Hiking

New states, new crews

Dan (Soap Box) and I have not only made it to the final state of our journey, we now find ourselves in a new crew. Smokes, Schmitty and Quinoa have all ebbed and flowed in and out, but Ms. Frizzle and Butters seem to be permanent members at this point. They're fantastic people and I couldn't be happier to have them around.

Our first crew lasted for a solid 900 miles, and it wasn't until afterward that I even realized what an anomaly that was. Most hikers start the trail solo and, while they often hike with others, most don't crew up for such long stretches. Usually people's schedules or hiking speeds are too different. Or somebody gets sick or injured. Regardless, I'm thankful to have made such great friends as I have on this adventure.  

Now then, let's get back to finishing up Washington.  

Soap Box, Butters and Ms. Frizzle. Oh yeah, and Mt. Adams. 

Soap Box, Butters and Ms. Frizzle. Oh yeah, and Mt. Adams. 

Soap Box and Frizzle deftly speed down a hill as we head for town. 

Soap Box and Frizzle deftly speed down a hill as we head for town. 

Ms. Frizzle and the most giant cairn ever. 

Ms. Frizzle and the most giant cairn ever. 

Beautiful hiker trash. 

Beautiful hiker trash. 

Slightly less beardy, but equally as beautiful hiker trash. 

Slightly less beardy, but equally as beautiful hiker trash. 

NINJA RUNNING!

NINJA RUNNING!

True hiker trash. Butters brushing his teeth while hiking. 

True hiker trash. Butters brushing his teeth while hiking. 

Haha, hiker crossing. Somebody added the poles and pack with tape. Oh, and the sign has hella bullet holes in it. 

Haha, hiker crossing. Somebody added the poles and pack with tape. Oh, and the sign has hella bullet holes in it. 

Butters and Frizzle stomping and clomping through a Washington meadow in the morning. 

Butters and Frizzle stomping and clomping through a Washington meadow in the morning. 

Sexy butters in morning light. 

Sexy butters in morning light. 

A troll, er, Frizzle under a bridge.  

A troll, er, Frizzle under a bridge.  

Cheers,

Jonathan

This thing we're doing

On this particular day, Dan and I happened to be hiking alone, finding ourselves - however briefly - without a crew. We came upon a saddle with one helluva view. As will sometimes happen on the PCT, we felt morally compelled to stop and observe the scene in front of us. It was too magnificent to pass up. 

As Dan and I sat on that saddle observing the wondrous nature that lay before us, I felt a great sense of calm and contentment come over me. 

"I'm not exactly sure what this thing is that we're doing, and I'm definitely not sure what will come next in life," I said, turning to Dan. "What I am sure of, though, is that this, this thing we're doing is the right thing to be doing."

He smiled, knowing exactly what I meant. 

"Yeah man, yeah," Dan responded, giving a bit of a chuckle.

Nowadays, I feel that same sense of calm and happiness pretty often. Whenever I do I turn to Dan with a big stupid grin on my face and say, "Man, this thing we're doing."

Hiking the PCT has been and will continue to be one of the greatest adventures of which I could possibly conceive. I am constantly in awe of how fun it has been to incorporate so many things I love into my everyday life for the last four months.

-Jonathan

The first one didn't count

I guess one double-marathon simply was not enough.

Fence and I had been waiting around for two days. We mostly slept and ate. That is, until we realized how much food we were plowing through.

Fence lounging while we wait for Dan. 

Fence lounging while we wait for Dan. 

Then, finally, Dan showed up with Cheese, Baggins and Choop in tow. I had only hiked 37 miles in three days, which made me itch to do something stupid, something big. Now that I knew Dan was safe and caught up, I somehow had the desire to go and just keep going. We were at mile 1453.

Sunset with the bros before heading off into the night. 

Sunset with the bros before heading off into the night. 

I left camp at 7 p.m. and walked all through the night, which can be a tricky thing when there is no moon and you are in dense forest. Still, I found a rhythm and was able to get by without kicking too many rocks and roots. By 4 A.M. I had reached McCloud River, mile 1476. After putting my pack down I cleaned my feet off, ate a snack and got a bit of rest. By rest I mean I leaned against my pack in the dirt at the end of the bridge for an hour.

