Border to border
takes 5.3 million steps
with beginner's mind.
I am watching the cold rain drip off my office window thinking about one year ago – making lists, buying food and gear, all the while wondering what the hell I had got myself into. Even after completing the hike, that is an unanswerable question because everything changes. What I do know is that I prepared as well as I could and then let go of my preconceived notion of what was going to actually happen. I am dedicating this post to all the hikers going through their own preparation while the deeper questions continue to swirl.
I entered my name in the hiker’s journal at the Mexican Border with little idea what was to come.
I have written about my gear and food. This post is about logistics. Self-supported hikers do not have anyone meeting them during the hike. They hitchhike to resupply locations and either pick up boxes mailed to that location or buy food locally. If you are a self-supported thru-hiker, I recommend using this excellent Trail Resupply Guide from Halfway Anywhere. I used the gear reviews posted by Halfway Anywhere extensively in my preparation. His resupply guide paints a clear picture of what self-supported thru-hikers would have done differently. He covers resupply strategy/frequency, mailing boxes versus purchasing food, resupply locations, food selection, and much more. My post focuses on supported hikers and those who support them, but all hikers might find missing pieces to their logistics puzzle.
I was looking way too clean on my first hiking day on March 28 last year from Campo to Lake Marina, 20 miles away. My journey was one of a supported hiker.
I was so fortunate that Pleasure-Way supported me during my 118 hiking days that spanned 151 calendar days. Her support allowed me to adjust as I learned what gear and food I actually needed. Her moral support was even more essential, as was my ability to recover more quickly during my zeros because I didn’t need to hitchhike into town and run errands all day.
I became pretty efficient at the art of resupply, aided by multiple checklists and a stockpile of food and gear. (taken at an RV park in Susanville, CA)
Even though my hiking logistics puzzle was simpler, Pleasure-Way and I had to work on two puzzles simultaneously because the supporting party navigates a complex rural landscape. We both needed to meet at a known place at a specific time. How many of you have had trouble finding your party after getting separated while shopping or at an event. Imagine an event the size of the western US with limited cell service in remote locations and questionable roads. For more information about how to pull all of this off, take a look at my post, Pleasure-Way: an interview with 2021’s best Trail Angel. Constantly adjusting our plan for when and how to meet was more complicated than my resupply puzzle.
Below, I have copied another spreadsheet to aid your planning, Rib’s Border to Border Logistics. This list shows every hiking day and our meeting locations for zeros and resupplies. We became very good at resupply points that did not cost any miles; in fact, they lengthened my days. If I knew I was coming into a resupply, I could push my mileage that day. Nearly half of my 30+ mile days ended in a meet-up with Pleasure-Way. As you use this for your planning, remember that we jumped to northern California twice to avoid snow in the Sierra and meet family members. We were fortunate that we did not have to jump to avoid new fires, but this is now the new reality for many hikers.
As you continue to put your logistics puzzles together, occasionally take a break and walk the hike in your mind’s eye. The beautiful and solitary moments are endless and await your trip of a lifetime. Pleasure-Way and I look forward to seeing you at the Frog Lake trailhead near Mt. Hood on July 22-25.
I was obsessed with the blooming yucca plants from the very first day – some looked like small trees, others like swaying bamboo. Dropping into the high chaparral from rainy Oregon was stunning.
The Mojave desert was dramatic with constant reminders of the fragility of life.
Southern California slowly gave way into the foothills of the Sierra. Darth Vader was with me as I approached Bird Spring Pass.The southern portion of the Sierra combines desolate mountain basins followed by lush valleys.Crossing Forester Pass at over 13K feet is always a big day, but even more so with many miles of snow to cross.
If Shangri-La exists, Evolution Valley tops my list of nominees.
The wind was whipping and I wore all my warm clothes climbing Sonora Pass.
I arrived at a much-needed meet-up with Pleasure-Way at the Carter Meadow trailhead in northern California.
The Three Sister’s Wilderness in Oregon offers fast hiking and expansive views.
Staying focused on the trail is all-important on the Knife’s edge in the Goat Rocks Wilderness in Washington.The Northern Cascades feel like the end of this hike and the start of the amazing Canadian Rockies.
