Chasing Rainbows in the North Cascades

We walked out of the scorched town of Oroville, not sure what was ahead. The maps say we are about to go into the North Cascades, and particularly, the raved about Pasayten Wilderness. Are the maps wrong? We are in the desert, how could we possible be going into a place with tree’s, rain, cold temperatures, and real mountains? Seems like some kind of mess up to me… But as we hike through private property that we got permission to pass through, I find myself having a good time. There is shade, and the huge Similkameen River with massive fish in it, and tons of people camped along its shore panning and dredging for gold. We walked through a very long tunnel that was very cold inside, a nice place to take a break from the sweltering 100 degree heat outside of it. We saw bald eagles and golden eagles flying together, giving us a show. We got a birds eye view of the Newbie Fire that had already been burning for a month by the time we could see it. Apparently, it was self contained and we had nothing to worry about.

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We walked through the old “town” of Nighthawk, after first being caught at the wrong moment. Like I said earlier, we had permission to walk through private land, however we still had to jump a huge deer gate, and not all the people in the area knew we had gotten permission, so the fence hop was nerve-wracking, especially when a truck started to approach from behind – of course during the only moment we are doing something that appears to be sketchy. We get over the fence and the truck comes through and asks us what we are doing. We explain, and the two men in the truck are like “Well if you got permission, we don’t care, see ya!” We saw them and the man who gave us permission on our way out.

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The valley we walked into next was probably the most peaceful valley I have ever seen. Wildlife bounded. We saw deer, eagles, and beavers! We were actually enjoying this road walk, barely any cars came by and it was just Ted and I, laughing and talking all along the way. We got to a campground and saw our friend Flanders tent set up so we stopped by to say hi. Ted and I decided to camp there too since the area was mostly private property and we didn’t want to camp illegally. The next morning we all hiked out together, Ted and I stopped in the tiny town of Loomis to get our packages and then headed up the Chopaka Grade to our high alpine campsite at the Cold Springs Campground, the beginning of our North Cascades adventure.

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Thus begins the epic beauty of the mountains and forests of Washington! The Pasayten Wilderness is everything it’s cracked up to be. Lots of open meadows and views for hundreds of miles all around. The trails were nice and we even saw some actual human beings out there. We walked behind the Newbie Fire on an alternate route to get around it, and saw the burn area as we passed.

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The weather got cold and blustery, but not a lot of rain. I had trouble staying warm while doing regular camp chores (getting water, cooking food, cleaning up, etc.) But we’re tough! As we walked, the moss got greener, and the tree’s were bigger, and the leafs on the forest floor were unusual sizes – what is this the rainforest?!

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We found berries again! And they were delicious, just as we suspected. Our trail took us through a very smokey valley, and then up and over Frosty Pass which was clear of smoke. We descended toward a trail we know too well, the Pacific Crest Trail! Hello long lost old friend!! We got to share 13.3 miles of the PCT on our thru hike of the PNT. It was very exciting. The walking was easy and smooth on the PCT, unlike the varied terrain and unmaintained trails that make up the Pacific Northwest Trail. It really put into perspective how different these trails are in difficulty. The Pacific Northwest Trail is almost half the length of the Pacific Crest Trail, but it is much more difficult mile for mile, and I am happy to be hiking a trail that makes me so tough!

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It rained a bit while we hiked along the most northern section of the Pacific Crest Trail and we saw a HUGE rainbow, we could actually see the pots of gold, but the trail called so we kept on walkin’. The scenery was amazing, classically PCT.

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As we finished up the PCT portion, we said goodbye at Holman Pass and immediately started walking over deadfalls and a much narrower trail. The PCT is so loved, it is very obvious by how well it is maintained. What an amazing trail! Back to the PNT, we met a girl named Jodi who had just begun her section hike of the PNT after doing 300 miles or so on the PCT. She was doing 25-30 miles a day on average while working on her thesis on National Scenic Trails for her Masters in Resource Management. As we hiked over the Devils Dome I enjoyed conversation with her, as the only conversation I’ve had with anyone besides Ted in what seems like months, and then we parted when Ted and I stopped to have dinner at a creek. Flanders was at our campsite and as always, we were happy to see his smilin’ face yet again. He said goodbye with words in the dirt above our tent because he always gets up hours before we do. That day we hiked 20 easy miles to the Ross Lake Resort before 4:30pm and were devastatingly disappointed when we found the rumors were true. They have no food for us to eat, no showers, no laundry, and no place for us to sleep (besides back on the trail). I said, screw this, lets go to town, I need a day off after 150 straight miles without a break or a shower or a meal with real food. Yeah, I am going to town! We got a boat ride across the lake where we hitch hiked for no more than 5 minutes when a solo guy living out of his van picked us up and brought us all the way in to the town of Marblemount where we were treated like second class citizens by the owner of the Buffalo Run Inn who shoved us into a hostel room when we wanted to pay for a nice private room with private bath. We weren’t allowed to eat the continental breakfast, and they even kept the second bathroom locked so seven people had to share one bathroom (after he had said there would be two bathrooms). Not to mention he was nowhere to be found when we needed him. He did show up eventually just to yell at us for not being out by check out, after we waited hours just to shower. We were definitely not going to get another night there, so we started hitching to the laundromat down the road. A young girl with purple hair picked us up, gave us some blueberries, and dropped us off a mile down the road. We hung out in the laundry room at the RV park as our clothes washed and some young guys started to filter through. We didn’t know there were all friends, working together for a raft company, or that they had passed us hitch hiking on the highway, until they told us and apologized for not picking us up. They invited us to go on a whitewater raft trip with them the following day. We took them on their offer and hung out with Akram, Randy, and Matt for the night and the next day. They were a fun trio who worked together leading raft trips for tourists. We were lucky to run into them and we had an awesome day rafting with them. Unfortunately we didn’t get any photo’s – but it is a memory we’ll both have for a lifetime!

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As we hiked on the west side of Ross Lake we hustled to get through the smoke from the fires all around the state and the new fires forming near the lake itself. The Beaver River was white and milky from glacial flour. I wanted to swim in it, then when I did, I was spooked because I couldn’t see what was beneath the water… river monsters!! As we walked into the North Cascades National Park, we got a few glimpses of glaciers before a big storm came in and blanketed everything with clouds and rain. We walked over Whatcom Pass in the pouring rain and camped at the Graybeal camp where we were rained on all night. Luckily the rain stopped by morning, but not soon enough for anything to dry (at all). It was one of those lovely days when we get to put on soaking wet clothes. Since it wasn’t raining though, our clothes kind of dried on our walk out of the park that day. We hiked up and over Hannegan Pass then got a ride into the town of Glacier to dry out. There were no rooms available, but a guy nearby took pity on us and offered us a shower and a place to camp at his place. Lucky again.

Cable car river crossing in the rain!

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So we said goodbye to the national park and walked into the Mount Baker Ski Resort, the familiarity of the chair lifts was heart warming. Hi Mammoth! We miss you! Then we hiked on over to the Wild Goose Trail, bringing thoughts of wild geese running amok to my mind. We connected to the Lake Anne trail, walking through the enchanted forest that is western Washington, then to the Swift Creek Trail where we found a beautiful little flat spot to camp deep in the woods next to a creek. We learned quickly to be careful walking not only off trail, but on trail too – because there are HUGE spiders in theses forests that like to make their webs right where your face conveniently lands as you walk.

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The Swift Creek trail ended and we began a road walk to connect to the next trail about 7 or 8 miles away, the Baker Lake Trail. This trail is often bypassed by hikers because there is a “quicker, more efficient route” that happens to only be 8.5 miles, as opposed to 25.5 around the lake. That shortcut is a highway walk. Yeah right, I am walking around the lake. The lake was amazing. We saw no one on the trail and camped alone on the shore. Our campsite had a privy and a bear locker! The simplest of luxuries allowed us to lounge around camp the next morning, really taking in the beauty and solitude this area offered us. When we finally hiked on, we stopped for a swim in the turquoise blue lake before getting to the road that would lead us into our next resupply town of Concrete Washington.