Having rested a single hour, I got back up and kept hiking, but this time in a state of delirium. I met a new hiker, Free Refill, shortly after getting back on my feet. What a cool guy. He's a middle aged German engineer with one helluva sense of humor. This fact, however, I would not learn until a bit later. Free Refill was just warming up for the morning, and I needed to get my blood flowing so I didn't pass out on the trail. I pressed on at an unusually quick pace for that time of the morning.

Completely random note I saw that afternoon.

Completely random note I saw that afternoon.

At certain points I could feel the proverbial wheels start to come off, but I hung in there. With enough caffeine, food, Ibuprofen and water you can do just about anything. Willpower doesn't hurt either. The miles kept rolling by. I saw a few other hiker friends, but mostly I kept my pace steady and powered on. The goal was Interstate-5 where I could hitch into town. By 2 P.M. or so I had reached mile 1500. WOOHOO! I still like the feeling of passing each hundred mile mark written in stones in the dirt.

image.jpg

By 4 P.M. I had finally reached my mark, mile 1507. After 21 hours my 54 miles were complete. 54 miles! That included 12,000 feet of climbing and and 18,000 feet of down. I felt accomplished. Also, I felt wrecked. My body had nothing left. Trail magic always makes everything better though.  A couple and their daughter showed up with fresh watermelon, giant muffins and freshly baked cookies that were still warm. It felt like a pretty good reward for my day's trek.

About an hour and a half later Free Refill showed up. I had not yet moved from the spot where I stopped walking. He asked about my day and so I told him of my my distance record.

"Yeah, but you didn't do it in one day," he said.

"Maybe not in one calendar day, but I did it in 24 hours," I retorted.

"So, it still wasn't in one day."

God dammit.

This day was not Free Refill-approved.

----

Two weeks later, having passed Ashland, OR (and all of its magic), I was hiking with Ms. Frizzle, a bad-ass with an equally insatiable desire for doing stupid stuff as I do. Now that we were in the flattest section of the trail, we felt like we could do anything. Having told the tale of my first 50+ day, Ms. Frizzle wanted get on the bandwagon. Let's be real here, it's not like I was ever going to turn down another opportunity to do a crazy big day with another cool hiker.

And so on the 107th day of our journey on this Pacific Crest Trail, Frizzle and I awoke at 4:30 to embark on a double marathon. Mostly, the day went off without much incident. Frizzle likes to hike hard, which means that if you manage to hike in step with her the miles start to fly by. By mid-afternoon we hit some pretty crazy lava fields, but the actual trail through said lava rock was like a magic carpet, smooth as can be.

Frizzle and lava rock fields. 

Frizzle and lava rock fields. 

Sometime between 4 and 5 P.M. we heard cars. A road! We were 32 miles deep and while I didn't feel bad, it had already been a sizable day.
"Pray for magic, pray for magic, pray for magic," I muttered to Frizzle.

Awaiting us at the other side of the road were a couple of tail angels doling out tons of food to a group of hiker trash. There were grilled cheese sandwiches, beers, orange juice, coffee, ibuprofen, fruit snacks and more. I can scarcely think of anything that would have made that moment better than the grilled cheese sandwich brought to me upon reaching the other side of that highway. Oh, did I mention chairs? It turns out that chairs are, in fact, a pretty sweet invention.

Glorious trail magic

Glorious trail magic

We spent 45 minutes hanging with our fellow hiker trash and the generous angels who were passing out magic galore before Frizzle and I nodded to one another that we needed to get back out on the trail.  We still had 20 miles to go, after all.

Things really started getting rough as the sun went down. The batteries in my headlamp had worn down to the point of making the light barely useful. My body was already fairly depleted of all resources and the almost-constant tripping did not help the situation. I doubled-up on lights, adding my iPhone's LED as a secondary. We pushed on into the night. And pushed. And pushed.