With a grateful heart, I say hello to my family, friends, trail family, and fellow pilgrims near and far. Your continued interest is inspiring and makes me realize how our actions contribute to one another in unseen ways. I have been surprised to see folks from 21 countries and five continents tuning into my story. I asked a colleague upon my return, “why would anyone besides family, friends, and other hikers be interested in my blog?” She said, “I know why; this past two years, we have all been on our own trail as we navigated a global pandemic. Any story that inspires or informs is helpful.”
I promised an update on my experience coming off the trail in a blog about Post Trail Adjustment Disorder. But first, here is my unexpected pick for the song that most inspired me while hiking the PCT. Despite the myriad of rocking numbers from my formative years and those given to me by my fellow hikers, this song and album took me deep every time, and it still does. It makes me feel like a natural human.
A way over yonder
Is a place I have seen
In a garden of wisdom
From some long ago dream
Oh yeah
Carole King, Way Over Yonder, Tapestry 1971
The deep forests of Oregon and Washington led to surprises around every corner with quiet solitude.
The most challenging question that I faced when returning from the trail was, “what does it feel like to return to real life.” I have asked that same question of others, but weirdly, I completely froze. What was going through my mind was which life is real life. Walking in nature day after day with few responsibilities or supporting my family, job, and being a functional member of society. The answer is both. My natural life and my civilized life are both real. The interesting question is how to merge them as much as possible.
What Worked from my Post Trail Adjustment Plan
I identified three areas to work on to ease me back into civilized life. The first was finding meaning in my experience by connecting with interested people. This practice has worked incredibly well. A dozen people have gone deep into my experience, and their perspectives have opened new insights for me. I also shared my insights with my Zen community in several settings. In my relationship with others, I see new facets of my experience. Merging perspectives is the best example of bringing my two “real” lives together. I look forward to connecting with fellow hikers because we share something beyond words, and hearing how this experience unfolds for them is a precious mirror.
Magic Marker and I hiked Browder Ridge in Oregon on a beautiful fall day. The conversation was even more moving, and I learned so much from sharing our post-trail journeys.
My second practice was to find new ways to exert my body to bring me joy and continue my ongoing connection at a cellular level. This practice revealed some unexpected issues. The big one is that I had not realized how much muscle I had lost in my upper body. After doing more research, people in their 60’s and beyond lose a higher percentage of muscle mass with a drop in weight than younger adults. I dropped as much as 19 pounds and then kept increasing my food to get back to a 13-pound loss. The other issue is that I will have a more challenging time metabolizing protein to build back muscle. So, my practice now includes a virtual personal trainer and a lot of weight lifting. Instead of wanting to keep the weight off, now I want to gain it all back in the form of muscle.
The other practice was to get back on the trail. One of my best motivations to push my PCT mileage was to have time in September to travel with Pleasure-Way to visit our son and fiancée in Switzerland. We combined that with some fantastic hiking in the Jungfrau region, and my body just loved to feel the trail again.
Hiking with Pleasure-Way in the Jungfrau region of Switzerland was magical – we even had a local resident serenade us with his yodeling.
What Hasn’t Worked from my Post Trail Adjustment Plan
The third practice I identified was to examine and change habits that no longer serve. I have made a few minor changes, like drinking less caffeine, but others prove very difficult. For example, I am a chronic list-maker and can obsess over what I check off rather than being fully present with each step along the way. I am struggling with media consumption and had to turn off most of my feeds. Habits that don’t serve me seeped right back into my civilized life without asking permission. I will need to work hard to retire habits well past their expiration date with kindness and toughness. In the Zen tradition, these obstacles are teachers who have come to guide us down life’s trail. I look forward to swapping stories.
I’m excited to share my experience hiking on my 100th day on the PCT. I chronicled my day to remember life on the trail. It represents both the simplicity and the practices I use to stay engaged and safe while deepening my awareness.
I hiked a relatively short day of 21.6 miles through the Goat Rocks Wilderness. I pushed hard 30-miles the day before to get to this section. At the end of my 100th day, I had completed 2,280 miles or 22.8 miles per day. I had some new insights as I look back at the twists and turns common on the trail.
First, I have refined and developed practices that I use throughout the day applied at various times. As I observed my approach, it became clear that I was using meditation practices to coax my mind and body into embracing the coming hiking day. I have noticed that I am becoming increasingly resistant, mentally and physically, to hiking at the start of the day. I think this is natural after an effort of this magnitude and certainly something other hikers have described. I’m glad that I developed some structure to support my intention and the joy I receive as my day progresses.