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We are happy! We love hiking, only a few more weeks left, but we don’t want it to end. We are just loving the Pacific Northwest Trail. Hike on!!

Sunrises, Giant Burgers, and More Roadwalks

After a lovely night at Jami and Josh’s, the Pacific Northwest Trail’s new trail angels of Northport Washington, we learned of a fire in the way of our hike in the Kettle Crest Range, which is said to be a real highlight of the trail. Reluctantly, we decided the only thing to do was to get to the next access point beyond the fire closure, which was Sherman Pass outside of Republic. The local doctor, Craig, of the tiny town is a friend of our angels and he offered us a ride the next morning. Josh lent us his truck and kayaks to pass the day paddling at the Sheep Creek mouth into the Columbia river. I kept my distance from the swift waters of the Columbia, a little too deep and powerful in my opinion. It looked like that river could swallow me up without a trace. We stayed near the calm currents of Sheep Creek and even took a nap on a beach. We are grateful for the generosity of the people we meet along the way who give more than we could ever imagine. Thank you Josh, Jami, and Craig!


Another hiker had caught up to us, he caught a ride to Sherman Pass as well. We all hiked along into the afternoon and evening along old dirt forest roads. We found a campsite with a nice view and decided to call it a night after about 15 miles, with a late start. Our hike the next morning brought us through mostly forest along dirt roads with the occasional view which always reminded me of home. Eastern Washington has a very similar climate to the mountains we have in San Diego. Dry, hot, hilly, yellow grasses, and pine forests. The only thing missing was our oak tree’s! We ate dinner at the Thirteen Mile trailhead after scaring off a group of people with our backpacks and huge calf muscles. The idea of people walking out of the woods and no car parked at the trailhead is just mind boggling. We started a short 3 mile paved road walk along the highway 21 out of Republic, which would only take us an hour, when the most bizarre thing happened! There wasn’t much traffic, maybe two cars passed us in the first 20 minutes. A red car coming toward us with a busted headlight came to a screeching halt and suddenly turned the car around. All the while I am bracing myself for who knows what, something strange is about to happen. I look over and all these smiling faces are looking at me through rolled down windows. They start to yell “WE KNOW YOU! CASCADE LOCKS!” over and over again until my glazed look transforms into a glimpse of recognition. These people I had met at the Bridge of the Gods while hiking on the Pacific Crest Trail two years ago! We had sat together and talked for a couple hours, and Stacey was the girl who walked me across the bridge. It was a chance reconnection, that couldn’t be merely coincidence. We visited in the road for a few minutes before they sped off in the direction they were headed and Ted and I began walking towards our next camp at the abandoned Ten Mile Campground a couple miles down the road. We were flabbergasted, completely blown away by what had just happened, laughing all the way by the irony of life.


After another day or so of walking, we were at another road to get into Republic, the very long highway 20. We decided that we didn’t have enough food to get all the way to our next stop in Oroville, so we hitch hiked into town. Many people passed us, one was a young man, who I remember thinking he looked like someone who might pick up a hitch hiker, but alas he did not stop. About ten minutes passed and we saw his car coming back with his hazards on, he turned around and picked us up. He was on a solo road trip along the highway 20 and for some reason was pulled to come back and give us a lift. We were grateful. He dropped us off and I was charmed by this tiny town – everything within 1-2 blocks. An all natural, organic co-op! A mercantile/hardware store, a grocery store, pizza place, a hotel, laundromat, just everything a hiker could ever need. I was especially pleased with the co-op, that’s what made it stand out from the other towns. We reconnected with our friend Mike who started at the same time as us, we met him getting off of the same train in Glacier National Park over a month ago. After just one night we got a ride back to the trailhead with Mike.


We had a nice trail to walk on for a little while, with good views, then we were back on the road again, walking along lots of private property. There were no houses, just lots of junk and trailers, we were a bit spooked by the people who lived there. They didn’t appear to have many hobbies other than perhaps drinking beer and target practice. When we reached the road intersection, there were real houses and people outside. They offered us a spot to camp for the night and we did. Mike was camped closer to their house and we could hear the one older man, who might have had a bit to drink, just talking his ear off for hours. Lying in our tent, I felt for the poor guy who was tired and wanted to sleep just like us. We talked for a bit before we fell asleep, and Mike’s trailname finally hit us. Flanders. We must name him. We fell asleep right then and there. Ted woke up with his water bottle left open. We were beat. As hikers usually are at that hour. Just done.


Goodmorning more roadwalking, yay! We can make the best of it, at least it is fast walking. We even saw a bald eagle getting harassed by a smaller hawk. Flanders had headed out earlier than us, as usual and we were determined to catch up to him. In passing, a farmer called out to us, “You’re only about 30 minutes behind that other guy!” We kept hoofin’ it till we got all the way to the Lake Bonaparte Resort, where low and behold, Flanders was there. Just as I suspected…We ordered a meal as he packed his things and headed back to the trail. Ted ordered the Bonaparte Bloater, a food challenge. It was a burger with three 1/4 lb beef patties, with bacon and cheese in between each patty, with onion rings on top and fries. He opted for a salad instead of fries, thinking it would allow him to succeed in the challenge which would award him the burger for free if he finished it in 45 minutes or less. He stopped at about 2/3 of the way though, feeling the cholesterol pumping through his veins. Stupid idea, he thought. Digestion is a real cause for slowing down. We had a huge climb ahead and tons of food in the bellies. We took three hours to get out of there, three hours! Then hiked at an unreasonably slow pace all the way to the top of Mount Bonaparte, where we would spend the night. With a very serious effort, we made it to the top of the lookout tower within just seconds of the sunset.

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The lookout tower was full of neat stuff but the door was locked, dangit! It had a nicely made bed, binoculars, naturalist books, food, and anything a fire lookout keeper would need to stay up there for a while. Their job is to sit up there and look. I think I want that job. Note taken. The almost full moon moved over us through the night, lighting the valley below. We camped so that we would be able to see the sun rising, we set our alarm for 5:18 am, the earliest we’ve woken up in our entire lives, but it was worth it to see the day begin. I pooped happily in the keepers privy, relieved to not worry about digging another hole for a day. We loved this campsite, and because we got up so early, we were set to hike a nice big day of miles, getting almost all the way into town, but not before camping at another great spot on a ridge above the valley with the towns of Tonasket and Oroville.

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The walk into Oroville was over 100 degrees and we are here now watching the hillside burn up in another wildfire that we hope won’t get in the way of our route to Loomis, our next stop before we get into the North Cascades National Park. We are very excited for the second half of this trip. We have walked roughly 600 miles and have roughly 600 more to go! All is well out here with Ted and I.

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Howling Wolves, Huckleberries, and Bushwhacks

As we walked away from Eureka Montana, our pace was slowed by the lazy river inviting us to cool off. I got wet every chance I could to keep cool in the sweltering humid heat. I used my umbrella to shade me and with the wet clothes I was pleased with the air conditioning effect I created. We did a lot of road walking, some of it on a busy highway. We were rewarded with views of the massive Koocanusa lake. As we crossed the Koocanusa bridge I was mesmerized by the distance between us and the water, imagining what might happen to a person if they jumped from there. A boat floated under the bridge and all the people in it saw us and waved. The lake was still in view at our camp that night at the base of Webb mountain. The moon was almost full, making the lake glow through the night. In the morning we climbed up and up and lots more up until we must have summitted what felt like a dozen mountains before collapsing on the peak of Mount Henry for the night. Our first 20 mile day on the Pacific Northwest Trail. Before setting up camp, we watched the sun set over the mountains of Idaho, where we would be very soon.

