Through a series of four hitches, we made our way back to Onion Valley Campground and set out for Kearsarge Pass. I resented having to climb the extra 2500 ft over 6 miles but ultimately had no choice. Once at the top enjoying the views, I realized it wasn’t that bad.

We decided to get in a few PCT miles that evening and proceeded to climb another 2000 ft over Glen Pass. After the steep uphill, we descended into a magical series of shimmering lakes tucked into the mountains. I found myself somewhat disappointed that we were arriving at night fall and wouldn’t see Rae Lakes with full sunshine. As the trail meandered through the bodies of water, I could see some of the extent of the lakes’ clarity as schools of trout swam by. It was completely dark when we made it to camp, and we did our chores by headlamp. Just before we went to the tent, the nearly full moon rose above the mountain ridge like a spotlight in the clear sky illuminating the surrounding mountains and making the headlamps unnecessary. The moon puts on a spectacular show above 10,000 ft.

Morning came, and we found it difficult once more to break out of the bag. At 10,500 ft, it had frosted overnight. Eventually, we braved the chill, hurried through our morning chores, and left camp right before 8. Just around the corner from our campsite, we came across a group of a dozen bucks that were neither surprised nor scared to see us. We walked away from Rae Lakes aware that we hadn’t enjoyed its full potential or beauty.

After a couple hours of descent, it was once again time to start climbing. This section was a pattern of climbing 2000 – 3000 ft then descending the same amount on the other side with the steepest part being just before and after the pass. Small glacial lakes near the pass spilled crystal clear water down streams that eventually pooled into a larger lake whose outlet cascaded into breathtaking waterfalls. The series of passes was equally as challenging as it was rewarding.

But our desire to make miles really was getting in the way. We were working on a 120 mile section which would leave another 250 from Mammoth to Truckee. We were still estimating another 2 weeks minimum to wrap it up if we were able to hike between 20 and 25 miles per day. Our pace had slowed to under 2.5 miles / hour meaning that, even with very minimal break time, 20ish miles took every second of daylight to accomplish. It got to the point that even stopping to take a picture made us feel guilty for “wasting time.”

It became very apparent that neither of us were very happy with this version of hiking. We had both become mile machines with our eyes on the prize of being done, of sitting, of resting, of not being constantly hungry.

Oh yeah, what a fun realization I had on our second night out that we had miscalculated how many dinners we needed, and we were short one. Picking up the mileage wasn’t going to happen, so rationing it is. We’d save a granola bar here or a cookie there just so we know we’d have something to eat.

To make matters worse, I found myself in an empty headspace trying to push out the recurring thoughts of how much time and distance had passed since I last checked. For hours on end I was hiking when I didn’t want to be, thinking about the food I didn’t have, climbing passes I barely had the energy for, and hoping to get below 10,000 ft to avoid freezing sleeping temperatures. My body and mind were exhausted. Could I pull this off for 15 more days? Even if I can, do I want to?

The days conquering the passes and nearing Mammoth Lakes repeated in a Groundhog Day like fashion. Even looking at my quickly snapped pictures I can barely distinguish one pass from the next.

Muir Pass was our last large climb before Mammoth. We took a quick 15 minutes at the top then continued on our way. A few miles north, we walked alongside Evolution Lake, snapped a couple pics, and kept walking. As we walked away, I noticed the mountains north of us were less jagged and took on a more rolling look. I knew we were leaving a very unique part of the PCT behind us that we barely even said hello to.

It really hit me over lunch a couple hours later how much it bothered me that we didn’t spend time at that lake. The trail we had traversed over the last few days contained a landscape that’s impossible to experience without the hard work we had done to get there. It’s a whole ecosystem, a world of its own at this altitude. And we just walked by, thinking a picture would be enough. It wasn’t.

We spent our last day before Mammoth hiking 25 miles excited to get to Red’s Meadow Resort, a large campground with a cafe, general store, and a road where we could hopefully get to town. We were about an hour away when a familiar face came walking towards us. Our friend, Diva Dan who we had met on the Appalachian Trail, was working on his southbound thru-hike. We had anticipated seeing him soon as our paths had already crossed once in Oregon. We spent a few minutes catching up and giving insight into what was coming up. Dan informed us the store and restaurant were already closed at Red’s and the summer bus to Mammoth was already stopped for the season. Thankfully, he mentioned a well stocked hiker box at one of the walk in campsites, and the smiles returned to our faces knowing we would have something for dinner. We said our goodbyes and good lucks and continued walking.

