Proud.

2,658 Miles            159 Days          36 Showers         57 Avocados      

489,418′ Elevation Gain

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“If you’ve done it right you’ll love where you are”

Note: I formatted the pictures to be upright on a desktop. This is a long post, if you have a desktop I recommend reading this on there. It won’t look so unkempt. Although, I’m sure no matter what you do they will still be upside down. Good grief. Care about you!

Want to know a secret? I have been jotting down notes for this blog post since July. Whenever I would get a deep emotional thought, I would type it in my notes really quickly. Looking back at all of my brainstorming I can’t help but laugh. I never stopped to type these things in my phone, so I remember tripping over rocks and roots just trying to secure this INCREDIBLE thought before it was forgotten. Nothing in there makes sense, but it brings back a wave of lovely memories.

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All done!

All done!

I have been home in New York for a month. More specifically, Hopewell Junction, Home of the Honey Baked Ham! Jokes about this Honey Baked Ham got me through some dull times on the trail, so I couldn’t end this all without re-mentioning this self-appointed hometown lore.

Too early in the season to be advertising for the specific "Honey-Baked" yet.

Too early in the season to be advertising for the specific “Honey-Baked” yet.

My transition from on-trail to off-trail has been tough, but I saw it all coming. One of the reasons I was hesitant to attempt the PCT is because of the withdrawal I knew I would experience afterwards. I was nervous for the reintegration, the void, the shift in perspective, feeling different etc. When I was able to let go of that fear and convince myself that without a doubt, the journey would be worth all the difficulties encountered when I was back home, I was able to fully commit myself. I’m not sure if I’ve ever been so excited about anything than in February and March when I was planning for the PCT. I talked about it all day long. It didn’t matter if people wanted to hear about it, or if I even knew the person for more than 25 seconds, I still filled them in on the latest. I remember hiding in the beer cage at work reading gear reviews on down jackets. “Oh, you want some more coffee sir? I’m sorry it’s going to have to wait, I am in the middle of finding the lightest and most cost-efficient umbrella that I will carry for 5 months but won’t use until the very last day of my hike.” Life was so good those last 2 months in Jackson, so good. My energy and enthusiasm about the hike were the telling indicators that I was doing exactly what I was suppose to be doing. I have never followed my heart so surely.

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Physically, my body has fired back with a lot of rebellion this past month. After 5+ months of feeding it truck load after truck load of endorphins, I suddenly stopped. I became an adrenaline junkie this summer, and it was all too real. I was never tired during the day when I would be out hiking. Between the movement, the challenge, the air quality, the pure water, the ridges, the views, the fords, the snow, the trees, the animals, the community  — I was riding a high that was unsustainable, and I knew it.

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Day 2 post-trail I began to eat healthy. Basically, once my sister flew back to San Francisco and stopped feeding me donuts, bagels, and fish and chips. I thought I had it all figured out, I would detox! I would clean my body of all the processed instant junk I’ve been feeding it all summer, I’ll feel GREAT! Well, the last 2 nights in Vancouver I stayed with Richard and Jean, remember them from Crater Lake? I always knew there was a reason a wildfire erupted and caused me to hitch a ride around the rim. Meeting them was that reason. They welcomed me into their home, cooked amazing dinners and told me all about life in Vancouver. They are heroes.

The morning after.

The morning after.

Richard and Jean!

Richard and Jean!

I remember the last night with them I actually said the words, “I’m sorry guys, but I’m feeling pretty tired, this is weird.” It was around 8:00 and it was a tired I hadn’t experienced in a really long time, it was a normal sort of tired. You know, the tired you feel after work. It was that moment when things started going south for me.

I flew home the next day and began my sleeping expedition. My dad picked me up at La Guardia and with the amount of traffic and apparent “idiots,” as my dad calls them, it was a rude realization that I was back in New York. I felt sick from all the beeping and lights and stop and go traffic. Bless his heart for having to do that ALL the time, with his 3 daughters living on the West Coast, Bob is the family chauffeur and we all could not be more grateful for him. I got home and my mom gave me the biggest hug she has ever given me. She actually held on to it for as long as possible. I suppose she was a bit worried this summer. I inhaled the lasagna she made, devoured some ice cream with peanut butter and began my hibernation.

Sleep. It’s all my body wanted. It was time to heal and repair, and that was only going to happen if I was asleep. It was unreal. Easily 12 hours a night, sometimes 14-15. I sleep like a needle, surrounded by 5 huge pillows I want nothing to do with and only use one ratty old one, thinner than a crepe. Comfortable, I am so unbelievably comfortable. During the day I would be in a fog, just wanting to sleep more. I began to exercise right away, working on my strength and going out for little shake-out runs. I felt pretty miserable. I continued to eat healthy until healthy food became nauseating. I no longer wanted it, couldn’t stand the sight or thought of it. No more eggs, broccoli, bananas, avocados, no more. If I DID have an appetite, it would be for clif bars and frozen pizza. Instant noodles perhaps? I had a terrible headache all day long, would throw up if I ate the wrong thing, and not to be outdone by everything else going wrong, I had the shits.

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I now realize my mistake. I dove into it all too fast. Too clean, too fast. I should have slowly reintegrated those foods into my diet throughout the course of a month. Here I am thinking I am doing myself the biggest favor, honoring my body and trying to level out the nutrient playing field, but instead I shocked it, and it rebelled big time. What I should of done was cook up some fresh veggies and put them in the middle of 2 clif bars. A sandwich. Balance.

My favorite 2 words

My favorite 2 words

2 weeks later I finally started feeling better, and also finally started to break some bad trail habits. No more candy in bed, toe touch. Yes, it is undesirable, but also completely unnecessary. I am currently doing a lot of strength work and doing little cardio. When I do do cardio, it is speed work. I’ll be out for a casual run and start sprinting, or I’ll find a hill and start doing repeats. I am tapping back into an energy system that I had completely neglected for 6 months. It feels really good.

The mental side of reintegration is the harder one to cope with. The physical stuff left me fascinated. I love listening to my body and monitoring how every little thing makes me feel. I had never felt that way before so it was all new and exciting, even though I felt like garbage. The mental side of things began 2 weeks after the trail. I began to feel “the void,” and longed for the trail life. I was very unmotivated, very low energy, very distant. This is not the person I want to be, and not the person my parents deserve to live with. I was a bum. I hated it.

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I fought and fought the internal battles trying to break the cycle and snap out of it. Perspective always, always helps. I thought about how lucky I am to have a house and parents that welcomed me back in. I thought about how many people are in debt after the trail and couch surf until they find a job. I thought about my friends who went back to SF and back to the corporate world, a completely different reentry than mine, but our transitional difficulties both the same. And of course, I think about how many people don’t have a home at all, are starving, and wake up to a shower of bombs everyday. Yes, I usually always go there. Perspective. Gratitude. Toe Touch.

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Now that this roller-coaster ride seems to be on its last couple of turns, I am feeling much better. I am a much more relaxed person when it comes to most things. I actually enjoy getting stuck behind school busses because I love the enthusiasm the kids have when they run off the bus, I have a lot more patience for things I cannot control, I treat my body with a much higher level of grace, I am the slowest driver in the world, I smile and say hello to everyone (particularly people who are wearing their bad day on their face) and I definitely don’t have the “it’s the end of the world” mentality. I have been through far too much to complain about anything material now. Life is difficult without that direct purpose we were so used to out on the trail. You wake up and know exactly what you had (wanted) to do, and you made progress towards your goals everyday. That is a really significant feeling to lose hold of and to suddenly replace it with empty days. You fall in love with no one particular thing out there, you fall in love with everything. Then one day, it’s all gone. That’s where the void can eat you alive if you let it.

What helped me through this past month was movement, catching up with friends, and staying focused on my goals. It was tough coming back home after the PCT and starting from scratch. If I had returned to my pre-trail life in Jackson, I know it would have been a much easier transition. But I also would have been sucked back into the beautiful Peter Pan vortex of Jackson Hole and probably would have kept pushing everything back a season, a year, a few years. Boy do I miss that town.

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A popular question I get asked is how I dealt with the boredom. This is also one of the main reasons I thought I could never thru-hike, I pictured myself quitting because of the long days, and even longer weeks. Turns out, rhythm played an important role. I had my system, my routine, and after the first day back on trail, I gained my momentum and was able to enjoy it all. Oregon and Washington were the hardest for me. Oregon because there’s not much climbing and not much to look at, and Washington only because I was 4 months in and even though it was challenging and rewarding, I wanted nothing more to do with myself. I could have thrown my mind off a cliff and not cared too much.

Other than singing songs in my head (scroll down to read the list of “most songs sung in toe touches tiny little brain”), I would think about what I could do for other people. Before I went off-trail for Lauras bachelorette party in Montana, Kelly told me I was in charge of cooking one brunch. Literally, for 300 miles, I would allow myself to brainstorm the brunch for 2 hours each day. That was fun for me. I ended up scrambling eggs, slicing avocados, and making a cinnamon roll french toast casserole, if you were wondering. But the most helpful tactic I used was devising plans to surprise my friends with weird stuff along the trail. It all started when I sent Spoon a Screech shirt to Kennedy Meadows. He was so confused and had no idea where it came from. First he credited his dad, then his best friend from back home. It wasn’t suppose to be a surprise, but he was so happy about it that I decided to let his mind wander — essentially doing him a big favor, now he could think about who sent him this shirt for the next couple hundreds miles – how thoughtful of me!

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After that experience, I sent Centerfold a Straight Outta Cactus Cooler shirt to Yosemite. It was sleeveless and over-sized of course, and the content completely making fun of his addiction to the soda. After that I had gone ahead of my friends, but decided to keep it up. I hit Chuckles next, with a shirt that was sure to blow my cover, but I loved it so much I sent it to her anyways. It was maroon, 100% heavy cotton and read, “Every Brunette Needs a Blonde Best Friend.” If you haven’t picked up on our abnormal friendship yet, Chuckles gives me a lot of grief for being a tall blonde. One Halloween I was Daphne and she was Velma (also of note, her husband Spoon was Rosie the Riveter that year). I had to capitalize on this shirt opportunity.