My second realization has to do with joy. I noticed throughout the day unexpected moments grab me at the deepest level. For example, I turned a corner on the trail to see the wind blowing through the grass and felt it caressing my hair. These moments of connectedness are hard to describe, but it felt like my hair and the grass and the wind were not separate but one continuous energetic expression. Or the clattering sound from a woodpecker or the high-pitched chirp of a pica. These unexpected moments occur frequently and come when I am grumbling or happy, present or checked out. But there they are, connecting me with everything that surrounds me. This is what brings me to nature, it is the feeling that I’m a part of it, not just watching it, or conquering it, or taking pictures of it – no, I’m a part of it at a cellular level. I wonder what it would take to experience these moments during what we describe as “normal” life. Do I need to trek endlessly day after day to be open for these unexpected moments of connectedness?
5:00 AM
My alarm went off at 5:00 a.m on my 100th day of hiking. As usual, it was a restless night of sleep. The rain had started in the middle of the night, but it was so warm that everything was dry again. My 30-mosquito escort had a sleepover outside the tent so they could greet me in the morning. As I prepared to pack out, I did a quick survey of my current condition. I hiked 30 miles the previous day in hot and humid conditions with a constant barrage from mosquitoes and biting flies. I felt dehydrated, as evidenced by some leg cramping – all the more reason to take it slow this morning and try to rehydrate. I have 1.5 liters of water which needs to last for the first 7.5 miles.
5:40 AM
I packed everything and was hiking by 5:40 AM. I put on my full rain gear, including long pants, for the first seven miles to get thru a swampy area. I had three bites on my ankles in the short time I needed to put my shoes on. I hiked at a gentle pace for the first hour to give my body a chance to wake up.
6:40 AM
After two miles, I had my first-breakfast, which was a cliff coffee bar. I’d been working to rehydrate myself but save water for the next 2 hours. I started a one-hour body scan meditation.
7:40 AM
I completed my body scan, and everything is felt good except pain in my right footpad. I checked in with 32 different locations on my body. I find this is an excellent start for the day because it gets me out of my head and connects me to all the parts of my body that will do the work today. I decided to keep walking for the next two hours to clear the buggy swamp section.
8:40 AM
I’d hiked seven miles and had started climbing. It began to rain as it has on several occasions over the last two days, but I didn’t think it would break through this stifling humidity. I completed my secondmeditation, a trail sensation meditation, where I focused my attention on any sensations I felt from the trail, including the trail surface and the brush that I touched along the way.
9:40 AM
I filled my water bottles at a small stream after hiking eight miles, with the first miles being a 1750 ft descent followed by a 1300 ft climb. The bugs significantly eased as I climbed the ridge, and I was looking forward to having a proper second-breakfast soon.
10:40 AM
After getting water, I started to feel more at ease with the climb ahead. I used a meditation approach that works well for me on climbs. That is to count my breaths from 1 to 10 and then start over. I focus on my steps between each breath which helps me set a sustainable pace. I started to feel in a groove and decided to keep going instead of stopping for second-breakfast. I grabbed a protein bar and continued to climb.
11:40 AM
I reached a pass where the PCT crosses into the Yakima Nation after 13 miles. I remembered this spot from my previous hike in the Goat Rocks and was thrilled to get here for second-breakfast. I heated water for my excellent high-calorie oatmeal concoction and my morning cup of coffee with great fanfare. With the heat and humidity, I had been hoping for rain. It drizzled at first, so I finish my breakfast and then the rain picked up, so I continued hiking after putting on shorts. As strange as it may seem, thru-hikers will put on shorts and their lightest gear in warm rain. Getting wet is inevitable if you hike in the rain for long stretches. This way you keep your warm clothing dry.
12:40 PM
I always get a big energy boost after second-breakfast. I finished climbing Cispus Pass, and the rain stopped. I met six hiking parties, out for the weekend, that wanted to talk about my journey. I spent time with each of them because I know how much I appreciated learning from previous PCT hikers. I am rarely seeing fellow north-bound PCT thru-hikers at this point but now meet about 10 south-bound hikers a day.
1:40 PM
I had reached the basin under Old Snowy Mountain. Usually, Old Snowy is one of the most picturesque sections on the PCT, but today the mountains were barely visible due to a smokey mist. I hiked this section two years ago with Scott, so coming back and feeling my first cool breeze in days made me smile. I did my one-hour metta meditation as I climbed up to 7,100 feet.