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Before long we walked into Yaak Montana, our last Montana town stop. We made it by fourth of July and enjoyed watching the locals swim in the Yaak river while we ate and relaxed our bodies. We took another zero day because Ted needed to wait for a package to come in, which was delayed by the holiday. Temperatures were going down, as well as the biting bugs. We were having a lot more fun without them. We got a little cabin there for cheap, with no water or electricity but that was fine. Once the package arrived in the late afternoon, we hit the trail again.   As the afternoon faded into the night, we were startled by the sight of a big brown butt running away from us. After a good look we realized it was a young moose. Spooked by the encounter, knowing critters big and small were all around us, we kept walking along the old logging road until we found a small creek and a flat spot to sleep. It rained long and hard while we slept, clearing by morning as if to say, okay I’ve rained enough now it’s time for you to go on a nice dry walk. The clouds were refreshing, keeping us cool all day. We came along two hillbilly type guys logging along the road we were walking, in the middle of nowhere. The tall skinny man was standing with a beer in his hand. He called out to us as we passed, “where’s yer rig?”. Ted, pointing to his backpack, replied “right here”. Without a smile, the skinny man said “that’s straange…” a chubby man sitting on the ground next to his cut logs just watched quietly as we passed. Feeling vulnerable, we were relieved to be on a trail just a few minutes later. Most people don’t walk far so we feel pretty safe out in the roadless wilderness.

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We camped high on a ridge just before our first cross-country route began the following day. We loved navigating the ridgeline without a path. We had a 360 degree view of mountains for a hundred miles all around. We had a lovely day, giving ourselves a sponge bath when we finally found a flowing creek. We took a long break at the creek to say goodbye to Montana and hello to Idaho! We were on the state border. After another 20 mile day and a new state we got to our campsite just before a small town stop. Ted went to fetch water at the creek a few hundred yards away. It was dark and I could hear him calling to warn the bears, as we often do, “Hey bear!! Heeey bear!!!” We are always a little spooked when we get into camp late and have to do chores in the dark. Lions, wolves, and bears! Oh my! We felt sticky, soggy, and smelly the next day, so before going to pick up our resupply boxes at the Feist Creek Falls Resort, we washed up in the Moyie River. Smiling and waving at the locals who stopped on the bridge to stare at us. I guess we are a sight to see! We were treated like family when we arrived. The owner, Cliff, sat with us as we ate. He brought us homemade food for us to try and even gave us a free hotel room to stay in for the night. I called my Uncle Roger who lives in Idaho and invited him to come visit. He was glad I had called, jumped in his car and was sitting with Ted and I by a waterfall drinking a beer 3 hours later. It was nice to be in the presence of family. Seeing him made me see my dad, his brother, who share a lot of similar features. I never really noticed before. I had always seen my Uncle with family, never one on one as an adult. We hung out for a few hours before he headed back home. It was very sweet of him to drive all that way just to see me.

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When we finally got out of there the next day, it was three o clock in the afternoon and we had a big climb and a long dry stretch that we knew would be unreasonable to start so late in the day, so we camped at the base and started the climb after a night spent painting, listening to Ted’s ukulele, and sleeping next to a babbling brook in a green, moist forest. It was foggy all day and there were huge purple Huckleberries everywhere slowing us down as we climbed. We are finding it difficult to move quickly on this trail. It is nothing like the PCT which is a hard packed, continuous trail all the way to Canada from Mexico. The PNT is a collection of many trails joined together all the way to the ocean from Glacier National Park. It is more of a route with trails, roads, and cross country/bushwhacks connected together. We stop at almost every junction to be sure not to stray from the route, we hike slower because of rugged, extremely steep trail, there are so many berries that we can’t refrain from eating, and overall we just hang out too much! I am feeling the itch to start traveling more efficiently. I am also feeling strong and ready to make more miles. My mental state has evolved from an overwhelmed scatter brain in transition to the trail bliss I once knew while hiking the PCT two years ago. I am feeling good. Strong. Happy. Now let’s get some miles!!!!

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Wait no, how about another town stop? We got to the road that led into Bonners Ferry and decided it would be smart to go into town, the biggest town near the trail for about 600 miles. I had lost my bear spray and Ted had lost his compass and a few other important items. We rushed to and from town, hitchhiking and shopping took us 5 hours and we found ourselves back where we had left off, walking across the Kootenai river valley until evening. Clouds hanging over the Selkirks and miles of farm land in all directions. We slept near Parker Creek, then spent the day climbing about 7,000 feet. Once we reached the crest, we were surrounded by huge storms in the mountains all around us, but we stood under a clear sky. The sun shone gold on the hills and tree’s around, and black clouds marched through the sunshine. It was so dramatic I couldn’t believe my eyes! We camped that night at Long Mountain Lake where we watched the sky light up from the storms and listened to the song of thunder.

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We wandered out of the high country and down into the woods where we had our first bushwhack, that means no trail at all, through bushes, and down a steep embankment for a total of about 5 miles. It was really rough. When we got to a road we walked by a busy campground full of screaming people swimming, drinking, eating, and being merry. We stood out like a sore thumb when we stopped to use the bathroom. A few miles later we saw a family in the wilderness on a bike ride who recognized us from our short moment in the campground. They were excited to hear about our journey and shared their food with us. It was our first on trail trail magic, and it was wonderful. We hiked a few more miles that day on a great woodland trail that no one else was on because of a ton of blown down trees made it very difficult. We didn’t mind hopping over tree’s. It was easier than bushwhacking. We came upon a tiny campsite along this huge lake. We swam and watched the sunset. The next morning we saw a moose! Who politely moved off the trail for us to pass.

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After quite a bit of road walking, we were back on the trail again in an ancient grove of cedars. That night we heard wolves howling as we lay down in our sleeping bags to sleep. It sounded like a moan in the wind, and I couldn’t quite figure out what it was until Ted said it. “Those are wolves…” My body was motionless. I even stopped breathing, trying to hear the sound with all of my being, and being afraid of the possibility of a confrontation. I knew my bear spray couldn’t deter a pack of wolves, but I comforted myself with the thought that there is plenty large game out here. They don’t want to eat me.

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After some more great berry picking, we realized that we crossed over the Idaho state border again, and into Washington, our third state. Very exciting! Again lots of road walking and people looking at us like we’re crazy. We arrived in Metaline Falls Wa and Ted’s Mom and husband Rich met us there on their way home to Texas from their long journey (by vehicle) across Alaska and Canada. They fed us and we hung out together for a couple of days before we parted ways again and headed back into the wilderness. Backpacks full of goodies! Our first day out was climbing up to the peak of the second highest in NE Washington, Abercrombie Mountain. The views were beautiful, and there was even a recliner built out of rocks!

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Now I am sitting in Northport a couple days later, writing this blog from the computer of a young man and woman who took us in for the night. We were sitting by the post office opening our packages when Jamie saw us and brought us home, giving us showers, laundry, food, and great company. We are well fed, clean and ready for the next stretch. Hopefully I will find more opportunities for blogging as this journey continues. Thanks for reading!

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Swimming With Moose and Blood Thirsty Insects

Frantic to finish our preparations for our 3-4 month trip, we were up until 3 am and then got about an hour of sleep before getting on the train. We had a very quiet and peaceful 2.5 day train ride to chill and relax until the walking began. We arrived in East Glacier just outside of Glacier National Park, and began our walk across the Pacific Northwest, starting at Chief Mountain border customs right next to the Canadian border.

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Our first day was exciting and had our feet moving quickly. We had plenty of water, never having to think about where we might find it next, just taking it when we needed it. We met several other hikers on our first day, which was refreshing on a trail we expected to be almost entirely alone on. The walking has been nice, the trails in Glacier are well made, and it was a nice way to ease into this very difficult trail. There were designated campsites with poles built into food prep areas for handing our food, which made life pretty easy.

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We were blessed to meet our first ever moose! He was busy eating grass at the bottom of the lake, and enjoying fully immersing himself and bobbing up and down in the weightlessness of the water. We kept our distance, remembering someone saying that moose are some of the most dangerous wildlife. Feeling safe down the trail, we came upon a perfect jumping rock directly into deep turquoise water. We jumped in reluctantly, and swam out as quickly as we had fallen in. Glacial lakes are not anywhere close to body temperature. The moose, still 200 yards away in the shallower part of the lake, still busy dunking his head and munching. Butterflies were flying around, and the mosquito’s couldn’t find us with all the cold water on us. What a refreshing swim with Mr. Moose! We have had no issues with bears but have found their tracks, scat, along with scarred tree’s and turned over rocks.