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Lastly I made Camel a shirt. As much time as I spent googling “T-shirts with pipe gates on them,” my search results came up empty. Camel has an obsession with pipe gates, which in turn became a Mile 55 obsession with pipe gates. We walked through so many in the desert that at night we would replay the squeakiest ones for all of the world to hear. As we hiked we would play the game “What does the pipe gate say?!?” “EEEEEeeeeEEEEeEeeEEEEeEEEeE.” It was a game meant to wake you back up. Worked every time. So, I made a shirt for Camel with a picture of a pipe gate that we walked through at Mile 555.55, I kid you not. Go hike the PCT and tell me there is NOT a pipe gate at that mile. I dare you. Funny part is, they are all just realizing now that I was the secret sender. Whatta buncha ding dongs huh!

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I also had 2 friends get married on the trail and they ended up a couple weeks behind me, so I would think about how I could surprise them with gift cards at the town bakeries, or hidden messages of congratulations in trees. Point being, if you are ever having a hard time, do something for someone else. Get out of your own head, and do something funny or thoughtful for a friend or stranger. If it works while hiking hundreds of miles in an underwhelming green tunnel, it can work to brighten up a morning or 2.

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Sometimes I wonder how I hiked the whole thing. I mean I had little to no experience with any of my gear. I had 2 straps on my backpack that swung around loosely all summer. It wasn’t until Washington when I realized they probably are there for a purpose. There are also strings all over my rain fly to my tent that I have no idea what they are for. Again, I just let them hang out. You can’t control a lot of what happens out there, but you do get to choose your attitude to it all. You get to choose how to react in the hard times, and how much enthusiasm you are going to greet each day with. One big fear of mine going into this trail was if I would start to feel like I was wasting my time. I love helping others, and I was scared I would get to a point where I would feel selfish, where I would start to feel like I wasn’t making a difference anywhere.

My biggest takeaway from this journey has been how untrue that really was. I have never felt more looked upon, more important in my whole life, and I owe that all to my friends and family. Through my photos and this blog, I actually became more connected with people than I ever thought I could be. This trail has enriched all of my friendships from back home, and I have never felt closer to all of them. I received so many packages and letters of love, encouragement and support, some of which came from people I haven’t seen in years. My friend Danika, who was my roommate in Australia for a semester, wrote and recorded a song for me. Naturally, I listened to it before bed one night in Washington and cried myself to sleep in thankfulness. It’s the off-trail beauty that I love to think about the most. How many connections I made while hitch-hiking, while sitting next to a Marty at the breakfast counter, while running through the grocery stores loading up on energy bars and avocados. The trail town community, the on-trail community, and the off-trail community have all surpassed my predictions wildly. I couldn’t have asked for a better batch of relationships, both new and reclaimed. My life has been enriched because of all of you. All of you weirdos, I should say. God I’m so lucky. (only a few pictured).

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“Soooo, how WAS it?!?!” — the most frequently asked question. I get it, I would ask the same thing initially. Some people dive deeper into it, others let you give a quick answer and then change subjects so fast you forgot you just got back from the journey of a lifetime. I guess my answer has been “amazing, incredible, phenomenal, the BEST thing I have ever done with my time.” I don’t expect people to get it. No one will understand it unless they have done it themselves, and that’s more than okay. I don’t understand a lot of what other people do, so I would never expect someone to geek out on this adventure as much as I do.

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But seriously, how do you explain the landscape of the desert? Hiking 700 miles in an environment brand new to you? Adjusting your body to the weight of a pack with 5 days of food and 7 liters of water in it? Being completely water-insecure and always praying the next source isn’t dried up? How do you explain drinking green horse water or scraping at stagnant shallow puddles trying to avoid the bugs and then sitting in the extreme heat filtering it one half liter at a time? Going to bed every night hopeful nothing is poking a hole in your gear, and hoping not to step on a rattlesnake when you get up to pee for the 5th time? How do you explain walking through underpasses, over highways, losing footing up the sandy, windy climbs, and trying effortlessly not to let the wind turbines drive you crazy? Always dehydrated, always avoiding lizards, always in awe of how much better this is than what you expected. Always caught off-guard by the harsh unrelenting beauty of the desert.

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How do you explain the tenacity required for the Sierra? Waking up at 4am, putting on every layer you own, navigating your way across, up and down miles and miles worth of snowfields? Climbing straight up icy walls because that’s where the boot-pack leads, and without the boot-pack, you’d still be lost out there. How do you explain reaching the top of a mountain and knowing that one false step, or one act of bad luck will send you tumbling down towards the ice covered lake at the bottom? Fording rivers so intense that it is a miracle you got across it, but leaves you sick with worry about your friends who are a couple days behind you. How do you explain the temperature fluctuations your body has to adapt to by freezing your butt off every morning and every night, but are left to hiking in shorts and a t-shirt during the day? How do you explain constantly taking inventory of your food in your head, scared to death you didn’t bring enough, constantly rationing everything you have, scared to death you’d let yourself down with the challenge you created? What about the feeling of looking across an expansive landscape topped with snow-capped mountains, turquoise frozen lakes, and not a soul in sight? The feeling of being so small, so simple, but so inspired at the same time. The Sierra: completely untouched, not over-hyped, the most beautiful stretch of land I know I will ever experience. How do you go about explaining it?

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How do you explain Northern California? The mosquitoes who suck you dry? The wonderous rockwork in Yosemite, the sparkling lakes of Tahoe? How do you explain the last 500 miles before Oregon? Steep, dry, dusty, difficult. How do you explain the mountain lions, the bears, the snakes, the hilariously dumb deer? How do you explain the doubt associated with this section? The high drop-out rate? Constantly wondering what you’re still doing out here? How about the feelings of being self-absorbed, not helpful, and second guessing your investment in yourself? Increasing your daily mileage, hours spent hiking, taking less time off, putting your body through complete turmoil, the shin splints, hiking 30 miles, going to sleep and then waking up and hiking 31 miles. How do you explain that?

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How do you explain the relief of Oregon? Finally entering a new state after 1,689 miles. Entering a new state warned with blow-downs, ferocious mosquitoes, flat land, sandy forests, burn zones, but marvelous trail-side lakes, fresh berries, and an incredible community. But how do you explain the boredom?  The foot pain? The hiker hobble? The lava fields? The relentless pursuit of Mt. Hood? Timberline Lodge? The breakfast buffet? The whiskey bar? How do you explain being completely reliant on every town and lodge stop because hiking just isn’t fun right now, how do you explain that? How do you keep going?

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How do you explain the glory of Washington. Starting at the lowest point on the entire trail and literally climbing into a state of huge ups and downs. How do you explain the daily elevation gain? The miracle of the Goat Rocks? The quiet of the old-growth forests? The community of Trout Lake? The excitement of seeing the red roof of the Snoqualmie Pancake House for a full mile before you get there? The relief of a roof after 5 wet days in the wilderness? The love of a hot cup of coffee? The comfort of hiker friends, both old and new? How do you explain the feeling of both wanting it to be over and never, ever, wanting it to end? How do you explain the emotion the rain brings, the cold brings, the snow brings. The emotion the changing of the leaves provides, the crisp change in the air, the realization you have hiked into your third season. The realization that you are almost in Canada and absolutely nothing is going to stop you from getting there. How do you explain that will? That determination? That fulfillment?

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How do you explain crossing the border and walking into Canada. You can’t explain it unless you try and explain how you got there. So I guess you just pick a rainy day, brew some coffee, and type away at a computer screen. You just might be able to explain it better than you ever thought. And if you’re really lucky, you have people in your life who are still listening.

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I just hiked from Mexico to Canada. In my mind, that is the coolest thing in the world.

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A huge thank you to everyone who followed along, stayed curious, listened, asked, and made me feel really special. My goal in life is to inspire others to try new things, jump out of their comfort zone, travel, adventure, and to overall, be good people. I have gained so much inspiration from all of our relationships, and I only hope I was able to give a little bit of that back to you.

As a cashier in Oregon told me in mid-August…

“Wow, your parents must be really proud of you. But more importantly, I hope you are really proud of yourself.”

Toe Touch: OUT!

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You have to be able to master your own mind, but when you can’t, you let songs play over…and over…and over…here are the top songs that just didn’t seem to GO AWAY all summer.

In no particular order of frequency…

  1. Livin’ on a Prayer (Bon Jovi)NorCal
  2. Don’t Look Down  (Martin Garrix) –  Sierra
  3. World on Fire (Kenny Chesney)Washington
  4. Closer (Chainsmokers)Washington
  5. Centerfold (J. Geils Band) Desert
  6. Are We Out of the Woods (T-Swift) All the time
  7. Need the Sun to Break (James Bay)Every Morning
  8. It Don’t Hurt Like it Used To (Billy Currington) – Washington
  9. I Would Walk 500 Miles (Kenny And The Scots)Every 100 miles
  10. Umbrella (Rihanna) Washington
  11. May We All (Florida Georgia Line) Oregon
  12. This Too Shall Pass (Mangas Colorado)All the time
  13. 80’s Mercedes (Maren Morris)Oregon
  14. Love On Top (Beyonce)All the time
  15. Have you Ever Seen the Rain (Creedence Clearwater) – Washington
  16. Bad Moon Rising (Creedence Clearwater) Desert
  17. One Grain of Sand (Ron Pope) Washington
  18. Independent Women (Destiny Child) NorCal
  19. Fast Car (Tracy Chapman)All the time
  20. Spirits (The Strumbellas)All the time
  21. Get Out While You Can (James Bay) – Last day of every section
  22. Lollipop (The Chordettes)Desert
  23. Skeletons (W. Darling)Sierra
  24. America’s Sweetheart (Elle King) – Always when I was covered in dirt
  25. Talkin’ Bout a Revolution (Tracy Chapman)All the time
  26. Morning Comes (Delta Rae)All the time
  27. Rescue (Rayvon Owen)Oregon

Butter.

