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| wild blueberries with breakfast in Oregon |
Cooking Setup
Some people chose to go stoveless. Cooking broadened ever-so-slightly the variety of food I could eat, however, and that was enough for me. (You had better believe I'm planning a trail food review. Later.)
I made my own damn stove from a catfood can, and it ran on denatured alcohol or HEET gas line antifreeze. I cooked in and ate out of an aluminum grease pot, which came from Kmart. My little plastic cup was something I literally found at the side of the road, then cut down to fit inside the grease pot. I ate with a Sea to Summit Alpha Light aluminum alloy spoon (the short model) from REI, having realized before I set out that a plastic spoon would melt in the hot noodles and/or break in the peanut butter. Cup, spoon, stove and lighter fit neatly right inside the pot. I made a windscreen out of a turkey roasting pan, and it traveled wrapped around my fuel bottle. My bandanna worked as a pot holder.
Pros: Simplicity. The whole setup was ultracheap, ultralight, compact, easily replaceable, and very nearly unbreakable. No moving parts. The lighter I got in San Diego finally ran out of juice around Cascade Locks; everything else lasted the whole trip. Fuel was readily available all along the trail.
Cons: It's not very...safe. I'd accidentally set my socks on fire before I'd even started the trip, which should have told me something. The stove left scorch marks on the ground wherever I cooked--needless to say, I had to be careful about my choice of surface, avoiding dry leaf duff or needles. For the most part, unless I had a water source right at hand, I didn't cook. The fire is completely uncontrolled, so any breath of wind creates a hazard. You can't turn this stove off, or turn it down. The arrangement isn't terribly stable, either, despite my having artfully bashed the bottom of the grease pot to keep it from sliding off the stove--I wished for a handle on more than one occasion.
It's also a little slow--though it's fair to admit, too, that this was something I only really paid attention to when I was traveling with Paul, who could produce hot water in less than a minute with his JetBoil (which has its own set of limitations).
Bottom line: I think my homemade setup worked quite as well as the more expensive Caldera Cone alcohol stoves, but next time around (if there was a next time), for the sake of minimizing fire danger, I'd look into an MSR pocket rocket.
Knife - Spyderco Ladybug
Carrying oversized knives into the backcountry seems to be endemic. Some
I started with a serrated Gerber Paraframe with a three-inch blade, and that weighed three ounces. It was a hand-me-down from Paul, and not a bad knife (though it never actually fit in my pockets). Good for trimming sticks, cleaning fish, cutting up cardboard boxes, maybe skinning elephants--none of which I had any call to do on the trail. Mostly I needed to slice avocados or cheese, open recalcitrant plastic packaging, or cut athletic tape or my fingernails.
Honestly, the dinky little Swiss Army we all had as kids is all you need on the PCT. (It also has scissors, which get called into service more often than the blade.) I knew I'd probably break it in Real Life, however, so I bought the Ladybug at an outfitter in Mammoth Lakes, and passed the Gerber back to Paul, who in turn sent home his multitool. I like the Ladybug. It fits in my pockets.
Food bag - Seal Line Cirrus 10L dry sack
I started with a plain old plastic grocery sack, which didn't even survive the first day--the crows swooped down to pillage my granola bars while I was in the shower block at Lake Morena. So when I got to Mt Laguna I paid a visit to the outfitter and bought whatever he had that appeared lightweight and about the right size. This was it! It worked fine.
Water treatment - Sawyer 3-way Inline Filter
Pros: "Raw" water goes in, "treated" water comes out. I attached the filter to my Camelbak, and hey-presto, I could just fill the bladder and keep walking. The water filtered as I drank it. It's genius. No pumping or breakable parts, no measuring, no waiting for chemical reactions, no funny taste. If I needed more than two liters, I simply employed the awesome power of gravity to filter water through the bite valve into any auxiliary vessel (of these there were many). Unlike the hikers using chemical treatments, I didn't have to figure out the long-term logistics of water usage to determine when I would need to order refills. (Most outfitters--including REI--don't carry Aquamira in stores.)