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After having a beautiful, but steep, descent out of the park (damn that went by too fast!), I was reluctant to leave the last campsite at Bowman Lake, afraid of being in a crowded place full of people, but I went anyway. I was pleasantly surprised when we walked into the tiny “town” of Polebridge, where we were treated kindly by the locals at the Polebridge Mercantile which had all kinds of deliciously made baked goods among other food treasures. We stayed two nights at the North Fork Hostel that was so pleasant and quaint. A kind man by the name of Oliver owned the hostel and it felt like we were staying in his home – a rustic old cabin tucked into the woods next to a mighty river. We hand washed our clothes and enjoyed conversation with Oliver’s helper, Amy. She was a humble cyclist who worked seasonally and used her bicycle to travel across the country to all of her odd jobs in beautiful places. I enjoyed her big smile and wished I had gotten to know her a little more. We spent hours by the river, I read books about grizzly bears from Oliver’s library, and Ted made some music. We sat there for so long that many animals passed by. We saw geese, osprey, hummingbirds, and even an otter! In the community kitchen we met other people staying in the hostel who gave Ted and I their fruit, and Oliver gave us some kale – making a fantastic breakfast that we are so grateful for. It’s not always easy to find fresh food in tiny towns like this one, so it was truly heaven sent. Our first trail magic on the Pacific Northwest Trail. Polebridge was probably the coolest trail town stop yet!

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We hiked out, doing some road walking, the trail is not complete, so there are lots of roads to walk on that connect to other roads and or trails along this journey. I personally don’t mind them, because they are level and easy to walk on, unlike what we experienced going into the foothills of Montana. Water became scarce, temperatures hovered in the 80 to 100 degree range, trails had no switchbacks and went straight up and down the mountains, not to mention hundreds of blood thirsty insects constantly berating us. Here in Montana, I have experienced some of the steepest, most difficult terrain I’ve ever walked on. It’s been two weeks now, and my legs are getting BUFF! They better be, after all this crazy climbing.

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We took another zero day in Eureka Montana, to rest our feet and let our bodies adjust to the intense hiking. We briefly hiked with a woman trail named BloodyMary who is really fast, and I think we got a little excited and pushed ourselves beyond what we are used to. She is fresh off of the PCT, finishing a southbound hike last December, we have been sitting on our butts for months, so we are reminded to listen to our bodies and take it easy until the bigger miles come more naturally to us. As of now, we are averaging 15 (hard) miles a day. Here we go, back into the hot hot hills of Montana. I’ll post another blog when I find another computer. Love and light from the trail.


Snoozing in Mammoth


After a great experience in Yosemite, what was to come next was what I would consider a sleepy time in my nomadic, constantly changing lifestyle. It was time to answer the looming question – What next? Ted and I had a decision to make. Go our separate ways, or stick together. He wanted to get his EMT certification, and chose to do it at Cerro Coso Community College in Mammoth Lakes – knowing it would be likely that I would want to go there, too. He was right. I liked the idea of staying with Ted and moving to the Eastern Sierra’s to experience a winter different than what I was used to – 75 degree’s and sunny in San Diego. So I packed up my car full of everything I had and drove down Tioga Pass to my new neighborhood. We spent about a week camping on some BLM land just outside of town while we spent our days checking out apartments. We found the cutest little studio in the middle of town within walking distance of all the things we could ever need: an organic market called Sierra Sundance, Vons, the library which offered computers and DVD rentals, a bowling alley, and a yoga studio. All tucked into a tiny 4 square mile corner of the high sierra’s! Our first holiday in our new home was Halloween. We dressed up as a shark and a half eaten boogie boarder while we experienced our first snow storm of the season! Sharks are kinda my thing and this costume was a lot of fun to put together – I wish we had more pictures.

IMG_4854 We enjoyed a little down time exploring our new town before our jobs as Mammoth Mountain Lift Operators began. We played in the snow, followed mountain lion tracks, wandered around the shops and rode our bikes on all the bike paths. My best friend Danielle came to visit me for a few days and I caught my first trout (as an adult) while fishing with her at Crowley Lake! Before her departure, we brought him home and cooked him up for a hearty lunch. It was a great day for us, not so much for the fish.

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One day Ted and I spent hiking off trail to the summit of Laurel Mountain, an almost twelve thousand foot peak that stood directly above the town of Mammoth Lakes, visible from almost anywhere. Being the experienced hikers that we are, we figured that we could hike into the night considering we would be connecting to a “main” trail by nightfall. A little darkness didn’t worry us. However, we did become worried when our “main” trail disappeared after following it several miles and found ourselves at a stand still. We couldn’t find it, it was just gone. So after a very long day, we realized we had to turn back three miles to the junction where the trail started for us – and then hike down the mountain via Laurel Lakes road, a very long dirt road that lead straight back to town. Leaving our car at the Convict Lake trailhead, we abandoned the idea of returning to it that night, and just hiked home. This evening didn’t spare us the suffering of unplanned miles. I can definitely say I have never been more tired, hungry, and thirsty than I was this night (so much so that I felt drunk). We hiked all night, an additional twelve to fifteen miles than we had anticipated- making it into town by one o’clock in the morning. It was hellish, but we managed to get back to our cozy apartment safe and sound, with a colorful adventure story.

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After our first few weeks of working, we spent our first Thanksgiving without family. It was emotional for me to do this without the love and company of all the beautiful people in my life, but also a great experience to be doing it on my own, with Ted. We cooked a feast!

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We spent a few weekends wandering around the desert floor of Death Valley National Park, reveling in the sunshine and soaking up the warmth of the desert. We had both developed deep auburn tans from our outdoor lifestyle in sunny places, but they had faded from the excessive use of clothing to stay warm in our new climate. The vitamin D was delicious. We walked along sand dunes in Eureka Valley, ran naked across a parched earth, and visited Charles Manson’s old stomping grounds. I am in awe to say, this was my backyard.

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We enjoyed our free season passes and skied all winter at Mammoth Mountain, and it’s sister resort – June Lake. Often after a long day of standing at work, I’d opt for a dip in our local hot springs. Sometimes we’d make the 40 mile drive out to the travertine hot springs in Bridgeport. Nothing was too far and we never had to worry about traffic. I rarely ever drove, except to trailheads and hot springs. I rode my bike to work and walked everywhere else. I can’t emphasize enough how amazing this is – to never commute, unless for pleasure. Dear God please never make me drive through rush hour day after day again! I won’t do it. I won’t. I won’t.

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I really took a likin’ to riding my bike and discovered many long road rides into the mountains. My favorite was riding the ten mile road from Tom’s Place all the way up to the Rock Creek Trailhead. A challenging bike ride that had people in cars turning their heads, “is that a girl?” Yes I am a girl, and I can ride a bike up a huge hill like a bad ass. Amongst other badass things that people don’t think girls can do. The best part was the ten mile downhill cruise after an endorphin inducing up hill ride. I can’t say I didn’t catch a few flies in my smile. Did you know exercise makes you happy? There is nothing I find more enjoyable than a good challenge.

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As the snow began melting and night time temps were rising, Ted and I found ourselves full of angst from the lack of time spent exploring the wilderness. The ice and snow kept us inside much more than we would like to admit. To combat our dormancy, we planned our first backpacking trip of the spring season. IMG_5063We dusted off our backpacks and headed out to the well-known Iva Bell hot springs. Some weather was in the forecast but we weren’t going to let it stop us once again, so we went anyway. Most of the trip was weather free, it was warm and slightly breezy. It was a lovely walk that reawakened my body, bringing it back into my hiking rhythm, where I feel my best, my strongest, and most beautiful. I was in flow again. Hallelujah! I was feeling amazing when it began to snow. Nothing could damper my mood. I gazed up at the flakes falling and smiled, while also harboring a little anxiety about how much it might be snowing at the higher elevations where we were headed. We just kept on moving and made it through without waver. As we reached Duck Pass, I knew it was all downhill from there, and despite all the deep snow, I began to frolic. Somehow, almost entirely lacking snow travel experience, I just flew through the snow like I was dancing on top of it. It was a great time.