Mile: 2,569

Day: 156

Location: Stehekin Valley Ranch, WA

Avocados: 56

Showers: 35

*Note: Since I am editing this on a desktop I am going to format the pictures so they are right side up for all desktop readers. My apologies for anyone who reads this on their mobile device.

I’ve done it. It took 2,569 miles, but I’ve completed my goal. I’ve walked straight into a town that belongs in a Nicholas Sparks Novel. The town of Stehekin, Washington. Screw Canada, I’m hanging up my boots. I have found paradise.

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Whoa whoa whoa, back it up Jules. What about that other town we can’t pronounce? Oh, Snoqualmie? No no the next one! Oh right, Skykomish! Yes, Skykomish, well that’s my favorite trail town TOO! Every trail town is my favorite trail town, just like every section is my favorite section. I guess you can say I’ve really learned how to live in the present.

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Okay, back to Skykomish because I haven’t told you about how much I loved it yet. The section from Snoqualmie Pass to Stevens Pass (Skykomish) was 72 miles. It was another cold and wet few days with a relief day of minor sunshine. Fall is in the air on blast. The nights have gotten down to low thirties, definitely below freezing at times. One night I woke up and starting slapping all of my gear that was exploded around me. I was freaking out. Why? Because everything was SO cold that I thought it was soaking wet. I knew it wasn’t raining but I was next to a lake so I figured the condensation snuck through my barricade of ultra-light tent walls and wanted me miserable. Turns out, nothing was wet, everything was just about frozen. Feels the same, if you’re wondering. Bear Claw told me she woke up the other night to have a sip of water and it hurt her teeth. Wintry nights and summery days, the temperature difference between the shade and the sun is about 75 degrees, give or take 65 degrees. Fact.

LISTEN TO ME COMPLAIN MORE ABOUT HOW COLD IT IS!

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Washington has been so challenging, which means it’s been incredibly rewarding. We are averaging 6,000′ elevation gain everyday, and usually the same amount of loss. What this means is that hikers are starting to bitch about their knees being sore. That’s all that means. Oh, and that the views are unbelievable and that the man calves I get to hike behind are even more carved out. Win win!

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Alpine Lakes Wilderness was amazing. 5 years ago I took a handsaw to my underwear and threw them off a ridge here. You should ask me about that story sometime.

Alpine Lakes Wilderness was amazing. 5 years ago I took a handsaw to my underwear and threw them off a ridge here. You should ask me about that story sometime.

I got to Stevens Pass after an easy morning of 7 miles. I saw about 5 hikers on the highway trying to hitch into the nearest town, Skykomish. I decided not to burst their bubble (who’s gonna pick up 6 people???) and go in the lodge at Stevens Pass to check my email and get a coffee — surely they’ll be gone within the hour so I can start my own hitching process. There’s only one place to stay in Skykomish, so I decided to be responsible and give them a call to book a room. JACKPOT – LAST ROOM! Henry, the owner, was so nice he even told me he knows a guy who can come pick me up as long as I do ONE thing: DON’T MOVE. Ugh, okay Henry fineeeeeeeeeee I’ll stay right here in this seated position indoors sipping on this warm caffeinated beverage, but only for you Henry!

suns out! put on your shorts and shake out your rain fly!

Suns out! Put on your shorts and shake out your rain fly!

I felt really lucky, and extremely posh. Chris came to pick me up within 20 minutes and as we left the parking lot I saw the same hikers on the highway trying desperately for a ride. Sometimes hitching a ride is so demoralizing that the only way to deal with it positively is by viewing it as a lesson in rejection. Think about it, if you can become comfortable with rejection you can rule the world. Another: Fact.

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I felt really guilty as we drove away and my fellow hikers threw their arms up in “what the f$&@” fashion. Well, we all make choices, and coffee is always the right one. After 2 hours I saw those guys in town only for them to be told there were no rooms left: ouch.

What a peaceful little stream crossing

What a peaceful little stream crossing

Skykomish is a super quiet and peaceful place. It has a laundromat, bar, hotel/restaurant, and a couple shops that are only open for 4 hours a week. Oh, and a huge loud train that goes by 20 times a day. BEEEEEPPPPPPPPPPPPPP.

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I fell in love with it right away. Henry gave me an “orientation” to the inn and I went to the post office to pick up 4 PACKAGES! I was feeling really popular with my arms full leaving the PO. I knew they were all coming and was psyched they were all there.

At my last resupply stop, Snoqualmie Pass, my package to myself and my friends package to me both didn’t make it to the Chevron. I was skeptical of the Chevron, and it proved me right. All the packages were thrown into a warm beer cooler in the back and the guy says “good luck.” Turns out, if the ETA isn’t within a couple days they don’t deliver it. Yeah, I still don’t understand how they would know. It was a disorganized mess, and after an hour of hauling boxes around looking for my name, I gave up. LUCKILY I saw my friend Lukes package. Luke, sorry, Bivvy, is a friend I met a long ways back, a Cartoonist from Ireland and just before he left for the trail, a published author! We hiked a lot together with Mile 55 in the Sierra but then I lost the group and he was lucky enough to keep pace with them. All I know is that Luke had to skip parts of Oregon so he was way ahead, so I told him I found his box and he told me if I needed food to just take it. It felt invasive, but I went for it. I also found it extremely hilarious that the first thing on top was a huge bottle of SPF 50, gotta love that Irish skin! Pretty amazing how we all look out for each other out here. You may not have seen a close friend in a 1,000 miles, but they are never far (awwwwwwwww).

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Okay BACK to Skykomish. I got a TON of candy from my friends and family. Lots of notes of encouragement and lots of warm fuzzy feelings. It was a solid trip to the post office. I feel so lucky to have the support system that I do, it makes this trail so much more fun, and so much easier.

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After drying out my gear in the backyard of the Inn, I went next door to the Whistling Post, the local dive bar to watch the NFL season opener. I sat at the bar and chatted with the locals and got the scoop on the family bar business as I watched the game. Then the best thing happened. Bear Claw and Lemonade (remember them from previous posts? The engaged couple from SF who took 2 weeks off in July to get married in Sierra City? The wedding I couldn’t go to because I was in the ER peeing blood? Good, because they’re BACK!) texted me saying they were next door eating dinner! I couldn’t believe it, I knew they were closing the gap quickly, but didn’t think I’d see them until here, in Stehekin, at the bakery they first told me about. BONUS, they caught me a town early! They met me at the bar and we drank lots and caught up. I haven’t seen them in 2 months, over a 1,000 miles at that point. We stayed in good contact and finally bridged the gap, we were very happy hikers in Skykomish.

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We grabbed breakfast and since they got in so late the previous night, they still had post office and laundry things to do, so I left a couple hours before them. As the trail would have it, I didn’t see them again until the morning we took the bus into Stehekin. The final 8 miles of the 108 mile butt-whooping section. They were consistently 5 miles behind me it seemed, but it was okay, because the biggest thing in our life was getting to the Stehekin Bakery together. And that, we achieved.

The girls going for it. Total ladies. Our moms back East are glowing with pride.

I left Skykomish a bit weighted down by the length and difficulty of the next section. 108 miles: 5 days 4 nights, and the most elevation gain/loss aside from the Sierra. The only bad weather day was going to be Sunday, so that was really comforting. The sun will be out! Woop!

So after an ice cream at the lodge, I started hiking at 1pm. Beautiful day, at that point we haven’t seen a sunny day like this in a long time, so it felt extra special. I hiked 15 miles and then ran into Raiden, Chapstick, and Big Bear, and we hiked into the late evening together towards Pear Lake. The sun was setting on Mt. Baker and we cruised into camp. About 8 other tents were already set up (hot spot!) but after a bit of searching I found one far enough away that I didn’t have to listen to a chorus of snoring – – success. They had a fire going and I hung out for a while (I know, how SOCIAL of me!) to see who was there. I finally met ALTA, and apparently “re-met” Polaris. Polaris is a really cool guy. He looked at me and says “Toe Touch, yes, Toe Touch, we met at the side of 3-Fingered Jack in mid to late August right around lunchtime.” My mouth was agape. Was he right? Yes, yes he was. I didn’t recognize him, but he was part of a group I had lunch with that day on the side of the trail, which just so happened to have an epic view of 3-Fingered Jack (a mountain in Oregon, by the way). Astonishing. I will say, hiking IS very good for the memory.

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got it.

got it.

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NOOOO, can it be? nahhh it's a joke

NOOOO, can it be? nahhh it’s a joke

It's true! It's true! What a cool toilet!

It’s true! It’s true! What a cool toilet!

I slept like a rock and woke up to a dry tent, Eureka! Left camp at 8 and never saw any of those people again until, you guessed it, the bus ride to the Stehekin Bakery (I’m gonna see how many times I can mention this bakery in one post). It was sunny all day and dare I say, hot out. The trail was fun and challenging, with ridges and views galore. The colors were of blue, green, red, orange, and yellow. So clear, so fun. I sat on a rock with an stellar backrest, tore apart my backpack, and enjoyed an apple with peanut butter. My friends Yodeler and Trigger (awesome French couple) hiked by and that was the start to seeing them very often throughout the section. This was all in Glacier Peak Wilderness, quite possibly the most awe inspiring section of the trail.

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I bought this rock, I move in at the end of the month

I bought this rock, I move in at the end of the month

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After my lunch I hiked on, feeling sicker and sicker as the hours passed. First I got hit with nausea, then a headache, then overall weakness. I put on a podcast about Health for Female Endurance Athletes to try and distract me from my sickness but that only made it worse. A huge part of the podcast was about Amenorrhea or, not getting your period for over 90 days. This may be too much information for some, but I’ve already taken you through my whole journey since April, so why leave anything out now: I haven’t had my cycle since April, 2 weeks into the hike. Not surprising, my body is under constant physical stress with very little time to recover. It’s not healthy to go this long without a period, my hormones are as balanced as I’ve been able to keep them, but are clearly not functioning at an optimal level. This podcast had great information, but I couldn’t listen anymore, I tore out my earbuds. I felt so unhealthy. Fit but unhealthy. Gah. What is going ON in there!

