The Wilderness Begins

South of Hamilton, Te Araroa leaves the city streets and -- after a few hours of farmland and gravel road -- the steep climb up to Mt. Pirongia marks the beginning of real, sustained wilderness.

The bush on Pirongia is stunning; more open and airy than the Northland bush. Toward the top, the forest gives way to a dense, tall scrub (maybe 8-10 feet high) that creates a tunnel overhead. The peak itself is the highest point yet and it feels noticeably more alpine than anything we've seen so far. We made it to the mountains!

Heading up Pirongia, the sunlit forest covered in vines. 

 photo/ Jonathan

We reached another milestone just after the summit of Pirongia, as well: our first DOC hut. New Zealand has an extensive system of backcountry huts maintained by the Department of Conservation. We bought a 6-month backcountry hut pass for $92 NZD (~$65 USD) that covers nearly all of the huts on trail (No more paying for camping everywhere! Hooray!). The huts are more and more common the farther south we go, so we'll rely heavily on this pass, moving forward.

Pahautea Hut, our first one, is relatively new and quite large with space for 20 or so people in bunks and another 5-6 tent sites outside. There's a tap with potable water there and three "long drops" (the kiwi word for a privy). The hut has a large common space with cooking areas and long tables. It also has a wrap-around porch with a spectacular view out over the bush. For backcountry accomodations, the hut was pretty darn swanky.

Sunset from the porch at Pahautea Hut.  

photo/ Jonathan

The DOC huts become gathering points for hikers and there were about 15 other TA walkers at the hut with us (the largest group we've seen so far). When we told the others that we planned to do 50km+ the next day, we got a few scoffs because of the tough terrain. But of course, nothing makes us want to do something more than someone telling us we can't...

Around 9am the next morning, we checked our progress and realized that the first 3km (~2 miles) had taken us nearly 3 hours. The mud was deeper and wetter than Ratea in places, and the climb down from Hihikiwi (a small summit after Pirongia) was steep and very slick. In spite of the slow start, however, we still made it to camp by dinnertime. First 50km day, complete!

But that most certainly wasn't the end of it; there was a lot more sufferfest to come.

After resupplying in Te Kuiti, we headed out of town on a poorly maintained trail covered in blackberry brambles. It was narrow and eroded, often leaving no more than a few muddy inches trying their damnedest to send us sliding down toward the river below.

In the morning, spider webs crowded the trail and -- since we desperately needed our poles to keep us on the mountain -- there was no protecting our faces from getting coated in sticky strands. Oh yea, and it was pouring rain. Of course. We deemed the section "blackberry fucking spider hell" and got through with a little blood and a lot of cursing.

This waterfall makes the trail here look much nicer than it was, but it's the only photo we've got of the whole section. Alas, no photos full of blackberry thorns and spiderwebs. 

photo/ Jonathan

Thankfully, we had some good trail to look forward to in the following days. The Timber Trail is a popular cycling track, so it is wide, well maintained (and drained), and has a mellow grade throughout. It also passes through stunningly beautiful forest and on our first morning, we wandered through misty, moss-covered trees under a sunrise that turned our world bright green and gold.

Morning light on the Timber Trail.  

photo/ Jonathan

Pristine trail in an other-worldly forest? Yes please!  

photo/ Jonathan

We sped along with smooth trail underfoot, easily knocking out another 50km+ day (that's 30+ miles for you Yanks) and crossing our 1000km mark, too! Sometimes it's nice to just open up and hike big miles.

The Timber Trail also made for some scenic miles with neat features, including several huge suspension bridges and an old railway tunnel.

141 meter suspension bridge! So cool.

photo/ Jonathan

The track follows an old railway grade, sometimes carved through the rock with walls covered in moss a foot deep or more.    

photo/ Molly

A perfect morning. 

photo/ Jonathan

The Timber Trail would be an amazing addition to any New Zealand adventure by foot or by bike. So, check it out if you have the chance! End to end, the cycle track is 84km (52 miles), and we were passed by some cyclists riding it in a day. Here's some more info on the Timber Trail, in case you'd like to visit.

And finally, just because this trail never ceases to surprise us and because we have nowhere else to put these amazing photos....

We met an ostrich! 

photo/ Jonathan

And Jonathan communed with it.

photo/ Molly

Up next: we check out the one and only Mount DOOM!

Not All Zero Days Are Created Equal

There's not much between Auckland and Hamilton but a lot of road walking and a lot of muddy, swampy, overgrown trail. But there were a few oases: the odd, but extremely welcoming Podge's Place in a small town called Mercer and the Rangiriri Pie Shop with giant homemade meat pies. (Meat pies are not common in the states, but they're everywhere here and we've come to love them as a town-day delicacy).

And this is how the blogs get written.

photo/ Jonathan

 Podge's Place is quite possibly the strangest bar I've ever entered, but they let hikers camp for free in the backyard and charge $10 NZD (~$7 USD) for a hiker-sized burger and fries. They also have free showers and free WiFi, which is hard to come by here. Definitely worth a stop!

We were looking forward to a visit with friends in Hamilton as we walked south along the highway. We texted Michael to let him know we'd arrive the next day and he offered to pick us up that night. It's easy to forget how slowly we move on foot (and how circuitous our routes can be) -- he was only 20 minutes away by car.

Michael kindly agreed to give us another shuttle so we could slackpack the section between Huntly and Hamilton the next day. The "trail" out of Hamilton was a beautiful city bike path along the Waikato River. Walking on pavement is never ideal, but the scenery was lovely and the miles went by quickly.

Along the Te Awa River Ride.

photo/ Jonathan

After a quick stop for fried chicken and chips (fries, of course), we headed up toward the Hakarimata Summit.

And I mean straight up.

The trails here are generally either insanely rough or insanely built up. This giant staircase was nearly a mile long and climbed over 1000ft. 

photo/ Jonathan

photo/ Molly

After a 40km hike (~25 miles), the nicest thing in the world is to be picked up and brought home for showers and home cooked dinner. Amazing! But to make this even nicer, we made a quick stop on the way home: we picked up a car that Michael offered up for an impromptu adventure. Road trip!

Jonathan learns the basics of righthand drive. Go ahead, just try to do it without turning on the windshield wipers instead of the turn signals. Just try.

photo/ Molly

Michael also offered up two mountain bikes, and we could hardly believe our luck. Who would say no to that?! We'd never mountain biked before, but we were both stoked for the challenge. He sent us straight to Rotorua, an area that's famous for it's volcanic activity in addition to it's world class bike park.

Much like Yellowstone, Rotorua has heated pools, boiling mud, and even geysers. It also has groves of California Redwoods that were planted there a hundred years ago. We got up the next morning and headed straight for the trails.

Other than a quick break for our scenic picnic lunch, we biked until our hands were cramping and all we could think about was our next meal. Sweaty and dusty, we rode back to the car to plot our next move.

(More info on the bike park here.) 

 photo/ Jonathan

 photo/ Molly

If you ever go to Rotorua on a budget, there are a lot of attractions that are really (really!) pricey. But just south of the bike park, we found a free way to revel in Rotorua's thermal resources.

Kerosene Creek is down a short dirt road just off of the highway. There's a small pull off and a few cars were already there, but as soon as we stepped onto the (very) short trail down to the water, we could smell the sulphur. The whole creek is the temperature of a hot tub and there's even a hot waterfall. The perfect way to relax after a day on the bike. (More info here, in case you want to visit!)

 Hot waterfall!

photo/ Jonathan

We stayed the night in Rotorua before heading back to Hamilton the next day to see Amy, who was just arriving back from a trip to Cambodia. We ate a luxurious breakfast in town and then took a brief detour to Hanurama Springs on our return journey for one last stroll through the redwoods.

 photo/ Jonathan

 photo/ Jonathan

Jonathan staring down into the 45 ft deep Te Puna-a-Hangarua at Hanurama Springs (more info here).

photo/ Molly

After 3 glorious days, it wasn't easy to pack up and leave. The only critical thing we forgot? Well, we never took a single picture with Michael and Amy. Means we'll just have to go back to visit again!

Thank you so, so much to Michael and Amy for all of your amazing support and for sharing our stoke for adventure. 

Welcome to Auckland

As you hike toward Auckland, you slowly begin to see the signs of the city.  Towns get closer together and more affluent; the traffic is a little steadier. (And you might go an hour or two without seeing a sheep.)

Te Araroa follows the east coast beaches into Auckland's North Harbor. Occasionally, you leave the beach and walk along city sidewalks through suburban neighborhoods that look like they could be anywhere in the world.

Jonathan and I walked into the city in the pouring, sheeting rain. Huddled under the overhang of a parking garage and just feet from the "trail" along the beach, we got online and looked up the local fare. A few blocks away, we found a likely candidate: a Turkish kebab shop with one dollar sign and 4.5 stars. 

Watching the rain on the pavement outside, we ate our kebabs and decided to take full advantage of the weird world of city trail. We walked outside and caught a bus to the mall. Yep, that's right, to the mall.

A day earlier, Jonathan's phone met an untimely end in the ocean, and we each had some gear to sort out. He needed a new rain jacket; I'd broken one of my trekking poles and lost a spoon. Cities make these things surprisingly easy.

