Author: Rich Duncombe

What’s in a (trail) Name?

Post author By Rich Duncombe
Post date May 18, 2021
No Comments on What’s in a (trail) Name?

I dreaded the thru-hiking tradition of receiving a trail name. I made snarky comments to others like, “what is this, summer camp, come on.” Most people would shrug at my lack of creativity, but a Norwegian hiker vociferously countered my disdain. He said, “you see, the trail name is important, and it must be given to you by another hiker because something funny happened. When you meet people, you tell them your trail name and then your story – and they laugh and remember you.”

Ribs, Twister, Pilot, Pack Mule, and Rabbit

Upon some reflection, my reaction was masking some deeper insecurities. The idea of being given a trail name conjures unpleasant and downright mean nicknames. Since I am hiking solo and am coming off the trail to stay with my trail angel, I am not hanging out in the hiker hostels where the funny business truly happens. Who will know me or even care about the sexagenarian that hikes at a steady pace 12 hours a day – nothing funny or exciting about that. Even in high school, Shakespeare’s Juliet taught me the significance of our names when she asked, “What’s in a name?” But all that changed with my trail family.

I met Twister many miles ago and did him a favor by giving him a ride. When hiking together, we ran into the rest of the crew, drinking at high noon in Agua Dulce. By chance, I camped with them after crossing the Mojave – and a family with no name was formed. Our family was diverse in years, with 30, 40, 50, and 60-year-olds. We hiked hard for eight days together, covering almost 25 miles a day.

As always, the daily conversation centered on water, how much we needed to carry, and whether there was a reliable source at day’s end. I realized that my trail angel could meet us with the van to provide water. But instead of just water, she brought ribs, beer, fruit, and more. Rabbit gave me the name Ribs and my motto – the trail provides. My name encourages me to pack more food, lest my ribs become a dominant torso feature. Beyond that, my name reminds me of my impermanence and calls me to be present for each and every step

My trail angel’s trail magic prowess grew. She has met and supported over fifty hikers with food and drink that make all the difference. Twister offered her a trail name, Pleasure-Way, to honor the van that she drives, becoming a beacon for those who need an extra boost to keep moving.

Hikers gathering for trail magic at an obscure road crossing

Twister, in red, offered the name Pleasure Way, after feasting on chicken beer, fruit, and Pop Tarts

Miyagi, Twister, and Pack Mule making quick work of carbo-loading for the upcoming 2K foot climb

Tags California, Trail Family, Trail Magic, Water

Hiking the PCT

The Amazing South Sierra

This is my fifth trip into the Sierra Nevada mountain range. It stretches 400 miles long and about 70 miles wide for a mind-boggling 40M square miles. I got to take the journey through 110 miles of the southern end of this magical place with my son Scott. The scope of this gem is hard to fathom, and the photos shared might blur together. But each and every valley or vista we traveled called for deeper exploration.

One request frequently faced by PCT hikers is for family or friends to join them on a portion of the hike. This often ends badly as the finely tuned bodies and packs required for thru-hiking meet their guests’ not so finely tuned bodies and packs. I had no such concerns about Scott, given his penchant for ultra-marathons and other endurance events. But even he admitted that the 30-year age advantage did not fully account for my 750 miles on the trail. He did, however, make up the difference by the time we reached Mt. Whitney and left me hiking in the dark.

The trip started frantically picking up Scott in Reno, driving six hours to Kennedy Meadows, and sorting gear and food for a week. We got a late start, and neither of us was in very high spirits as the mid-day heat and reality of 110 miles loomed ahead.

Sorting our gear and food for seven days

Leaving Kennedy Meadows with a hot sun and monstrous packs

The first two days were through the transition zone of high desert to alpine abundance. We had to carry water to last a full day, given the infrequent opportunities to fill.