I took a picture of this rock because I couldn't believe how flat it was.

I took a picture of this rock because I couldn’t believe how flat it was.

I got to the creek and decided to camp there. I was so weak at this point that it would be stupid to walk anymore. Besides, 2 ladies section hiking said they were going to camp at this creek, and it would be nice to have their company while I’m not feeling well. They are a bit older, and I took great comfort in that. I got to camp and with no one else there, went far into the brush and barfed. Didn’t take much, came right out. And since I’ve decided to tell you everything, you should know that it looked like chunky black tar. It was as if I threw up a dead organ. I was so disturbed. I’m surprised I didn’t shed a tear from the fear I felt in my gut. Because clearly, I’m on the brink of death. Good thing I have nice older ladies to give me comfort in the night. If my mom can’t be here with ginger ale and wonder bread toast, two strangers will do. I’m sure they’ll be thrilled with their new designated task for the evening.

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I poked around at my vomit because I wanted to know what I had just lost. It HAD to be the peanut butter, I MUST have overdone it! But why then, is it BLACK. So perplexed. It just made me feel worse about myself. My body is dying from the inside out and telling me to give it a REST. And I understand, recovery is so important. Rest is so important. But so is Canada. And I’ve been pushing my limits all summer in so many different ways, it can wait another week.

Here's a pretty picture of a flower plant berry thing to take your mind off of my dead organs.

Here’s a pretty picture of a flower plant berry thing to take your mind off of my dead organs.

Fortunately, I went through my chores that night trying to forget what just came out of my body. I was actively erasing it from my memory. I cautiously ate dinner and thankfully slept really well. I never needed to bother the sweet old ladies. I left the next morning at 8 and it was foggy, wet, and frigid. It was a really challenging morning to get moving. I still felt weak, but capable of hiking. Not that it mattered, this section is so remote there was no way out even if I did leave my dead liver on the forest floor last night. We were deep in the wilderness all week, and you know I wasn’t about to turn around.

The morning was rough. It was raining and the trail was gutted and terrible. I slipped and fell 3 times, with one of them in slow motion watching my knee twist in a very bad way. I yelled a bad word and forced myself back up. I put pressure on my knee and it responded like a champ, I’m good, I got this. I was going up and over and under downed trees and just trying to survive the morning, doing everything I could to control my thoughts. Only let the good ones in, and dismiss the bad ones right away. By noon, the rain stopped and the sun fought to come out. A guy passed me saying “Congratulations! Nothing can stop you now!” I stopped and looked at him. Big smile. I returned it. He’s right, after being punched in the gut all morning, it still wasn’t going to stop me from getting to Canada. At this point, the PCT can have its way with me, it’s just simply not going to matter. I will continue to battle it out and laugh at it as much as possible. Even when my barf and poop looked really similar back to back. Ahhhh goddddd nooooo CMON julez! Sorry, I’m a thru-hiker, and all we talk about is food and poop. Why should my blog be any different?

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Can you IMAGINE what this must have sounded like when it fell?!?!

Looks good to me. Hiked it.

Looks good to me. Hiked it.

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So this day, Sunday, September 11th (perspective played a big role in getting me out of the gutter as well) was starting to look up. The sun came out and I climbed 6,000 feet before 12:30. A nice lady took my photo at the top and we hiked together for a little bit of the descent, then I raced on. I had 3,000 more feet to climb and then 3,000 more to descend before camp. I was feeling SO much better, and getting really excited for another long climb. By the end of the day I was camped next to a creek, having gone up (and down) 9,000 feet in 27 miles, and had my appetite back. Phew. What a day. Not sure I’ve ever had to overcome so much in one tiny little 12 hour period. Bring on the deadlines, the stress, the poor team dynamics, the scheduling issues, time management, chronic conflict — bring it all on society, or “real world.” I’d be shocked to see how rattled you can make me. Thru-hikers have to be the most desired employees in the world.

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The next day I did 29 miles and the average 6,000 gain. Standard. The Northern Cascades have been breathtaking. One of my favorite sections of the trail! (Hah!) I was camped 8 miles from the ranger station where the bus would pick us up to go to the BAKERY and then to the “town” of Stehekin. I slept until 8:45 because frankly, I didn’t need to leave camp before 9:30. Well, in comes Bear Claw and Lemonade already 10 miles into their day (they woke up at 5 to frost on their tent, I slept for another 4 hours it seems, lazy.) All I hear is “Is that Toe Touch?” I yelped “Yeah!” And stuck my head out really happy to see them. They both looked at their watches at the same time and asked me, politely, what the hell I was doing. “There are CINNAMON ROLLS to be eaten and we mustn’t miss the 12:30 bus!” I said dontttt worryyyyy I got this! Save me a seat! They scampered off and I was on trail within 30 minutes. It reminded me of an ABC Family sitcom where the parents are always trying to get their kid out of bed in time for the bus, and the kid is just like gahhhhhhhhh. But instead of catching the bus to school, I was catching the bus to the bakery, where I’ve heard tales for 1500 miles of cinnamon rolls and sticky buns larger than my head. And I got a big head.

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Appropriately enough, I got to the bus stop with 40 MINUTES to spare (thank you, thank you) and all the hikers were sitting on the picnic table clipping their nails. Classic.

Chapstick and Big Bear enjoying their Cinnamon Roll snack

Chapstick and Big Bear enjoying their Cinnamon Roll snack

We rode in front of the bus, per Bear Claws demand since mile 1,325 (we’ve talked about this bakery a lot in our short friendship). The bus stops at the bakery and gives you 10 minutes to get in and get out! Next bus doesn’t come for another 3 hours so if you want to stay, go for it, but there’s no cell service or wifi, so you better either be REALLY hungry or have a good book. Or borrow one of theirs and plan your next adventure…

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I struggled. Bear Claw and Lemonade led the pack and were first in line. Feeling the heat, they made excellent and efficient choices. One of everything. And a slice of pizza. Bear Claw even had time to circle back and coach me through my decision, Cinnamon Roll or Sticky Bun? Gah! But what about a kale salad? Can I have that to go? Will he be able to pack it before the bus leaves? Bear Claw both heard and saw my indecisiveness, told me I was on the struggle bus big time and deserted me. Thanks for your support, pal.

Sticky Bun. And Kale Salad. To-go. Oh and Coffee. Please. Thank You. Swipe. Exhale. Smile. Cheer. High-Five.

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So happy with my decision. I had a couple bites of my bun on the bus and it was delectable. So buttery and gooey and moist and buttery and caramelly and buttery. It was heaven. I ate my Kale salad first and then we got to Stehekin. Lemonade bought a bottle of Reisling (it was either wine or hard Apple ciders, the last batch of hikers drank ALL the beer, hah! Imagine that!) and Bear Claw gathered Adirondack Chairs. We sat on the deck of the lodge. Big bear, Chapsick, Raiden, Lemonade, Bear Claw and myself. Transfixed by the accomplishment of the insanely physical last 108 miles, the sparkling waters of Lake Chelan, passing around a bottle of wine, drinking coffee on the side, devouring our monster pastries. I can only speak for myself, but it was quite clear the feeling was mutual, it was one of the best moments of the summer.

Lemonade and Bear Claw enjoying Adirondack Chairs, Ice Cream, Wine, and really good lighting

Lemonade and Bear Claw enjoying Adirondack Chairs, Ice Cream, Wine, and really good lighting

We dedicated that time to just relax. After the wine was gone we got a group campsite and then hit up the post office and ran other “errands.” Basically we went to the post office and then jumped in the lake. It was cold for sure, but the clear green/blue waters were so inviting. The sun was sparkling off the lake and we all stripped down to our skivvy’s and dove in. We laid out on the boat launch dock for awhile, allowing the sun to hit our stomachs and backs and dare I say it, thighs, for the first time all summer. We passed around a bag of Juanitas, everyone had a 4-pack of ciders, and we continued to be obsessed with the day.

The lodge

The lodge

We got dinner at the lodge. Lots of hikers around so we ended up with a table of 10. It was so much fun, the overall energy of the hikers is bittersweet. I would say most are very much ready to be done hiking for awhile. I for one am ready to wake up and NOT have to hike all day everyday. That will be a great little feeling. I am excited to start running again, doing more recreational sports, pursuing other passions. But how can one NOT miss this life? It’s unlike any other. And you only get to experience it if you’re one of the few who have made it this far, who have overcome all the tough times, who have kept a positive mindset, who have committed to it long ago, and never, ever, given up on it. I’m grateful for it everyday. I love it so much. But I’m ready for at least an intermission. A long, intermission.

7th and final National Park!

7th and final National Park!

Can you believe I saw my first rattlesnake at mile 2,569 in the town of Stehekin? How does that work? Damnit!

Can you believe I saw my first rattlesnake at mile 2,569 in the town of Stehekin? How does that work? Damnit!

My friends left the next morning, and I stayed put. They will finish a day before me, but there’s a great chance of seeing them in Vancouver to celebrate. I think Laura would be kind of pissed if she booked a flight and rented a car just to see me walk out of Manning Park Lodge showered, drunk, and in real clothes. No, no, I am trying to time it so I am stinky, drunk, and in the same clothes she sent me in Northern California. She deserves that much, right?

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Thanks leesh for the calories!

Thanks Alicia for the package of calories!

I took the following day off and rented a bike to ride to the bakery. I spent 3 hours at the bakery writing letters and postcards. I stopped at a tiny organic farm on my way back and bought a peach and a pear. I returned my bike after taking in the lovely feeling of being on 2 wheels. Stehekin is a community only accessible by foot, boat, or bus. There is no cell service anywhere. There is only wifi if you pay to stay at either the Lodge or the Ranch.