View of the harbor and downtown Auckland as you arrive via a ferry. 

photo/ Jonathan

As it turns out, the city brings with it many luxuries. Our wonderful friends, Abi and Sarah, were gracious enough to let us stay two nights with them in an actual bed with actual sheets and actual pillows. Luxury, I tell you! They also made burritos (luxury) and in the morning, I sat around as long as I wanted and drank french press coffee in clean clothes (triple luxury).

Being on trail has a way of making everyday things feel indulgent. Yet it hardly makes you want to go back to a life where you can indulge every day. You always know, in the back of your mind, that these things bring pleasure exactly because they have become extraordinary.

photo/ Molly

Over the course of our stay in Auckland, we ate Indian food, made giant salads (anti-scurvy safety precaution), ate a whole chicken in one sitting, downed an ample supply of coffee, and even got ourselves some culture: we visited the Auckland War Memorial Museum to learn about the history of the Maori people (native New Zealanders). We also slackpacked 8 miles because, you know, we missed walking... ("Slackpacking" is essentially just walking trail miles without a full pack weight).

The view from atop Mt. Eden.

photo/ Molly

As a side note: The War Memorial museum is nearly on the trail and I'd strongly(!) recommend it to anyone planning to thruhike (or just to visit Auckland, in general). It's $25 for adults and they have a free walking tour that you can just listen to on your cell phone. Super neat!

Sheep in the city. Who knew?!

photo/ Molly

And though there were many parts of the city that were wonderful, hiking through the city had it's discomforts, too. The Auckland suburbs drag on forever, and the pavement is tough on tender feet. More than anything, though, we felt out of place in the city -- like the city didn't want us there at all.

At the end of a long day leaving Auckland, we realized that our destination for the night was not -- as it stated in the trail notes -- 0.9km (0.5 miles) off the trail. It was 9km (5.5 miles). With sore feet and darkness falling, we weren't going to make it. Instead, we looked around at the city park and pitched our tent in a patch of trees. Sleeping in the park sure isn't glamorous, and it's probably (?) not legal, either.

After a restless night, we woke up early and quickly packed up our tent. While we sat on a park bench eating breakfast, a group of suburban moms dressed in bright, clean colors trotted past on their morning jog. Though it was not yet 7am, we walked out of the city past commuters sitting in bumper to bumper traffic.

The city was good to us, but we were glad to be walking out of it, too.

Hikertrash in the big city

We are thru-hikers. As such, we spend most of our time in the wilderness. Te Araroa, however, isn’t your average backpacking adventure.

The city of Auckland, New Zealand’s largest city, is at a geographic bottleneck in the country. The city spans the entire width -- from ocean to ocean. So in our journey to hike the length of the country, our lot is to hike straight through this grand city.

We, the dirty hikers, who own naught but what we carry on our backs, who walk everywhere we go, stand in stark contrast to the hustle and bustle of this metropolis. We are not fashionable. We are not groomed. We don’t exactly hustle or bustle.

I took a few photos to document this contrast.

Can you spot the hiker trash? 

 "...nothing very bad could happen to you there." - Holly Golightly

Just another morning commute.

We pave over the forests and build our own. But after the wilderness, walking through the city feels like trespassing in a world we don't belong to anymore. 

Northern Highlights

Although the Northland was a bit of a logistical nightmare at times (as I wrote about here), it had also had some crazy highlights. Here's our "best of" for the Northland:

The Riverwalk

One of my favorite sections of trail so far has been the Papakauri stream, a 3km (~2 mile) riverwalk -- no trail but the stream itself. The Papakauri is only about shin deep in most places, but it was magical to wander through untouched forest by way of the water. Even in the wilderness, trailbuilding reveals the human impact, but through the riverwalk, the only signs of human life were infrequent trail markers that reassured us we were moving in the right direction. 

photo/ Jonathan

Puketi Forest & Tane Moana

In man places -- including the Riverwalk -- the bush is dense and jungle-like, but in a few places, we've been lucky enough to visit some particularly unique New Zealand terrain: the Kauri forests.

Kauri (Agathis australis) are found only on New Zealand's North Island. They're massive conifers reaching up to 150 feet tall and up to a whopping 48 feet in girth. The oldest surviving tree is estimated to be 1500 years old. 

This massive Kauri, named Tane Moana,  is believed to be over 1000 years old.

photo/ Jonathan

Kauri trees alter the soil chemistry around them and allow many other rare plants and animals (mainly birds) to thrive. This creates particularly unique forests in New Zealand because a massive number of the species found here are endemic, found nowhere else in the world. The kauri shed their lower branches as they grow, too, so the forests are brighter and airier than other bush. 

Sadly, the kauri trees are dying. The usual trail through the Puketi Reserve was closed to hikers due to Kauri Dieback Disease, a fungus that is slowly killing off these forests and that is believed to be spread by humans and some invasive mammals like possums and wild pigs. Still, we've been able to walk through a several kauri forests, including a majestic grove near the edge of Puketi and it's easy to see why we'd want to protect these beautiful forests.

photo/ Jonathan

Impromptu Trail Magic

Some highlights come right in the wake of the lowlights. After a long day of hiking, the last thing you want to see is a sign that says "No Camping Allowed - Next 20 Km." 

While we stood next to the sign, trying to decide where to go for the night, a man came out of the nearby house and approached us. He asked if we needed somewhere to stay -- this is the moment when you look around to determine how likely the person is to be a serial killer -- and said we were welcome to camp in the lawn. 

When we approached the porch, where he and his wife were drinking their tea (yea, not particularly sketchy, in this case), he offered up the garage and introduced himself. Our lovely hosts, Keith and Raewyn, bought out cots for us and turned on the hot water so that we could take a shower. They showed us outlets where we could charge our phones and gave us the password for their WiFi. They even offered us a cold beer to drink before we turned in for the night. 

 These things may seem like basic comforts back home, but on the trail, the garage felt like a suite in a luxury hotel. Thank you so much to our hosts for your amazing hospitality and for giving us such a warm welcome to your beautiful country! 

Jonathan tramping through a field of flowers north of Matapouri.

photo/ Molly

Taiharuru Estuary

One morning, joined by an Aussie hiker, we woke up at dawn to catch low tide for an estuary crossing. We donned our sand socks and walked 2 miles of so in the soft mud before reaching the river itself, which was waist deep, even at low tide. Just before reaching the river, we were treated to a picture perfect sunrise. Not a bad start to the day. 

photo/ Molly

photo/ Jonathan

The Surprises

One of the perks of having the varied terrain through the Northland is that some of my favorite sections of trail have been total surprises. A short coastal walk between Paihia and Opua turned out to be a charming and well-maintained track right above the beach. And on another day, we practically turned a corner into a ridiculously stunning cliffwalk above the beaches near Mangawhai:

Once in a while, stunning views just pop up through the foliage, like this magical scene outside of Warkworth:

The Northland consists of all of the terrain north of Auckland, New Zealand's largest city at 1.2 million people. The city runs from coast to coast, so the trail runs right through the middle of it. So what's next? Hiker trash take to the city. 

Logistics of the Northland

After Ratea, the Northland opens up. The north is covered in pastures with sheep and dairy cows, small towns dot the landscape, and forestry is a major industry. We've been told by locals that only a tiny percentage of the native bush remains intact, and it shows.

We often cross through several different ecosystems in one day: wake up in a pasture, hike down a gravel road, ascend into a few kilometers of native bush, then descend onto a beach before walking into a town and camping in a grassy park.

The view of the day to come. A long beach walk followed by a steep climb up a mountain in the bush.

photo/ Jonathan

The terrain changes can be disorienting; by afternoon, the morning's campsite feels like the distant past, and it's tough to get into a rhythm with our hiking. The sections of true "track" (trail) feel far too short -- and the sections of roadwalking along state highways seem far too long.

And yet the wild sections are startlingly deep and dense. Sometimes, dropping off of a road, the lights go out in the dense undergrowth, the world turns green, and of course, you squelch instantly into ankle deep mud.

Dense native bush is sure to have spider webs across the trail first thing in the morning. The best defense against a spider to the face is letting someone else go first, but if you're on your own, a second pole will do. 

photo/ Jonathan

Private land is a big deal here, too, and the trail runs through (or around) a lot of industrial terrain. We keep a sharp eye out for electric fences as we traverse through muddy pastures, dodging sheep, cows, and all they bring with them (I wrote a note to myself for this post that just read "Mud. Mud. More mud. Mud with poo."). We also walk along logging roads, past orchards, and through people's backyards. We're in and out of towns nearly every day.

Dairy is a huge industry on the North Island, which means cows, cows, and more cows. 

photo/ Jonathan

​Paradoxically, this makes the trail both far more convenient and far more complicated than hiking through true wilderness.

Because of all of the private land, there and heaps of rules about where you can and cannot (mostly cannot) camp. Free camping (or freedom camping, as they call it here), is nearly impossible in many sections and we've had to pay for camping far more than we'd like. There are Holiday Parks (campgrounds) all over the place, but it's awkward to time your days around specific stopping points, rather than just hiking until you're tired and setting up camp. Coming from a trail like the PCT, it's also frustratingly expensive.