The last few of those 52.4 miles felt eerily similar to the last few of the first time I ran 26.2 miles. Everything hurt. The voice in my head kept saying "Please, just let this be over with." I conjured what willpower I had and forced myself to keep putting one foot in front of the other until, at 11:10 P.M. Frizzle and I had reached our double-marathon mark.

A few days later Frizzle and I met back up with Free Refill and told him our tale.

"This time I did it in one day," I exclaimed.

"OK, now you can tell people it was approved by a German engineer."

Frizzle waking up the next morning to an early sun. 

Frizzle waking up the next morning to an early sun. 

Cheers, 

Jonathan

The Magic of Ashland

This is the kind of post that might start with something cliché like "Sometimes you find the adventure and sometimes the adventure finds you." Or maybe even "This is why you don't make plans."

The last day of California Jonathan gently convinced Dan to hike a 52 mile challenge into Ashland. While it might have been best to get up and going by 3:30am we got out of "camp" about two hours later than that. We were not exactly fresh - we literally slept on the trail, and we only slept there for about six hours after a night hike which included a 5000ft climb out of Seiad Valley. 

Once we got going we put big miles behind us. We still weren't making outstanding time, but it could be done. After a quick lunch at the Oregon border we trudged back out into what had become a sweltering hot day. By 8:30 p.m. we had hit the 40 mile mark. Jonathan wandered up a ridge to see the sunset. It looked as glorious as ever with {blah blah flowery language about pretty colors}. As Dan followed we heard some voices and saw a fire. "Do you guys want a beer?" they said to us. Of course we do! They were amazing people. There were six of them, a little boy and a dog. They gave us beer and smoked salmon. Dat smoked salmon doe.  On top of being generous, they were extraordinarily cool people to hang out with for an evening. At first we felt bad, since it was sort of a going away gathering for one of the guys, but they insisted that they had all secretly been wanting to magic stuff to PCT hikers but hadn't gotten a chance. Now they had one. At 10pm we were talking about hiking out and sleeping by the highway. A few hours past, and by midnight we knew we weren't hiking any farther. These gregarious people from Ashland truly gave us the best welcome into Oregon that we could have asked for. 

Good company and a campfire are a great start to an evening. Especially when they're unexpected. 

Good company and a campfire are a great start to an evening. Especially when they're unexpected. 

Things were off to a good start. We finished out the last 12 miles early the next morning to make it into Callahan's Lodge. 

While crossing an outer road to I-5 a big white van pulled over to the side of the road. After honking and rolling down the window the driver yelled over to us "Beerman!" Dan turned, his eyes lit up and he shouted "I'm getting in the car with those strangers!" as he raced off to the van. Jonathan could do nothing but sit and stare confused as his hiking partner rushed off to a car of strange people. These "strangers" turned out to be a mentor of Dan's from college and Alpha Phi Omega (community service org) and his wife. The amount of chance involved for this meeting is astounding - we're talking alignment of the planets. They had planned on meeting Dan, but had to return to Ashland, Missouri. They left a note at the trailhead and were on the on-ramp to drive when our paths crossed. The couple (Paul and Charlotte) drove us into Ashland and bought us beers. After Paul and Dan spent some time catching up and marveling at the serendipity of our encounter the couple bid us farewell. They headed back toward Missouri while Dan and Jonathan ventured out into the metropolis of Ashland (pop. 20,000).

One delicious Indian buffet later, we knew that finding lodging needed to be at the top of our priority list. We were in a gear shop checking out a trail register when we came across names and numbers of some trail angels. Dan made a call, while Jonathan looked on with puzzled eyes. It seemed like the call went well, but all Dan said was that the guy was going to call us back. A few minutes later Dan received a call. It drags on a while. Somewhere along the way he looked up, smiled and gave a thumbs up. Now we had a place to stay for the night. 

For the record, this formula is not a foreign experience for us. In college we moved after two years in a piece of shit house to an apartment. That apartment would have never happened without Dan's research and effort. Jonathan put forth enough effort to say thanks that Dan found us a place to live and to sign the lease. 