The first day ended at the South Kern River – a morale booster

Our campsite on the second day provided views of what was to come

By day three, we kicked into gear to start climbing from 6K feet into the 10K – 14K feet elevations that would be our new home. The living systems were changing before our eyes.

The Bristlecone Pine forests greeted us at every turn

We camped at an alpine lake at over 11K feet

Days four through six included epic adventures from climbing Mt. Whitney (14.5K ft) before sunrise to hiking through mountain plains that looked like Peru and climbing over Forester Pass (13.2K ft) with a snowstorm closing in. The physicality of the place consumed me – this was tough work. But that faded rapidly as the majesty fueled me. I could spend a week exploring any one of the dozens of mountain basins we saw. This place is a must-see if you lose yourself in wild places.

Looking back at Mt. Whitney, now a tiny bump on the horizon

The mountain plain stretched for miles as we approached Forester Pass

Summiting Forester Pass (13.2K ft) required scrambling over a cornice at the top

We had miles of snow to contend with on the north side of Forester Pass

Our final look back into this fantastic area as we left through Kearsarge Pass

Tags California, Freezing, Post-Holing, Sierra, Trail Family, Water

Hiking the PCT

Good Morning Mt. Whitney

I am sending this post from the highest place in the continental US. My son, Scott, and I started our climb at 2 AM and arrived to watch the sunrise over Death Valley. Scott joined me at Kennedy Meadows, and we have hiked 75 miles and climbed nearly 20K feet. Summiting Whitney was worth every step.

Getting Ready – approaching Mt. Whitney from the east

We hiked into Crabtree Meadows yesterday to prepare for the 7.8 mile, 4K foot climb.

We left camp at 2 AM and worked together to find the trail with our headlamps.

We used sleeping bags to wait for the sun.

Exhaling crystals
heart pounds like a pile driver
Mt. Whitney awaits.
                        Ribs

Tags California, Freezing, Haiku, Sierra, Trail Family

Hiking the PCT

Home Alone

Part of our PCT plan is to use my wife’s incredible support, the ultimate trail angel, to leap forward and backward to optimize the chance of finishing the trail in one year. There are many reasons this helps from avoiding snow, fires, and dealing with injuries. The time window is short for finishing the desert section before the summer heat and the northern Cascades before the snowfalls. We successfully lept backward to complete the San Jacinto section earlier, so what could go wrong?

This week we lept 700 miles forward to start an 83 mile, three-day hike beginning at Burney Falls, north of Mt. Lassen, and ending at Castle Crags on I-5. It was time to test our approach to find terrain with less snow. I immediately felt at home, entering a deep, lush forest, and I did not see another person for 65 miles. I could make out one pair of shoe prints from this season, maybe two weeks earlier.

My camp on the first night after 25 miles – home alone

COVID deprived us of our holiday traditions, so we experimented with a few new ones. One was to watch the classic holiday movie Home Alone. That first day on the trail felt a bit like Macaulay Culkin’s first night celebrating after realizing that he had the house to himself. Similarly, it is the second day when the real story begins. My experience shifted from a stroll through the forest to a 13-hour orienteering drill through deep snow. The faint shoe prints vanished early on, replaced by deer and bear prints. I could not figure out why there were 12-foot drifts and miles of snowfields when the snow reports showed otherwise. I put those theoretical questions aside and got serious about using all my navigation tools (apps, maps, compass, and GPS) to find the most efficient route.

Black bear prints and scat were frequent, so I used my whistle to alert them of my presence.

I hiked four hours through deep snow – sometimes, the most accessible trail is straight up.

The views of Mt. Shasta continued to inspire me.

I finally broke free of the snowfields and discovered the answer to my question. I was hiking through a north-facing basin that funneled the weather from several mountains leading to deep snowdrifts. I did not see another section with this level of variation. I hiked hard once I cleared the snow basin and camped after covering 24 miles. I was exhausted but also felt good about how I worked through my unexpected challenges.

I solved the mystery once I reached the ridge.