Cons: Turns out the inline filter really does need to be backflushed, and it needs to be backflushed more often than a thru-hiker can realistically accommodate. My first filter lasted from Campo to Seiad Valley out of necessity (backflushed in Lee Vining, when my parents came down to visit), but it had noticeably slowed down long before I ordered a new one, and by the time I actually got it replaced, every drop was a struggle. I'm not kidding, it was like trying to drink a really thick milkshake, without any of the delights of actually drinking a milkshake. Backflushing it didn't help, at that point. I had to get a new one.
The backflushing device that they send with the filter, furthermore, is a fussy piece of crap. It's constructed to attach to a goose-neck faucet, such as you might find in a commercial kitchen--and let me tell you, those can be hard to come by, even in trail towns. I tried hand sinks in bathrooms, campground spigots, even a hose--nope, it's got to be a gooseneck faucet, or the device won't seal properly. And then the backflushing device that came with my second filter straight-up broke under the pressure of the water. Arrgh.
The inline filter is made of ceramic components, and cannot be permitted to freeze. There were a few frosty nights in the Sierra when I had to put it in a ziploc and tuck it into my sleeping bag.
Bottom line: I really liked the inline filter, but in spite of their confident "one million gallon guarantee," I don't think Sawyer has adequately thought through the ramifications of taking it into the backcountry. They haven't yet invented a way for a thru-hiker to administer the long-term care it needs. If you're going on shorter trips--say two weeks or less--and can clean the filter between uses, it will do you right, and I heartily recommend it. If you're thru-hiking the PCT, you probably want something else. I wound up using Aquamira for the last couple weeks of the hike, and returned both filters to REI.
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| Cambelbak at the top of Mt Whitney |
I love hydration bladders, because they allow me to sip water all day, rather than guzzling quarts at breaks and then peeing it all out again. I saw a lot of Platypus Big Zips on the trail. Camelbaks are a good bit heavier than their Platypus counterparts, but they also seem to be made of stouter material, and I like that they employ a screw-top opening. No leaks, no punctures, no problems. Plus, I already owned this one. It lasted clear through my hike, and I plan to keep using it. (I did replace the bite valve twice.)
I went through a lot of auxiliary water bottles, depending on the environment. From Campo to Kennedy Meadows, I carried two one-liter Gatorade bottles. I ditched them when I found a one-liter Platypus in the hiker box at Kennedy Meadows. Three liters is a good working water capacity. Exercising a little foresight you can buy a few soda or Gatorade bottles for the 20+ mile waterless stretches in northern California and Oregon (Hat Creek Rim, Crater Lake, etc.), and then ditch them afterwards. Or you can get some Platypus bottles and bounce them from dry area to the next, as needed. Whatever.
Sleeping pad - Thermarest Ridgerest (cut to three-quarter length)
Pros: Cheap, lightweight, durable, disposable, relatively high R-value (that's the warmth rating).
Cons: Not very cushy.
Bottom line: Most people on the PCT had the NeoAir or the Z-Rest. The Z-Rest was a little too bulky for my taste, and I wasn't willing to pay for an ultralight air mattress unless I found that I really needed it to get a decent night's sleep. As it turned out, the sheer luxury of lying down, of not walking, was all the comfort I required, and if I wasn't sleeping like a brick house it was invariably due to other factors, like hunger or footsoreness. The Ridgerest worked just fine, and during the day it rolled up burrito-style inside my pack, to give it a bit of structure.
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| stream crossing in the Sierra |
Initially I planned to use my Tubbs snowshoe poles, since I already owned them. Said poles employ an expansion lock to adjust the length, however--this means they twist, and my first "training" hike revealed that by the time you've twisted the poles tight enough that they won't collapse under the weight of your strike, you'll have a hell of a time getting them loose again. Pain in the ass if you plan to use your trekking poles to set up your shelter.
So I bought the Black Diamonds on GearTrade for $25, since they had flick-locks and no frills. (And the first thing I did was cut off the silly "ergonomic" foam handles.) They're not lightweight, but I never carried them on my back, so it didn't matter. They're sturdy and reliable. Many hikers in the light-and-fast mode found that they could go without poles altogether, but apart from the obvious usefulness on snowfields and in stream crossings, mine saved me from stumbles and near-wipe-outs on a daily basis. I'm convinced that they give an extra, upper-body boost on a climb, and help take some of the impact off of the knees on a descent, too. I found that I missed them when I was walking around in trail towns; I'd turned into a semi-quadruped.
