Just going for a walk

And so, finally, I was back home. So one of the questions I've consistently gotten since returning is: how has it been integrating back into normal life? Is it strange being back home? Is it difficult readjusting? And for this week at least, the answer has been: it's not that bad. And maybe it's because I don't have a job to rush back to, or some other external deadline encroaching. Rather, in a lot of ways it's been the same as it was on the trail: it's still just me dictating what happens every day, just the setting has changed. And I admit that the scenery of my apartment doesn't compare to that of the PCT; I don't deny that the setting is important so changing it *is* significant. But I will say about being at home setting: fundamentally I think of myself as an Indoor--rather than an Outdoor--person. Even when I was on trail, I would dream of being ensconced in a library carrel, hidden amongst the stacks, working away at some technical problem with p

When I touched the Northern Terminus of the PCT, I died as a thru-hiker and was reborn as a day-hiker. Well, today I fully resumed the latter, resurrecting my Saturday hiking habit by heading out into the Santa Ana Mountains and Cleveland National Forest. For this hike, I headed to the top of Los Pinos Peak via the Bell View Trail. This hike has been on my list for a while, but that area has been closed for fire recovery for at least the last year (if not more). So when I got back and saw that the way was now open, I figured I had to take it. Plus, it's a considered a tougher trail--it's a ridge trail that goes up and down lots of local peaks on its way to the top, and it's pretty overgrown for the last couple miles to boot--and I figured I'd better make use of the remnants of my PCT fitness before I lost it all! But as I started the hike, I immediately realized that I had basically forgotten how to hike. On the PCT, towards the end, it would take me 20-30 minutes to wa

And on Sun's Day, we arrived into Seattle well into Night, from a road Rainy and Foggy and Long. And as it was so Late, we sought Refection on the Road at a 24-hour Golden Arches. And I sought their famous Apple Pie because that's a tradition in my family (and yes, I am being Serious about that), and they told us it would be 8 minutes before they would be Ready (although this turned out to be Not True), but we were willing to wait. And I also sought a chicken sandwich Meal, but was told they were out of Meal 4D, then out of Meal 4C, then out of Meal 4B and at point I gave up and went with whatever chicken thing the guy on the intercom said and it ended up being comparable in size to a hamburger and by the way when was the last time you ate a simple McDonalds hamburger because let me tell you those things are small and (especially to a hiker) are basically flattened sliders. But Something is better than Nothing in this case, and we took the Foodstuffs to the hotel and ate them w

How do you get home after a thru-hike? I think the majority of folks will take a flight. Which makes sense: it's fast, it's efficient, and it can go pretty much anywhere, including overseas. But for me, I always figured I'd take a train. And I admit a large part of it is an overly romanticized notion of looking out the window, watching the world go by, and just feeling that sense of perpetual movement that you don't get from a plane (a plane is too far from the ground, so that while I know intellectually that I'm moving--and moving fast--and technically can see it, I can't viscerally feel it).  And another large part was so I didn't have to check-in my backpack: just the thought of the straps catching on the carousel makes my skin crawl. (So there's a solution to that, which involves putting your backpack in a large compactor bag and properly sealing the top but still, why risk it?) And so it was that I found myself aboard Amtrak's Coast Starlight, o

Well, I'm here in Seattle, in the heart of civilization, with the trail behind me and done. (Well, until I go back and grab all those sections I missed due to fire or otherwise, but that's for another time.) And I admit the ending of the blog is rather anti-climactic, but as I said to Apocalypse, the terminus itself is pretty anti-climactic, but it's still pretty awesome. And I will say that, after having made my peace with the blog and defining it as part of the trail for me, I feel that writing an entry for every day on the trail is as much an accomplishment as finishing the trail. They're both grinds that wore on me day after day, and they both had their times of put-your-head-down-and-get-it-done, but also their times of sheer wonder. But now that the trail is done, what's the future of the blog? Well, thinking about it some, I have ideas! First, I figured I'd do a question-and-answer thing: let folks (i.e., y'all) submit questions, then answer them in a

And today was Getaway Day. Because today the rains were supposed to start, and tomorrow, the snows. When people would ask when I was going to finish, I would always say by October 1st. The reason? To beat the snows. So got to get out before the snows hit! In the morning, the weather did start to turn, although more in feeling than in view. Which is to say, I woke to blue and sunny skies, but the sun didn't feel as warm, and the wind felt colder and more biting. And to the south, the clouds were gathering, one even dropping a formation that looked suspiciously like a thunderhead.  But in the morning, the turn hadn't come quite yet, and as started, hiking the dip between Woody Pass and Rock Pass, I thought: is that what I had hiked? Two nights ago I had been here at dusk and later, and while the skies had been turning from blue to purple to night black, the slopes had been but gray and drab. But now, cast in the morning haze of light still waking, I saw that these slopes were in

And today was Terminus Day! So the idea for Terminus Day is to slack-pack it: declare this place to be base camp, leave the tent set up, and just carry what you need for a day-hike to the terminus and back. Which is an interesting exercise: it's a measure of your paranoia. Be paranoid enough and you'll end up packing your entire bag because it's a long way--the terminus is 11.3 miles from my base camp, meaning a 22.6 mile day, which is long (for me)--so maybe you won't be able to make it back to base camp and will need to camp in the middle. Well, then you're bringing everything! Me, I was able to trim it down. Medical kit, my just-in-case camera electronics bag (memory cards and spare battery), keyboard (luxury item!), an extra layer (just my hoodie, no puffy), tripod set up (of course--for the terminus shot!). Then the essentials: rain gear (functions as a windbreaker too), poop kit, water kit. And finally, food: I brought along a bunch of snacks, mostly hoping to

And I woke to brilliant sunlight filtering through yellow conifers, and I packed up faster than ever--might I, at the very end, finally figured out how to do this?--gathered water at the nearby creek with a startling efficiency, even dropped by the camp of the gaggle to say good morning, and headed out. All quick and clean and starting to think, yes, maybe I *have* figured out how to do this. And then at one of the turns I clear my sinuses as I do every morning, and promptly blow a snot rocket straight onto my pants. Nope!--still don't got it! But today, trail-wise was beautiful. There was a green tunnel section in the middle of the day--saved me, actually, because without it I doubt I would have made miles, instead would have spent the day stopping every few steps to gawk with the camera. But the other spots! The morning on the ridges under Tatie Peak, gazing out at the slopes and peaks just across the vale as you negotiate a shelf trail. And then the trail turning from eastward t