Snoqualmie Pass to the Canadian Border

Here it is, the final chapter of my PCT journey. The trail did not hold punches in it’s final stretch. Fallen trees, eroding trail, relentless rain, and an incoming snow storm pushed me to my limits. Simply put, the trail here is just plain rugged and remote. There’s a reason over 85% of PCT thru hikers start south and save the beast of Northern Washington for the final days. It was a beautiful, wild, awe inspiring journey to the finish. Here’s how it went.

Sept 3rd – Day 143

After a shockingly warm and sunny day, the clouds began to roll in again in the morning. I wasn’t surprised. Every picture I’d seen of Snoqualmie Pass had been overcast. Half Moon and I set out and climbed to a ridge line. Here the trail had been blasted into rock. A local told us it was the most expensive section of the PCT to build, costing millions of dollars for this few tenths of a mile section. It was a beautiful trail with beautiful views. Half Moon and I missed the 2400 mile marker, so Half Moon made a new one at 2400.2. The views at this spot were better, anyway. It made a nicer picture.

It was chilly with a breeze, but between the milestone, the beautiful trail, and the stunning views I was feeling euphoric. I felt so ready to tackle the next section of trail, which was said to be relentlessly steep, constantly gaining and losing thousands of feet of elevation up passes, down valleys, and back up passes again.

The next few miles had incredible views. I stopped frequently to take pictures, even though the clouds started to darken.

About ten miles from Snoqualmie Pass a hiker named KT passes me going the opposite direction. I had seen him frequently over the previous few months, so I knew he was a North bound hiker. I asked if anything was wrong, and he said that he felt something (maybe a tendon?) in his leg snap. He said he was in pain, but could walk, and decided his best course of action was to hike out before he couldn’t walk anymore. This section was so remote that going farther would not be wise. I felt for him and wished him well. It would be a long painful slog out, and I hoped he could recover. I’m not sure if he made it back on trail or if his injury ended his hike only 250 mile from the border. It was a reminder that even now, an injury could derail anyone’s journey.

A holiday weekend was approaching and the trails and campsites were crowded. I wasn’t sure if I could find a place to camp, but Half Moon had saved me a spot near a small pond. More and more hikers filtered in as we made dinner, but eventually everyone found a spot. The rain held off that evening, but eventually sprinkled a bit that night, leaving our tents and sleeping bags a little damp with condensation.

Sept 4th – Day 144

It was a warmer morning, so I headed out early. I made quick time down to a river valley, past a beautiful waterfall, and then back up a pass to a beautiful lake where Half Moon and I ate lunch. We set out our tents and sleeping bags to dry in the sun before the clouds moved in again.

The trail goes through a few burn zones in the area. We passed many beautiful campsites by a river that were unfortunately full of weekend hikers. We kept going but soon found ourselves in an avalanche zone with a plethora of downed trees. It made hiking slower, and by the time we finally found a suitable campsite it was near dark. Half Moon and I decided to make the best of what might have been one of our last clear nights and cowboy camped.

Sept 5th – Day 145

We stayed dry all night, but clouds were moving in the next morning. I slept in before heading up another big climb up a pass and then back down again into another beautiful valley.

I passed a ranger mid day who told me she had hiked the PCT in 2017. She was so excited for me and I had a blast talking to her about the trail. I stopped at a lake for a break in the afternoon and Half Moon went for a swim. By this time the wind had picked up and the clouds rolled in and it was definitely NOT warm.

The shores of the lake were, again, packed with backpackers out for the long weekend, so I continued on. The trail climbs to yet another pass before descending into a valley and then heading straight up the walls of the valley again. The clouds moved in and I worried it might start raining again.

Somewhere along one if the steep ups and downs, Half Moon, who was behind me, managed to get off trail and went straight down a field of scree. He ended up in front of me, so it must have been faster, but I didn’t envy his shortcut. The trail was brutal enough as it was.

We made camp in the setting sun on the shores of a lake. The lake was, once again, crowded, but we managed to grab a spot. It was fun chatting with hikers about the PCT. It was strange to think that I had been at this since April, and it was now September. Five months of nothing but dedicated walking. My longest backpacking trip before the PCT had only been 2 nights and 3 days, which was what most of the weekenders were doing, so it was fun to answer their questions about what the jump from weekend trips to thru hiking felt like.

Sept 6th – Day 146

The next morning a couple gave me extra snacks that they wouldn’t need as they were hiking out that day. I was super grateful, as I am always in need of snacks. I woke up to dense fog, but it quickly started to clear as I headed towards Stevens Pass, my destination for the day.

