PCT Thru-Hiker Reaches Terminus After 130 Days: 'It Was Never About Canada'

On the 130th day of walking, I reached out and placed my hand on the wooden structure of the northern terminus at the end of the Pacific Crest Trail. I was sad. I was happy. I felt like crying, but could only smile. It felt as if a decade had gone by since I left from the border of Mexico. The realization that I had just walked the entire length of the PCT from Mexico to Canada had finally set in — this was the end of an incredible journey.

As the crow flies, the distance between Mexico and Canada from Campo, California to Manning Park, British Columbia is 1,000 miles but the trail is two and a half times that length. It winds 2,650 miles through 24 national forests, 33 wilderness areas and seven national parks. It traverses as low as 140 feet between the border of Oregon and Washington and crests at 13,153 feet at Forester Pass in the high Sierra Nevada. 

Every mile was earned.

I will always remember the third day of my hike, I was 52 miles along when I saw the most discouraging sign on the entire trail. It showed that Mexico was 52 miles south, Kennedy Meadows was 650 miles to the north, Oregon 1,650 miles north, Washington 2,100 and Canada 2,600 miles ahead. This was a defining moment on my trip. I was tired, the heat was blistering and my feet were battered. The reality of what I had just got myself into had set in — I wanted to give up.

“Just look how far we’ve come,” said “Outback” who I’d hiked with for all 52 of those miles.

“Yeah, a hell of a long ways, with a hell of a lot further to go,” I responded with a hint of sarcasm. 

Despite wanting to quit, I continued to walk. I will always remember that humbling moment as the day that I decided to accept hardship and push on. 

For more than four months I have been walking from Mexico to Canada. I struggled through the heat of the Mojave Desert where water was minimal. I climbed up into the high Sierra Nevada where mosquitos were plenty. I watched the mosquitos turn to butterflies in Northern California. I sprinted through the forest in southern Oregon before sauntering through the vastness of the Sister’s Wilderness. I walked across the Bridge of the Gods and into the remoteness of the North Cascades to battle the early season rain and snowfall. 

I arrived at Stevens Pass for the second time after hiking from the exact location about one month earlier to hike southbound from Stevens to Ashland, Oregon where I flipped up from to escape the smoke from the wildfires in Northern California. Although it was raining, I was excited. I had just reunited with Kati and Cory, two friends that I had hiked with in Northern California. I was back with friends, I had clean clothes and I was hiking north again. Canada felt so close.

I had been rained on for four days in Oregon and started to develop trench-foot from my wet shoes and didn’t want to have wet feet again. Before heading out from Stevens, I pulled out my secret weapon, brand-new Gore Tex Salomon hiking shoes for the last 188 miles — this would prove to be a huge mistake.

The rain fell as the three of us began the 5-day, 105-mile stretch to Stehekin. It was only a matter of minutes before all of us were soaked. My core stayed relatively dry but my legs and hands were still exposed and became numb. My feet were bone dry although they were starting to ache. 

Considering we didn’t hit the trail until 2 p.m., we were only able to make it 16 miles before the sun went down. We were cold, wet and somewhat discouraged as the rain soaked us to the core. We knew we were going to make it to Canada but we also knew that the remainder of the days were not going to be fun. 

The next morning we groaned as we packed our wet tents into our wet bags and put on our wet rain jackets but I was thankful to put on dry socks and shoes. Kati and Cory weren’t so lucky with their socks and shoes.

Dark clouds blocked most of the view of Glacier Peak throughout the day but the clouds hovering over the valley provided their own unique beauty. It rained from the time we left camp to the time we set up camp in the evening. It rained throughout the night and continued to rain for the next four days with snow falling at about 6,000 feet. The weather was foul and it began to dampen my spirit.

In early August, a fire was sparked near the PCT about 20 miles south of Stehekin. The PCTA managed to find an alternate route around the fire which took us through Holden Village, a small Lutheran camp in the hills above Lake Chelan. The village offered a warm common area where hikers were welcomed to coffee, tea, toast and a full cereal bar for $8. It was likely the best use of $8 on the entire trail.