The better roadwalks are on dirt or gravel through pastures and forests. These rolling hills are pretty characteristic of the Northland.

photo/ Jonathan

Another unusual logistical hurdle here: the ocean. Much of the trail follows along the east coast, which makes for some exceptionally beautiful views, but has caused us a few headaches, too. At several points the trail crosses rivers, estuaries, and even large harbors that require transport by boat.

We've been able to do several smaller crossings on foot, but they've required us to plan around the tide. Even at low tide, a couple of crossings have been chest deep for me and I've had to loft my pack overhead to keep it dry.

River crossings get pretty legit around these parts. 

photo/ Jonathan

Several of the beachwalks also require that you pass at low tide. When you're moving 3 miles per hour, it takes a fair bit of planning to hit a tight time window. We use an app that gives us low and high tide times, and we'll sometimes plan several days in advance to make sure that we hit all of the water sections at the right times of day.

The rivers that are too big to cross are another story. Sometimes, we have a phone number in our notes and just hope someone answers. Once, we got a name and phone number for a guy who smuggled us across a harbor like stolen goods. Another time, we got to a river with no way to cross and a friendly local flagged us down to offer us a ride. Phew! (Especially because we were on a time crunch for the next low tide...).

While the trail logistics here can make my head spin, being near towns all of the time does have it's upsides. One day, Jonathan and I stopped in two different towns to get fish and chips for both lunch AND dinner while still knocking out 30+km. Another day, we hiked 20km, got coffee and breakfast, enjoyed some cider and ice cream in a park, caught a boat, and then hiked another 10km to camp.

When you go through town this often, sometimes you stop for a midday cider.  

photo/ Jonathan

We have barely carried more than 2 days of food at a time, and the snack opportunities have been ample. It's hard to resist hot food once the hiker hunger starts setting in.

Another unique asset on this trail is New Zealand's total obsession with public toilets. They're everywhere! Every beach and small town has one and they're sprinkled through the cities like Starbucks through Seattle.

I love a good poop in the woods as much as the next guy when it's sunny and the view is right. But when you've been soaked all day, a dry privvy is pretty game changing. 

Paihia was super into the public bathroom. Note the toilet sconce on the wall and toilet planters on the roof.

photo/ Molly

The Northland had its own kind of chaos, but there were some phenomenal highlights, too. Look for another post coming soon with some of our favorite sections.

Cheers, 

Molly

Into the Bush

As soon as we started out from Cape Reinga, we started hearing about Ratea Forest. We heard horror stories of broken trekking poles and shoes lost in thigh deep mud. 

After miles and miles of flat terrain on roads and beaches, though, we felt the relief of using new muscles as we began to climb toward the beginning of the forest.  

Climbing up the road, we get a quick preview of the thick, wet forest that lies ahead.

photo/ Molly

And then we were in it. The mud in Ratea sets in immediately. The trails are steep -- not a switchback in sight -- and the only way to climb the mud slide is to find purchase on the roots that hold puddles of thick water. Sometimes, you can tow yourself up on the trees and vines. We last maybe a kilometer of hopping from root to root before we plunge into a knee deep mud well. 

It's a bit like a game at first, staying out of the deepest mud. "Well, you wanted an adventure trail!" Jonathan shouts back cheerily. 

Heading up and into the muck. 

photo/ Jonathan

So much mud!

photo/ Jonathan

The forest is as beautiful as it is rugged. Everything is green and growing, and the undergrowth is thick with ferns and tangles of vines. The trees themselves house not only lichens and mosses but other full trees and tussocks of grass that grow along the branches and in every elbow. The meadows above us keep our own path cool and dark, and we hardly feel the rain, although we can hear it on the canopy overhead. 

We don't see any wildlife on the ground here, and the forest floor seems eerily empty. But we are kept company by the birds, whose chirps and songs follow us through the mud. The Tui sound almost mechanized until they give a sort of honk or snort when they miss a note. Others peep mercilessly and some let loose sudden screams and shrieks. 

Our pace through Ratea is almost painfully slow, and it's better not to check how far we've come. The final climb up to Ratea Summit seems to drag on for hours.

When we finally arrive at the top, we look with horror at the mud pit -- is this our campsite?! Exploring a short side trail though, we see the forest open up and we leap with joy onto a flat, grassy patch perched improbably amidst the ferns.

Two other tents are already set up, and the sun breaks through the clouds for a moment, giving us a glimpse of the farmland and rolling hills outside of the bush.  

We introduce ourselves and put up the tent, then stand there staring at it, soaked and filthy. One of the other campers emerges to bathe in the tiny patch of sunlight. The other gives a muffled greeting and says "Nice to meet you, but sorry, I'm never coming out." 

We use our wet socks to scrub the mud off of our legs, then wait for them to dry a bit so that we can scrape off the larger chunks of grass and dirt before putting on our sleep pants (which are sacred and not to be gotten wet). We finally climb into the tent and can barely stay awake to cook our ramen.  

Disrobing the filthy, muddy socks as we settle into camp for the night.

photo/ Molly

The next morning we wake up early, pull on our wet, mud-filled socks, say goodbye to our neighbors' tents and begin our long, slippery slide down from the summit.  We're in for another long day of mud, but we know there's a burger waiting for us at the Mangamucka Dairy when we finally reach the road.

Climbing down the treachorously steep and slippery slopes out of Ratea.

photo/ Jonathan  

When we reach the forest's boundary the sun is shining and it's shockingly bright under the open sky. We blink and stand dazed for a few minutes before heading down through soft, grassy pastures to the gravel road below. 

It's not until dinnertime, as we're cooking up our ramen and peanut butter feast that we realize it's Thanksgiving.  

Getting a glimpse of sunshine as we exit the depths of the forest. 

photo/ Molly

Long Walks on the Beach

Jonathan and I had an absolutely stunning start to Te Araroa. It was sunny and warm with a cool breeze. The perfect day for a walk on the beach. 

photo courtesy of Kez

Perched above it all, we got a good look at where we would be spending the first three days of our hike. 

photo/ Jonathan

Camping along the beach here is incredibly restricted, which lead to a bit of a dilemma: walk 14km (~8 miles) and sit around in camp all afternoon, or push for 40km (~25 miles) and potentially arrive after dark. We arrived at the start close to 11am, but, excited to get moving, we opted to push for a long first day. 

And our first day was pretty glorious.

photo/ Jonathan

We frolicked barefoot in the surf, applied and reapplied (and reapplied) sunscreen, and generally rejoiced in our new life on the trail.

Even in the sunshine, though, the beach is hard on your body. Somewhere around mile 20, the sand started feeling like concrete. We limped into camp around 9:30pm. 

Luckily, the next day was all sunshine and rainbows... 

photo/ Jonathan

Except that rainbows come from rain. And on Day 2, things got rainy.

photo/ Molly

And then not rainy...

photo/ Jonathan

And then rainy again... about every hour.

Once you hit 90 Mile Beach, there are no breaks from the sand. You try to walk as close to the water as possible so that you don't just slide around with every step, but the hard sand is brutal on your body and there's no protection from the elements. 

With the frequent rainstorms came constant wind. When things were dry enough for us to sit down for a break, the sand would blow into our eyes and our food. As anyone who has spent time in the desert can attest, sand is the glitter of the natural world. It just. Gets. Everywhere. 

photo/ Jonathan

Maybe 3 miles from the end, we also got hailed on. And not tiny, wimpy hail, either. Big, chunky hail that was blowing sideways at our bare legs (and came on so fast we didn't even have time to put on the rain kilts). Let's just say that the storm ended with us crouched in the fetal position for several minutes as we waited for it to pass. 

photo/ Jonathan

So, when you say you like long walks on the beach... exactly how long were you thinking?

The Sabre of Destiny

Planning details is not, shall we say, one of my strengths. Nor is it one of Jonathan's. So, I suppose it shouldn't have been surprising that we forgot to buy bus tickets in advance.

We arrived in Auckland at 5am with a lovely place to land, a friend who gave us a bed to sleep in and an ample supply of coffee to revive us from our flight. We had intended to wake up refreshed the next morning to start our journey to Cape Reinga and the start of the trail. But of course, when we got online to buy tickets everything was sold out. 

Basically we had a choice: wait another day (2 actually) in Auckland or hitchhike the 6 hours north to Cape Reinga at the tip of the north island. And since we're responsible, cautious travelers... we naturally decided to hitch.

36 hours, 2 bus rides, and 11 hitches later, we found ourselves at the start of Te Araroa. These are just a few of our first impressions of New Zealand.

The first hitch -- when you haven't done it in a while -- always feels a bit ridiculous. Standing on the side of the road with a stupid grin and a thumbs up. But after the first ride you get into the spirit and feel (slightly) less silly. 

Holding out the Sabre of Destiny

photo/ Jonathan

One of the best parts of hitching is getting to meet a huge array of people. We got rides in trucks chock full of dirty work gear, a rental hybrid, and even, wait for it... a police car.  (No mom, I didn't get arrested).

photo/ Molly

We found a giant "pineapple" after being dropped off by the police officer. 

photo/ Molly

Not only did we learn that NZ police generally don't carry guns, but when a cop car rolled up on us hitching, we most certainly assumed we would get some sort of talking to. But hitching is legal here and the cop, Simon, asked where we we're headed and gave us a ride to the next town. Imagine that! 