It is worth noting the tools thru-hikers use. Navigation and crowdsourcing information from other hikers is available on an app called Guthook. It allows hikers to see their location in real-time even when the phone is in airplane mode. It also allows hikers to comment on water sources, safety issues, and the best pizza joint in trail towns.
3:20 PM
I climbed the alternate PCT route to the top of the Knife’s Edge, a feared section of trail that follows a thin ridgeline with exposure on both sides. Before descending, I had first-lunch of refried beans and Fritos and called Pleasure-Way. The trail is tricky, and one hiker is believed to have died here but was never found.
Photo of the Knife’s Edge trail from the top of Owd Snowy two years agoLooking back up the Knife’s Edge after descending on my 100th day
5:20 PM
I made my way to my campsite after descending 1500 feet from the summit. I selected this site because it was next to a stream and on clear days, has a great view of Mt. Rainier. It was great getting into camp this early since most days I arrive after 7 PM.
5:40 PM
The tent was up, and I used the cold and clear water to hydrate, filter water, and clean up. When possible, I take a sponge bath each night away from the water source. Most nights, I am “dry camping,” which means there is no water source nearby. I always need to ration my water when dry camping, so having it readily available is a treat.
6:40 PM
I cooked dinner outside my tent, the first time in several weeks. The wind kept the bugs at bay, and I enjoyed the solitude. On the menu was my favorite, spaghetti followed by ramen.
7:40 PM
I worked on my 100th-day blog post. I was pleased to have made notes during the day, and reviewing them provided me some valuable insights.
Last summer, during a training hike, I met a couple who had completed the PCT in 2015. We had a great discussion about why they enjoyed it so much and what it took to complete it. I then ask them whether I was too old, and they laughed and shared that an 82-year-old was keeping up with them during sections of their hike. The conversation concluded with this summary remark; “it’s a mental journey, not a physical one.”
As I’ve thought about that conversation, I have wondered how can 2,650 miles all be in one’s mind. I started meditating with the Corvallis Zen Circle ten years ago to develop my awareness. Jon Kabat-Zinn, internationally known for his work as a scientist, writer, and meditation teacher, defines awareness as “paying attention in the present moment, non-judgmentally.” I asked my Zen teacher, Abby Mushin Terris, for a Koan to guide my inquiry. Koans are unanswerable questions, at least through our everyday thought processes. After listening to my description, she offered the following Koan, “what mind is walking?” This question yielded some immediate surprises.
The first surprise is that during the early weeks when I was getting angry, depressed, or anxious about the hike, I could trace that anxiety to what I describe as my thinking mind. The thinking mind is a magnificent problem-solving machine, but it’s best when it has good information. At the start, I had a limited understanding of what was in store for me or whether I could complete this journey. When people would ask whether I was hiking to Canada, the only honest answer I could give was “I hope so, but I don’t know.” These kinds of answers drive the thinking mind crazy. With no tangible information to go on, I noticed it swirling into ever-changing stories and distractions that fueled my anxiety.
The second surprise came from observing my body walking. Using my awareness, I observed my body’s sensations, emotions, and thoughts while hiking all day. Walking over continuously changing terrain is complex. It is no wonder that roboticists have taken decades to develop robots that can marginally imitate how humans walk. I noticed how my body anticipated and applied thinking in real-time. For example, I observed that a split second before I stumble, multiple parts of my body had shifted their position in anticipation of the stumble, such as my arm position and the tightened grip of my hands on the hiking poles. I was not consciously aware that any of these actions had occurred even after I stumbled. So the question then is what mind is figuring all of this out if it is not my thinking mind located in my prefrontal cortex.
After hiking 1847 miles, I can share some insights into this question. In my case, I have identified 32 minds that are walking, and this is still evolving. They are all directly involved with getting me safely through each 12-hour day. These minds include individual joints and muscles (left foot, right knee, left hip flexor, etc.), organs (lungs, heart, bowels, etc.), senses (sight, hearing, balance, etc.), and my thinking mind. One technique used in meditation practice is to use your awareness to observe individual parts of your body, known as a body scan. I spend about one hour twice a day doing a body scan. I connect with each of these “walking-minds” by observing them and establish a direct connection as the day progresses.
My third surprise is the most important. I observed that my body loves to walk. It’s not necessary for me to will my way mile after mile while playing pump-up music. I don’t need any motivation at all; my body is designed to walk, and it feels rewarding. This practice has taken a great burden from my thinking mind. Now that I am in direct contact with the crucial systems of my body needed for walking, my thinking mind can focus on what it’s good at, like planning my route, finding water, solving problems, and applying its creative capacity.