Here I am, at the Ranch. I am in a “tent cabin” with no electricity. I have a canvas roof and a kerosene lamp. The bathroom is in another building. I have a bed, a night table, and a hammock. The floor is concrete, the walls are wood paneling, and the windows are more canvas that button to the walls. There is no lock on the door. There IS a fire extinguisher. I love this place. I got a big ole Ranch Roast for dinner and apple crispy for dessert. All made on site, I actually smelled the beets cooking while in the shower. Talk about a top moment. I ate dinner at a large table and made friends with a huge group of retirees here for a 2-day hike. The food was probably the best quality I’ve had on trail. It was so fresh. The Internet connection is terrible so I won’t be able to publish this blog post until Canada. Canada is 89 miles away. Well, the Monument (where I’ll be having a huge photo shoot) is only 80 miles away. Manning Park is 89 miles away. Either way, that is 3 nights. 3 back-country nights left. 2 nice days, 2 very bad weather days. America is literally going to kick my ass out of my own country.

Jesus take the wheel.

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Operation: Slow Down

Day: 140

Mile: 2,292.38

Location: The Mountain Goat Coffee Shop and Bakery — Packwood, Washington

Avocado Count: 54

Shower Count: 32

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Laura’s going to Canada. My sister Laura, the one getting married on October 1st, has booked her flight to Vancouver on September 18th to greet me at the finish line with beer and ice cream. I still can’t believe it, I often daydream of what my final day will look like, and now I actually have one solid foundation to that fantasy. With this being said, I need to slow down, a lot. She just added an entire week onto my hike! Haha leave it to Laura to take hold of my journey and control the very last part. I’ll for sure hit bad weather now, but I am so, so grateful that she is coming. Another positive is that now I HAVE to zero every chance I get. What a bummer! My body hurts and my feet hurt to touch the ground and now I HAVE to rest them. This means I’ll be spending a lot more money, but just like I’ve been telling everyone all summer “eh, I’ll make more money again someday.” So I’ll continue to spend my nights in golden robes in the lovely presidential suites at the Four Seasons.

Funny part about it is that the resupply points in Washington are no-nothing ski resorts or tiny “hick towns” as one guy told me. True to form, I’m so excited about it.

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Rewind: this section of my blog was written last week in Trout Lake, Washington.

I’m not sure what’s going on. I know that I’m in Washington somewhere, and I know that every step I take I get closer to realizing my goal. I would say I am getting one step closer to realizing my dream, but we all know I am living my dream every day, the dream is in the journey. The dream is allowing the sun to wake me up as I moan and groan, and then slowly getting ready for the day while half of me is still coiled up in my sleeping bag. A lot of pivoting goes on, a lot of pivoting. The dream is hiking all day, meeting up with old friends, and making new ones. My favorite part of the dream is when I am within a mile of where I hope to camp, my feet hurting but my body feeling light as I have accomplished so much. I wash my face, I wash my feet, I boil water, I write in my journal, I read my book, I eat my chocolate. My dream is in every moment of everyday. My dream is in the routine that I have come to love. The routine that exhausts me beyond comprehension, yet the dream that has left me with boundless energy.

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I can’t make up my mind. As I left Cascade Locks in the late afternoon, I was so high on life. I hiked 7 miles and the whole time was trying to figure out ways to make this last longer. How can I slow this down without sacrificing the physical challenge and accomplishment? Should I get to Canada, turn around, and hike down to see my friends? How hard would they laugh at me? What words and literary phrases would they use to describe the situation, would they all STILL go right over my head? This thought was squashed the next morning when I remembered how difficult it was to get out of my sleeping bag. Progressively more difficult.

Hiking over the Bridge of the Gods!

A bit drafty and buggy, but it's Washington for crying out loud, what did I expect?

A bit drafty and buggy, but it’s Washington for crying out loud, what did I expect?

It has continued to be warm, so I have continued to take advantage of it and am still starting my hike no later than 7:30. The mornings are so quiet and peaceful, especially in a really dense old-growth forest. On the first day there was not even a breeze to speak about, it was as silent as a day gets. Quietest day on the PCT I have had. I found 2 Starbucks instant coffee packets in the hiker box and thought they would be a great addition to my 80+ mile hike to Trout Lake. Surprisingly enough, I didn’t want them. The mornings were so quiet and peaceful, I didn’t want anything to disrupt that calm. I knew if I added caffeine to the mix I would feel a bit more intense, my thoughts would be quick and plenty, and I didn’t want that. I wanted to wake up naturally and walk slowly for the first few hours. There is just something so wonderfully magical about the forest in Washington. It’s unlike any other forest I’ve been in.

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My first full day in Washington I accomplished 31 miles and over 8,000 ft. in elevation gain. Kind of ridiculous. I didn’t mean it, really. Okay, maybe I did. I just wanted to complete a 30 mile day in every state, so I thought I’d get it out of the way early. What if I get hurt or sick? Got to take advantage of the beautiful weather and rested muscles while I can. The climbing didn’t seem too bad, at times I barely noticed I was going up. The trail was so soft and covered in a bed of pine needles. It was quality grade-A trail. No terrain is easier or more fun to hike on. I am around a bunch of new people again, both good and bad. There was a big festival in Cascade Locks that a lot of hikers hitched up (or down) to, and most left the same day I did. Another motivation of my initial big day was to get ahead of the group. There’s plenty of people ahead of me for sure, but the people behind me were definitely the party people, and I kind of just wanted to get some space between us. How anti-social is THAT! Oh well, a big reason of choosing to do this particular long trail is because of the solitude it offers, the remoteness. I like to hike and camp alone now-a-days. I like to be social in town and along the way on the trail. At night I like to make my own spot to camp on, both because I feel wilder and because I know someone won’t come in and set up right next to me and snore all night. Anti-social is what I’ve become but I don’t care one bit. I love this style of hiking and it fits me well. I also have less than 400 miles to go and darnnit I’m gonna hike however I want. It’s my one shot, and I’m going to do what makes me happiest. It’s also that fear that if I change things up now that I will lose control and possibly not finish. I think that is true with everyone in one way or another. We get so used to doing something one way that we get scared to switch it up, especially when it’s close to completion, as if we’ll lose all control and all our work will crumble. I have hiked in so many different ways this summer and I am ready to finish up in this manner. With that being said, I bet something will swoop in and change it drastically soon enough. If that’s the case, I’ll roll with it. Because on the other hand, “what the heck.”

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My second day in Washington I aimed for another 30, I got 29.5 in and saw a prime spot so I grabbed it. It was wonderful until when, in the middle of the night, a bear came by for a visit. The night before a little mouse frolicked into my tent and jumped all over me, doing tricks even Simone Biles couldn’t pull off. It was hilarious, and the mouse was adorable, I appreciated its abundant energy. I was just laying there reading so I got to watch the whole mouse show as I sat up and said “hey you, get outta here wouldja!” “come on now, get!” My second zipper broke on my screen door so it’s an open invite to critters.

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Oh right, the bear. I forgot about bears and the perils. Not much to worry about in Oregon, so this woke me up a bit. The sound of a bear walking around is vastly different from a dumb deer, vastly. I didn’t have to look out to know what it was. Loud thuds, bears are heavy, bears are in Washington. Damnit. I was half-asleep as I threw my coconut oil into my backpack as if that would make any difference. I felt very vulnerable with a broken door, but I somehow fell back asleep pretty quickly. Maybe because I doubled up on Magnesium that night. In the morning I took out my magnifying glass and looked for bear prints. Okay fine I don’t have a magnifying glass and the last piece of equipment you need when looking for bear footprints is a magnifying glass, but it sets a good image right? Anyways, I didn’t see any, mostly because I wasn’t camped on impressionable soil, dirt, or sand. If I had a choice I’d let a mouse run over me every night then have to listen to a bear stomping around while I’m trying to get my beauty sleep. I’d choose a mouse every.time.

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The countdown is on.

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Randomly on one of the days I met Nancy. Nancy is Michelle’s mom. Following? No? That’s because Nancy came out of nowhere. I crossed a bridge and there she was, standing in front of her car. She said “Hey! You need anything?” I hesitated, my initial answer to that question is always no, because I never NEED anything, I’m completely self-sufficient, one of my favorite traits acquired this summer. I looked at her and smiled and asked what she was up too. She said she is waiting for her daughter Michelle to get there, she is heading Southbound. She is there to give her food and drinks for the next section. She asked me again if I needed anything. This question was getting harder. She didn’t give me options, which would have made for an easier answer. I made a lot of unsure sounds like “ahhhhhh ehhhhh i meannnnnnn maybeeeeeeee??? but no thank you I’m fine, I have all I need.” Nancy felt my resistance, saw right through me. She said “HERE, take this soda and bag of trail mix and keep going! get out of here would ya! you have miles to hike dontcha!” I felt like I was at a water stop for the longest race ever. It felt good, I felt like a professional endurance athlete. She shoved them in my hand and I screamed a high-pitched THANK YOU” as I raced away, just as she wanted me to. I passed Michelle 2 miles later and told her that her mother is a saint. She laughed and said yes, yes she is.

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After my night with the bear, I hiked 15 miles to the extremely special town of Trout Lake. Trout Lake is a 13 mile hitch down a forest service road. When I got to the road, I met Trail Angels Coppertone and Jerry. Coppertone is known among the PCT community for following the thick of the pack all summer and making us ROOT BEER FLOATS. Jerry is a newcomer to the trail angeling world and had tons of snacks and sausages cooking. I hung out with them and met 5 new hikers relaxing around the spread. Proton and DreamCatcher had a friend coming to pick them up to take them into Trout Lake and invited me along. We got into town and had lunch together at the Cafe. These guys were so great and we became friends quickly. They had other friends already in town and before I knew it I was surrounded by a ton of new, hilarious, and really outgoing hikers. It was a typical town lunch filled with laughter, conversation, and mockery of the trail. Proton snuck up and paid my bill, hikers are so generous. We receive so much support and generosity from trail angels that we immediately start paying it forward towards other hikers and the communities we land in. It’s an incredible circle of humanity.