We also noticed right away that there are tons of people here from abroad. We ran into a guy from Pakistan, a woman from Ireland, a South African, and a German in addition to getting rides from several Kiwis.

An RV hitch we got on day three of the hike. RV hitches are a coveted and high class hitch. 

photo/ Jonathan

And there were definitely some patterns in our conversations. Kiwis, born here or not, *love* their country. Not in an in-your-face way, like Americans, but in a rather endearing, quiet way. All of our drivers told us about what an amazing time we'd have in their country and how friendly the people here are. Funnily enough though, every single one of them warned us that "You might meet some bad folks, so [insert advice for how we should protect ourselves]."

I don't think an American has ever said this me. I think Americans just assume that we're all assholes, so we don't generally warn against the one bad dude someone might meet.

The funniest repeat conversation was that two drivers told us that we were near the town that won the "best toilet in New Zealand" award and were assured that this was a real thing. And sure enough, the NZ Herald reported that Wairoru won "Best Loo" and "flushed away the competiton."

Nearly everyone also proudly pointed out sections of native bush (forest). It's pretty rare for Americans to have any idea of what's native to their area or not, but Kiwis are incredibly aware of this due to massive problems with habitat loss and invasive species. I'll write another post about this issue specifically. Meanwhile, look for another post coming soon about 90 mile beach and our first foray in the native bush in Ratea forest.

Cheers,

Molly

U.S. Goodbye Tour 2018

Need an idea for how to make your international travel even more complicated than it already is? Well, here it is in two short steps:

1. Decide to leave your trip open ended, and definitely don’t set a return date.

2. Schedule a three state, two week goodbye tour during daylight savings time.

After months of preparation and planning, we’re finally ready to go. We’ve double- and triple-checked every piece of gear down to the last hair tie and milligram of ibuprofen. We’ve taken three flights so far and leave tomorrow for the final leg of the journey to Cape Reinga and the start of the trail.

Our first international adventure has certainly been a learning experience already. We decided early on that after flying around the world, we didn’t want to be forced to rush home once we’d finished the trail. And although this has admittedly made preparations a hundred times more complicated, there’s nothing in the world I’d exchange for the feeling of total freedom that comes from not knowing what’s next and not having to decide.

One of the best things about thru-hiking is that it’s a world of “Sure… why not?!” You meet someone and soon you’re picking strawberries for their wedding guests or drinking root beer floats in the middle of the wilderness or watching the world cup in an RV with 30 strangers or dancing until dawn at a pre-Burn festival you didn’t know existed. Sometimes not having a plan just means you’re open to whatever the world throws at you. And we’re pretty hungry to experience that freedom again.

Without an end date or a return flight, we did have to close up shop on our lives in Boulder. We quit our jobs, sold our car, and drove all of the rest of our worldly possessions to St. Louis with the help of Jonathan’s family (huge thank you to Vicki, Rose, and Victor for all of your help!). Everything we didn’t absolutely need we sold, gave away, or threw out. We had a whole lot of random loose ends to tie up, too: student loans, car insurance, health insurance, streaming subscriptions, phone services, and more. I swear, there’s no better way to declutter your house or your finances.

But the tour? I’m not even going to try to justify the tour.

Some nut job thought it’d be a fun idea to fly from Boulder to Vermont to St. Louis to Houston before taking a 15-hour direct flight to Auckland. So, for two weeks, we’ve been hauling our stuff around the country, saying goodbye to friends and family. And while it has had some amazing highlights, two straight weeks of social time (4, if you count our last two weeks in Boulder) is more than we normally get in a year. We’re exhausted!

Thank you so, so much to everyone who made the tour worth it.

And now, wish us luck and bon voyage! We’ll be offline until we get our New Zealand phone plans up and running. Meanwhile, you can check our our final gear lists or read a review of the tent we’re taking with us. We’ll be posting reviews of all of the gear we’re using, but if there’s something you’re curious about, let us know!

Cheers,

Molly and Jonathan

Flatiron Fun-fest

Over the past year, I have spent a great deal of time scrambling the flatirons, the giant rocks ornamenting the skyline of Boulder, Colorado. For the uninitiated, here’s a quick primer: scrambling is doing easy rock climbs without a rope. The routes are still considered technical rock climbs, but they are of a very easy grade. Boulder is very unique, in that the flatirons above town have dozens of these easy routes that are hundreds of feet long. Scrambling these long routes combines the endurance of running with the technical aspects of climbing.

Scrambling has helped me with the headspace required to be hundreds of feet off the ground with the only “safety equipment” being my own fitness and my shoes. It has helped me learn the routes on these beautiful rocks, along with the access routes to and between them.

Somewhere along the way, I decided it would be a fun test of my endurance to attempt 14 scrambles in one day. No ropes. No special gear. Just me, my shoes, some food and water, and a whole lot of scrambling. The linkup I chose was actually inspired by Bill Wright, who I ran into one day last fall while he was doing a “top ten easy climbs in a day” linkup.

The word “easy” might be misleading there… while each individual climb is graded no higher than a 5.6, these climbs are long and strenuous, and the steep bushwhacking between them doesn’t offer much of a rest. Linking up the flatirons requires traveling off-trail for most of the day and keeping a cool head all the while to make sure that each move is safe and controlled. After all, if you slip, in many places the resulting fall could be hundreds of feet down.

Though my linkup was inspired by Bill’s, I added some of my own favorites to the mix. Here’s the alternative linkup that I created:

• Central Shanahan Crag - Southeast Ridge (4th class)

• The Slab - SYZYGY (5.2)

• Southern Goose Egg - East Face (5.2)

• Seal Rock - East Face North Side (5.4)

• Front Porch - Tiptoe Slab (5.2)

• Stairway to Heaven (5.3)

• Angel’s Way (5.0)

• Fifth Flatiron - East Face South Side (5.5)

• Fourth Flatiron - East Face Standard Route (5.4)

• Third Flatiron - East Face South Side (5.5)

• Third Flatiron - Winky Woo (5.4) [only non-east face route)

• Second Flatiron - South Sneak (5.2)

• Sunset Flatironette - Chase the Sun (5.4)

• First Flatiron - Direct Route (5.6)

As the chosen day approached, two logistical details became increasingly relevant. First, the high temperature for the day steadily rose in the forecasts from 76˚ to 86˚… not ideal. I had hoped for a day that was a bit cooler. It turns out that these giant, exposed, east-facing slabs of rock soak up the heat, which would leave me practically baking on the rock. On the up-side, though, by choosing a weekend, it meant that Molly was available willing to crew for me. Since this was going to be a monumental undertaking, I welcomed the support. Molly ended up being so much more than a mobile aid station. She was encouraging; she helped keep me grounded through a really brutal day.

And so, at 6am on this chosen Sunday, I embarked on my mission from the Cragmoor trailhead. Molly wished me well, kissed me goodbye, and watched me hike off into the darkness. I actually started the day off with company, though. Nick Zepeda, a friend, coworker, and badass adventure photographer joined me for the first route. I usually scramble by myself, so it was nice to have a friend tag along for the start. The sunrise was stunning as we summited Central Shanahan Crag.

Nick approaching the summit of Central Shanahan Crag just as the sun rose. It was pretty serene start to the day!

Photo: Jonathan

We quickly bushwacked to the bottom of The Slab, where I left Nick and embarked on the next climb of the day. The next few routes went off without much incident. I was feeling good. Strong, even. My favorite climb of the day was the fourth route: Seal Rock’s east face - north side route. It was 850 feet of super-fun climbing.

Ticking off route #1 of the day. 13 more to go!

Photo: Nick Zepeda

Checking my line up SYZYGY on The Slab, my second route of the day.

Photo: Nick Zepeda

Unfortunately, it was directly thereafter that I hit a snag in my day. The local power company had closed the one piece of “real trail” I would be using for the day to do work on the power lines. To ignore the closure could mean $1000 fine or jail time. I decided to turn around and headed back to the start. Bummer! But not the end of my day.

Nick drove me to a nearby trailhead (NCAR, for those of you who know the area) where I could get back onto open trails. Not a big deal. I could still complete the linkup, even if it wasn’t the exact route I had planned. On my way to the next route, I met Molly at my first “aid station.” I knew I would be pounding tons of water to combat the heat, but I didn’t expect to be so thirsty quite so early in the day. Things were heating up!

Off I went to Front Porch, Stairway to heaven, and Angel’s Way. At this point in the day, I began to realize just how challenging things would get. I made sure to take my time in order to conserve energy.

After this grouping, I headed over to the five “major” (read: numbered) flatirons, which would hold the remainder of my routes for the day. By this point in the day, it was freaking hot. I found my way to the Fifth Flatiron, but not before first getting on the wrong damn rock. Whoops! Oh well, not the first time I’ve made such a mistake. I got through the Fifth and made my way to to the base of the Fourth, where Molly was waiting at my next mobile aid station. I proceeded to drink an appalling amount of water before heading upwards once more.

At aid station #2, I was halfway done with the day. Seven routes down, seven to go.

Alrready feeling hot and tired at the halfway point.