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In April, our time in Mammoth was coming to an end, because we decided to spend the summer hiking instead of working. It was a hard decision to make because I had fallen in love with Mammoth, but I felt like a full turn of the seasons might plant my roots a little too deep for my comfort at this time in my life, so we agreed it was time to spend some months just walking. There are a ton of long distance trails in this country, the Pacific Crest Trail is only one. We decided to hike the newly formed Pacific Northwest Trail from Glacier National Park in Montana, all the way to the ocean in Washington. It is about a 1200 mile walk that is said to be more challenging than the 3,000 mile Continental Divide Trail. During our brainstorming of this trip, we wondered how we would get home from Washington. Plane, train, boat, or… bike? We had been biking around town together having so much fun, we just thought we’d add another 1600 miles to our trip by riding bicycles down the west coast from the end of the trail, all the way to San Diego. We are currently in the process of preparing and plan to be gone a total of about four months, before returning to Mammoth if all goes as planned.

During my six months living in Mammoth, my thrifty nature came in handy. Despite living in an actual apartment that costs money, paying bills, and working for only $9.80 per hour – I managed to eat like a queen AND save over two thousand dollars. We didn’t have cable – we had story time, where we read classic stories aloud. We rented movies from the library, I got food stamps to help me with groceries, my local organic market gave away food that was imperfect, so I collected it daily and I managed to eat nothing but deliciously fresh, organic produce. I love seeing how well I can live with so little, it is a philosophy I want to carry throughout my entire life. Less is more!

We said goodbye to Mammoth with a “freshy” hike right after a big snowstorm – feeling the soft powder compress under our feet. We’ll be back!

See you on the P N T Summer 2015!

“Nature loves courage. You make the commitment and nature will respond to that commitment by removing impossible obstacles. Dream the impossible dream and the world will not grind you under, it will lift you up. This is the trick. This is what all these teachers and philosophers who really counted, who really touched the alchemical gold, this is what they understood. This is the shamanic dance in the waterfall. This is how magic is done. By hurling yourself into the abyss and discovering it’s a feather bed.” ― Terence McKenna

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Home is where I am – My Summer in Yosemite

What is home? I am 27 years old, and for the past 2 years, home has evolved into something I carry with me, rather than something I leave behind. From birth until I graduated college, home was my parents house. Sunny, beautiful, and full of comforts (and free food). It was a place that I had little motivation to leave. But after a couple months hiking on the Pacific Crest Trail, the trail became my home. My tent, my house, though lacking in decorations and my family – I had the beauty of the wilderness around me to fill me with love. In Baja, home was my campsite under the shade of mesquite tree’s and I shared my space with dove’s, who perched above my head as I laid in a hammock. Each time I returned to my parents house, I felt more like a visiting guest. And as quickly as I had arrived, I was off again to my next adventure – this time, a summer in Yosemite National Park. Why visit a national park when I can just live there? Seems reasonable.



At the end of last spring I decided that hiking another long distance trail was too costly an endeavor to take on. I had to get a job… but not just any old job, a really cool job. I found myself applying for jobs in June. This is extremely late for summer jobs which are usually filled in December and January. I could only hope for a miracle. I applied for naturalist positions all over the country and did not get a single reply. I knew I was too late. Head in hands, I started asking around. A girl who I knew very briefly during my time in Mexico told me a position was open where she worked in Yosemite and needed to be filled immediately. I jumped right in, applied, got an interview and suddenly I was making plans to move to Central California in the Western Sierra Nevada mountains. I had about a week to figure out where I’d live. I arrived under the belief that I was going to be living on a farm owned by the well-known Double Rainbow guy, Bear. But when I arrived, an angry young woman scolded him for giving me permission to live there. Feeling uninvited, I drove off hoping to find a place to camp along the road. I arrived at a trashy campsite late in the night somewhere just before the National Park Boundary. Sleepy eyed, I set up my tent and went to bed.

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The next day was my first day of work! So I freshened myself up in the Merced River, dodging the eyes of people in cars driving over a bridge in sight of my naked bum. Once I was reasonably clean, I was on a mission to find an electrical outlet. After making circles around public buildings, I spotted one near the front door of a general store in the tiny town of El Portal. I put my produce in a blender and nonchalantly approached the front of the small store and quickly (and noisily) made my breakfast and drove off to my first day of work. As I processed in for employment, I was offered a place to put my tent by a very lively and sweet woman my age who lived high on a ridge above Yosemite Valley. I was relieved to have a place to sleep, at least for now. I drove into the valley, seeing it as I had never seen it before – my work place. I was trained by a sweet hippie lady, who had hired me over the phone. She was the manager of the Wilderness Center. She showed me the ropes and before I knew it I was memorizing the maps, giving Leave No Trace talks to wilderness users, issuing permits, and taking wilderness reservations over the telephone. I spent my days talking to people about the wilderness that I was also paid to hike in. I couldn’t have found a better job to feed my hunger for wilderness. Twice a month I went on a four day backpacking trip (including shorter weekend trips almost every weekend) which helped me get to know the vast and beautiful land that makes up Yosemite National Park.

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Did you know Yosemite Valley makes up only 1% of the entire national park? Yet it is usually the only part of Yosemite that people ever know simply because almost all park users never get farther than a mile away from their vehicles. Yosemite Valley cradles this type of visitor with roads, restaurants, hotels, crowded campgrounds, and of course gift shops. It is only those who are willing to do the work who get to have a real wilderness experience. They must decide on a route, obtain a wilderness permit, learn the rules and regulations (i.e. food storage, bears, human waste, etc.), and of course just get out there with their two trekkin feet and their dirty boots. People who are willing to do that experience the true, pristine beauty of the park – free of crowds, roads, cars, noise, and nonsense. I very much enjoyed my position to help those kinds of people who were seeking the experiences that I have grown so fond of. However, I also found myself surrounded by the crowds of the more common visitor who came for the gift shops and to say they had been to such a popular place, likely the most popular of all the national parks. Being surrounded by the yahoo’s who swarmed the valley, I often wondered to myself how the human species has survived.
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Surely these people hadn’t lived their whole lives parking in the middle of roads, pooping and leaving poopy toilet paper next to pristine mountain springs, leaving their trash everywhere, feeding wild animals. Or had they? All I could do was hope for their sweet children whom they pushed around in strollers on paved paths to have a future of real life experience, not this gift shop bonanza where buying things is how they experience life. Thus only begins to express one of my daily challenges in life, being baffled by human ignorance and all the things they do that make me worry about the future of our planet and our species. Being in the tourism industry, I see a lot of really ridiculous stuff – it just makes me slap my forehead and pushes me further, to live a life with real meaning.

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Soon after I arrived in Yosemite, a relentless young man from San Diego followed me. I allowed his presence but was focused on being on my own and experience the world as a solo woman. He was so easy to be around that I very much enjoyed his company, and he loved the wilderness just like me. So we hiked. And hiked. And hiked all summer long, till I realized that I’d be stupid to be so stubborn to push him away and not accept that which life was offering to me. So while I have remained true to growing my independence and doing what feels right in my heart, I have opened and allowed a new relationship to blossom in my life. Because after all, I can’t always choose what or when things happen to me. I realize that I can’t be in control of everything. So I let go. And in return I was blessed with a best friend, a hiking partner, and a lover. We explored over 300 miles of Yosemite trails together. We ate trout from high sierra lakes, skipped rocks, shared trail snacks, sang songs around the fire, jumped off rocks into wild and beautiful rivers, took shelter from thunder storms, shared the most epic mountain views the Sierra Nevada mountain range has to offer, and we laughed. His name is Ted, and he is the sweetest trekker to cross my path.