The tips wore out in northern California, and I replaced them in Ashland.
The secondhand-cologne smell (Who is wearing cologne while doing anything with trekking poles? Ugh!) wore off during the second or third week.
Headlamp - Princeton Tec Eos
Neither the lightest nor the brightest headlamp on the market, but it's what I already had, and it got the job done.
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| Paul packing a BV500 in Bishop |
Fucking bear can. It's a beast: heavy, awkward, expensive, and probably won't fit all of your food. You will carry it from Kennedy Meadows to Sonora Pass. Pray that they do not become mandatory for hikers in the North Cascades.
Do the right thing, and get one. (Yes, I got checked in Yosemite. I did not, however, see any bears in Yosemite.)
Anybody want to buy a gently used BV500?
First aid
My first aid kit remained very minimal. I suppose it's possible that I just got lucky, but thru-hiking doesn't invite a lot of cuts, scrapes, or burns. You don't need the full contents of the medicine cabinet. Your principal activity is walking; be prepared to treat the hurts that come of a lot of walking. Anything serious--broken bones, snakebite, giardia, heart attack--requires leaving the trail for real medical attention, so there's no point trying to pack a bunch of bogus treatment.
You probably want to carry every kind of blister care under the sun for the first month or so, and keep some of whatever works for you in your kit just in case. For me this was Band-Aid blister pads--yeah, they look expensive from a civilian standpoint, but they work, and I promise you that money has no meaning in the face of a throbbing, howling blister. Apart from that, I carried a packet of gauze, athletic tape (I did not find duct tape useful in preventing blisters--it just leaves sticky messes on the insides of your socks) and Ibuprofen (I took Ibuprofen most nights, to quiet the electricity in my feet).
Because I am prone to skin complaints, I also carried a tin of Mac's Smack, which Paul had ditched in the Paradise Café hiker box. I found it useful for bug bites, sunburn, dust rash, monkey butt, and macerated wet feet. Good stuff.
The one other thing that might've been useful would have been some kind of stomach medicine.
My first aid kit remained very minimal. I suppose it's possible that I just got lucky, but thru-hiking doesn't invite a lot of cuts, scrapes, or burns. You don't need the full contents of the medicine cabinet. Your principal activity is walking; be prepared to treat the hurts that come of a lot of walking. Anything serious--broken bones, snakebite, giardia, heart attack--requires leaving the trail for real medical attention, so there's no point trying to pack a bunch of bogus treatment.
You probably want to carry every kind of blister care under the sun for the first month or so, and keep some of whatever works for you in your kit just in case. For me this was Band-Aid blister pads--yeah, they look expensive from a civilian standpoint, but they work, and I promise you that money has no meaning in the face of a throbbing, howling blister. Apart from that, I carried a packet of gauze, athletic tape (I did not find duct tape useful in preventing blisters--it just leaves sticky messes on the insides of your socks) and Ibuprofen (I took Ibuprofen most nights, to quiet the electricity in my feet).
Because I am prone to skin complaints, I also carried a tin of Mac's Smack, which Paul had ditched in the Paradise Café hiker box. I found it useful for bug bites, sunburn, dust rash, monkey butt, and macerated wet feet. Good stuff.
The one other thing that might've been useful would have been some kind of stomach medicine.
I'd never heard of Diva Cup until I started research for this trip and found it listed on the lady hikers' gear lists. It's not intended just for the backcountry, though--it's the next evolutionary leap in feminine hygiene. I strongly suggest practicing with the Diva Cup before going hiking (no different than your tent, your stove, or your pack). I like it because it doesn't leak, doesn't generate a lot of waste, and doesn't leave particulate matter in your cooch to produce yeast infections. It does require some water for cleaning. As it turned out, however, I only had my period once while I was hiking--in southern Washington, when I'd finally caught up to the caloric deficit, and where water was plentiful.