Photo: Molly

Then I got on the east face of Fourth Flatiron and started up it. This was the low point of the day. I had begun cramping pretty much all over my body. My feet, my hamstrings, and my calves bore the worst of the tightness and fatigue. The Fourth Flatiron is 1,000 vertical feet that is actually three separate pieces of rock. It felt like such an ordeal to get to the top of this one. I was pretty fried while trying to get off the summit. Luckily, the downclimb is a single move.

East Face of the Fourth Flatiron. Route 8 of 14.

Photo: Molly

From there, things got better. Sort of. A few clouds came in with a gentle wind. The breeze and the reprieve from the sun helped cool me down, which helped my sanity. My body as whole, though, continued to feel just awful through the rest of the day. My cramping would only get worse. The bottoms of my feet were as sore as they have ever been in my life. Oh, and the fatigue. It turns out that this sort endeavor is tiring (shocking, I know). In spite of the physical distress, the rest of the day felt successful. I was going pretty slowly by this point, but I was still able to make the moves I needed in order keep myself safe while maintaining forward progress.

I love climbing the Third Flatiron. The 1,300 foot East Face Left route was the longest of the day. In spite of the strain on my body, I still enjoyed the hell out of this route. The downclimb off the Third is the longest and most serious downclimb of the day. I was glad that it went off without incident. I then climbed up the more vertically inclined, but relatively short, Winky Woo before coming back down the Third a second time.

South Sneak of the Second Flatiron. Route 12 of 14.

Photo: Molly

Molly was a sight for sore eyes when I reached the base of my route up the Second Flatiron. Molly gave me water, food, and a much needed push to finish what I had started. With only three routes remaining, I knew I could bring this thing to a successful close. I’ll be honest, though, it was nice to hear it coming from someone else.

I plodded up the Second Flatiron and Sunset Flatironette before arriving at the last route of my day: the 1,000 foot East Face Direct route of the First Flatiron. This route is the one I have climbed the most often. I know it well, but it was also the hardest route along my linkup, stacking up at a grade of 5.6. My hamstrings really tried to revolt on this route, seizing up on alternating legs as I made each move of the first 100 feet. This quickly let up, allowing me more uninhibited movement for the remaining 900 feet of climbing.

After dismounting the First, I began to hobble my way back down to the Chautauqua trailhead, signifying the end of my day. Molly met me half a mile up the trail to cheer me me on as I cried and willed myself to run the final stretch. That was one helluva day!

Running in the final stretch to Chautauqua trailhead. I’m pretty sure those people on the left of the photo are getting family pictures taken.

Photo: Molly

Finished! So tired! Sitting in dirt!

Photo: Molly

Final stats:

• Time: 11h 22m

• Distance: 15 miles

• Vertical gain: 9,900’

• Number of routes climbed: 14

For anybody that’s interested I’ve included a link to the Strava event.

Cheers,

Jonathan

Our Next Adventure: Thru-Hiking New Zealand

90% of the conversations between hiker trash basically revolve around two things: food and poop. But once in a while, you do actually hear a hiker talk about that thing they’re doing all day every day. You know… hiking.

And when hikers talk about hiking, they love most of all to talk about any trail other than the one they're currently on. “Trail X is harder than this one.” “Have you done trail Y?” “I’m definitely doing trail Z next.”

Very early in my first thru-hike on the Appalachian Trail (2012) and before I really knew what I'd gotten myself into, another hiker told me about a mystical, international thru-hike involving canoes, an epic ocean beach walk, the gnarliest forests imaginable, and some insanely tall mountains. With all the zeal and confidence of someone who'd made it 100 miles into her first trail (read: a full-blown n00b), I decided then and there that I would, one day, hike that trail. 

A few thousand trail miles later, this trail stayed stuck in my imagination. This year, I somehow managed to convince my crazy partner, Jonathan, that we should quit our jobs, put all of our stuff in storage, and fly halfway around the world and be homeless in the woods. Again. 

Meet Te Araroa.

"Te Araroa" means "The Long Pathway" in New Zealand's native language, Maori. The trail stretches 3,000km (~1,864mi) from Cape Reinga at the northern tip of New Zealand's North Island to Bluff at the southern tip of the South Island.

The trail starts off with "90 mile beach" along the Tasman Sea, then veers up into a series of forests with some of the gnarliest terrain on the trail. It then passes through Auckland, New Zealand's largest city, before heading into a realm of ever-changing terrain types: farmland, rainforest, and even... wait for it... Mordor. That's right, the trail ventures daringly close to the one and only Mount Doom (otherwise known as Mt Ngauruhoe). There's even a section where hikers take to a river and canoe for several days! And that's just the North Island. 

The South Island is home to the Southern Alps. The high point, Aoraki / Mount Cook, soars from sea level to 12,218ft and another one of this island's destinations, the Milford Sound, was apparently called the Eighth Wonder of the World by Rudyard Kipling. The trail here goes through two national parks and includes a number of New Zealand's famous Great Walks. 

There are so many reasons that this trail has intrigued us, but here are a few of the juiciest:

1. Flora and fauna.

From the world's only alpine parrot to the world's tiniest dolphins, New Zealand has some insane plants and animals that just can't be found anywhere else.

2. Sheep-to-people.

That's right: New Zealand's sheep-to-person ratio is about 6:1, meaning that there are far more sheep there than people. Not a bad place for two people who love Merino wool as much as Jonathan and I do. 

3. Tramping ≠ hiking.

“Tramping” is what New Zealanders call hiking or trekking, but it’s not exactly the same thing. In New Zealand, a good deal of the tramping goes cross-country, without a real dirt pathway or trail. Navigation is more complex and though nowhere in NZ is more than 80 miles from the ocean (according to Thermarest, anyway), it still gets pretty wild out there.

As you might imagine, adding international travel to a thru-hike complicates pretty much everything involved in the logistics and planning. But that’s part of the appeal, too. Jonathan and I are looking for an adventure that pushes us in every way: unpredictable weather, tough and unfamiliar terrain, 15-hour flights… trying to figure out which noodle brands in NZ offer the best calorie-to-weight ratios. All of the important ways.

Over the past 3 and a half years in Colorado, we’ve both grown a lot. Jonathan has grown into a new industry, now managing a sushi restaurant in downtown Boulder. I’ve also made a career change (or several) and will leave Boulder having managed a crowd of over 3000 writers and built out a suite of business analytics for a growing startup. We’ve also grown as adventurers, adding skills in all different types of rock climbing, backcountry snow travel, and ultra-running.

But now, it’s time to go back to the life that we dream about in our spare time. The life where we sleep in a new place every night, where we’re smelly and tired and sore. The life where we’re free.

Once hiker trash, #hikertrashforlife.

---

Stay tuned for more about our gear list, buying flights and travel insurance, and our pre-trip gear test adventure.

Spring into the Mountains (with help from Red Ace)

Winter is in the rearview mirror. One week into April, spring is in the air, change is everywhere.

Meet Jake. Jake doesn't know he's a model. Jake pulls on a 5.11 start.

Benefits of having a great growing group of friends and the variety of climatic zones to play in - I've had a lot of luck with days spent outside. Also, I have to thank Red Ace Organics. They've sent us a case of an amazing supplement to demo on our long days out - a great natural way to boost energy between climbs or keep moving without crashing. They've also provided a 15% discount code for any of our readers (captainsofus)! 

In February I got a couple unexpected days of cragging in while the sun was out and beating down in the lowlands. I had the chance to practice some trad climbing and rope skills on North Table Mesa with new and old climbing partners (despite back pain from an accident over a year ago). A week later Jonathan, Molly, and I headed out on our first group multi-pitch route in Clear Creek Canyon. When our rope became stuck,  I had to ascend to free it before all three of us could repel down. It was definitely a great education experience. 

I could write several posts about climbing goals, skills and safety, and how much I love vertical exploration. After teaching with the Boy Scouts and Avid 4 Adventure, I've gained an affinity for rock pulling so I'm happy the weather close to home is warming.

Frizzle really pushing the meaning of "cross-country" skiing.

This winter at altitude I discovered Backcountry Cross-country skiing. This sport is a perfect match - low impact and helps me strengthen my core and back while improving my balance (great therapy). It's also an accessible way to avoid the crowded, groomed trails and resorts. Jonathan, Molly and I made a full day together in-bounds at Eldora practicing good technique and putting some miles on our equipment before trying things out on a national forest trail.

I'll take this moment to say that sometimes groomed, designated trails are great — route-finding in the snow when conditions aren't good can require creative solutions. We had hoped for more fresh snow, but the storm didn't drop any so we modified our route. Nothing risky, but we did have hop a stream or two. Adventurski!!!

As the spring warms the lowlands and weather hits the mountains, I am continuously looking to grow, explore, and adventure outside. Stay tuned for more.

- Dan (Soapbox)

Check out their website. Use our discount code for 15% off: captainsofus

Ouray Ice Fest

Welcome to 2017!

Since the Captains moved to Colorado over a year ago, we’ve gotten much more familiar with the amazing rock climbing in the Front Range and beyond. This weekend, however, we ventured out into new territory at the 2017 Ouray Ice Festival.