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When I was a kid, my Dad took my brother and I backpacking for the first time. Our destination was Barney Lake, just a few miles from Mono Village in the Eastern Sierra. We never made it because my brother hurt his knee on a stream crossing. I recall the most uncomfortable night I’ve ever experienced in the wilderness. I woke up repeatedly scrunched up at the bottom of the tent because we were camped on a slope. Since we had to stop when the injury happened, it wasn’t an ideal location. To make matters worse, I was awoken by the sound of a bear roaring outside of the tent. My dad was awake already and trying to scare it off. At the time, I thought it was hilarious, and started cracking up inside the little tent with my brother. The bear had a cub and was trying to get our food hung high in a tree. They eventually ran off. I didn’t make it to Barney Lake on that trip, but now – at 27 years old I was setting off to hike Matterhorn Canyon with Ted from Mono Village to Tuolumne Meadows. In between those two places lay the ever illusive Barney Lake, and after only 5 or so miles, I was standing at the place I was supposed to see when I was 9 years old – 18 years later.

It was a beautiful lake beneath the mountains leading up toward Matterhorn Peak (named for it’s resemblance to the Matterhorn in Switzerland). We spent our first night praying for good weather when it was drizzling on our tent. We knew we had much higher to go and would prefer some gentle weather – either way we were going. Rain or shine. I do a lot of praying, especially when I am in the wilderness. I pray for safety, warmth, comfort, and a smooth trip. Not to anyone in particular, to God, to nature, to the universe – whatever may be hearing my request and my ever gratefulness for all the blessings I have received thus far in my journey through life. Our second day it rained on and off all day. We hiked through the mist into the majestic Matterhorn Canyon and almost as an answer to my prayers the rain stopped and we saw a few stars in the sky. That night we had a fire, Ted played his ukulele, and we cooked a fantastic feast.

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That night we fell asleep with the rain door open. But when we woke up in the morning we realized that at some point the door had been shut and it had rained all night on us. Neither of us remember waking up and shutting it, not to mention it is a tight door that really takes some force to open and close. It was a mystery. Had we been protected by some guardian way out there in the middle of the mountains? We will never know. I did some research once our trip was over, and I learned of a man named Fred Claassen who went missing while on the same hike we were on. His body was found 7 years after his disappearance at the base of Whorl Mountain, very near to where we were camped that night. He had fallen to his death from a ledge during a deadly storm. Part of me would like to think it was Fred who heard my prayers and shielded us from the rain that night. All I asked for was to be warm and dry, and I was. Thanks to Fred!

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During my summer living in the national park, I ate organic produce from a local CSA that delivered right to my work. I ate mostly raw fruits and vegetables, but weekly cooking up a big healthy stew of some sort consisting of whatever was in my CSA box, coconut milk, and a collection of spices. I had an outdoor kitchen made up of a camp stove, an old table, a giant pot and cutting board. While I cooked, the local dogs would smell my food from far away and come by to get some for themselves, I enjoyed their friendship. I’d watch the tree’s sway in the wind and enjoy the silence and solitude of my beautiful camp on a ridge, far from the tourist traffic and rowdy campgrounds. I half lived out of my tent, and half lived out of my car. I stored anything in there I might need while down in the valley, running clothes, hiking clothes, a large cooler, camp chairs, and backpacking supplies. You can imagine it got a little messy! I slept in a large tent with sky windows under a forest of pine, surrounded by wild, open space. Each night the wind blew, coyotes roamed, and snakes slithered. It hit me one night just how wild I have become when I was settling into my sleeping bag after a day of work. I could hear an animal under my tent, a gopher, snake, or lizard. Whatever it was, it’s movement kept me awake. At one point, I walked out of my tent without shoes or anything at all for that matter, lifted up the edge of the tent to find the tail of a garter snake, I grabbed it and tossed the snake through the air into some bushes. Here I was, this woman, standing naked outside in the middle of the night throwing a snake through the air. Then, I could finally rest and went back to bed. I realize that to the average person, I probably seem like a weirdo, and that is all right with me, because I know it’s not me that’s weird – it’s everyone else! What may appear to be weirdness is actually just a connection to the world around me, which so many people lack. Life in the cities can be too busy, noisy, and full of so much nonsense it is almost impossible to feel a connection to the earth. The truth is, we are disconnected from ourselves, because we are not separate from nature. Get closer to nature, become more of who you truly are. Your wild self. You could die tomorrow, and this could be the only chance you have to live an amazing life. Get out there and smell the flowers ya bunch of weirdos! Life rules!

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In recent years, large areas in Yosemite had burned, and being our third year in drought, it wasn’t a surprise what a fiery summer this one would be. On an average day, I had gotten off work early for the first and only time all summer, so that I could attend a local concert in the nearby town of Groveland. On my drive out of the valley I picked up a female hitch hiker a little younger than me. We were driving and making conversation when I began approaching the road to the Flying Spur and saw a very large plume of smoke threatening the land that I camped on. We took a detour toward the flames to save my belongings from the fire that would certainly come through my camp. When we arrived, the fire was wildly burning towards us. Residents on the land began to show up to do the same. The hitch hiker helped me gather almost all my things until the fire was too close for comfort, and we drove out of there as quickly as possible. The firemen were just driving in as we were driving out. I went to the concert that night, but I knew I could not return to my camp. I was invited by some locals at the concert to sleep on their land. I drove to their farm in the middle of the night and caught some shut eye, but in the morning I drove to Mammoth Lakes to get away from all the smoke. When I returned for work, and after the firefighters let residents back in, Ted and I went to the Spur to see the damage. My home was replaced by a layer of black crust, but thankfully all of the permanent structures (except the shed) had been saved by the firefighters. I was now entirely living out of my car, and camping wherever I could find a place to sleep. It was frustrating to say the least. Again, I felt displaced and wanted desperately to find a new space to call my own.


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After confiding in a coworker that I was homeless and stressed out about illegally camping, she told me she wanted to help me. She connected me to another Yosemite local who had land on the other side of the Merced River Valley. He allowed me to live in a tiny shack about 5 minutes walking distance from his home. I lived in the tiny 10X4 shack for the remainder of my summer. It had windows all around that overlooked the western foothills of the Sierra Nevada mountains, and I had complete privacy there, besides the resident red-tailed hawk who perched high in a pine tree above my cabin every day, and the mama bear and her cub who occasionally sauntered through. Once again, I was afraid of something new. I missed my comfortable camp across the valley, but before I knew it, this little cabin became my home and I just loved waking up to the sun shining in my windows. Inside, I had a table, a futon bed, and a chair. I decorated the space with incense, a couple of candles, special stones and dried plants I’ve collected from places I’ve been, and a string of battery powered LED lights. It was a beautiful little home. Outside I had a couple camp chairs, a small metal table for eating on, and a giant tool box that I stored all my kitchen supplies in, and used as a kitchen counter top. I had all the necessities to make it work perfectly for me. It was cozy and beautiful, as well as fully functional. I even put up a hammock between my cabin and my kitchen. It felt like home. I’d often rush home after work to catch the sunset from the top of the ridge. A ten minute walk on a dirt road from the cabin lead to an overlook of the western foothills, and a perfect place to witness the setting sun. I often walked back in the dark, always feeling grateful for my shelter once I’d walk in the door of what became my sanctuary.

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As with all my travels, in Yosemite I experienced the fear of integrating into a new environment with new people. An insecurity that has been with me since childhood. Despite my fear, I met people who were warm, kind, and open towards me. I also felt the tension of one particular woman who carried a heavy load of negativity in her heart and the pain she projected onto me. Why I am chosen for this projection is unknown to me, but it seems to happen with one person at every work place. So it was a challenge I’d been faced with in the past, and this one was just more practice to remain peaceful in my heart and keep my distance. It seems that some people who feel dim inside want to dim the light of others. I am so much stronger now than I was years ago, and these kinds of people no longer have power over me. They just make me shine brighter. I’m on a journey, I’m imperfect, I make mistakes, I get angry, I feel strong, I feel sad, I feel beautiful, I can be wrong, I’m the only me there will ever be and I’m proud to be myself. I’m just a person doing the best I can. I know I’ll never be able to please everyone, so I’ll just be happy anyway. Thanks to all the bullies who have reinforced that in me. While they have hurt me throughout my life, they hurt themselves far more. Meanwhile, my heart only blossoms. I become more open. I become more of myself.