Once at Red’s, we immediately went to raid the box and pulled together a meal. In the morning, we arrived at the cafe as soon as it opened and rejoiced at the site of hot coffee and breakfast. At 8:00, we began the process of hitching a half hour ride into Mammoth.

After a half hour of nothing, a woman offered us a ride a few miles down the road to the parking area for Devil’s Postpile National Monument. We took the offer hoping to see more cars. Suddenly it was 9:00. Then 9:30. 10:00. I was just about to run out of Rent songs to sing to Sean when at 10:30 we finally got a ride. I was so thankful someone stopped, but my frustrations were boiling over. We were hoping to resume walking by noon to still get in our 20 miles, and we had just spent the large majority of our rest time on the side of the road. The nice couple brought us to the Mammoth post office to retrieve our package, then we decided to soothe our frustrations at Mammoth Brewing.

I dove into the food and beer evaluating our choices. This was most certainly not the way I wanted to hike. Hiking shouldn’t feel like a burden nor an obligation. Without saying too much, we both were able to read the other: let’s be done.

I sipped my beer slowly weighing the emotions, but ultimately I knew it was better to forgo our thru-hike attempt. My relationship with the PCT had become one of obligation and little enjoyment. I desperately wanted to hike these 250 miles but with significantly less pressure. I wanted more time to enjoy the incredible beauty here. I wanted to relax. And one of the best parts about these trails is that they’re not going anywhere. They will be here when we’re ready for them.

But what about a thru-hike? Oh yeah, I don’t care about a thru-hike. I even recall an article I wrote last year called “It Doesn’t Have to Be a Thru-hike.” Frankly, I find it infinitely more important that you enjoy and experience a trail than to simply walk it. I fully believed in our capabilities to complete the PCT, but I most certainly preferred the idea of completing this stretch because we wanted to, not because we had to. The cliche rings true: it’s about the journey, not the destination. And what a journey it’s been.

We talked this all out over lunch and both agreed – we would finish the PCT another time – slowly, intentionally, deliberately.

So, I’m actually quite happy to say, in just shy of 5 months Sean and I hiked 2,400 miles of the Pacific Crest Trail. No more, no less. We left the trail without regret and intensely look forward to when we can return and enjoy the magic of the High Sierra.

Our arrival at Kennedy Meadows meant the desert was finally behind us leaving 450 miles through King’s Canyon, Sequoia, and Yosemite National Parks, around Lake Tahoe, and finally to Truckee to complete the entire Pacific Crest Trail. I felt a mix of emotions crossing this big milestone, a blend of excitement for the beauty of the High Sierra and anxiety for the still long path ahead. There was much to look forward to yet so much work to be done. Our first chore was leaving Kennedy Meadows near 7,000 ft and climbing to nearly 10,000 ft. Over the next 200 miles, we would stay between 9,000 and 13,000 ft.

From KM we carried just a couple days of food to get us to Lone Pine in our newly purchased bear cans. For the rest of our trip, we would be carrying an extra two and a half lbs of Bear Vault to meet the requirements of the national parks. It took a little strategy, but we eventually figured out how to pack them into our ultralight bags and still maintain a comfortable fit.

Well, mostly anyway. I had already been having a bit of trouble with my bag as I have lost basically all of the extra cushion weight from my body. My pants sagged and my hip belt strap was completely maxed out. The bulk of the can arched in a not so awesome way against my back welcoming new pack rash. Great.

Up we went into the High Sierra, the air becoming slightly thinner and cooler. Sean managed to piss off a bull crossing a high pasture, but thankfully it stopped charging him before we got too scared. Apparently, bulls aren’t into being mooed at by humans.

We are only about 50 miles from KM when it was already time to resupply which requires a little extra work in the High Sierra. For this resupply, we would add an additional 3 miles of walking to get over a pass and down into a valley where there was a drive-in campsite and hope for a ride. Of course, returning to the trail would require redoing those 3 miles in a mostly upward trajectory. Sigh.