Late Thursday night, Dan, Jonathan, and I rolled into the tiny town of Ouray, CO and made the first of many stops at “Mr. Grumpy Pants,” a local brewery with a healthy serving of mountain attitude. Ouray and the surrounding canyons make up one of the world’s best ice climbing destinations and the 3-mile long Ouray Ice Park is less than a mile from town, right along the Uncompahgre River.

A 7:00am view of Ouray from outside of town to the South.

Although the town has just 800 residents, the Ouray Ice Fest attracts more than 3,000 people each year. Proceeds from the festival benefit Ice Park itself, which costs over $200,000/year to create and maintain. For the low, low cost of a $5 “gear card,” it’s really an amazing opportunity to demo some top notch gear, climb in a world-famous ice park, and see some of the world’s top ice climbers compete.

While many of the Ice Fest’s visitors stay in hotels and shower after each day of climbing, the Captains -- lacking resources for that kind of vacation -- enjoyed the Ice Fest in classic dirtbag style. By day, we used the brewery as a home base to warm ourselves by the fire (and take in the local delights, naturally), and by night, the team ventured outside of town, where Dan stayed cozy in his Subaru Forrester while Jonathan and Molly took refuge in their tent.

With winter camping gear, climbing accoutrement, food for the weekend, and 3 sets of cross-country skis, the trusty Forrester carted around our beautiful “pile of toys,” as one observer put it. And boy, did we put those toys to good use.

Day 1 of the Fest was warm and sunny (around 32°F), as we started swing tools and figuring out how to walk up walls of ice. If you’ve never climbed ice or seen someone do it, it’s basically the most ridiculous hobby ever. You strap sharp pointy things to your feet (crampons), hold sharp pointy things in your hands (ice tools), then walk your way up vertical ice flows on tiny sharp points of contact. As you might expect, we are all in love with it.

Here are Dan and Jonathan getting after it on day 1:

Although we quickly found that the rumored crowds were a reality, we were lucky to find our people at the base of the wall: two of our neighboring climbers were recent PCT hiker trash! Sharing ropes with the crowds meant more climbing for all.

Molly belays amidst a sea of festival-goers.

Later that evening, we packed in a quick nordic tour on the pass above town, then stole the chance to night climb outside of the park on a natural waterfall right next to our camp site.

What a day!

Jonathan topping out on the last climb of Day 1.

And just in case you were starting to think, “this hobby isn’t quite silly enough,” well, don’t you worry; it only gets sillier.

Rather than simply climbing up walls of ice, on day 2 we ventured into the world of mixed climbing (“mixed” referring to a mixture of rock and ice). Since climbers are wearing gloves and carrying picks, the “rock climbing” involved is not what you might imagine. Rather, climbers use the picks on their tools to pull themselves up using tiny ledges and small cracks in the rock.

Here’s Molly just starting out on her first ever mixed route:

After an abbreviated day of climbing, we headed back to the car to cook up some hot chocolate and whiskey on the side of the road. Dan captured the dirtbag glory of this moment, featuring an avalanche shovel/wind-screen and a metal file to stir our tasty beverage:

We had to warm up quickly because the Mixed Competition was just getting good!

Back in the Park, elite climbers were speeding their way up the mixed route known as “Mighty Aphrodite” to a steel tower with plastic climbing holds. The climber who achieves the highest point on this route in the fastest time is declared the winner -- and this competition is known for its challenging routes. In 2015, not a single climber made it to the top.

This year’s route:

We were lucky enough to watch several amazing climbers, including a 15-year-old (?!) from the U.S. Youth Mixed Climbing Team (who knew that even existed?). And I had a fangirling meltdown when I got to see Ines Papert, a world champion mixed and ice climber and registered super-human. Ines not only took first place in her division for this competition, but she also won her division handily for the speed climbing competition the following morning.

Here’s Ines rocking a figure 4 on her way to the win:

With a long drive ahead on Day 3, we woke up early and claimed our route, 130ft of beautiful blue ice. Our toes were freezing, but the burritos were warm and this last climb was a group favorite.

All in all, the weekend was a fantastic adventure and an amazing introduction to ice. This certainly won’t be the last time you’ll see us swinging tools.

Cheers,

Jonathan, Molly, and Dan

Our Next Adventure: The Colorado Trail

Remember that one time when Dan and Jonathan thru-hiked the PCT?

Well today, I'm happy to announce that the Captains of Us are back in action! This August, Jonathan and Molly will undertake another long-distance adventure: attempting to fastpack the 485-mile long Colorado Trail (CT) in just 14 days. 

Jonathan and Molly living it up on the PCT in Washington

To give you all some perspective on why this might be a little bit crazy, let me explain a bit more about the CT. One of the countries "short long trails," the CT runs from Denver to Durango through eight major mountain ranges, seven national forests, and six wilderness areas. The majority of the trail is over 10,000ft in elevation and the high point sits at 13,334ft on Coney Summit in the San Juans. Most thru-hikers take between 4-6 weeks to complete the trail, according to The Colorado Trail Foundation, averaging about 15 miles per day. In order to complete our hike in 14 days, Jonathan and I will need to hike an average of 34.6 miles per day; that's more than a 50k per day, on average. 

Here is a map of the trail to give you an idea of where we'll be, and an elevation profile to show you the dips and climbs that equal a grand total of approximately 75,000ft of elevation gain:

For a number of reasons, including travel logistics and differences in the terrain, Jonathan and I have decided to go against the usual flow of backpackers and hike from Durango to Denver, instead of the reverse. This means that we will encounter higher and more challenging terrain first, while our bodies are fresh, and move into the lower and (slightly) more easy-going terrain during the second week. While most hikers need time to get used to carrying a pack and hiking for days on end, we're going to have to be ready to put the miles in on day one.

As I mentioned above, we're going to be "fastpacking" the trail, rather than doing a traditional thru-hike. The line between these two forms of travel is a bit fuzzy, but you can think of fastpacking as a combination of backpacking and trail running, or, in our case, the lovechild of thru-hiking and ultra-running. Fastpackers, in general, travel lighter, faster, and farther than most backpackers. For this trip, we'll be carrying ultra-light packs with lots of front-access for food and water, to avoid long stops. Our pack base weights will probably fall around 8lbs each, and we'll be sharing gear to help keep our loads to a minimum. Don't worry mom, I promise we'll be carrying a tent. 

Our Fastpack 30L vests from Ultimate Direction will help us carry our gear in a small and compact space to ensure that it feels secure as we run along the trail.

Usually, when I explain this concept to people, I get one of two responses: either, "Is that even possible?!" or "Why on earth would you ever want to do that?!" 

The answer to the first question is actually pretty easy: who knows?! We'll get back to you when we're done hiking. There are actually a few runners who have completed the trail in just 9 or 10 days, although most were supported. The current unsupported record is just under 11 days, set by Shawn Forry in 2012. Makes 14 days sound downright leisurely, right?

While this is certainly going to be a challenge for us, Jonathan and I have been planning this trip for a while, and we will be doing a lot of training to get our bodies ready. Check out this blog post I wrote about setting challenging, but realistic adventure goals. And seriously, where's the fun in going on an "adventure" that you already know is possible? 

As for the second question, of why we want to do this, well I guess that's a little more personal. Jonathan and I like to push our physical limits, and we love to spend time in the mountains, sleeping out under the stars. This trail in particular will be a phenomenal opportunity to bask in the beauty of the Rocky Mountains and our new home state of Colorado. We can't afford to take four or five months off this year for a longer thru-hike, so we have decided to make the absolute most of our two-week vacation. Gotta pack it in when you can, right?

Catching the sunrise on Independence Pass. Sometimes, you have to wake up when the world is sleeping to see the things no one else sees.

Stay tuned for updates about our gear, food, resupply schedule, and training regimen!

Cheers and happy summer, 

Molly

This is why we're here

Today I turn 28 years old. For my birthday, my amazing girlfriend Molly planned a backcountry skiing hut trip for us. Boy, oh boy! Three days and two nights way up there in the Colorado Rockies, and it was only my second backcountry ski outing. What an adventure it turned out to be.

We skinned up eight miles to Betty Bear Hut on the first day, another five miles on day two to Skinner Hut, and all the way back to the car on day three. These supposedly "rustic" cabins were fantastic. They honestly had nicer kitchens than my own apartment, making our ultra-heavy food supply all the more worth it. After being accustomed to carrying the lightest gear possible for my PCT thru-hike, it was a bit a change to carry a can of coconut milk with me, but we relished the taste of red curry veggies, pasta, bacon, pancakes, eggs, potato hash and mac 'n' cheese before and after long days of skinning and skiing.

In choosing to move to Colorado, I was not only electing to share my life with Molly in "the real world," but also to take advantage of the mountains that now lie right outside my front door. The Rockies are so immense, so expansive that you could spend a lifetime exploring them. While I've done a bit of summer adventuring at high elevation, this is really my first season getting into high-alpine snow adventure. I'm so thankful for the opportunity to learn new mountain sports and the girl who has shown me the way. This is why I'm here, and I'm loving it!

Betty Bear Hut

Molly napping in Betty Bear Hut next to the fire. So cozy!

View from the front deck of Betty Bear Hut. Right out the front door; what a view!

Betty Bear Hut even had a freaking breakfast nook with an immaculate view of the mountains. It really doesn't get much better than this.