It turns out that this trail angel is a former thru-hiker and angels for current hikers. He said we could stay at his place. Awesome! But wait, he's not even in town. His son may be around he said. The front door is unlocked, though, because of course it is. He asks that we keep things LNT (leave no trace) and clean up after ourselves, maybe grab some laundry detergent. Not a problem. We wouldn't dream of being anything but the most respectful guests - laundry, air conditioning, a safe place to leave the packs while we walk around town, a base camp. Seriously, when people show you the sort of kindness we have been shown you do everything you can to pay it forward and not take it for granted. 

A good nights sleep, laundry and a shower later we felt like this adventure could not get any better. 

A little friend that came to hang out on the porch as we sipped on morning coffee. 

A little friend that came to hang out on the porch as we sipped on morning coffee. 

Not only are beds pretty cool every once in a while, but being in an actual home felt comforting, even if we didn't really know this home's owner. By day three of this story Jonathan found himself lounging on the couch and writing a blog much like this very one. All of a sudden, in walks this late 20 something man that is super fit. Jonathan looks up as the young man says "Um, hi. You must be a hiker from the trail." It's said more like a question than anything. 

"And you must be  the son of (trailname of dude whose house we're in)," Jonathan said, equally as unsure of his own statement. 

"Yeah," says the young man. "I run a fitness apparel company and I'm just here to grab this bag. You guys have a great hike and enjoy Ashland."

As fast as he was in the house he was once again out of it. Not only did he seem a nice fellow, but he seemed totally unphased by walking into his father's house to find hikers and all their gear sprawled across the living room. 

At this point it is unclear if the levels of awesome and strange will continue to escalate at consistent intervals, but it seems possible. As it stands they are at an all time high. We are loving Oregon. 

Needless to say, all you trail angels out there, everything you do for hikers and to maintain the ethos of trail culture is inspiring. Your actions demonstrate a humanity and consideration I want to carry into my own life.

Keep adventuring,

Dan and Jonathan

Scenes of Northern California pt. 1

NorCal is freaking hot. We again resumed the tactic of hiking out early, taking a really long lunch break during the heat of the day, and then hiking late into the evening. In the Sierra you couldn't pay me to get out of my sleeping bag before 7am due to cold. Now the sun comes up so incredibly early and almost immediately gets hot that I have to intentionally sleep in to stay in my bag past 7am. 

One great thing about this section is the mix of moderate to mild terrain, strong legs and long days. Doing 25+ mile days isn't even a big deal anymore, and I love it. 

Watching sunsets (and sunrises) in Northern California is a thing of wonder. I delight in seeing the sun's golden hour glow bathe the forested hills in the first and last light of the day. 

The clouds are magical. They remind me of clouds in Texas. Beautiful puffy looking ones perfectly scattered across the sky. 

Trees here are covered in this neon green mossy stuff that I find incredibly comical. In fact, foliage and plant life in general has increased exponentially. 

Not pictured: bugs. All of the bugs. Flies, Mosquitos, spiders ants and tons of others I can't begin to identify. 

Mile 1210

Mile 1210

Mile 1133

Mile 1133

Mile 1106

Mile 1106

Mile 1129

Mile 1129

Mile 1102

Mile 1102

Mile 1203

Mile 1203

Mile 1312

Mile 1312

Mile 1372

Mile 1372

Mile 1250 - Middle Fork Feather River

Mile 1250 - Middle Fork Feather River

Mile 1259

Mile 1259

Mile 1248

Mile 1248

Mile 1327

Mile 1327

Mile 1165

Mile 1165

 Mile 1178

 Mile 1178

Mile 1174

Mile 1174

Cheers,

Jonathan

The passes: Forester Pass

Hiking in the high Sierra requires climbing mountain passes - also they are part of the PCT. Passes  offer new challenges - timing our climbs around snow conditions, river crossings and distance to the next pass or campsite from the summit.  

Forester Pass, officially the highest point on the Pacific Crest Trail at 13,153 ft, was the first hurdle (although it's way bigger than a hurdle). The day before our band of thru-hikers had climbed and slept at the summit of Mt. Whitney so we approached Forester tired, but primed and ready to gain altitude again.