I stopped to eat many huckleberries on my way. Stevens Pass is a little ski stop off a highway. Hikers can send resupply boxes there, but most choose to hitch hike either west into the town of Skykomish or east to the town of Leavenworth. Leavenworth is farther, but it’s Bavarian themed and is thought to be more fun, so Half Moon and I decided to try our luck hitching to Leavenworth.

It was Labor Day, so most cars were heading West, back to Seattle, and we had a very difficult time finding a ride. Finally we managed to get a ride from a young couple whose friend had hiked the PCT a few years before. They were very nice and offered us fruit on the long drive to Leavenworth. Halfway through the ride, I looked to my left and noticed a large wasp clinging to Half Moon’s hat. Not wanting to say anything and startle the wasp in an enclosed environment, I hoped that it would stay put until we could get out of the car. Fortunately it did, and we did not unleash an angry wasp into the car of the people kind enough to give us a ride.

We headed to an Airbnb where Keebler, Wiggles, Posideon, and Pez were staying. We showered, got laundry done, had a good meal, and relaxed. The Airbnb had a hot tub, so it was nice to enjoy it after the “last supper” in a trail town. After Leavenworth, amenities would be pretty rustic.

Sept 7th – Day 147

After a slow morning we left the AirBnb. I resupplied and sent some stuff home from the post office. I had to carry a lot of food, and I was anxious to get rid of whatever weight I could on this long stretch of trail. Pez, Keebler, Posideon, and Wiggles hitched back early while Half Moon and I explored the town a bit. I was disappointed to learn that Leavenworth was built as a tourist attraction, and was never actually an enclave of Bavarian immigrants.

We went to a beer garden and then shopped around and got ice cream. Finally at around 4 or 5 we decided that we needed to get moving. We were worried that finding a hitch might be difficult. A man stopped to offer us a ride, but only part of way. We accepted, but I worried we might get stuck in the middle of nowhere. Fortunately only 30 seconds into trying to get our second hitch, a woman in a jeep stopped to give us a ride. She knew about the PCT very well, as her husband had hiked it. In fact, her husband would have been one of the first people to complete the “triple crown” of thru-hiking, but quit the Continental Divide Trail to be with her. It was a cute story, and we were extra grateful when we realized she actually went out of her way to get us back to trail.

We only hiked about three miles to camp, where Half Moon left his bag at the side of the trail to show me where he was staying. The weather seemed nice when I went to bed, but I woke up in the night to the sounds of rain on my tent. The inside of my tent stayed dry, but I was still surprised. It had been clear the night before.

Sept 8th -Day 148

The morning was punctuated by loud blasts echoing through the mountain. Clearly they were mining somewhere nearby. It was another day of numerous steep climbs and descents.

I repeatedly passed a hiker named Hopscotch. We had a similar pace and she was fun to talk to. I found a large, flat rock in the sun in the early afternoon and took a nap there. It was a beautiful spot with a great view.

For the next few miles I hiked on autopilot, passing many water sources without thinking and then realizing that I was out of water with several miles left to go before the next source. A few minutes up the trail I passed Hopscotch stopped by the side of a switchback. She was also out of water, but could hear it running in some boulders next to the trail. I heard it to, but it was very difficult to get to. We worked together to lower me into what was essentially a cave as Hopscotch passed water bladders to me and I filled them up and handed them back to her. When we were done she pulled me out and we highfived to our teamwork.

Coming into camp in the afternoon I finally got to meet one of my heroes, a trail celebrity named Littlefoot. Littlefoot is five years old, and hiking the entire PCT with her parents. She’s adventurous and tough, and it was so cool to finally be able to meet her after hearing about her for so long.

I finally got to camp in the evening. Many hikers shared our spot, including Hopscotch and Little Foot and her parents. We prepared for rain in the night, but fortunately it didn’t come.

Sept 9th – Day 149

The next morning we had several huge climbs to get through. The trail maintenance here started to suffer. Short summers, severe weather, and the remote location all make this a difficult section of trail to maintain. I found myself crawling over many blow downs and inching across eroded sections of trail.

This day of hiking was uneventful, but the views were absolutely unreal, so I’ll just put a few of my favorites on display.

I passed numerous marmots, all of which were about the size of beavers. Marmots also scream to communicate, and their screams echo across the mountains and sound exactly like rescue whistles. Everytime we heard one we made sure to listen for a pattern in case it wasn’t a marmot and someone actually needed help.