Communication - iPhone 3
I maintain that the iPhone is the best thing to happen to ultralight hiking...ever. Camera, video camera, phone, computer, timepiece, maps, compass, GPS, mp3 player, eBook reader--it does it all. The iPhone 3 that I carried, I should probably add, did NOT do all of those things. It didn't do even half of those things. It took lousy photos and sometimes allowed me to call my mother. It's an abandoned evolutionary inquiry, an extinct form of the current, more successful manifestation of the iPhone. Much frustration resulted. It was probably pretty of dumb of me to take it along when it couldn't operate any app presently on the market, but I didn't want to go out and buy one when I knew I wouldn't want to keep it. I imagine that most prospective hikers either already own smartphones, or are willing to go without them entirely.
Worth noting: Verizon offers significantly better coverage along the PCT corridor than AT&T.
I maintain that the iPhone is the best thing to happen to ultralight hiking...ever. Camera, video camera, phone, computer, timepiece, maps, compass, GPS, mp3 player, eBook reader--it does it all. The iPhone 3 that I carried, I should probably add, did NOT do all of those things. It didn't do even half of those things. It took lousy photos and sometimes allowed me to call my mother. It's an abandoned evolutionary inquiry, an extinct form of the current, more successful manifestation of the iPhone. Much frustration resulted. It was probably pretty of dumb of me to take it along when it couldn't operate any app presently on the market, but I didn't want to go out and buy one when I knew I wouldn't want to keep it. I imagine that most prospective hikers either already own smartphones, or are willing to go without them entirely.
Worth noting: Verizon offers significantly better coverage along the PCT corridor than AT&T.
Solar charger - Bushnell Bear Grylls SolarWrap Mini
Because I only used my iPhone as a camera and a timepiece, for the most part I could coast between electrical outlets in trail towns without difficulty. I bought this charger pretty late in the game, and due to some unforeseen delivery complications I didn't actually receive the damn thing until Etna, when I was almost out of California, and almost finished with long stretches between resupply. But I did find that some kind of charging device is pretty essential if you plan to travel with an iPhone.
Pros: Compact; lightweight; durable; affordable. You can charge the charger directly from the wall while you're in town, or solarly while on the trail. Then transfer the charge to your devices (iPhone, iPod, whatever) as needed. Because of this two-step process, the charger continues to make itself useful on cloudy days. It's effectively an oversized lithium battery with a flexible solar panel wrapped around the outside. Sufficiently lightweight to hang on the exterior of your pack if you expect to hike in full sun. (Incidentally, although Bushnell suggests a carabiner for this purpose, a safety pin works just fine. Carabiners are good for belaying and car keys; they have no place on a thru-hike.)
Cons: Flexible solar panels are not the most efficient; it takes quite a lot of sunlight to produce a full charge. By "quite a lot" I mean two days of exposure.
I was so disappointed that the solar panel wraps instead of getting slurped up into the roll like a window shade.
Bottom line: The SolarWrap Mini kept my iPhone performing its principal roles of camera and alarm clock, but if I did it over again I'd want to take more photos, spend more time writing, and therefore need more power, so I'd try something else. Paul's solar charger, the Suntactics 5, proved vastly more efficient than mine, because its rigid panels charge directly to the device. He could top up his iPhone in an hour or less. On the other hand, it cost a lot more, weighed eight ounces, and due to factory defects, he had to replace it twice. It was also useless on overcast or especially smoky days.
The clever people of the world continue to cast about for a confluence of energy efficiency, durability, and size. There's something new every year. Shop around.
Navigation
Halfmile's maps: Halfmile has produced the most current and most accurate version of the PCT to date. They are free--you can print them or just download them into your phone--or if you want a complete, color printing of the whole trail, you can order it from these fine people. I carried Halfmile paper maps, divided into sections, clear through my hike.
He's also created a very useful iPhone app that works with your phone's internal GPS to tell you exactly where you are, and how far to the next waypoint (water source, campsite, road crossing, etc.). I recommend it. When I was hiking by myself, I didn't find the absence of an exact-o-meter troubling--it's not really necessary, you just keep walking until you arrive at some kind of landmark--but when I was hiking with Paul or Siesta, it sure was handy.
It's fair to observe that starting in central California, Halfmile's maps become noticeably more...hmmm...casual. The GPS data pertaining to the trail never wavers in its accuracy, but lots of stuff that would be nice to know about--water sources, road crossings, trail junctions--is not indicated on the maps. You won't die, you won't get lost--it's just frustrating, after you've 'schwacked off trail to a mucky little pond called Duck Soup Lake in order to get water, to find a signed spring not ten minutes further along. And as far as campsites are concerned, you're pretty much on your own after you've left the Sierra.
