The buzzing on my wrist comes as no surprise. In those brief moments drifting in limbo between asleep and awake, I struggle to register what exactly it is floating above my head. Beyond the soft armor of mosquito mesh surrounding me, and through the tarp stretched taut above, an amorphous shape of white bends into unrecognizable shapes and patterns, like sunlight seen from beneath the surface of water.
Search Results for: campsite
The Golden Staircase
The confluence of two creeks, a mere stone’s throw from our proverbial bedroom window, seemed not to care that morning had broken. Nature’s white noise machine chugged along, ignorant of day and time. The alarm on my wrist was more particular about exactly what time it was, and its buzzing was as inescapable as the reality it brought with it. Everything ahead of us was in one and only one direction: up.
Pit Stop
Strange. I don’t remember there being rocks under me. In the trance-like state between dreaming and waking, not a whole lot makes sense. Yet, as the dust from my recent slumber settled, it was starting to making quite a lot of sense. I just didn’t like what it added up to.
Reunion
It feels like a long time since we’ve had a hiking day like this, absent a place to be and a schedule to keep. In truth, we did have somewhere to be but with only 11 miles of sweet, sweet National Park trail between there and here, it felt about as leisurely as things ever get out here.
The First Five Days on the CDT: A Rookie’s Perspective
In some circles I may appear as an experienced backpacker. In thru-hiking circles and even the wonderful trio of people I am with on this CDT journey, I am a definite rookie.
The Silence and the Fury
The same chorus of white noise from the brook not 10 feet from our tent that had played us a lullaby last night played us back into consciousness this morning. Leaving our campsite deep within the forest, it was time to make our way up onto a vast plateau and the blast zone that constitutes the entire northern half of the mountain.
The Great Range
I wasn’t always this soft. Age and a career in front of a computer has a way of doing that, slowly obscuring who we really are underneath. Some people go to church to be renewed. I come here.
Forever a Student
No two hikes are ever the same and no matter how many miles you have under your feet there’s always something more to learn—that’s part of what makes it so much fun. Whether it’s learning how to not shower for a week or more (surprisingly easy) or learning new ways of walking when blisters or foot pain make it difficult to walk normally (harder)…
Solitude
Just as the sun began to crest the distant ridge, we were already saying our goodbyes to the Desolation Wilderness. The uncharacteristically rock-choked trail that had begun almost upon entering the wilderness yesterday continued for a few final miles as we hewed closely to the shore of Echo Lake…
California’s Playground
Before today had even begun, yesterday quite literally ended with a thud. The thud in this case was the sound of me smacking into the ground neck first as my hammock came unmoored from its webbing on one end while I was lying in it. The ground beneath me was fortunately stone free, so a few minutes and a couple of ibuprofen later, I was back hanging and off to dreamland.
Permanence
I was getting tired of the view anyway. I mean, how much mountain porn can a person take? Although today was absent the high visual drama of the last three, the lowered ceiling of clouds we walked through for much of the day created a unique atmosphere of curiosity—if the clouds lifted at any moment, what new jaw-dropping view might they reveal?
Confessions of a Chacoholic
I love Chacos. True story: I own 8 pairs of them. Two pairs hiked the Appalachian Trail, two have hiked the John Muir Trail and the Wonderland Trail twice, and three have now hiked the Pacific Crest Trail. Combined they've been my companions for well north of 5,000 trail miles. The 8th pair? I got married to my best friend in those.
The American Alps
The clear skies that we'd fallen asleep to were the same ones we woke to, but somewhere in between we had yet another dose of overnight rain. Fortunately, it was the last we would see of the wet stuff for the rest of the day. Under the newfound sun, steam was quietly rising off of the damp understory like smoke from a smoldering fire…
Blueberry Forest
Since crossing I-5 outside of Ashland, I've felt closer to civilization in Oregon than any other stretch of the trail so far. The best evidence is the number of consecutive road crossings, many separated by less than half a mile, that we seem to encounter every day here.
I Am the Buffet
By the time I awoke this morning, the chill of the air overnight had mercifully chased the hordes of mosquitoes from the air. As Beardoh, Sweet Pea and I struck out for the first miles of the morning, the trail began to tilt up out of our low lying campsite into the sunlight and the warmth of its early rays.
Boat Ride
Today was a short story of a near-o to the shore of Lake Edison, where we caught a "ferry" in a small fishing boat to Vermilion Valley "Resort" across the lake.
Memory
Every break spot. Every campsite. Every creekside where we stopped for water and every place we stood to admire the view. I remember them all with such vividness and clarity that it's as if my hike of the JMT with my best friend last year had happened just moments ago. Even in memory, Emily surrounds me.
Inferno
Today marks one month since I set out on the trail from the border of Mexico--it's hard to believe it's gone by so quickly. When my 3:30am alarm went off yet again, I awoke to find that a mouse had taken to using my sandal straps as both a salt lick and a bit of a chew toy during the night despite them being two feet from my head. No major damage.