The 2500 mile marker happens to be at a spot with a stunning view, so I took a picture even though I knew I’d be at the terminus soon. Shortly after the 2500 mile sign we saw “closed” notices on all connecting trails. Apparently a nearby forest service road was closed due to a fire, meaning all bailout points in this 110 mile stretch were also closed. If anything happened, we’d be on our own.

On the way to camp we passed many river crossings, some of which were sketchier than others. In one case, a bridge have folded inwards. In another the bridge had washed away entirely. It was obvious that this part of the trail was in desperate need of maintenance. A hiker named Santiago shook his head in disgust as I contemplated crossing a bridgeless river in the late afternoon. “Someone is going to get hurt out here,” he said, “it’s just a matter of time”. I decided to camp on the near side of the river, and cross again in the morning.

Sept 10th – Day 150

The next morning the water level in the river was much lower because many of the sources upstream had frozen in the night. It was an easy crossing. The next crossing involved traversing a narrow, slippery log over churning, opague waters of unknown depth. I was able to keep my balance, but I wondered what would have happened if I had fallen. Would I have been swept away?

The views were beautiful, but the trail was challenging. Fallen trees everywhere meant that I was constantly climbing over, then under, then over logs on trail. Sometimes if the trees were particularly large I was forced to go around, trying to find purchase on loose soil on the slope of a mountain.

I approached a particularly bad blow down where two large trees had fallen on top of each other, creating a nearly 10 foot wall of trees. The only option was to go up the steep side of the mountain, around the base of the fallen trees, and back down on the loose soil. As I started down on the lose soil someone rushed up the trail towards me yelling “Stop! This is dangerous! Try scooting”. I slowly got down on my butt and scooted back to the trail. As I walked towards the man who had warned me I noticed about four people around a person covered in quilts. The man told me that a woman had just fallen in that spot, and she’d broken her ankle. I looked back to the group and at the woman under the quilts. It was Hopscotch.

I asked Hopscotch if she needed anything, although all I had to offer was some ibuprofen. She said she had plenty, and she’d already called for a helicopter on her SOS device, so she was just waiting to be rescued. The others who found her had wrapped her in jackets and quilts to keep her body from going into shock. The SAR team had told her it would be about an hour and a half. She was shockingly calm for someone whose thru hike had ended in such an abrupt, traumatic way. She didn’t even seem to be in pain, although she tried to avoid looking at the unnatural angle her ankle jutted out at under the quilt.

When it seemed like the group had everything under control I decided to keep going. I was curious about what a helicopter rescue looks like, but I decided not to crowd her. I’m sure she didn’t want to be a spectacle. I wished her a quick recovery, said goodbye, and hiked on. As I walked away I passed a very angry Santiago shaking his head. “Unbelievable”, me muttered, “this trail is dangerous, The Forest Service should have cleared those logs in early summer”.

I stopped at a lake for a lunch break after a while, and sure enough, about an hour and a half after I’d left Hopscotch I heard a helicopter in the distance and saw it descend on the other side of the pass, where I’d come from. I was glad that Hopscotch was able to get help. I thought with a shudder about how this would have gone had she been hurt on the trail only 10 or 15 years ago, before satellite SOS beacons. Even for fast hikers like us, we were a two day walk from the nearest trail head. She would have had to wait in the cold with a severely broken ankle for two and a half days while someone hiked out to call for help. It would have been truly miserable.

The clouds moved in and it started to rain as I headed down, then up, then down the last big climbs of the day. I took more time around fallen trees. Finally after hiking through dense fog and spitting rain I got to camp for the night. It had been a long day, and I was tired but proud of myself. It was difficult to do a marathon in these conditions and with less and less daylight, but I’d managed it.

Sept 11th – Day 151

The next day started with a 6 mile detour. The original PCT bridge had washed out, forcing the trail to detour six miles to the next one. Some hikers try to ford the river in the original location, but after seeing Hopscotch break her ankle the day before I didn’t want to take any chances. About halfway up a large climb the trail ended abruptly at a literal wall of fallen trees. A recent avalanche had caused an entire stretch of the forest to blow over. I was fortunate that enough hikers had gone before me to indicate a path through. Still, getting over and to the other side felt a bit like climbing a jungle gym. I couldn’t really fault the forest service for this one. Clearing this mess would be a serious undertaking, and I’m not even sure where you would start.

The rest of the day was fairly uneventful. I was rained on a bit throughout the day, but was able to stay somewhat dry because it was never heavy rain. I made camp near a river, which kept the temperature a little more moderate.