Yogi's guidebook: Like every guidebook ever published, probably, Yogi's book was out of date before it went to press. She issues updates regularly, with the voices of more recent hiker-commentators; my version was published in 2011. It was handy. I really think, however, that the guidebook needs a major overhaul. Never mind the fact that restaurant reviews from 2003 now belong on the cutting-room floor; a lot of things about the PCT have changed since 2007, when Yogi last hiked it.
Halfmile happened, for one thing. Yogi's notes and water information coincide with the mileage in the Wilderness Press guidebooks, and like it or not, most hikers (and the PCTA!) now abide by Halfmile's more recent set of waypoints. They're different. It's not off by much--maybe a mile at most, until you get to Washington, where the trail has been rebuilt around the Suiattle River--but it's enough.
The recession happened. A number of businesses (and especially resorts) have changed hands, or closed altogether. Some of the new owners are significantly less tolerant of hiker trash than their predecessors. This can affect your resupply strategy.
The smartphone happened. Yogi is pretty adamant about not catering to electronics, because they break, they get wet, they run out of power. Well, true enough, but paper isn't infallible, either. It gets lost, it gets wet, it blows away, it weighs more--and more to the point, people are USING electronics on the trail, whether or not she approves. If Yogi chooses not to produce an electronic version of her trail notes for sale, the present generation of hikers will simply find a way around it, and they'll do it at her expense. Already most of the information she consolidates for us--addresses, telephone numbers, operation hours--is now freely available (and probably more up-to-date) on the Internet. Even accounting for those too lazy to do their own research, a lot of folk took photos of the pertinent pages of her guidebook and uploaded them into their phones, sending them to friends and fellow hikers as needed. Yogi has labored to provide a candid, reliable resource to thru-hikers for many years now, and her contribution is valuable, but if she's not careful, her guidebook is going to wind up in the museum with the Wilderness Press.
And thru-hiking kind of "happened." For whatever reasons, the PCT is enjoying a certain celebrity these days, no doubt abetted by Wild. I lost track of how many people asked if I'd been inspired to hike by Strayed's shaky narrative. Christ, just wait until next year, after Reese Witherspoon has glamorized thru-hiking even further. In some ways, the more people know about the PCT, the easier it is to hike, because the raised awareness ensures that water caches are filled, for instance, and encourages drivers to pick up hitchhikers with backpacks. But as word spreads, the number of thru-hikers booms (as it did this year). The more people are on the trail, the more difficult it becomes for small trail towns and trail angels to extend their hospitality--lodging, groceries, goodwill--to each and every smelly, starry-eyed itinerant. At some point I think Yogi's guidebook may have to take some of this into account.
Wilderness Press Databook: I ditched it almost immediately. Last updated in 2005, it's a crib sheet based on the old Wilderness Press milage, which, as already noted, differs from Halfmile's, and since I was carrying topographical maps of the whole trail, the Databook was just redundant.
Halfmile's maps: Halfmile has produced the most current and most accurate version of the PCT to date. They are free--you can print them or just download them into your phone--or if you want a complete, color printing of the whole trail, you can order it from these fine people. I carried Halfmile paper maps, divided into sections, clear through my hike.
He's also created a very useful iPhone app that works with your phone's internal GPS to tell you exactly where you are, and how far to the next waypoint (water source, campsite, road crossing, etc.). I recommend it. When I was hiking by myself, I didn't find the absence of an exact-o-meter troubling--it's not really necessary, you just keep walking until you arrive at some kind of landmark--but when I was hiking with Paul or Siesta, it sure was handy.
It's fair to observe that starting in central California, Halfmile's maps become noticeably more...hmmm...casual. The GPS data pertaining to the trail never wavers in its accuracy, but lots of stuff that would be nice to know about--water sources, road crossings, trail junctions--is not indicated on the maps. You won't die, you won't get lost--it's just frustrating, after you've 'schwacked off trail to a mucky little pond called Duck Soup Lake in order to get water, to find a signed spring not ten minutes further along. And as far as campsites are concerned, you're pretty much on your own after you've left the Sierra.