The third day was like the triumphant coming home party that the wiser and more confident Macaulay Culkin experienced. I hiked 34 miles through beautiful old-growth forests and completely lost myself in the experience. My wonderful trail angel was there at I-5 with trays of food, including fried chicken, salad, potato wedges, fruit, cookies, and I ate it all. I am so fortunate to have a chance to immerse myself in this experience with such unconditional support.

My reward was an amazing 34-mile day through old-growth forests.

Tags California, Cascades, Falling, Flowers, Post-Holing, Wildlife

Hiking the PCT

My Dear Friend, SoCal PCT

Post author By Rich Duncombe
Post date May 3, 2021
No Comments on My Dear Friend, SoCal PCT

I am dedicating this post to my new dear friend – the Southern California section of the PCT. I completed the hike to Kennedy Meadows yesterday in style with a 31-mile day driven by my trail family as we raced to spend an evening at Grumpy Bears, an oasis for hikers preparing to enter the Sierra Nevada Mountains. It was a fitting end to a hike through entirely new terrain and experiences. If the hike ended here, I would have stories and friends for a lifetime. My thru-hiker bug is excited to turn the page to see what is next.

My reward for pushing hard to get to Grumpy Bears (I love this place).

I completed 700 miles in 30 hiking days, or 23 miles a day. I took five days off (zeros) for an average of 20 miles a day in total. 700 miles is 26% of the total PCT mileage, and I have climbed around 140K feet or 28% of the total. These numbers don’t mean anything on the trail because every mile, every vista, and every step brings something new. I have never had such an extended immersive experience.

Crossing 700 miles after a wild last day.

Even though I have backpacked for decades, thru-hiking is relatively new to me. Thru-hiking is different in that the enjoyment comes from the journey, not from reaching a destination. You carry everything on your back for the entire day, so simplicity is key.

Today I met Yogi, a woman that opened the door to thru-hiking. Yogi, or Jackie McDonnell, has hiked the Appalachian Trail twice, Pacific Crest Trail 3.5 times, the Continental Divide Trail twice, and the Colorado Trail once. Her books made thru-hiking accessible. I was starstruck when I discovered she and her partner own the Triple Crown Outfitters re-supply depot at Kennedy Meadows. I have learned so much from Yogi, and she is my meta trail angel.

Yogi giving me the PCT 2021 Class bandana.

I will leave you with a few photos of the last section of the trail leading from the Mojave Desert into the Sierra. I am jumping north for a week before starting the Southern Sierra section with my son Scott. Thanks for joining me and feel free to share this blog with others. See you down the trail.

Sawtooth Peak reminds me of my days hiking in Idaho.

A morning climb from Spanish Needle Creek.

Crossing Walker Pass at 6 AM to climb Mt. Jenkins.

Tags California, Desert, Sierra, Trail Family

Hiking the PCT

Mojave

Hello again. I have been busy at my day job, which involves a green 38-liter backpack and two hiking poles. Today is my seventh day in a row with two more left to Kennedy Meadows, the doorstep of the Sierra. As I type this on my phone, I find myself at mile 658 and at 8,000 feet.

One of the most anticipated (or dreaded) sections of the PCT is the Mojave desert crossing north of LA. It is only 60 miles, but the temperatures often require carrying large quantities of water and hiking at night. I hiked with a rainstorm closing in that dropped snow in the surrounding foothills. I will let my photos tell the story.

The Mojave trek starts at hikertown. This funky enclave is a microcosm of trail life.

The first leg follows the California aqueduct teasing anyone who didn’t bring enough water.

The next 20 miles follow the LA aqueduct.

I camped on a wind farm under a full moon.

Hundreds of 3MW windmills created a surreal light and soundscape.

A morning rainbow and cold wind greeted me on the second day, but the rain did not return.

I hiked through the wind farm for over 30 miles.