Sept 12th – Day 152

The next morning I got up early. I took a quick detour to a waterfall that some hikers claimed was the best on trail. I don’t think I would call it the best, but it was a nice snack spot. The trail headed briefly into North Cascades National Park before heading to the High Bridge trailhead, where Half Moon was waiting. We waited together for a shuttle into the town of Stehekin.

Stehekin is the last trail “town” going Northbound. I put town in quotations, because Stehekin has a year round population of 74 and is only accessible by hiking trail, boat, or sea plane via Lake Chelan. There is a single 11 mile long road connecting the National Park to the main part of town around the ferry dock. The town runs a bus several times a day in the summer, so I waited with many hikers for the bus pick up. About 15 minutes before the bus was scheduled to arrive, a local stopped and asked if we needed a ride. I was shocked that someone would own a truck for only 11 miles of road, but grateful as we all piled in and he headed towards town.

He dropped us off at a local bakery, famous for being one of the best on trail. The bakery did not disappoint, and I bought a few cinnamon rolls for the road before catching the town bus to the ferry terminal. There are very few hotel rooms in town, so hikers stay in a reserved area in a campground. I set up my tent, showered, did laundry, and hung out on the shore of the lake with other hikers. Unfortunately it was a Sunday, so I’d need to wait until the morning to pick up a box of food I had sent to the local Post Office. The only store in town does not sell enough food to put together a resupply, so almost every hiker sends a box to themselves here.

Sept 13th – Day 153

The next day I got my package with a rush of others at 10 am. The Post Office here is a one man operation run by a friendly guy with an Australian accent. He has his system down. I asked how many hiker packages he usually receives, and he said in normal years it’s upwards of 2000. He said this year it was down to about 1200, but it’s still a huge logistical undertaking. The packages were kept in a storage container outside. He had written a number on each package upon receipt, and each name corresponded with a number. I was very impressed and got my package in a timely manner.

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After we all got our packages we got on the bus to head back to trail. The bus driver, a young man named Nate, is intensely bored with his job and town and has a dry sense of humor. He’s a trail legend and his tour of Stehekin did not disappoint. One hiker I knew well did not get on the bus. He decided to end his hike at Stehekin. There was bad weather coming in, and he worried that he might injure himself if he tried to go too fast to outrun the storm, but he didn’t want to risk getting caught in bad weather, either. I couldn’t imagine coming that far just to stop 100 miles short, but it was his choice.

Back at the trailhead, I started the long climb out of Stehekin. At a lunch break I found Half Moon’s trekking poles that he’d left behind, so I brought them back up to him. We crossed a suspension bridge that had been built only a month earlier to replace a bridge that had washed out. Crossing was a little scary, but we were grateful for it because fording the river would have been near impossible. I camped with an older couple who were section hiking all of Washington. They warned me of a major storm that was set to blow in soon. It would be arriving the day that I planned on finishing the trail. I’d need to hurry to not get caught in the worst of it. I thanked them and resolved to do my best to outrun the worst of the storm.

Sept 14th – Day 154

I got up early to finish a long climb up a pass. It was cold, but dry and the clouds did not seem too pressing in the morning. However around noon it started to rain and would not stop. By the early afternoon I was completely drenched. I wanted to stop, but I worried that this might be the start of the storm, and that it might not stop raining for the next few days at all, so I pressed on in the pouring rain.

It got colder and colder as I climbed, and I started to lose feeling in my fingers and toes. All of the clothes I was wearing were soaked through, and I couldn’t risk taking out my phone to check how far I had to go to camp, so I just kept walking. I started to worry about the contents of my pack. My sleeping bag had been wet inside of my waterproof liner in less rain than this. With falling temperatures and more bad weather I worried I might freeze to death if I couldn’t keep my stuff dry. I decided that if my stuff was wet when I set up camp, I’d bail at Hart’s Pass the next morning and wait out the weather.

I checked my sleeping bag and extra clothes once I was able to get my tent up and my gear safely inside, and to my surprise and relief they were dry. I changed out of my wet clothes and into my thermals and snuggled under my sleeping bag. After five months on trail, I had finally gotten my waterproofing system down. I hoped for the rain to stop in the night, but I knew I would be okay if it didn’t.