Before you write this post off as the rantings of a crazed thru-hiker, I suggest you try this for yourself. During a walk, spend time focusing on one part of your body, like your left foot, and see whether your relationship with it changes. When would-be hikers ask me, my summary remark will be something like, “it’s a mental journey, and you need to engage the intelligence of both mind and body.”
Here are a few photos from my first 150 miles in Oregon!
It is so refreshing to hike in forests again and to see the 100 shades of green on display on Mt. Ashland.Just after entering Oregon, I entered a field of Bear Grass in bloom. I did not see a single instance of this before arriving home.The approach to Crater Lake covers about 10 miles of lava fields. The skill of the trail makers was impressive.The PCT has an alternate route that follows the Crater Lake Rim Trail. Pleasure-Way joined me to enjoy this national treasure.Wizard Island shouts mystery and adventure.
Thru-hiking like life brings toil and uncertainty to ask who am I? Ribs
I am writing from the comfort of a motel in Mammoth Lakes. I came off the trail today after the most physically challenging week so far with a profound appreciation of the scenic beauty and the responsibility we assume when thru-hiking. In seven days I covered 123 miles with 32K elevation gain from eight passes averaging over 11K feet.
I was joined by my nephew, Peter, an experienced Sierra climber and back country skier. His presence boosted my confidence to navigate the three highest passes with snow.
Kearsarge Pass, at nearly 12K feet, is required just to get back to the PCTGlen Pass, our second 12K pass of the first day, required several steep snow field traverses – not a big deal for Peter but I fell several timesLooking back at Glen Pass from the Rae Lakes
I could have written a nice post titled “Big Day – The Sequel” after two major climbs on the first day. But we were just getting started. Every day we climbed as quickly as possible to summit the next pass before the snow got too soft or possible afternoon thunderstorms materialized. We then dropped 3K feet to the valley floor to camp before starting the sequence again. It makes me tired just listing our Big Week itinerary.
Day 1: Kearsarge 12K and Glen 12K
Day 2: Pinchot 12K
Day 3: Mather 12K
Day 4: Muir 12K
Day 5: Selden 11K
Day 6: Silver 11K
Day 7: Mammoth 10K
We met him at first light of day 2 sharing the river valley, the first of many deer over the weekPinchot Pass featured the barren moonscape of the southern SierraLooking back from Mather to Pinchot Pass showed our day 3 work
Peter and I were most concerned about Muir Pass because of the snow depth. It was the most scenic section of the PCT so far. The intense azure blue of the lakes and sky radiated off the snow and ice.
Peter leads the way up Muir PassThe John Muir shelter, built in 1930, saves lives when storms close in on this highly exposed landscapeWanda Lake, north of Muir Pass, defines radianceThe ice flow moved with the wind, I had to peel my eyes away lest I would still be sitting there
The descent from Muir took us into the magical Evolution Valley. I have tried to hike this section for years but permits and fires have intervened. It is the transition from the barren Sierra peaks to the lush forests that stretch from valley floor to alpine lakes.
We shared our campsite view with the residents of Evolution Valley
The constant pounding of the descents took a toll on Peter. He dealt with a daily barrage of blisters but then he re-activated knee issues that quickly escalated. He decided to hike 16 miles out rather than continue 45 more miles and risk an evacuation. It was a hard decision but demonstrated the most important responsibility we have in remote wilderness situations – know your limits at every moment. Later we concluded the issue was likely using climbing approach shoes. Every thru-hiker tweaks their gear, food, and body care over weeks and months – Peter had five days.
Foot care at its best
I continued north to finish the last three passes and 45 miles. I had hiked this section with Jenessa in 2017 so it was fun to experience the trail again and remember the trip that inspired me to hike the PCT.
Silver Pass was number seven and a crazy day of climbingAfter a full meal, I decided to take on a mammoth mud pie. You’re damn right I finished it with an audience at the next table.
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.
Climbing out of Cajon Pass.
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.
Big Bear Lake, after turning west.
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.
Pointing west to Mt. Baden-Powel
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.
My 400-mile journey so far.
May all your journeys, whether to your garden, park, or local trails, bring you joy.
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.
Soaking and icing my right ankle.
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.
Prickly Pear cactus in bloom.From snow to 95° and back again.Amazing trees keep me company.