Onward and upward! Molly skinning on our way up to Skinner Hut on day two.

The view on our way to Skinner Hut. Not too shabby, if you ask me.

SHE'S GOT TWO FACES.

Modified #BrinsonBanksing, ice cave style! Someone built this cute little cave right outside the front door of Skinner Hut.

Heading back to the car on the morning of day three got off to a rough start. At just under 12,000 feet, the climb back over Hagerman Pass was brutal. High winds and hard snow made for sideways hail straight to our faces. Visibility was practically zero, and I felt like I was skinning into the abyss.

45 minutes later and safely on the other side of the pass, it was like a whole new world. Sunshine and calm winds made it quite delightful. (note the giant ice chunk still stuck to Molly's face from going over the pass.)

Molly heading back down from Hagerman Pass on our way out. Just look at all that glorious powder.

Skiing down through the woods; nearing the end of our trip.

photo/molly krumholz

Cheers,

Jonathan

Nolan's 14

POSTER'S NOTE:

If you have been following Dan and Jonathan's blog since its inception, you may remember a certain red-haired tagalong who started popping up about halfway along the PCT when she and Jonathan hiked a  double marathon together (the *real* one).  900 miles later, there she was again, photobombing their monument pictures.  When the boys realized that they hadn't booked a ride back to STL, it was Ms. Frizzle and my Magic School Bus on loan, who came to the rescue.  (Or at least, that's sort of how it happened...).

After leaving these fine fellows in St. Louis, I drove back to Vermont to live off the fruit of my parents' table for a few months while splitboarding the East's finest backcountry.  You might say that a life of free rent and powder refills sounds pretty good.  And it was.  But I just couldn't leave these guys alone.  

Somewhere along that 900 miles, I fell in love with Jonathan and to my delight, he agreed to go on another crazy adventure in which we moved from our respective homes here to Boulder, CO to play in some really big mountains.  Daniel even moved out to Golden, CO, just down the road, putting the third wheel back on our PCTricycle (Or is that me?). 

I've shared a lot of great stories with the Captains of Us, and I may pop up once in a while to tell a story or two when these clowns are taking themselves too seriously.  I think its realistic to say I outrank them.

-- Major Frizzle, reporting.

THE REAL STORY:

The natives call these mountains the "14ers": the 54 peaks in Colorado above 14,000ft in elevation. There are websites, even an app, dedicated to the pursuit of summiting the whole set.  Since arriving in Colorado in April, Dan, Jonathan and I have collectively summited 10 of them, but this past week, Jonathan and I got a little ambitious and decided to do a few more.  Ok, a lot more.  

Taking 4 days off, we decided to attempt a route through the Sawatch Range developed for a challenge known as "Nolan's 14".  This challenge, that some insane athletes complete in under 60 hours, goes up and over fourteen 14ers by the most expedient possible route, which can vary slightly depending on who you ask.  On average, to complete the challenge, you have to cover between 90 and 110 miles and do 44,500ft of climbing, or, about 3.5 times the amount needed to summit Everest from Base Camp. Much of this is off-trail route-finding and, as we soon discovered, much of that is scambling over sketchy, loose scree at 13,000ft.  Check out the details of the route here.

No problem.  We have 4 days and we're in good shape, right?  Right?  

On Day 1, we wake up to a frosty car window and put the alarm on snooze for a few more moments in the relative warmth.  It is cold already at 9,500ft, but we start up the trail and we both feel strong as the sun comes up.  Mt. Massive is the second highest peak in Colorado,  the largest contiguous area above 14,000' in the U.S. and our first challenge of the day.  Instead of taking the Class 1 trail up this rockpile, the route takes us up the shorter North Ridge, a steep Class 2 scramble.  Huffing and puffing up the last few hundred feet we see someone heading down toward us.  

"Wow, he's moving fast!" Jonathan exclaimed.  The guy was wearing a running vest and was jogging off-road down the slippery rocks.  When we came up to one another, he asked where we were headed and we explained our plan to hike the Nolan's 14 route.  The guy grinned. He said, "I'm just finishing up!"

What?!

"Actually," he continued, "I think I'm about to set the speed record!" His GPS was at 51 hours.  We asked him his name. Sure enough, when we got home there it was "Andrew Hamilton breaks speed record on Nolan's 14".  Check out Andrew's website here for some inspiration.  

Back to us, we had just barely made it to peak #1.  It felt great. And look at that view behind us!

Made it to the top of Mt. Massive

Mt. Elbert looms in the distance as we hiked through a lovely valley.

On to the next! Peak #2 is Mt. Elbert, the highest peak in the Rockies, at 14,433'.  Usually known for being one of the easiest 14ers, it turns out that Elbert has a dark side. (Its the west one).  Instead of cruising up Class 1 trail on the East Ridge, which would add lots of mileage, we ran down the back side of Massive, hiked up a 4WD road to the West Ridge and proceeded to climb 3,000 vertical feet over 1 mile of extremely loose, football sized rock-missiles.  Do people really do this during a speed attempt? 

Jonathan in front of Mt Elbert. Our route went up the ridge on the left.

Nearing the top and closing in on 8,000ft of climbing for the day, we were working for that summit.  (read: I felt like I wanted to die).  It even started snowing on us: Happy Autumn! Suddenly, we heard someone cheering us on.  I heard Jonathan say: "They're so close! There's someone on the summit and they're so close!"  Motivated, we pushed onwards to the summit.  

This is how I felt on the summit of Mt. Elbert

At the top of the Rockies, we enjoyed a new view as our cheering squad erected his "BEER HERE" flag and cracked a tall boy. His friend was wearing a "DRINK WATER" sweatshirt and did not take photos with the flag, although it sounded like he had probably carried it for most of the hike.  Mr. Keystone Ice told us it was his first 14er. (Yea... we know).

Man and Beer met on the summit of Mt. Elbert

Jonathan and I were pretty wrecked after that climb and as we ate our summit snacks, we both realized that we were burning through food way faster than we had anticipated.  We wouldn't have enough for even two more full days of snacks, and looking at the maps, we also realized that the best, and maybe only, opportunity to hitchhike back to the car for a resupply would come on Hwy 82, right on the other side of Elbert.  So, we changed our plans.  

It got dark as we finished our descent to the highway and we cowboy camped near the road, talking about our changing expectations.  Before we left, we'd been impressed by the athletes who completed Nolan's 14 in just 60 hours.  After just two peaks and just under a quarter of the elevation gain required to complete the route, we were astounded.  After about 13 hours, covering 22 miles and over 8,000' of elevation, it wasn't that we were behind schedule.  We were just ready to sleep.  Soundly. Not do another 40+ hours of hiking. 

Instead, we had a great night's sleep, and woke up to a beautiful morning.  Did I mention that it's autumn in the high country?  The aspens glowed that morning, amber against the sunrise as we walked down the highway, waiting for a hitch.  

Jonathan captured this majestic shot of the aspens in the morning light.

Not a whole lot of traffic, but what a lovely morning for a walk!

Highway 82 is a direct route to Aspen, so after a stream of dapperly dressed folks in Priuses drove past without flinching, a pickup truck was a welcome sight.  An older gentleman pulled the truck to the side of the road and motioned for us to hop in the back.  Hooray for pickup hitches!

The view from the back of the truck.

After two easy hitches, we made it back to the car, drove into Leadville and concocted a new plan over delicious coffee at City on a Hill Coffee & Espresso. New plan: Hit La Plata Peak (#3) that afternoon, then drive south to hit the two southernmost peaks the following day. 

La Plata was a steep hike, but the trail was relatively easy-going and the weather was gorgeous.  We were sore from the previous day's hike, but we made it up to see another mind-blowing view.   

Summit of La Plata Peak

Crazy-looking ridge seen looking north from La Plata Peak

It was an uneventful evening, but we had fresh food waiting at the car, so we were in great spirits as we drove south to the Angel of Shavano Trailhead, close to the southern terminus of Nolan's 14.  

I wasn't feeling great the next morning, but the sun was up and off we went.  The trail up Mt. Shavano follows the Colorado Trail for a few miles of stunning aspen glades and well-manicured path, then juts upwards through a forest of krummholz trees to a high saddle.  Mt Shavano and Tabeguache Peak (say: "Tabawatch") are close together, connected by a gorgeous rocky ridgeline, and after snack breaks on both (of course), we felt like we had done enough for one weekend. 

Things got a little silly on the Summit of Shavano

Jonathan doesn't want to go back to work after the Summit of Tabeguache.

Molly enjoys watching over Tabeguache Peak as the Gargoyle of Shavano.

Finally on our last descent, we decided to take Friday to rest and recuperate our bodies before returning to work on Saturday.  For good measure, we ran down Shavano, jogging the last few miles under a golden roof in the late afternoon sun.  

The ambiance of an aspen grove in late afternoon as the leaves turn golden is an almost unparalleled experience. So unbelievably serene.