September 15th – Day 155

I woke up to find my tent covered in ice. The rain had stopped in the night but everything froze. As I packed up I unhappily struggled to force my feet into my frozen solid shoes. While frozen shoes are an annoyance, I was more concerned about my frozen water filter. I had forgotten to put it inside my sleeping bag in the night and it had frozen, rendering it useless. Short of hitch hiking from Hart’s Pass to a town with a gear store, I didn’t have many options. I’d heard on trail girardia takes a week to set in, so I decided that with only a few days left, it didn’t matter if I didn’t filter my water on my final days on trail, because any waterborne illness I picked up could be dealt with off trail later.

It was cold, windy, overcast with snow flurries when I got to Hart’s Pass. Hart’s Pass is a tiny campground up 10 miles of dirt road. It’s the last time the PCT crosses a road before the northern terminus. Because Canada was not issuing walk in entry permits due to covid, all thru-hikers needed to hike back from the border to Hart’s Pass once making it to the terminus. This added another 31 miles to the total length of the trail. I was not looking forward to backtracking in bad weather. I signed the registrar and continued north, not feeling optimistic as snow flurries and spitting rain came down.

What I hadn’t anticipated was the number of thru-hikers I’d pass as they hiked back to Hart’s Pass from the terminus. I immediately started to see a flood of people who I’d met along the way, some of which I hadn’t seen in months. I never realized how many people I’d met until I saw them all hike past me. Every person I passed cheered me on and offered me some from of congratulations or some celebratory remark. It was an incredible feeling. I’ll never forget how it felt to be cheered on in my final push to the terminus by those who had just finished. Each congratulations gave me a little boost, and despite the subpar weather it was one of my best days on trail.

I took a break to send a message to my parents to coordinate pick up at Hart’s Pass. One of my messages wasn’t sending, but I was anxious to get going, so I strapped my GPS messenger to my pack and hiked on. After a few minutes I stopped to check if the message had sent. When I took off my pack, the GPS messenger was gone. It must have fallen off my pack. I immediately put my pack down and ran, retracing my steps and scanning the ground for the device. I had only gone less than half a mile, but I ran all the way back to where I had taken it out and there was no sign of it. I had passed exactly two southbound hikers in the time since I’d last used it. I didn’t know either of them, but one of them must have picked it up and was taking it in the opposite direction. I walked back towards my bag and tried to decide what to do.

I had pickup times and locations set, so I didn’t really need it for communication anymore, but I was in the habit of sending an “I’m okay!” ping to my family every night. I worried that if my family didn’t hear anything from me for a day or two they might call SAR because it would be unusual to hear nothing. I knew that Pez, Wiggles, Posideon, Half Moon, and Keebler were behind me and that Pez also had a gps device, so I decided to wait for them and use Pez’s device to let my family know what happened and to not expect to hear from me.

I waited for almost two hours until Wiggles showed up. By this point I was cold and frazzled, as the wind had picked up and I hadn’t been moving for hours. I started to explain to Wiggles what had happened but he cut me off partway through. “Don’t worry,” he said, “We have it.” I was shocked. Wiggles said that a man had walked by and asked if they knew anyone who had lost a device. Pez looked at it and said it looked like mine, so he turned it on and checked the contacts and recognized my sister’s name. Pez was bringing it back to me! I was so grateful. It felt like all the good trail karma I’d accumulated by carrying people’d stuff when they forgot it somewhere had finally come back to help me. The six of us made camp together halfway up a pass about 10 miles from the terminus. It was cold, but we had a good time celebrating our last night heading north.

Sept 16th – Day 156 – Terminus Day

We woke up early to more freezing temperatures. At least this time my shoes had been dry the night before, so while they were frost covered they were not frozen solid. We packed up our stuff but left it secured at the campsite. We’d be coming back out the same way, so we’d pick up our bulkier gear that evening before continuing back to Hart’s Pass. We set off in the early morning, eager to get to the terminus.

Less than a mile later I passed a couple camped next to the trail. A woman stopped me and explained that she was very sick and needed something to settle her stomach so that she had the strength to hike the 21 miles out before the storm. She asked specifically for soup. Coincidentally, my extra meal was a cheddar potato soup. I gave it to her and wished her well as I continued on.

The morning didn’t really warm up and I continued to hike in my layers. A mile from the terminus I found the rest of the group, who had stopped to wait for me. Pez and Wiggles opened beers for the last mile, and Keebler and I tried to remove layers to look a little less dorky. I led as we hiked the last mile together. It was a surreal feeling as we covered the last few steps of a 2,650 mile journey. I never thought I’d actually make it when I started from the Southern terminus five months and a few days earlier. But here I was about to reach the Northern border.