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Hiker from Boston!

A hiker from Boston!

As I have mentioned in previous posts, Trout Lake means a lot to me because it is where we were based out of for our summer doing Trail Work with AmeriCorps. It was in this town where someone told me what P.C.T. stood for. It was in this town where I saw my first real mountain (Adams). It was in this town where I learned what Organic food was. It was in this town where I met Chuckles and Camel. It was in this town where I learned how to backpack. It was in this town where I was rewarded for good, honest, hard-work. It was in this town where I fully realized the true meaning of volunteering. The biggest risk I ever took was applying and accepting the position as “Trail Crew Team Member” for the Northwest Service Academy, getting on a plane for my first time out West, and embarking on a life in the elements. All brand new. Zero experience. Just a good feeling.

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I felt like I made it home. I made it back to Trout Lake all the way from Mexico. I’d been in touch with one of the old coordinators for the trail crew program, and friend, Katie. I am currently at her house now. Her and her husband have welcomed me into their home, given me full access to laundry, shower, a bed, and their refrigerator. Angels. They have 2 adorable boys who I got to hang out with on Friday and we kicked the soccer ball around and got Huckleberry milkshakes. Trout Lake is tiny, it is a general store, cafe, local watering hole, and post office. Mt. Adams watches over the town providing some of the best town scenery one can find. It’s the simple life, the type of town I think we all deep down fantasize living in. I am lucky enough to have lived here, and to know the amazing souls who have made a life here.

Need more?

Need more?

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The ole mess hall!

The ole mess hall!

I thought I would only spend 1 night, but Katie made me so comfortable that I am extending my stay. Tonight is the last “pizza party” at Debbie and Rods house. They have a wood-fired oven and invite the whole town over every Friday night in the summer. They roll out the dough, all you have to do is bring your own toppings and a dessert to share if you wish. When I heard that I just couldn’t leave! Also, Camel should be coming into town today, and it would be great to see him here!

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I found Camel! Being as Italian as ever

I found Camel! Being as Italian as ever

Decisions are hard when you're hungry, so everything, I put EVERYTHING on my pizza

Decisions are hard when you’re hungry, so everything, I put EVERYTHING on my pizza

Okay fast forward! I wrote all of that from Trout Lake, I am now in Packwood at the said cafe. Clearly, I found Camel and we had a blast at the neighborhood pizza party. All of the ingredients were locally sourced and the cheese made by the local cheese guy (who has made it quite big in the 5 years since I’ve last been here, ever hear of Cascadia Creamery?).  It was a great way to end my time in Trout Lake, and after Katie made us pancakes in the morning, her husband Ian drove us to the trailhead.

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Sketchy, at best.

Sketchy, at best.

Camel and I hiked the first couple of hours together talking more than we both have probably talked in 2 months. We’ve both made lots of friends since the Mile 55 split, but still mostly fly solo. During the conversation I think I successfully followed 1 movie/literary reference. That’s really good for me. Applause is not only appreciated, but required. Thank you, thank you. The rest of the day I hiked and picked huckleberries. I was eating so many I kept hearing my moms voice “you’re eating so many huckleberries you’re going to turn INTO A HUCKLEBERRY!” Much like she tells my dad “you’re going to turn INTO A BURGER.” So I naturally thought of Violet Beauregarde and how funny it would be if that really happened to people after eating too much of one thing. I then crossed a river that looked like chocolate and just gave in and recited the whole movie in my head. You can understand my surprise coming back into service and seeing that Gene Wilder had passed. So strange.

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The Chocolate River! RIP, Gene Wilder

The Chocolate River! RIP, Gene Wilder

Breakfast for dinner with my gather of the day!

Breakfast for dinner with my gather of the day!

The day had some really lovely clouds that turned really dark in the late afternoon. As dark as some were, they still didn’t seem threatening and I knew they would blow away quickly. It’s a good thing that ended up being true, because the following day we entered the Goat Rocks Wilderness, the only other area on the trail that you can even compare to the Sierra. I’ve worked in the Goat Rocks before, but I was still wildly excited. I knew I’d be seeing it from a different perspective this time. I’d been looking forward to this day for a really long time.

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The Goat Rocks was such an incredible day that it is getting its own photo gallery blog post. I will have that up later today with a paragraph about the section. I am currently taking a zero here in Packwood. Yesterday I hitched the 20 miles into town with a guy named Arnold. Arnold was driving a slaughter truck. It was big, loud, and stinky. I was with my friend Green Bean and when he pulled over she was like oh no, no no no, you go for it, I’ll get the next one, I don’t support that. Green Bean is a vegan. You couldn’t write this stuff.

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Thanks for the package Bailey!!

The good news is that I’m still alive. Everything about getting in that slaughter truck SHOULD have seemed like the wrong thing to do. But it didn’t feel wrong, it felt oddly normal, like I climb up into slaughter trucks with guys named Arnold on the daily. He’s a really nice guy by the way, Arnold. He was envious of my adventure, he says he’s been in the slaughtering business his whole life and that “it’s a living, not a life.” Well said, Arnold, well said.

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“You Know What Separates the Men From the Boys? Puttin’ On Wet Clothes Every Morning” — Soloing the Sierra

Day: 68

Location: Black Velvet Coffee Shop, Mammoth Lakes, CA (favorite place so far!)

Mile: 906.6

Avocado Count: 34

Showers Taken: 18

It’s all in your mindset. If you have the right attitude towards achieving a goal, you are going to achieve that goal. As I was hiking, I would stop and chat with other hikers. We discussed plans and landscape and strategy, and when it came up that I was not going into Bishop to resupply and take a day or 2 off to rest, I heard a lot of choice words and phrases. I had packed 12 days of food, and I was going straight to Mammoth by way of the most challenging terrain the PCT offers. And I was going alone. The most gratifying moments were when I’d tell someone this (whom I know has a rather lofty ego) and they would throw out a compliment and wish me well — because I could see their minds churning with doubt and maybe, just maybe, a tinge of envy. Funny thing is, I didn’t know how monster of a hitch it was until I was halfway through it, and even then it felt really, really attainable.

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I woke up every morning and performed a type of “self check-in,” if you will. I would ask myself if there was anywhere else I’d rather be. The answer was always no. I woke up excited everyday, even the day I forced on icy socks and slipped them into icy shoes and thought I’d never be warm again. Even then. Sure, a nice strapping young man brewing me hot coffee before sunrise would have been a nice addition, but we can’t win ’em all!

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On the 6th day of the Sierra, my friends went into Bishop to put their feet up and eat tons of food, and I continued on, scaled up Glen Pass and finally passed mile 800. Glen Pass wasn’t too bad, but the descent was the steepest of all, and not my favorite. It was terrifying. We were told not to do it super early because you don’t want to descend when it’s icy. The snow was soft when I went down, but then something really unfortunate happened.

Ascending Glen Pass

Ascending Glen Pass

At the top of the pass I was with about 10 other people, some old friends, some new faces. I’m not good at waiting around when there is hiking to be done, so I was the first to leave the summit party. I walked across the ridge to the steepest glissade butt track you’ll ever see. Basically, a snow slide. Opinions were varied at the top about if we should do it or not, looked kind of steep and downright suicidal. So here I go, first one to approach the start of the butt chute…I wasn’t planning on doing it, but it chose me to. Damnit I had no choice because I slipped and fell onto the slide. It was so smooth and slick there was no recovery method, I had to commit to the slide and try to slow myself down. I had micro-spikes on, but my ice ax was still in my backpack. I tried desperately to slow down but couldn’t, nothing was working. As I slid to my death (totally dramatic) I made one last effort and threw my poles, flipped onto my stomach, tied my hands together and gathered snow with my forearms. It worked, THANK GOD. The initial cheering turned to horror from the crowd looking on. Later in the day I apologized to everyone for almost dying and thus probably ruining their summer. They told me when I threw my poles they started getting super worried, and then 5 days later I saw friends from the Whitney Summit and they were like “we saw you glissade down Glen Pass, holy cow that was scary!” Haha, I put on a show, that’s for damn sure. Lots of bruises and scratches from the snow, but popped right up and continued the descent, I mean did I have another choice? Get me the heck off that mountain!

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The rest of the day was easy peezy. I gave myself a pass. I dried out all my stuff by Rae Lake and submerged myself in the icy cold waters. It was time for a bath. I made coffee and reorganized all my stuff. Hiked a few more miles and set myself up for a super early wake-up call to conquer the next mountain pass. Did about 15 miles that day and made a delicious farro&coconut milk soup for dinner.

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Day 7: Marathon day. It was either complete 2 Passes (most everyone does one pass per day) or do 2 consecutive low mileage days with one Pass each. I figured I’d continue to test myself and go for the gold. I started hiking at 4:30am and was the first person in the snowfields approaching Pinchot Pass.

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Luckily, my GPS was working at this point, but it turned out to be the last hour of THAT luxury for the rest of the week. I got all sorts of turned around, then luckily I saw 2 guys come out of nowhere walking on what was clearly the trail…EUREKA! I followed them the rest of the way up, and then bounced ahead of them. I got down after getting lost some more, and then started pushing the pace because I had 10 miles to cover before the next pass, and I wanted to be up and down that pass before the early afternoon’s soft snow. I crossed over many terrifying creeks and soon approached Mather Pass aka “The most fear-inducing pass in the Sierra.” You literally have to hike up super sharp snowy switchbacks with drop-offs that would make even the most courageous nauseous. Then you scale up either a snowy wall, or a section with nothing but loose rock, and pray that your foot holds steady. It’s exhausting, and the stress of the drop-off doesn’t exactly make things easier. As you can imagine, it was the biggest relief to get to the top. Two passes and 17 miles by 12:30…can you feel the fist pump that you know went down? Can ya feel it!