That evening, a little sore and pretty tired, we drove up to Breckenridge to meet up with Washpot, who Jonathan had met on the PCT, and his girlfriend, Charlotte.  Back at their place, we scarfed down a whole pizza and talked about tiny homes with a stunning view of Mt. Quandary (a 14er in the Tenmile-Mosquito Range).  Washpot enlightened us with an answer to a questions we've been pondering since arriving in Colorado: Does high altitude give everyone gas? The answer? Not everyone (Charlotte was quick to explain), but almost.  Coloradans have a name for this syndrome: HAFE, or, High Altitude Flatulent Expulsions.  Well, now we know. 

On our three day mini-adventure, and within 60 hours, we had hiked about 50 miles, climbed approximately 18,000ft (about 1.5 Everests) and bagged 5 peaks.  Plus, we had two good nights' sleep! Even without going for speed, the rocky terrain and consistent high elevation were hard on our bodies and we would have been very hard pressed to hike for more hours than we did. We learned that, more than anything, Nolan's 14 is about brutal endurance: the willingness to push for hours, and when it gets hard, to push harder.  In terms of the challenge, we completed only 35% of the peaks (5 of 14), but over 40% of the total elevation gain as well as about half the mileage (with some different routes, of course).  We also slept for approximately 18 hours and drove for 3.5 to 4 hours.  The rest was mostly eating, with some hiking interspersed in there.  Let's just say we came back with a healthy respect for the athletes who complete the whole thing in that same time frame.  

Maybe one day, we'll come back and bag the rest of the peaks.  Perhaps someday, we'll even have a fighting chance at completing the challenge.  For now, I'm pretty pleased with the fantastic days we spent hiking in these beautiful mountains.  Altogether, not bad for a weekend.   

Cheers,

Words: Molly (AKA Ms. Frizzle)

Visuals: Jonathan

The Strange Folk Festival: Soapbox has pictures at Cranky Yellow!

Hey folks. We're still alive and kicking. Short update first: Pedi and I have relocated to Colorado and are living in Boulder and Golden, respectively. The PCT had/has a profound effect on both of us. More on that later. 

Currently, Soapbox has submitted photo prints to Cranky Yellow in St. Louis for the Strange Folk Festival at Union Station. The Strange Folk Fest is located in Union Station mall in St. Louis. It's a festival of makers - some 200 next-wave small businesses and vendors: crafters, artists, designers and vintage curators. If you are able, stop by Cranky Yellow and see some cool art. 

Pedi Project

We are still alive. Jonathan and I are both in St. Louis, MO. Here's a little photo series/update! Hope all the 2015 PCT hikers out there are enjoying their prep work, I definitely feel like I could hit the trail again. Ozark Trail, the CDT, the AT, the American Discovery Trail. So many opportunities for adventure. So much of the world to see. I digress... on to the meat and potatoes:

Jonathan is a photojournalist by training. His eye is searching, he is framing, he is that weird guy with a big camera that you manage to lose track of when suddenly he's by a tree on the hill snapping shots of you while you walk by. He completed a photo series, the shots of all the hiker trash, as we walked the PCT which he posted on the blog a while ago.

This is my somewhat meta project of Jonathan shooting while we hiked.  Carrying a 3 lb camera mounted on a hip holster while you hike 20+ miles a day can be tough, I heard about it more than once. While I carried a Fuji X100 during the early stages of the trek, by Northern California I had shipped the x100 and was taking pictures with my iPhone exclusively. I have a lot of respect for his work ethic while we traveled - tuning out the noise, writing, shooting, editing, posting. Many hikers start blogs, few keep them alive. I was lucky to hike with someone so talented in that respect. 

The first day out. We both took a ton of pictures. The trail was new and we were finding out what worked.

Third day on the trail, close to the Sunrise Highway in southern California. The trail overlooks a large stretch of desert, I think the Anza-Borrego Desert State Park.

Jonathan sets up a group photo on what very well might have been a cornice on Forester Pass. Heart attack.

Taking a picture and a break lake-side. We were on our Mt. Whitney evening approach. 

I think Quinoa made it across dry this time.

Jonathan shooting some climbers just after they reached the top of Halfdome. The most stunningly beautiful place I've ever been.

We all took a ton of pictures on Halfdome. Here is Jonathan taking a break to shooting on the way down. 

This was the day we reached the halfway point on the PCT. This is the last time I saw Pedi for a little while, I reached the halfway point with Midway. 

I caught Jonathan shooting for his Hiker Trash project. Usually I was holding the Tyvek in the background, luckily I shirked my responsibility to get a pic.

Fast forward. Jonathan captures another of the more beautiful scenes on the PCT - Mt. Rainier to the south, sun setting to the west. This was the day after my sickness in Washington.

An appropriate end to a trip. Frizzle getting some classy shots at the PCT northern terminus. Note the clear-cut US/Canadian border. Neat.  

Cheers folks, thanks for checking out the blog

Dan

#LifeIsWILD - moments from the trail.

Jonathan and I have both been rigorously submitting attempts to win the #LifeIsWILD contest. The contest is built as part of a marketing campaign for the new movie, WILD, about Cheryl Strayed's adventure on the PCT (adapted from her book). The contest is looking for transformative experiences.

“Cheryl Strayed was changed forever by her adventure in the WILD, and we want to learn about YOUR transformative experiences in the great outdoors!”

— http://contest.howwilditwas.com/

Everyday was an adventure. Every day we were in nature. Every day was wild. The moments captured by pictures, these blog posts with our stories are more our attempt to make sense of the experiences we had. Nothing we create comes close to the time spent on the PCT. But take note and I try to remember that the PCT is just a dusty path. Dusty paths are everywhere. Pick one and follow it. You don't have to try to be John Muir, Cheryll or us. You can get lost anywhere.

Anyway, here's some of my favorite entries. The contest ends today so cross your fingers for us.

Dan's shots:

This day I learned natural beauty is unmeasurable, GI bugs are miserable. dichotomy on the PCT #LifeisWILD #contest pic.twitter.com/DKVpg92Xur

— Daniel Beerman (@toBDaniel) December 7, 2014

Her first backpacking trip she hiked 18 miles a day - swarming mosquitoes, ice fields, mountains #lifeiswild #contest pic.twitter.com/nxk3KwsF9l

— Daniel Beerman (@toBDaniel) November 26, 2014

Overwhelmed, we stopped to take the world in. Instead the world took us in. #lifeiswild #contest @radstam #pct pic.twitter.com/bVgU62nPaQ

— Daniel Beerman (@toBDaniel) November 19, 2014

climbin' up the side of Pinchot Pass. 1 down, 1 to go - Mather Pass was next. #lifeiswild #contest pic.twitter.com/oTYq69icCH

— Daniel Beerman (@toBDaniel) November 17, 2014

As the rain came in sheets we continued north, we were motivated to find shelter. #lifeiswild #contest @radstam pic.twitter.com/xWOj8iVJdn

— Daniel Beerman (@toBDaniel) November 14, 2014

"It's all down hill from here," he said as they descended from highest point on the PCT #contest #LifeIsWild pic.twitter.com/6GR3DIQjUJ

— Daniel Beerman (@toBDaniel) November 11, 2014

We reached the top of San Jacinto and made it through the snowy night. To Canada! #LifeisWild #contest pic.twitter.com/6Zm2SUCtSa

— Daniel Beerman (@toBDaniel) November 4, 2014

There we were... end of an epic saga. 2600+ transformational miles. New adventures await. #PCT #LifeisWILD #contest pic.twitter.com/jjA5jQx7qx

— Daniel Beerman (@toBDaniel) December 12, 2014

Some people like to watch the world burn... but we just wanted to hike away from the fire. #lifeiswild #Contest pic.twitter.com/oaFU3SM0IT

— Daniel Beerman (@toBDaniel) November 28, 2014

Jonathans shots:

The last ridge to Canada helped put the hike in perspective. #LifeIsWILD #contest #pct pic.twitter.com/kIBOBY46Kv

— Jonathan Hinderliter (@radstam) November 29, 2014

The sprawling Mohave desert at sunset on the #PCT. #LifeIsWild #contest pic.twitter.com/KIcU9im22a

— Jonathan Hinderliter (@radstam) November 21, 2014

A rainstorm at sunset in southern Oregon on the #PCT. #LifeIsWILD #contest pic.twitter.com/s2QyWxHDoX

— Jonathan Hinderliter (@radstam) November 19, 2014

Sometimes you have to sit by a river and meditate on the #PCT. #LifeIsWILD #contest pic.twitter.com/x8Qt8xyqnt

— Jonathan Hinderliter (@radstam) November 17, 2014

The #pct goes past gorgeous lakes like this one in NorCal. #LifeIsWild #contest pic.twitter.com/walbdpBeNc

— Jonathan Hinderliter (@radstam) November 15, 2014

Golden hour in the forest is my favorite. #LifeIsWild #PCT #contest pic.twitter.com/1r1sf0MZWs

— Jonathan Hinderliter (@radstam) November 14, 2014

Sometimes exploring the wilderness involves epic creek crossings. #PCT #LifeIsWILD pic.twitter.com/9q3Ue1CECL

— Jonathan Hinderliter (@radstam) November 7, 2014

There’s nothing like the first time hitching in the bed of a pickup to get back to trail. #LifeIsWILD pic.twitter.com/QQ1NhzvIrv

— Jonathan Hinderliter (@radstam) November 4, 2014

As always, thanks for reading. 

Dan