The trail is in forest with no views leading up to the terminus, but about 100 yards before I caught a glimpse of a long strip of treeless space along a mountain. That was the border, we were right there! We started shouting when we saw the clearing and the monument ahead of us. I’d actually done it. I’d made it to Canada!

I definitely cried a little when we got to the monument. It took a few minutes for it really sink in. That I’d done it. Than I was there. I’d thought about what it would feel like for months, but in that moment I just felt really proud. When I started asking for pictures I tried to look cute, so I removed a lot of my layers. Even at noon, frost covered the ground, and I shivered between takes.

Everyone had their own way of celebrating. Posideon flew a drone he’d brought the whole way. Wiggles gave a speech on the monument and shotgunned a beer. Pez wanted themed pictures with everyone. Half Moon popped a full sized bottle of champagne he’d carried since Steven’s Pass. I sipped on the mini bottle I’d mailed to myself in Stehekin. A young man named Captain Fantastic arrived as we were celebrating and asked us to help him spread his father’s ashes, which he’d carried with him since Mexico. It was a special moment, and as more hikers arrived behind us reactions ranged from laughter, to tears, to disbelief.

We were at the monument for over an hour and a half. Keebler and I frequently darted “illegally” into the Canadian side to soak up the only bit of sunshine in the area. We laughed that only Canada got sunshine here. When we were finally ready to head back we said a final goodbye to everyone still at the monument and headed south for the first time. Immediately I started to pass people that I knew, and suddenly I got to be the person cheering on those who were racing to the finish line. It felt just as good to be on the other side.

We raced back to our camp. It was warm, briefly, but the clouds and wind blew in as we reached our stuff. We decided to pack up and race to a lower campsite in the hopes that it would be warmer. As we hiked out we passed a massive canvas tent with a man chopping wood outside. It was a hunter’s camp that had used horses to bring in the gear. We were jealous of their tents with wood burning stoves and fancy cots, but it was funny to see such a maximalist setup next to bare bones thru-hiker camps.

We made it to the low camp just as it was getting dark. It was wind free and significantly warmer, and we knew we’d made the right decision. We had a great celebratory dinner and talked with those who would be heading to the terminus the following morning. I set my alarm for 5:15 am, hoping to get to Hart’s Pass before the worst of the storm the next day.

Sept 17th – Day 157

I woke up early and got an early start at first light. It was warmer that the previous few mornings and I was optimistic. However, as the morning went on in only got colder and windier. The rain started around 8 and didn’t stop the rest of the day. I passed more hikers than I’d anticipated coming in. I didn’t think so many people would head in into the storm, but no one wanted to sit around and have to wait. Cheering on the brave hikers heading in gave me energy, and I finished the last seven miles back to Hart’s Pass in only a little over two hours. I got to Hart’s Pass early, so I changed into all of my dry layers and huddled under the covered overhang of the pit toilet for warmth once I stopped moving.

When I saw my family drive up I felt a wave of relief. I had done it, I had beat the snow, I was safe. My dad jumped out of the car and hugged me, telling me that he wasn’t going to cry as he was crying. I had hiked all of my PCT miles. My thru hike was complete. We jumped in the car out of the rain and headed down to civilization.

It’s difficult to put what this experience has meant to me into a quick summary, but I’ll try. When I started the PCT I didn’t feel very good about myself. I’d never hiked in any kind of bad weather in my life, and I wasn’t sure I could stick it out when the going got tough. Doing the PCT taught me that yes, I can do things that are hard and push through pain towards a goal that seems too far away to reach. I’ve learned that I’m self reliant. I’ve learned to stick up for myself, and the value of getting out of situations that make me uncomfortable, even if it displeases others. Finally, I learned that life is short, and that there is freedom in celebrating simple, everyday achievements. Even a single step is worth celebrating, because it’s a step closer to where you want to be, and a step farther from where you started.

Unfortunately, everyday life can never have the same, simple freedom of the trail. The routine of wakeup, walk, make camp, repeat can’t be replicated in an environment where one has responsibilities beyond “more forward, stay alive”. It’s more difficult to measure progress and success out here, but I’ve learned on trail that progress always happens, even if some days it doesn’t feel like it does. We just have to keep going, one step at a time.

Thank you for coming on this adventure with me, it was a pleasure to write for you all and to hear your encouragement.

Hike on!

Megan “Fire Ant” Spencer

P.S, I took a one second video every day on trail. It’s a snapshot of my PCT journey in 2.5 minutes.