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The rest of the day was gorgeous, slightly breezy, warm, and along a golden trail with lakes and rivers and butterflies. Although my legs were in a lot of pain from dry skin. Between the post-holing in shorts, creek fords, and hot sun, they were so, so dry. Had to wear pants the rest of the week to cover them up. In the height of my leg misery I met a guy who asked me if I found his weed at the bottom of Glen Pass. Clearly, my pain did not compare to his loss, so I considered myself lucky to only have the most dried out skin in all the land. To think, I could have lost my WEED. (Disclaimer: I don’t smoke, heavy sarcasm).

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After 27 miles, and close to 15 hours of non-stop movement, I called it a day. Another 4am wake-up the next day in attempts to conquer Muir Pass. On the switchbacks before the snow I met an awesome lady named Cashmere, she is 53, a chemistry professor, and an ultra-runner. She started the PCT on May 6th and had yet to take a day off. She is crushing it.

We hiked most of the day together and was really nice to have someone to navigate the pass with. We got to the top and there was a beautiful stone hut constructed by the Sierra Club in 1930 in John Muirs memory. It gave me the chills. It was one of the best moments of the trip. John Muir is the most iconic outdoor figure, and has done so much to protect this area he called his home, the Sierra. If a hiker ever throws up a quote on social media, 9 times out of 10 it was said by John Muir. So yes, it was an extremely precious moment seeing that hut, and of course, hiking in the John Muir Wilderness ON the John Muir Trail. The guy is rightfully everywhere around these parts, I might have even started talking to him towards the end of each day when I’m at my looniest. May have.

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As you can see this is when a bit of weather started to loom. It was Friday, and a fellow hikers (Spreadsheet and Malt) had the weather forecast at the top. They told us low chance for snow on Saturday, but high chance on Sunday. Shoot, I thought it was always sunny in the Sierra Mountains? Right? Don’t they know I’m out here for almost 2 weeks and expect PERFECT weather everyday? Of course, I laughed and said welp, COME WHAT MAY! and it did, like Hell it did…

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Friday was another day probably close to 25 miles, pushed it again in the evening because I wanted to get close to the NEXT PASS. Despite my efforts, I believe I was still 10 miles from it, but I was tired and hungry and I had promised myself Mac n’ Cheese all day, so darnnit I was gonna have myself a FRIDAYYYY NIGHT! Talk about earning your cheese, I inhaled that goodness and slept like a baby.

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Saturday rolls around and the weather is iffy, clearly, the storm is gonna go down today, not tomorrow. I just pray it holds out until I’m off this next pass, Seldan. About 2 miles from the top, it begins to hail. Then rain. Then hail. Then snow. I wanted to push it, I really, really, didn’t want to call it quits for the day, it was only 11:30, but I’m also very aware of the dangers of being on top of mountain passes during storms. So, mom, dad — I listened to your voices in my head and made the “smart choice” and played it safe. I pushed it to the most exposed area (fine luck) and set up my tent while getting pelted with hail.

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Everything was soaked but my sleeping clothes so I put on my jammies to warm-up. I ate some cold-soaked oatmeal (was low on fuel, needed to save it for dinners only) and tried to nap. 30 minutes later I hear a voice..”hey you in the tent, got everything you need??” “Oh hey! Yeah I’m good, how is it out there?” “Not bad, it’s only RAIN.” He didn’t mean to sound condescending, but that’s how I HAD to take it if I wanted to ever leave my tent. I laughed and was like okay, there’s people going up there, so now you don’t have an excuse, go get it done. Packed up my soaking wet things, and got to the top in no time (was way closer than I thought). Took this photo and raced down before the next wave of the storm came barreling through.

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Met up with those guys at the bottom and hiked together through 2 really intense river fords (because we weren’t wet enough already) and then a few more miles. What helped me all week wearing wet shoes was, oddly enough, Will Ferrell and Jimmy Fallon. You know their song “Tight Pants?” Well early in the desert when the ONE time we got our feet wet, Centrefold started singing that song, but replacing ‘Tight Pants’ with ‘Wet Shoes’…it was the funniest thing to me at the time, and so all week I would do a little dance (with similar hip movements) with my wet shoes and sing the whole song as I hiked along. It was probably the most effective mood booster of the week.

I started every morning staring at my wet shoes

I started every morning staring at my wet shoes

Anyhoo, we all camped separately that night, calling it quits at different times. I labeled that day a slap in the face from the PCT, I mean it never stopped. Every time you thought you could relax, the PCT would test your will once more with intense hail, more creek crossings, mosquitoes, or washing out the trail completely and leaving you lost and frustrated. I made dinner from my tent as the rain came down, grateful I kept all my sleeping clothes dry. It was a fitful night of rest, my lips continued to throb, the rain smacked my tent, the thunder roared and the lightening lit up the sky. It was terrifying. Around 5am I opened my eyes to my tent caving in on me, the rain turned to heavy, wet snow and my poor little tent couldn’t hold much more. So for the next hour I would sit up, smack my tent walls, lay down and contemplate never leaving the tent, sit up, smack my tent, lay back down and contemplate never leaving the tent etc. I was 2 days from Mammoth.

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There is a really hiker-friendly resort called Vermillion Valley that a lot of hikers resupply at. I wasn’t planning on doing the 8 mile detour to get there, but with the state I was in, it was the only safe choice. Everything was soaked, I knew it was going to snow all day, and the Pass I planned on doing is known for a very confusing descent because it’s always covered in snow. With my GPS on the fritz, and new snow covering the preexisting footprints, I would have been doomed. So I finally pumped myself up, ate as many calories I could to keep warm, and put on soaking wet clothes. All of it, all of it was wet and snowy. It was the most difficult 30 minutes of the PCT. I wish, I couldn’t feel a thing. Taking down my tent was a bear. I had no grip strength, no dexterity in my fingers, and was shaking so badly. I also had to poop, so that was just the icing on the cake. I got the tent down, rolled it up all water-logged and shoved it somewhere on the outside of my pack. I was a freak show, for sure.

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“I got my wet clothes, got my wet clothes, I got my wet clothes on!”

I felt really nauseous and knew I needed to hike fast. The hail kept coming down, the trail was a stream, and my feet were ice bricks. 6 hours later I got to VVR, ready to spend upwards of $200 dollar for any sort of indoor sleeping space. They gave me a free beer and told me I could camp for free out front. After one sip of the beer my whole life changed. I set up my tent in the mud and rain, put on a bunch of loaner clothes (I chose fleece pajama pants with snowflakes on them) bought 3 nectarines and a honeybun and wiped out the inside of my wet tent with towels they gave me. I could have showered or done laundry for 6 bucks a piece, but was feeling better and decided to save that goodness for Mammoth. I continued to rough it, and slept pretty cold that night. It was all good though, because I hung out with a lot of hikers at the small restaurant they had. It was a really great moment when a staff member came into the restaurant saying..”EXCUSE ME HIKERS, someone put their BLUE sleeping bag in the dryer and it lit on fire, I SAVED the sleeping bag but now my dryer is BROKEN…NO MORE SLEEPING BAGS IN THE DRYER.” I just sat there with a smile on my face, sipping on soup in my fleece snowflake pajamas wondering in what other restaurant on earth this could happen in. And in that moment, I loved my life to the fullest.

First time looking in the mirror, my lips were inflamed and blistered, and my eyes were completely bloodshot. Heyyyyaaa good-LOOKIN!!!

I took the ferry out the next day, I wanted to get out early so I could complete the final mountain pass before Mammoth, Silver Pass. I got up there at 4:30pm and got lost for 2 hours. There were dark clouds literally all around me, but not on me. I felt like I was walking in the spotlight. I prayed a ton to keep the light on me, because if the storm came in AND I was still lost, I’d probably loose my cool. It was evening, and I was tired. I needed to get off this mountain. I followed the boot pack, but it kept leading me to the edge of cliffs.  After a lot of extra exerted energy and strategics, I found the correct boot pack, and made it down. I got out of the snow and found an awesome campsite nestled in the trees. Ran out of fuel before my water could boil but I didn’t care, I ate cold soup that night. I would be in Mammoth tomorrow eating pizza, just 20 more miles.

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Finding a sign after being lost for 2 hours = equals me collapsing in the snow in complete relief

Finding a sign after being lost for 2 hours = me collapsing in the snow in complete relief

The hike into Mammoth was the hardest day of the hitch, my feet were screaming with every step and the trail kept going up 1,000′ and then down 1,000′ but the descents were covered in snow so you could never make up any time. It took forever. But you know what? I made it. With a half mile left I began to cry a bit. I did it. Holy cow, I hope I never forget the feeling of getting to the trailhead and seeing other humans and cars. I made it to Mammoth. I threw my clothes in the washer, ordered room service dominoes, hopped in the shower, and devoured a pizza and fake chicken bites while watching the trashiest most brainless television I could find (E-Network always delivers).

It was the most challenging 12 days I have ever had. My legs and body held up phenomenally, I was really, really proud of them. I kept my head on straight better than I would have if I had done this any earlier in my life, but towards the end I was so mentally drained from getting lost in snowfields and always, always, being wet, that I was ready to get off the trail for a break. I actually had a bit of food leftover which no hiker quite understands.

This was a fun snackie

Cute little snack

I have been in Mammoth for 5 days and really don’t want to look at my credit card statement. My friends took extra time off in Bishop so they are about 5-6 days behind, which is way farther back than I was hoping. I have made it this long, so I am hoping to see them today so we can hug and exchange battle stories from this crazy section of trail. Having such strong relationships on the trail is both a blessing and a curse. It’s so hard to sync schedules and please everyone. Lots of flexibility is required, and even more patience. But the enrichment your friendships bring to the experience is invaluable. They make the hard times easier and the miserable moments fun. I’m in a tough spot right now because I am the only one on a schedule, and don’t have too much time left for side-trips or many more lazy days off. Not sure how things are going to play out from here, but I trust it will all work out for the best.

