapping photos at the summit of San Jacinto.
We say our goodbyes to the snow covered mountain (Not unhappily).
Greater than a marathon
I ran my first marathon in 3h40m and it was one of the most proud moments I'd ever experienced. Yesterday I completed my second marathon length endeavor, except this time I did it in 11 hours with 30 lbs on my back while climbing 4000 ft in elevation.
It felt like a mere drop in the ocean.
But I didn't stop once I had done 26.2 miles. Throughout the day I'd been leapfrogging with Zippy Morroco, a fellow thru-hiker, and by mile 22 we had banded together for the day's endeavor.
"Wanna try for a 30 day?" Zippy asked me once I passed my marathon mark.
Sure, why the hell not.
I'd split up from my group a few days prior. It was my first time hiking alone and I had it stuck in my brain that I could push myself to complete this seemingly ludicrous feat.
At the completion of 30 miles we knew there were only five more left until Big Bear, my hiking family and a soft bed. We donned our headlamps, scarfed a few granola bars pounded out the last miles. Darkness, tired legs and sore feet be damned, 14 hours after I started walking I had made it.
Zippy Morroco, my hiking partner for the day. It was a joy getting to know him and experience the day together. I could never have done it all without him.
My feet at the end of the day.
A Joshua tree as night fell.
Cheers,
Jonathan