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I didn’t have too many visitors during my stint in the park, except for my mom. She is the kind of woman to require comforts like running water, electricity, walls, toilets, etc… you know, “regular” stuff. I’ve begun a lifestyle so minimal and cheap that I’ve grown comfortable without these things. I don’t mind pooping outside or carrying my water into camp. If I need it hot, I heat it up on my camp stove. If I need a light, I make a fire or carry around a lantern. Everything is just fine that way for me, but I knew it would be slightly uncomfortable for my mom. I was surprised when she followed through with her plans to visit me even after I told her how I live. She was brave and came to visit me anyway. I gave her my bed in “the cabin” and slept outside in my outdoor kitchen. I took her car camping in the High Sierra before taking her on an easy one nighter in the wilderness. We hiked out of Lyle Canyon and went a few miles. She carried a backpack with just a sleeping bag inside and a couple of clothes. Dutifully, I carried the rest, knowing we didn’t have too far to go before we would camp. That night we slept cozily inside my two man tent, only to awake to frost covering it in the morning. We cooked a meal with the river water flowing through the canyon, forded a stream, and enjoyed the sounds of the wild night. She did great, and I was proud to see her so tolerant of a lifestyle so far from hers. I really appreciated it and had no idea she could be so tough. Love ya Mom!

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As fall arrived, my seasonal job came to an end. I decided to prolong my time there and take on a job in the visitor center after about two weeks off. I spent five days hiking solo on the High Sierra Trail, which is a pathway leading from west to east from the giant sequoia’s of Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Park all the way to the top of Mount Whitney, a 72 mile trek over the Great Western Divide and back to the eastern Sierra’s. It was a beautiful walk that I’ll never forget. It meandered up and down through the high country and down into the valleys and back up again. Something I love the most about backpacking is how strong I feel out there. Self-sufficient, light, quick, and just plain tough. When I got to the top of Mount Whitney on my fifth day, an old man who had seen me the day before setting up camp at Guitar Lake, saw me again on my way down from the top of Mount Whitney. He was sitting alongside the trail with his wife and said to me “Girl, you fly over mountains!”. I spent 3 more weeks working in the park before I packed up my stuff and drove over Tioga pass to begin a new chapter living in a studio apartment with my boyfriend Ted in Mammoth Lakes.

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Here’s to another amazing Summer!! Goodbye Yosemite. Hello Mammoth.

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Baja Biosana

Through adventure I am seeking my purpose. A great transformational phase in my life began after college and I am on a mission to discover my true authentic self by following my heart and listening to my intuition – because school just doesn’t teach you that sort of thing. When I came home from the trail, I was not only faced with the emotional and physical downfall of reintegration into society, but also the deafening trauma of my break up with a man who I had spent over 5 years of my life loving. It was overwhelming. I had just experienced the most beautiful pilgrimage of a lifetime, and there I was, lying in pieces on the ground – with a “nowhere to go, nothing to do” stuck kind of feeling. After spending what felt like forever feeling lost and confused, one word came to my mind. Biosana.

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In Spanish, Bio means Life and Sana is Healthy. A healthy life is just what I was looking for. A cleansing of the mind and body, a space for me to heal and reflect. For several years prior to my hike, I had been in contact with a couple of residents at a small sustainable, organic farm in Mexico called Baja Biosana. They always told me, “come on down to Biosana, it’ll be great!”. I wanted to. Every time they would suggest I come down, I wanted to drop everything and go, but since I was still in school I had to be patient. I trusted that if I was meant to go, I would know when it was the right time. Two months after returning to San Diego from my long walk, I was on an airplane to the tip of Baja California Sur, Mexico. What happened next was entirely different from my day to day experience on the Pacific Crest Trail, and in so many ways it’s contrast liberated me.

After a short flight to San Jose Del Cabo, I was greeted by two smiling (and very tan) faces, Andrew and Shenaqua, founders of the sustainable community that I was about to spend an undetermined amount of time living and working at. In an old, dusty astro van, they drove me far into the back country. I was charmed by the mountains and small Mexican towns as we drove to the farm. One final dirt road lead us into the town of El Chorro, at the base of the Sierra La Laguna mountains and through the gates of Baja Biosana. Once I was settled in to my new home, or should I say, campsite, I began exploring with as open a mind as I could muster despite the turbulence going on inside. I was nervous and quiet. Surrounded by people who appeared to be enlightened, I felt myself going inside – insecure because I felt that I wasn’t as spiritually adept as these people. To put it bluntly, I was uncomfortable. Once again I was in a new place with new people and it was going to take time to get used to, all the while harboring a lot of emotion from home.

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Each morning I would look outside my tent door and see the orange colors from the sun rise hitting the top of Mount San Rafael, the most prominent peak in view. Soon I would learn that when the glow of the sun kissed the top of it’s majestic summit it was 7 O’clock in the morning – a good time to start wiggling my toes and thinking about getting up and beginning my day. I love rolling around in the mornings, this toe wiggling and mountain gazing would last a blissful half an hour before rising and greeting the cool and moist desert mornings.

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Quickly, I developed a morning routine. After rising from my quaint little two person tent overlooking the mountains I would walk to the common area/outdoor kitchen and share tea with the other Biosana residents. This is where my first impression of the people here came from. I observed conversation and energy between the people who had been here longer than me and I felt that these people knew something that I had yet to learn. I felt insecure, average even. Soon I learned it wasn’t so much my impression of them, but rather myself. I was delicate and sensitive after everything that I went through after the trail and I was experiencing low self-esteem. I wanted to connect to these people yet I wasn’t allowing myself to be fully open to them. I was afraid of what they might think of me.

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While integrating into this new environment I did projects that allowed me to have quiet and alone time. I spent some of my first work days harvesting Jamaica flowers and spreading them in the hand-made solar dehydrator to be used in tea once they were dried. I climbed high into avocado trees to harvest the delicious fatty green fruits and loved every second of climbing and singing among the deep green leaves and the giant stickbugs. I also harvested white sage for burning and frijoles for salads and cooking with. After a few days at the farm I grew fond of a woman who brought me comfort with her open heart, kind smile, and wise words. Christyn embodied strength, light, dark, and a need for balance. She never said a harmful word to anyone, but always spoke with love and compassion. I first took interest in her when I went with her and some other people living on the farm down to the local swimming holes. I could feel her eyes on me as she was curious about this new girl. I felt safe with her and decided to take part in her Cactus Cafe project near the community kitchen where I cleared weeds and did what I could to make this outdoor space look beautiful.

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I soon began to make sense of the community dynamics occurring in this small group of people – not always liking what I was witnessing. At the same time, remembering how to be settled within myself despite what was going on around me. I noticed strange tyrant-like behaviors happening and distanced myself from the aspects of this community that I did not agree with. I saw it as an opportunity to remain calm and peaceful in my heart, and Christyn was a great inspiration for me to act with love, compassion, and understanding. It helped me realize that things are not always as they first appear to be and my initial feeling of inferiority began to fade away as I realized we are all imperfect humans with pain from the past and questions of the future. I realized they were just like me, battling their own battles, asking their questions, and healing.

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A week after my arrival, a new bunch of people began to arrive from all over the world. Germany, England, Scotland, Lithuania, New York, California, Missouri, Russia, and many more places. They arrived in response to a request for volunteers to help build an earthen home for Dan, one of Biosana’s many founders. I was excited for the addition to the land and made myself part of their group. I began working with them daily – digging holes, mixing cement, laying stones, and working through the barriers that kept me from getting close to people. After two and a half weeks of internal turbulence, I had a shift. I let go of what I thought people were thinking about me because I realized I had created it all inside my own mind. When I did this, my friends at Biosana welcomed me with open arms. I began developing a deep connection with the community around me and I became grateful to be healing and growing with all these amazing people.