Tags California, Desert, Heat, Water

PCT Reflections

Wishing you were here

I have turned the corner and started to head north again. I am taking a zero and will restart the trail on mile 511. I have achieved a significant milestone – crossing the 500-mile mark, but it is bittersweet. I had to skip miles 486 – 511 due to a trail closure because of the Lake Fire. This is the second section of the trail closed by recent forest fires.

Ideas for what to write typically come and go. This post has been with me for three weeks emotionally, even though the pieces don’t seem evident on an intellectual level. Sharing what I am experiencing on the trail can feel like trying to explain a dream to someone – so please bear with me.

As soon as I started climbing mountains in Southern California, I experienced the scale and devastation of their wildfires. Many areas of the trail have been closed due to unstable soil and the danger of falling debris. The above photo from Apache Peak shows the damage 12 years later. I live in the northwest; I am used to hiking through some burned sections of the forest. But here, it is the norm – day after day.

I noticed my pattern of ignoring the burned sections and pushing through to the lush forest. The dense forests along the PCT in Southern California are few and far between. I understand that forest fires play a role in natural ecosystems. Still, we have crossed into a new regime of fires that burn hotter and more frequently fueled by higher temperatures, frequent interaction with humans, and misguided fire suppression methods.

I’ve always had a thing for trees. I befriend trees in our local forests and look forward to visiting them. I feel comforted by them, and they give me a sense of wisdom that spans the generations. On the trail, I have started touching them to connect on a different level and sometimes even chew on a small piece of bark. Many date back 400 years or more, and although they are independent, they survive together. Thru-hiking into a grove immediately calls me to attention.

To see even one, let alone scores of these wise giants, fall together gives me a feeling of extreme loss. They know how to withstand fires, and by the time they reach maturity, they have seen many fires come and go, and their bark bears these scars. But they were not built to withstand the infernos of these times.

The unexpected and tragic loss in the natural environment has frequently brought me back to those I have lost in life. My brother loved sharing wilderness adventures, was as kind, strong, and determined as they come, and became a kid when he was outdoors. We became two kids, the same ones who shared a bedroom for most of our childhood and talked about everything under the sun. He was swept away by cancer too young. He would have been so engaged in my hike, whether on the trail or giving me his full support.

Walking the trail provides a constant reminder of how fragile and precious life is – including the lives of all that share the earth with us.

Tags California, Connectedness, Legacy, Trail Family, Wildfire

PCT Reflections

The trail knows the way

I got a great present from my daughter several years ago, the book On Trails, by Robert Moor. The book went on to become a New York Times Bestseller. The story starts with Robert Moor’s rather dreadful hike on the Appalachian Trail when it rained most of the time. Staring at his feet all day led him to contemplate the trail itself, and from that inquiry grew a wonderful exploration of how trails form, how the information embedded in trails are sometimes passed from insect to mammal to native peoples to European settlers and to highway engineers. Moor shows how trails are really physical networks that capture information that teach us the way.

As a PCT hiker, I am constantly looking for the trail. You quickly learn to discern the pattern far off in the distance for where the path leads. I find myself reacting once the direction is clear. “Ugh, we are climbing that, we just descended a ridge – what is wrong with these people!” Why on earth do I think I know a better way through the four hundred plus miles of rugged terrain than those that came before me? When I go on one of these rants, my new mantra is “the trail knows the way” because it actually does.

None of the PCT trail puzzles are harder to grasp than the abrupt turn at Big Bear Lake from heading north to heading west. For nearly 200 miles, the trail is on a crash course for LA. In fact, the last few nights on the trail I have seen the twinkling lights of our second-largest city. Mt. Baden-Powel is less than 20 miles as the crows fly from Pasadena. I stayed with my mantra and enjoyed my first chance to explore this string of significant mountain ranges.

I am now starting to turn the corner to head back north (see the blue tab below). For all you trail and map geeks, I have a new treat. The Pacific Crest Trail Association has created a new interactive map that shows a great deal about this unique trail. Here is my current location on the new PCTA interactive map.