I’ve just been eating and drinking all week, and have definitely gained back a majority of the 10lbs I lost. The last few days of the hitch I had to tuck all my layers into my pants to keep them up (I wish I had a picture, total nerd) it was quite annoying, but now they are snug and there will be none of that for awhile!

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I have no idea what is next, all I have heard is really intense and high river fords, mosquitoes, and more snow (but not nearly as much). The hardest part of the WHOLE trail seems to be over (the desert and the southern Sierra). It’s crazy to think about, but now I need to make up a lot of miles in NorCal and Oregon if I want to be done by my goal date. I got a sister getting married and I am NOT to miss it! Time to hit the trail runnin’

 

Snakes, Creeks, and ‘The Smiley Face Mystery’

Location: Grizzly Cafe, Wrightwood, CA

Day: 25 

Cumulative Miles: 369

Showers Taken: 7

Avocados Consumed: 19

On-Trail Happy Hours: 1

So picture this: short little brunette, mid-20’s, portland, tight central top bun, red bandana knotted on top of forehead, dark-rimmed eye-glasses, barefoot, big smile. Her name is Penny, and she is in charge of the MILES OF SMILES.

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For 2 days we kept seeing smiley faces in the dirt. Now I’m going to be frank here, it started to agitate me. I’m not proud to admit that, but enough was enough! We had never met Penny, and we weren’t sure who was ahead that could be responsible for these miles of smiles. The rumors began, the mystery grew…

One morning, I emerged from my tent and began to hike (weird right?). I began seeing smiley faces, and I told myself Jules — you have NOTHING pressing on the to-do list today, so during these 20 miles you will solve this, and solve it you will, TODAY. I gave myself a sweet high-five, toe touched it up, and went full-on detective.

It didn’t take much. Early on I passed Penny and her mate, Austin. A mile later I stopped to pee behind a big boulder, but left my pack on the side of the trail (this way, in case of a tragic peeing accident, someone would know my whereabouts.) Being Detective Toe-Touch, I never took my eyes off the trail. I saw Penny scurry by, stop at my pack, do a full 360, then scurry away. Remember she’s barefoot, and she actually is scurrying, it’s not quite a run but definitely not a walk, the stride is just the right length to be a confirmed scurry, trust me.

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Little did she know I was on to her. Instances like this happened the rest of the day as we played leap frog. The next morning she stopped to say hello as we were packing up our tents. Chuckles first asked her if she knew the plot to the Oscar Winning “Wild Wild West” Will Smith film. She did not, and I couldn’t stop myself and spit out immediately “SO WHAT’S YOUR RELATIONSHIP LIKE WITH SMILEY FACES??” BAM! Got her, she doesn’t want anyone else to know, but she confessed. She is just spreading the love on the trail, all good intentions. I’ve decided to start leaving her some now that we are ahead. Wow, I can’t believe I just turned that into a huge story, sorry about that. Well I guess you now see where we get our entertainment from on the trail, we turn the little things into big things and then spread tons of rumors.

Can't imagine anyone purposely leaving this svelt jacket behind..

Can’t imagine anyone purposely leaving this svelt jacket behind..

Okay, for whatever reason that was a pressing event. The week in whole was amazing. We left Sunday morning with 6 days of food and 100 miles to cover. My resupply strategy is part snob part “wing it.” I go up and down every aisle in the grocery store at the pace of a senior citizen. I go for nutrients rather than calories, and clearly weight doesn’t matter to me. I tend to pack in avocados, bananas, almond butter, coconut oil, tins of sardines, jars of olives, a ridiculously heavy spice kit, etc. I then get frustrated that real food costs way more than fake food, but accept that’s just how it is. Totally backwards and screwed up, but I will continue to vote with my dollars. I plan on being in debt by week 5 and thus eating pop-tarts all day. Get ready for THAT post!

An array of snacks for meals

An array of snacks for meals

The most predictable and most consumed "hiker food"

The most predictable and most consumed “hiker food”

The first night we camped under a huge rainbow and then shivered in our tents all night. We had great weather the next few days, clear and hot. Centerfold woke up one day and decided that sleeves were extra weight and a thing of the past! So we went from hiker trash to white trash realllll quick.

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Had a lot of good lunchtime naps this week. On one particular day, Little Spoon decided to sit in the creek in this underwear. The leeches attacked, and I do believe he learned a tough, tough lesson that day.

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Gimme yo best hair flip gurlll!

Gimme yo best hair flip gurlll!

One of the weirder days was when we hiked into Deep Creek Hot Springs. Don’t get me wrong, hot springs are great on a cold day and  when there’s an outhouse. This was a very hot day, and there was neither an outhouse nor trash can. It’s a popular day use area so the place was trashed. Toilet paper in the bushes and under rocks, beer cans, food wrappers and a variety of litter everywhere you looked. It was a bit discouraging that people trash such remote and beautiful places. Such potential, now an area with very high fecal content, way to go, America!

"It's too early in the trip to get naked in front of you guys"

“It’s too early in the trip to get naked in front of you guys”

Also, at one point, we looked to our right and there was a women, naked, with dread locks, slack lining 20 feet above the main lake. Just another day, I suppose.

We passed mile 300! I had a nip of vodka for this moment (thank you, Fand) and I passed it around to celebrate! It was the first of undoubtably many, on-trail happy hours. Nothing I look forward to more.

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Guys, I’ve gone THREE WEEKS without seeing a snake (my biggest fear) and yesterday I saw THREE. They were all different too. Probably all deadly and stupid. All just hanging out across the trail giving me heart attacks. Anyone want to know how I handle the situation? Anyone? WELL LET ME TELL YA. I wait for my heart rate to lower, I stamp my feet, smack my poles, and hope for any movement, ANY movement at all! When they don’t move I figure they’re dead. So I throw rocks at their faces. The first two rocks I don’t try for contact, it’s just a scare tactic. When they don’t even FLINCH, I call them an “idiot” (in a really pathetic shaky voice) pick up my third rock and aim for their face. I usually hit them (not too hard) and they still don’t move. I start stamping again and this proves successful for the first 2 encounters.

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Here’s a sunset, not a snake.

On the third encounter of the day I’ve just about had it. This guy was a total idiot. After 15 minutes of using all my skillful well researched tactics, I look up and see Centerfold not too far down the trail looking at a map. Phew. I call him to my rescue. He does his stamping routine and has the same frustrating outcome: nothin’. Alas he has a great idea, go AROUND it. I do. I don’t like it, but I take a detour behind the snake. I thought many times of running and jumping over it, and every time I vomitted in my mouth. Much too big of a pansy. Maybe next time.

Here's a rainbow bridge, not a snake

Here’s a rainbow bridge, not a snake.

The week ended with a quick stop at an off-trail McDonalds, lots of climbing, beautiful views, windy afternoons, snowy mornings, and a day-off in Wrightwood. Little Spoon has an ankle injury that he barreled through, and we also have time to kill before we can safely cross the Sierras, so the day 1/2 off in town is a good call.

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I was the first one in town and I showed up so cold that I decided to treat myself to a room. The original plan was to camp or stay at a trail angels house. I wanted my own space, and it’s not good for the budget but it’s really good for the mind. I’m surrounded by hikers all day and night, and they are amazing, amazing people, but I do definitely need some space to reset and refresh, you know, so I don’t turn into a total isolated betch.

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The only cabin available was a big one. I took it. I told mile 55 to come stay if they wanted, and it’s been grand. We started drinking in the evening, got Mexican food, and of course, had trouble sleeping all night. It’s a basic cabin, the beds are wooden planks, there’s no television, and laundry costed me $6 and took 16 hours. I wore a strangers XXL frog togs rain jacket to dinner/bed and a pair of clean shorts I keep around. Oh, and a pair of chuckles socks. But I was showered! And I used shampoo! I felt like a million BUX

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Burrito mania!

Anyone order a gall of milk? No? Okay, how about beer then!

Anyone order a gall of milk? No? Okay, how about beer then!

Tomorrow we set out again. The worst of the storm has passed and we are hoping to get another 6 days and 100ish miles in. My health is excellent and I have definitely found my hiker legs. I roll my ankle pretty badly every 3rd day, but I rehab it back to strength pretty quickly. I have very weak ankles from previous injuries and accepted the fact that they will be an issue all summer. Just really hoping not TOO big of an issue. I suppose I also still have that weird foot tumor, which is just a squishy circle on top of my foot. Everything squishy I automatically assume is a calcium build-up. I don’t even think that is a thing, but it eases my mind.

Barely noticeable anymore!

Barely noticeable anymore!

The crew is feeling good, and I’m pushing essential oils on Spoons busted ankle to expedite the healing process. When I heard they were behind on account of injury, my heart broke a bit. I thought it was worse than it was and thought they might not be able to catch up, this causing a major drift. I left him a note and my peppermint essential oil under a rock on the trail for him the next day. He’s a tough one, and we will continue north tomorrow! Phew!

What??!? Yassss!!!

What??!? Yassss!!!

Welp, time to go to the grocery store, probably buy some unreasonably priced and packaged grass-fed yogurt for the trail! Hell, might even splurge and pack out a watermelon! Clearly I know what I’m doing.

ALSO, HAPPY MOTHERS DAY to all the mommas, but especially the ClaireBear, the most generous and craziest one of all. I love you! Thanks for always taking care of your baby girl! ???? and sorry for stripping away all your potentially restful nights ???

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Very foggy morning

Very foggy morning

Currently at 7,000 ft.

Currently at 7,000 ft.

Oh, that's IT?? #easy

Oh, that’s IT?? #easy

Also, Chuckles (Maggie) is a freelance writer and has a killer blog: check it out!

http://appalachiantrials.com/author/maggie-wallace/