Once we reached Horseshoe Meadows Campground, we were pleased to see a full parking lot. It wasn’t too long until a friendly couple offered us a ride down into the town of Lone Pine known for its access to Mt Whitney and stunning scenery frequently used in films.

We immediately made our way to food and quickly talked ourselves into staying in a hotel for the night. We were stoked to check into the historic Dow Motel where we had magnificent views of the High Sierra range including Mt Whitney. We knew we would be at the highest point in the continental US in just two days.

Our time in town flew by, and we left Lone Pine with enough food to get us to Bishop, factoring in the additional miles for Whitney. It took us a little time to find a hitch, but eventually we were back in Horseshoe Meadows Campground preparing to ascend a mountain to get back to the PCT. We managed to knock off a few PCT miles before bed leaving 6 to the ranger station at the base of Whitney.

We arrived at about 10 the morning of Sept 11 to the ranger station. We decided there was no need to carry all of our gear up the mountain so we pitched our tent in the campground and left behind the large majority of our things. It was about 11 when we began the 8 mile, 4,000 ft ascent.

We climbed without seeing too many people as we assumed they had gotten a much earlier start than we did. Up and up we went passing glacial lakes and staring at intricate designs of granite. Whitney’s summit was not in view, but I knew my work was ahead of me as I looked at the surrounding peaks knowing I would be higher than any of the peaks I could see. The higher we climbed, the more mountains came into view many of them over 14,000 ft. We began to notice more and more people as we neared the Whitney Portal, the most common place for hikers to begin and end their summit trip. We were surprised to reach the summit at 2:30, just three and a half hours after we began the climb. By this time, however, several dark clouds darkened the sky leaving little time to enjoy the summit. After a few quick pictures and signing the logbook, we turned back around. We were numbers 80 and 81 to reach the summit that day.

Just as we left the top, the snow began. We were both grateful for snow over rain as we made our way down the mountain. It was nearing 6:00 when we got back to camp, and thankfully the precipitation stopped. Both drained, we went to bed early thinking about the long day ahead of us the next day as we would be climbing Forester Pass, the highest pass on the PCT at 13,200 ft. This would be the first of a series of high altitude passes.

We awoke early, but remained in our tent a little later than usual. Mornings at 10,000+ ft make breaking out of the sleeping bag a little more difficult. Not only had the sun been setting earlier as fall was approaching, the sun was rising later. Summer truly was ending, and those long days were over.

We began our day a little later than usual, still hoping to accomplish a 20+ mile day. From Whitney, trail traffic sharply increased as we were now on the section of the that coincides with the John Muir Trail. It seemed our views only got better and better as we walked, but I resented how little time we took to truly take in our surroundings. The short days, long climbs, and desire to finish walking all added up to not having “extra” time to sit and enjoy.

By midafternoon, we conquered Forester Pass in total awe of the mountains that encompassed us. The clouds began to grow in the sky, and our doubts and fears grew with them. No less than a dozen southbound JMT hikers had warned us of incoming weather for tomorrow or the next day. Temperatures were dropping, and we questioned exactly what we were physically and mentally prepared to deal with. Rain? Freezing rain? Snow?

We began the next day closer to 8:00 which was seemingly becoming our new normal. We were only a couple miles from a trail intersection which would take us 8 miles over Kearsarge Pass and down into Onion Valley Campground. From there, we hoped to hitch our way to Bishop.

Again, it didn’t take too long to find a ride, and just as we were getting into the car, rain started to fall. We were relieved to have dodged the weather bullet. The High Sierra weather report indicated freezing temps and snow above 8,000 ft which made our Bishop hotel room seem that much more cozy.

Sean took the opportunity to buy a new top and bottom base layer at a local outfitter. Our r&r time flew by once more, and we soon found ourselves hitchhiking back to Onion Valley Campground with enough food to get us to Mammoth Lakes.

The thought of 370 more miles weighed on my mind and body. I knew I could do it, but I began asking myself, do I really want to do this anymore? Do I want to walk through this world class trail unhappy, unmotivated, uninspired in order to achieve the arbitrary goal of a complete thru-hike? I did my best to push these thoughts away.

Onward to Mammoth.