Yogi's guidebook: Like every guidebook ever published, probably, Yogi's book was out of date before it went to press. She issues updates regularly, with the voices of more recent hiker-commentators; my version was published in 2011. It was handy. I really think, however, that the guidebook needs a major overhaul. Never mind the fact that restaurant reviews from 2003 now belong on the cutting-room floor; a lot of things about the PCT have changed since 2007, when Yogi last hiked it.
Halfmile happened, for one thing. Yogi's notes and water information coincide with the mileage in the Wilderness Press guidebooks, and like it or not, most hikers (and the PCTA!) now abide by Halfmile's more recent set of waypoints. They're different. It's not off by much--maybe a mile at most, until you get to Washington, where the trail has been rebuilt around the Suiattle River--but it's enough.
The recession happened. A number of businesses (and especially resorts) have changed hands, or closed altogether. Some of the new owners are significantly less tolerant of hiker trash than their predecessors. This can affect your resupply strategy.
The smartphone happened. Yogi is pretty adamant about not catering to electronics, because they break, they get wet, they run out of power. Well, true enough, but paper isn't infallible, either. It gets lost, it gets wet, it blows away, it weighs more--and more to the point, people are USING electronics on the trail, whether or not she approves. If Yogi chooses not to produce an electronic version of her trail notes for sale, the present generation of hikers will simply find a way around it, and they'll do it at her expense. Already most of the information she consolidates for us--addresses, telephone numbers, operation hours--is now freely available (and probably more up-to-date) on the Internet. Even accounting for those too lazy to do their own research, a lot of folk took photos of the pertinent pages of her guidebook and uploaded them into their phones, sending them to friends and fellow hikers as needed. Yogi has labored to provide a candid, reliable resource to thru-hikers for many years now, and her contribution is valuable, but if she's not careful, her guidebook is going to wind up in the museum with the Wilderness Press.
And thru-hiking kind of "happened." For whatever reasons, the PCT is enjoying a certain celebrity these days, no doubt abetted by Wild. I lost track of how many people asked if I'd been inspired to hike by Strayed's shaky narrative. Christ, just wait until next year, after Reese Witherspoon has glamorized thru-hiking even further. In some ways, the more people know about the PCT, the easier it is to hike, because the raised awareness ensures that water caches are filled, for instance, and encourages drivers to pick up hitchhikers with backpacks. But as word spreads, the number of thru-hikers booms (as it did this year). The more people are on the trail, the more difficult it becomes for small trail towns and trail angels to extend their hospitality--lodging, groceries, goodwill--to each and every smelly, starry-eyed itinerant. At some point I think Yogi's guidebook may have to take some of this into account.
Wilderness Press Databook: I ditched it almost immediately. Last updated in 2005, it's a crib sheet based on the old Wilderness Press milage, which, as already noted, differs from Halfmile's, and since I was carrying topographical maps of the whole trail, the Databook was just redundant.
Guthook's PCT App: Got an iPhone? Get this app. The end. I didn't have it, but Paul did. Guthook fills in the blanks.
Amelioration - the books
I know this will come as a surprise to everyone, but I couldn't maintain my four-ounces-or-less rule about reading matter. I don't know what I was thinking. Screw the weight. The brain really must have some recourse, some escape, if one is to maintain the will to hike.
I rummaged through hiker boxes or free-shelves in trail towns; in Ashland I went to the Goodwill, where I could stock up on books for every resupply box. I'm trying to remember what I read.
The Murder at the Vicarage - Agatha Christie
All Things Bright and Beautiful - James Herriot
The Land of Little Rain - Mary Austin
Amsterdam - Ian McEwan
The Memory Keeper's Daughter - Kim Edwards
Blood, Bones and Butter - Gabrielle Hamilton
Very Far Away from Anywhere Else - Ursula LeGuin
Farm City - Novella Carpenter
A Short History of Tractors in Ukrainian - Marina Lewycka
The Liars Club - Mary Karr
Gilead - Marilynne Robinson
A Year in Provence - Peter Mayle
Bread Alone - Judith Hendricks
The Whistling Season - Ivan Doig
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