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Every day we became closer as we practiced yoga, breath work, and community conversations about how we were feeling and what work we would be doing together that day. On one bright and sunny morning under the palapa one of the volunteers spoke up as we sat together in a circle. Friedel from Germany, suggested we have a “Joy Person” each day, and that it was the most important job to have. I volunteered to be the first joy person and with this job I was able to not only bring enjoyment to others while they worked, but I also practiced being my self without worrying about judgements because I knew I was in a safe place. I read poetry and stories by John Muir aloud, brought snacks and water to my friends working, and even frolicked around with a sarong fanning people. That evening the volunteers expressed their gratitude for my efforts as the first Joy person and I felt appreciated. Sometimes all we need is to feel appreciated. Over many weeks we played in the canyon, soaked in hot springs, shared fire circles, sang, drummed, visited the ocean, hiked over mountains, watched sun sets, worked hard on Dan’s house, cooked healthy meals, and helped each other grow.

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One of our outings was a full moon gathering we put on in the canyon about 15 minutes walking distance down the dirt road of El Chorro where we slept around the fire under the moon. The morning after we were disgusted by what had joined us in the night. The four of us who had fallen asleep there had been feasted on by kissing beatles! They are the size of an adult stink bug and they were bulging with full bellies of our blood. There were at least 10-15 of them drunkenly wandering off as we began to stir, but who knows how many might have been there and left while we slept. Luckily, none of us have experienced any ill-effects since the incident. I was pretty freaked out the day after and felt like I had been violated.


During my five weeks in Baja I attempted a solo ascent of Mt. San Rafael – the tall mountain that stood above the farm. There was no trail and I found myself frustrated, lost, and bloodied by the scratchy desert plants that often required me to duck to move through the tunnels in the bushes as I made my way up the canyons and deep into the mountains. Despite the difficulty, I was exhilarated by being on my own in a place not many people attempted to go. I saw rogue cows wandering around way out in the wilderness, obviously wild and long lost from their domestic pasts. In the late afternoon I startled a HUGE wild pig who was asleep under a rock who almost injured itself trying to run away from me. As I made camp within view of my summit, I saw some cute little piggies who “oinked” at me from 100 feet away, I wasn’t sure what they would do so I yelled “HEY PIGGY! GET OUTTA HERE!” and they scurried off into the cacti and plum tree forests above the canyons. I made it to about 2-3 miles below the summit when I realized continuing on was futile due to no trail and lack of time. I became impatient and frustrated when I got lost (for probably the third time) on my way down and kept having to retrace my steps uphill and back down, until I saw two red tail hawks soaring over the canyon, helping me to regain my calmness and keep trying. I made it back to the farm on my third day of wandering and told my story to open ears the evening I returned.

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I spent much of my time on the farm, but I also developed a friendship with a local family in El Chorro. Mariana and Alejandro lived at the end of the dirt road, and I would often walk to their land after a days work to relax and connect with these unbelievably humble and happy people. They had just given birth to Regina (Rrrehina) two months earlier and were the first in over 20 years to have a natural birth in the area. Someone told me that the doctors who worked with the people in El Chorro and the surrounding area were wealthy doctors who made appointments around their golf schedules and all pregnant women would endure C-sections for every birth for the convenience of their leisure. Mariana gave birth to Regina in a tub outside with loving neighbors surrounding her with their love and support. They had very little money and survived on the kindness of others. Despite having so little material items, they always had clean, fresh water, vegetables, and grains to cook delicious meals with, and an uninterrupted smile. Mariana smiled so much I couldn’t help but be around her. I wanted to be like her. We became close over a short period of time and she decided to teach me how to make “chocolate” out of raw cacao beans. It turned out to be soooo delicious! And it was an experience I will never forget.

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On my last week there I backpacked with two friends over the Sierra La Laguna Mountains from the Gulf of California side to the Pacific Ocean side. It was great to get out for a few nights on another adventure, and an awesome way to wrap up my trip. We walked up desert slopes and into unexpected pine forests. At the top there was an ancient lagoon that had dried thousands of years earlier and left behind a 3 mile long meadow that was FREEZING at night. My bag and all my belongings were covered in ice the morning I woke up in the lagoon. This lagoon is what gives these mountains their name, the Sierra La Laguna. The night we arrived at the lagoon I wanted to summit the highest peak in southern Baja, El Picacho. It was only 3 more miles to the summit so I left my pack behind and hit the trail running to make it before sundown. I went alone and met a hoard of wonderful locals at the top. Together we laughed and watched the sun set over the Pacific Ocean. I had spent 5 weeks on the other side of the range and it brought me comfort to see the Pacific Ocean again, a piece of home!

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After our last night on the mountain, the three of us headed down the next day and hitch hiked from the trailhead to the beach and enjoyed burritos and wine as we watched the moon set over the ocean. My friend Yvonne from Quebec sang songs in French and worked on a beautiful hair wrap for me by the fire. It was like a dream. The next morning I decided it would be appropriate to go for a swim. I entered the rocky water near our campsite but immediately I had a battle with the rough waters and felt the sting of many spines go into my foot and ankle. I had hit a sea urchin and blue spines were stuck in my foot! Luckily, most of the walking was finished because we planned to hitch hike back to the farm. It was a tough day but we took about 7 separate rides and made it back to the farm in about 8 hours (probably a 3 hour drive if you go straight through).

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I said my goodbyes on my last day at Biosana and though I spent the first 2.5 weeks adjusting and getting comfortable, I was now so happy and at home. I no longer felt the way I did when I bought my plane ticket to go back home. I was content, but I had also gained peace in my heart that allowed me to accept what was happening and go home without any regrets.

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Life is full of magic and being at Biosana and hiking the PCT really engrained this into my heart. Once you know it is there, you can do nothing but constantly seek it. Some may look down on me for this way of thinking, because in our society we are taught that we are only worth something if we get a job, buy a house, get married, have children, and just do what everyone else is doing. I can understand why seeking an adventurous lifestyle might seem irresponsible to people who have spent their whole lives focusing on money, stability, and permanence. I don’t plan on letting that perspective prevent me from following my heart, even if I make mistakes along the way (and I promise that I will). I anticipate my path to be a unique challenge, as going against the grain has never been easy.

Resources to live outside of the norm are not available, so I have to create it myself by exploring the path less traveled. There is an entire culture of people who do this, but we don’t see much of them because they are out there traveling and experiencing the world. I will join them. I am also very excited to start working in the field of outdoor recreation (Wilderness Guide, Nature Interpreter, Park Ranger, etc.). I am in the process of finding a way to balance both my work experience and travel experience. Luckily, my travels compliment my work experience in the field I am passionate about. With time, I will find my rhythm. My tentative plans now are to hike the Appalachian Trail (If I can scrounge the bills) or the Colorado Trail (only 500 miles) with my friend, then begin working to save money for my next adventure. Hopefully, I will be able to find seasonal work in my field in between adventures.

I spent 5 weeks on an amazing farm at the very tip of Baja California Sur, Mexico full of people living alternative lives, who have all influenced my path as a human being. Every person I meet, every step I take, every fall, and every laugh is forming the beginning of my path as a strong and independent young woman. I was nervous when I first arrived and for the first two weeks I was uncomfortable. It is kind of funny to see myself thrown into the unknown and my behavior associated with that. I am prepared to feel more discomfort in the future and am better equipped to stick it through because I know that my discomfort will pass as it helps me grow. I am grateful for the opportunity to push the boundary. So little time, so much to experience!

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“I put one foot in front of the other, steppin’ in to the here and now, I’m not sure just where I’m goin’, but I will get there anyhow…” – Tim O’Brien (listen to the song)