We camped four miles before Forester so we could gain the pass and descend in the morning, before the accumulated snow could be softened by the early summer sun. If we descended too late we risked postholing - when stepping on soft snow, you sink, a disaster as one leg becomes trapped up to the thigh in melting ice and snow and your body and pack crash off balance.  It may go without saying, we have become well aquatinted with postholing. 

We wake and pack quickly, each knowing the day brought new challenges. The approach to the pass was incredible, ice and snow fields like nothing the PCT had shown us yet. I passed waterfalls, frozen rivers, even caves, and I gazed upon the roughly hewn mountains wondering which our little foot path of a trail would force me to climb.

In the distance I saw Pedi at the base of a snow covered mountainside. I could make out Half and Half part of the way up the snow and talis. Quinoa was no where to be seen. I had finished the short approach, walking dazed and awestruck by the beauty of the Sierra. Now my focus was directed in front of me and upwards. Time to climb.

the ascent wasn't difficult, the snow crunched as I kicked steps for myself. Seconds later I had found steps kicked by other hikers and well compacted. The snow was plenty firm, progress was quick. Pedi and I were moving fast, we knew the Europeans were just ahead and we were excited to catch up. The snow turned to rocky switch backs, shear drop on one side and ice wall on the other, I couldn't imagine a better start to my morning. We gained the last switch back. The final hump to the top was covered in ice and snow, deep foot steps were kicked to make the last steps less risky. 

From the top, our view of where we had come from was breathtaking. All the distance we had walked in the past week we could see from Forester - an odd feeling when those miles earned with sweat, some pain and many hours would soon be out of sight, left there for the next adventurer. With a turn I looked to where we would descend and drank in our future. Snow fields, icy lakes, deep valleys, and mountains that cut into the skyline like wild claws - the Sierras are a beast and Forester was like a gateway into the belly.

We snapped some pics and laughed, as a group we were excited and proud and happy to be facing new landscapes. Then we got ready to descend. 

Going was quick on the hard snow fields. After cutting a few switchbacks we made it to our first glisade. Was it necessary? No. But it was a blast. As an FYI, glisading just means sledding without a sled using something as a break - we improvised with our trek poles. 

The descent took longer than we thought it would and the snow started to get soft. After a short section of post holing we made it to a clear area. We were beat, soaked and ready for lunch.

After the snowy section we hiked into what seemed like the Forbidden Forest from Harry Potter. Giant trees, rushing river, shear granite canyon walls and waterfalls all over the place. We were hiking for Kearsarge Pass so we could resupply in Bishop, CA (not a huge snow covered pass, but still a climb). Getting to town for a meal after the snow was a perfect end to our first pass in the Sierra.

Cheers,

Dan

 

Trail leading to Forester Pass.

Trail leading to Forester Pass.

Scene as we approached the pass.

Scene as we approached the pass.

Looking back at Forester Pass

Looking back at Forester Pass

Hiking down from the top of Forester, 

Hiking down from the top of Forester, 

Pedi, Quinoa and Half and Half descend the snow field.

Pedi, Quinoa and Half and Half descend the snow field.

what a group... Photo by Pedi

what a group... Photo by Pedi

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. 

The sun sets over the Mojave Desert as we prepare for a night hike. 

Beautiful alpine forests are my favorite!

Beautiful alpine forests are my favorite!

Epic stream crossings in the Sierra. Dan did this one barefoot. 

Epic stream crossings in the Sierra. Dan did this one barefoot. 

Our Belgian got all thugged out for Mt. Whitney. 

Our Belgian got all thugged out for Mt. Whitney. 

Bearing the heat of the desert. 

Bearing the heat of the desert. 

Walking along the L.A. aqueduct. 

Walking along the L.A. aqueduct. 

Vasquez Rocks. Half'n'Half was all smiles walking through this place. 

Vasquez Rocks. Half'n'Half was all smiles walking through this place. 

I love when logs are laid out over stream crossings. 

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. 

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. 

The approach to Forrester Pass. Dan (Soap Box) makes it look epic. It kinda was. 

Cheers,

Jonathan