As I was sipping warm coffee, another hiker who I had just met earlier that day sat down next to me. He asked if I was going to continue to take the alternate for another 17 miles to Stehekin or take the ferry. I didn’t know there was a ferry. Instead of hiking a rarely used alternate trail, I could just hop on a ferry and it would take me to Stehekin — it felt like cheating but the alternate trails in Washington had been far from fun and the waterproof shoes that I had admired on the rack at REI were now monsters. In the 100 miles that I had worn them, they managed to eat my feet enough to cause a severe limp in my stride, not to mention the rain eventually soaked through.

I sat on the ferry idea for the remainder of the night and ultimately decided to bypass the detour. I lost my continuous footpath when I opted out of a roadwalk near Idyllwild just 150 miles into the hike, I missed 24 miles because of a fire closure near mile 400 and bypassed eight miles through a wind farm near Tehachapi. My footpath was already somewhat scattered, what was another 17 miles? This would drive a purist crazy but for me, the PCT was about an adventure to Canada.

We arrived in Stehekin via the ferry the next afternoon. It was warm and sunny but the dark clouds continued to linger in the north. Tired of the rain and snow, I opted to rent a cabin at the Stehekin Valley Ranch where they served an all-you-can-eat barbecue buffet with fresh pie from the Stehekin Bakery for desert, followed by a breakfast buffet in the morning.

My feet were screaming at me and the weather continued to show no mercy. I was less than 100 miles from the end and I was done, over it. I didn’t want to hike anymore. I just wanted the suffering to end already. I wanted to go home.

I called my dad to let him know that I would be taking the ferry to Chelan and would need a ride back home.

“You can’t quit now,” he said.

“I’m tired of being cold and my shoes are eating my feet and are causing my ankles to swell,” I responded.

“I’ll send you your other shoes,” he said. “Where do you need them?”

I wasn’t amused. I didn’t want my old shoes, I just wanted to go home, but he was right. I couldn’t quit less than 100 miles from the finish line.

“I guess I can make it another 20 miles and hitch in to Winthrop,” I said. 

“Alright, I’ll send them to Winthrop,” he said with enthusiasm. “The weather looks promising if you just wait two days, wait out the rain in Winthrop and I’ll see you in Canada.”

I left Stehekin the following day, again I had met up with Kati and Cory. We had split just before Holden Village, and they decided to hike the alternate to keep their continuous footpath from Mexico. Before long, I told them that I would be taking two days off in Winthrop to wait for my shoes. 

It was disappointing that we wouldn’t be reaching the border together as we had anticipated when we left Stevens Pass, but we were happy for each other. The two of them had grown to be family, we shared laughs when times were good and were there for each other through the mental breakdowns. 

For the first time of the entire hike, I was not excited to get to town. I didn’t want to hitch a ride from Rainy Pass to Winthrop. I wanted to continue hiking with my friends despite the unforgiving weather and my shoe problem, but I knew taking a few days off was the right decision. I needed to get to town, otherwise the end of my hike would have been miserable.

At last we had reached Rainy Pass. I hugged the two of them, said congratulations in advance and walked to the road. 

Within minutes I was in a heated car travelling over 60 miles per hour toward Winthrop where I would stay for two nights waiting for the weather to improve and for my shoes to arrive. 

Two days later, I made my way to the post office and picked up my shoes. I immediately walked outside and let out a sigh of relief as I put them on. The weather had cleared, my feet were happy and I was ready to walk to Canada. 

The weather report showed clear skies for the next four days and I wanted to enjoy all of them. I only had about 60 miles left, two days of hiking if I wanted to push it but I had been pushing it for the last 126 days. I wanted to enjoy the last bit.

I called my dad, this time in much better spirits. I thanked him for getting me back on the trail and told him to meet me at the Manning Park resort in four days.

Within an hour of the shoe exchange, I was back on the trail.

The trail climbs about 5,000 feet in just under 25 miles out of Stehekin. The trail went up at such a gradual incline that it was almost unnoticeable that I was again at 6,300 feet, standing at the top of Cutthroat Pass. This is where the North Cascades  were able to show their beauty for the first time in more than a week. It was sunny and warm, the view was incredible and I could finally take my time. For the first time in months, I stopped for the sole purpose of enjoying the view before I made my way to a lower elevation to camp.

I figured “Paradise,” who I’d hiked with for nearly 1,000 miles and had become my best friend on trail was just behind me and would likely catch up if I took it slow but there was no cell reception to confirm.