May all your journeys, whether to your garden, park, or local trails, bring you joy.

Onwards – Ribs

Tags Awareness, Connectedness, Joy

Hiking the PCT

Big Day

In an earlier blog, I shared that I had to pull out of the last 30 miles of the San Jacinto section of the PCT due to heavy snow. Within a few days, Alesia and I were scheming on how to get back to complete this section. I did, and it was a big day. In my hiking vocabulary, a big day is just beyond reach, possible, but it calls forth more of everything; more focus, more energy, more endurance with a large splash of attitude.

The goal was to hike back to Saddle Junction where I left the PCT. The Devil’s Slide trail was the shortest route at 2.5 miles but added 1,700 feet of climbing to the front end of my hike. The starting temperature was 37 degrees, and it was below freezing on San Jacinto.

The climb was beautiful as the morning light filtered in from the east. I quickly climbed from 6,400 feet to Saddle Junction at 8,100 feet.

Once on the PCT, the climb continued up to 9,000 feet. I felt that this challenge was going much easier than expected. The morning had a brisk and brilliant feel, and my legs and lungs were more than excited to push forward.

The wheels started to come off as quickly as turning a bend on the trail. The deep snow returned and was not at all what I had heard from other hikers. I spent the next eight miles navigating snow on the ascent and descent. Fortunately, the cold temperatures over the previous days kept me from sinking deep into the snow (post-holing). I put micro-spikes onto my hiking shoes to gain some traction. Nonetheless, it was exhausting and my pace slowed to the point that I assumed I would need to shelter overnight.

After descending several thousand feet, I finally left the snow behind. I had only covered 13 miles in seven hours. Looking north, I could see my destination 7,500 feet below and 20 miles away. It seemed out of reach, but thinking about what is possible is much less effective than seeing what is possible – one step at a time.

Looking back at San Jacinto from the north

The descent took me down over 15 miles of switchbacks from the lush forest to a barren desert. San Jacinto’s presence was apparent around every corner. My feet and legs begged for a break from the pounding, but the remaining miles started to look doable.

I covered 33 miles, climbed 6,700 feet, and descended 12,700 feet in under 14 hours. San Jacinto is a small wilderness by western standards, but it is wild and dangerous. I had read reports and watched videos of this hike, and it was hard for me to grasp why this area has taken the lives of PCT hikers and locals. I am so glad to have seen it first hand, and I admire it as a precious wild place.

Tags California, Falling, Post-Holing

PCT Reflections

Body Scan

I just covered some beautiful and diverse terrain from I10 near Palm Springs at 2K feet to 8K feet above Big Bear Lake. I have completed 10% of the miles (250) and 20% of the climbing (71K) in 12 days. No wonder I am feeling it.

I have identified a valuable practice from my journey so far. By practice, I mean a way of engaging with my experience that makes it more vibrant, focused, and brings me joy. When I have become agitated, it tends to spiral producing increasing levels of negative energy. My hiking days last 11 hours on average, so that is a lot of time to spiral into a dark place.

A star’s ‘Death Spiral’ into a Black Hole | NASA.

So far, the area that most often needs attention is my mind. I will call my practice a walking body scan. I start by paying close attention to my left foot, observing how it lands and pushes off for at least 5 minutes. I acknowledge any discomfort and appreciate how amazing it is (already having stepped 130K times). Then I move to the right foot, the ankles, knees, leg muscles, glutes, abs, lungs, shoulders carrying the weight, and then my neck, face, and mind. After the scan, I return to the areas with tension. I can feel the stress pressing my temples as my mind tries to figure out or avoid this experience. I spend another 30 minutes focusing on releasing my mind’s pressure and, with it, the need to do anything but connect with my body and stay out of the way.

Tags Falling, Flowers, Joy, Meditation