Farming the Wind
Any day that begins with the promise of real food and a shower at the end of it is a great day and after nearly 400 miles since my last day off in Idyllwild, I'm ready for both. Another early start to beat the heat, we took off one by one in the early morning hours just before sunrise, marching east directly toward another beautiful installment of the waking sun.
Two weeks
Today marks two weeks on the trail and even so early in the trip it's hard to wrap my mind around all the beautiful sights I've seen and all the wonderful people I've met. Other than the storm north of Mt. Laguna, today also marked the return of something that I'd seldom seen these first two weeks: clouds. Little white puffy ones.
John Muir Trail 2015
An image gallery of photos from the John Muir Trail—the jewel of the High Sierra, running 210-miles from Mt. Whitney to Yosemite Valley. Start Point: Yosemite Valley, CAEnd Point: Mt. Whitney, CATotal Length: 211 miles
Katahdin
After a night of restless anticipation, morning came early. I strolled away from The Birches for an early reunion with my Mom and Dad who’d driven all the way from home to meet me, but even before I made it to the parking lot my hometown friend Shauna, herself having travelled to meet her brother NY Mule, came running down the trail towards me.
The Birches
What a day! Very short on miles, but with a mere 10 miles between Abol Bridge and the final campsite tonight in Baxter State Park at the foot of Katahdin, we had plenty of time to enjoy the sights along the way and soak in another beautiful day in the Maine wilderness.
Crawford Notch
Much easier hiking today under even more blue sky. I can't get over my luck with the weather so far in the Whites. Walk On and I spent some time at Zealand Falls Hut having lunch and soaking in the falls (very cold) before trucking on to another break at scenic Ethan Pond.
Congdon
I still feel feel quite a lot of hangover sadness from yesterday, but the thought of being back on the Long Trail in Vermont for the first time since my '02 thru-hike pushed me on. I crossed into Vermont after another late start following this morning's downpour that I rode out in my tent. Cleared up a little this afternoon, but still wet and muddy all the way to the shelter where I met Seeker.
Sherman Brook
After an incredibly fun couple of days, I got a late start back on the trail tonight. I was so sad to leave my best friend Sarah behind, and this is the first time I can remember not wanting to be on the trail. A lonely night on the cusp of Vermont...
October Mt.
A nice rainstorm rocked me to sleep last night in my tent and also drowned out the humming chorus of mosquitoes outside. I slept in a little bit this morning as the rain continued and got a late start at 9:30. No views or anything at all to see today except for the beautiful Upper Goose Pond, where I spent some time on the shore enjoying the breeze right at the water's edge.
Shaker
Massachusetts? Ha! More like Mosquito-chusetts. The little buzzers are out in full f$@#ing force! I got eaten alive today after a late noontime start and a nice breakfast at Martin's with Lucky Star and Footloose. Oh, and if I neglected to mention it, this is the final leg of the Triple Crown for the ageless Lucky Star, who also happened to be dragged through the forest by a black bear while sleeping in her bivy sack back in Pennsylvania.
Pine Swamp Brook
Connecticut is tougher than you might think. Lots of steep PUDs today with lots of sun, but also good clean running streams--a welcome change from NJ/NY's brackish, ugly water. Some gruelling ups and downs at the end of the day made for a tough finish, though Footloose and I killed some time in the afternoon heat by lazing on some rocks in the Housatonic River.
CT 341
A short day heading into Kent, CT with Northern Harrier, Footloose, and Jan, who is heading home to New Jersey from Kent. A nice little quintessentially New England town, good food, and of course it's always nice to do laundry. Splitting a room tonight with Footloose and Harrier to relax a little and get some more rest. Lately, everyone seems to be feeling very worn down and shelter registers are filled with more and more pessimism and hikers talking about their "trail blues" and overall mental and physical weariness.
Ten Mile River
A bit of rain most of the day, but it's hard to rain on a day's parade when it includes a surprise trailside hot dog stand at 10am, seeing Dover Oak (the largest tree on the AT), crossing into Connecticut (my 10th state!), getting the ultimate trail magic of ice cold Gatorade, being joined by Northern Harrier at day's end, and having yet another beautiful campsite under the pines on Ten Mile River.
War Spur
More of the same today, doing what I've begun calling "The Virginia Thing," which is basically trail that climbs up 1,000-2,000 feet and then rides a flat ridgetop before making a steep descent of 1,000-2,000 feet. Repeat a few hundred times and that's my impression of a good deal of the trail in Virginia.
Mile 640
Slept in and got a late start from the motel at around noon today after packing up my ever-growing food bag. Just cruised along taking my time since I decided to watch my shin splint and not go very far. So far, it hasn't acted up since the day coming into Pearisburg.