The following nights would be the coldest of the trip but the bones were able to thaw out during the day when the temperatures would climb into the 60s. 

Just after Harts Pass, about 30 miles from the border, I reunited with “Doctor Strange” who I hadn’t seen since around mile 250 and “Boo Boo” who I hadn’t seen since about mile 800. I had only briefly met Doctor Strange but clearly remembered him from our short interaction a few miles north of Big Bear Lake. On the other hand, I knew Boo Boo pretty well as we had leap frogged throughout most of the desert. I didn’t expect to see either of them again considering it had been months since we’d seen each other last but I had grown accustomed to the trail throwing in little surprises along the way.

Together, we hiked 20 miles before setting up our tents for the last time, leaving just 10 miles from the northern terminus and another eight to Manning Park.

I sat in silence while I stared at the blue walls of my tent that had been my home for the last 129 days. I remembered back to the first time I set up the tent in my parents backyard before putting it into my backpack and taking it with me to the border of Mexico. 

I tried to think back on my favorite part of the trip but couldn’t. Everything was my favorite part: The freedom, disconnecting from LTE and connecting with people, the friends I made, the ability to challenge myself everyday, sleeping when the sun went down and waking when it rose, stargazing, being 50 miles from anywhere, making it to town in time for breakfast, the generosity of strangers, finding myself, accepting hardship, overcoming challenges, watching ecosystems change under my feet and seeing the change in myself. 

As the sun went down, I drifted into my last sleep before I reached the terminus.

Before I knew it I was taking my tent down for the last time. The three of us left just after each other, giving us time to enjoy the last moments. We walked along the last ridge where I paused to take it in one last time. I couldn’t believe this would be the last day spent away from society.

I ended up ahead of Doctor Strange and Boo Boo but waited about a mile before the monument so that we could walk into Canada together. I felt out of my body as we zigzagged down the last few switchbacks, I felt like I was dreaming. 

At 11 a.m. we reached the monument and were greeted with applause from hikers that made it just before us. I reached my hand out and touched the wooden structure — I couldn’t believe it. I sat down in the crowd of other hikers and stared at it without saying a word. I was numb. 

After a few minutes, I was able to stand again and celebrated the accomplishment with two or three whiskey shots before getting picture taken. I didn’t want to leave, I just wanted to sit there and stare at it but we still had eight more miles to hike before we reached the Manning Park Resort and I knew my dad was probably waiting on me.

We took one last look before we hiked an uneventful eight miles out of the woods and into Manning Park. In the distance, I saw my dad waiting up ahead as I picked up my pace to meet him with an emotional hug.

After a few minutes of congratulations, Boo Boo, Doctor Strange and myself grabbed a pitcher of beer with my dad and celebrated the end of a remarkable journey before saying our goodbyes. I walked to the car and just before I pulled the handle I heard someone yell from the woods.

“Backtrack, Backtrack, Backtraaack!”

It was Paradise! I figured he wasn’t too far behind but we were unable to communicate for the last 188 miles due to nonexistent cell reception north of Stevens Pass. 

I yelled his name back at him and we shared our congratulations. Paradise and myself made a great team, we held one another accountable to wake up at 3 a.m. through the desert to beat the heat and we watched out for each other in the Sierra Nevada before we parted ways near Mammoth Lakes. After Mammoth Lakes, he met up with “Happy Hermit,” who we had been leapfrogging with for the entirety of the desert.

“Man, I heard you left the terminus about an hour before I got there!” he said as he caught his breath. “I hustled the last eight miles, I was hoping I’d catch ya before you left. Hermit is just a few minutes behind.”

Considering I had finally met up with Paradise again, I couldn’t just get in the car and go. We had to continue the celebration with another round of drinks at the resort before offering them a ride to SeaTac airport where I would say goodbye to Paradise and Happy Hermit. There was no more saying “I’ll see you up ahead,” this was goodbye — this was the end of the journey.

I have dreamt of the moment I would stand next to the monument of the northern terminus and then walk into Canada since I left from the southern terminus on May 14. Every decision I made, every extra mile I pushed was to give me the best shot at reaching my destination. The truth is, this was never about a destination, never about a monument. It was never about Canada. This was about the journey to get there, this was a journey to find myself — that was monumental.