Destinations & Things To Do

It’s Always Sunny in California

Published

19 hours ago

July 27, 2025

Except when it isn’t!

Honestly, this week’s storms mostly served to remind me how insanely lucky we’ve been with the weather so far. And yes, it’s unfortunate that they hit the one time I did not have my rain jacket (it’s not supposed to rain in California!) but still, it left me counting my blessings.

The other more positive milestone that happened in the last section was reaching the long-awaited halfway marker. Really it feels as though we’re we’ll past halfway – partly because my maniacal master plan (incomprehensible iPhone note) is now mapped out until halfway through Oregon, and partly because we’re going so much faster now that time-wise, at least, we don’t have much longer to go.

So what’s changed in the last 1350 miles? I smell inexplicable about 90% of the time. There’s dirt so deeply ingrained in my skin I fear it might never come out. My leg hair is bleached white by the sun. It’s also so long you could brush it. There’s not an ounce of fat on my body – I look like one of those anatomical drawings with all the skin ripped off, all sinew and muscle and gristle. It’s fascinating, and also disgusting. I’ve always wondered what I’d look like if I stopped drinking wine and started exercising. But it’s like the time I decided to see what I’d look like if I cut all my hair off à la Fantine in Les Miserables. I’m glad I know, and I never want to look like that again.

One thing hasn’t changed. I still get up at 5am every morning and hike my stupid ass off. Whether I want to or not.

Day Seventy-eight, miles 1244.6-1265.2

The whole crew were up and at em bright and early today, even Tofu, who doesn’t usually make an appearance until 7am. Town day will do that to you. To avoid going another round with the gorse bushes we took the road detour around the fire damage, and after a few miles we were back on the PCT, shins mostly intact. The trail descended alongside the Feather River on one side and then ascended up the other for a long, slow seven miles, but we were soon at the trailhead waiting for Tofu’s friends to come pick us up and take us to their ‘cabin’. I use quotation marks here because it was about as much a cabin as a yacht is a sailboat. Only in the US. But hey, I wasn’t complaining.

After a tour of the palatial house we’d be staying in which in normal life I wouldn’t even be able to afford on Air BnB, we settled in for a dinner of loaded sweet potatoes and peach crisp while Tofu’s friends interrogated us about life on the trail. I never get tired of seeing the horrified looks on people’s faces when we detail what our day to day looks like. We unpacked our respective resupplies onto the kitchen floor and they went around judging each of them. I thought I’d won when they spied my bag of baked goods (comprising roughly half of the total volume of my food bag) but in the end, Aquaman took the crown. I think he won because his was the most aesthetically pleasing, which it only was because he eats the same thing every day, for weeks on end. So I guess I’m being punished for being creative. The classic refrain of the struggling artist.

Day Seventy-nine, zero miles

I started the day by eating yoghurt in bed, one of those random foods you don’t think you’ll miss until you can’t have it any more. Tofu and her friends then made a huge breakfast spread (second breakfast is my favourite meal) and then I cleared everyone’s plates under the guise of being helpful but actually so I could eat all the scraps they’d left behind. What? You wouldn’t want it to go to waste, would you?

The others headed out to the lake while I stayed behind, my only desire for the day to sit alone in silence and stare into space for a bit. When that got boring I reverted to my other favourite activity: planning ridiculously far ahead on the trail. I opened a bottle of wine at 4pm and Dracula made an aperitivo of toasted pop tarts – as Brits, we’ve only ever had them cold as trail breakfast, and let me tell you, I’m never going back – before we ate another delicious dinner and fell into bed, clutching our stomachs.

Day Eighty, miles 1265.2-1298.1

We drove into Quincy in the morning for one last injection of town food before getting dropped at the trailhead. It was an emotional goodbye – mostly on Tofu’s end, but I also found myself tearing up. They’re not even my friends, but I guess I was having a premonition of eventually being reunited with all the people I love, even though it’s still months away. The tears quickly disappeared as we put all our energy into the four mile uphill start. The afternoon brought some eye candy in the form of two PCTA employees clearing blowdowns with a giant saw (it’s been a long time, okay?) and I had to drag myself away to start the long descent into Belden.

Aquaman had been banging on about Belden for the last week, dubbing it the ‘gem of NorCal’, and though I knew he was joking, I didn’t realise how much. Belden wasn’t a town so much as a resort, with a restaurant filled with a slightly creepy assortment of memorabilia and which looked like it had last been cleaned at the turn of the century. But it had a terrace overlooking the river, cold beer and an ashtray, so as far as I was concerned it was paradise. Tofu arrived an hour later and declared she wanted to camp there that night, though we’d planned to continue on. This was basically the first time she’d asked for anything – because she gets up later than us she is often just informed of a change in the plan (usually that we’re going to hike even further) and has to deal with it. So we agreed – it was far too nice sitting there getting gently drunk anyway. The climb out of Belden is notoriously horrendous, so we figured we might as well have fun while we could.

Day Eighty-one, miles 1298.1-1317.2

In preparation for the rigours of the day ahead, I ate a 700-calorie cinnamon roll intended to serve three (in what universe) and got going. The ascent out of Belden wasn’t steep per se – ‘just’ 4000ft – but over a gruelling thirteen miles, meaning about half the day was climbing, my least favourite activity. I’d been dreading it, freaking myself out with the comments on Far Out, but honestly it wasn’t so bad – it wildly overstayed its welcome, but I put a serious dent in my snack supply and listened to Tom Vitale’s memoir of working with Anthony Bourdain, and the story of Tony trying to cook coq au vin while aboard a riverboat in the Congo with a temperamental generator helped the time pass quickly. The only kicker was my new shoes and I were having creative differences – they thought that it would be cool if they made the soles of my feet feel as though I was walking through burning lava, and I did not. Hopefully it’s just teething problems; I’m planning on getting 800 miles out of this pair whether they (or I) like it or not.

Shortly after lunch I crested a hill to see miles upon miles of dead trees. It was like that scene in Jurassic World where Chris Pratt sees all those dead diplodocus’ after that mad genetically modified dinosaur has rampaged through them. Or like in Mulan when they’re right in the middle of singing A Girl Worth Fighting For and they come over the hill to see the Huns have slaughtered their whole army (if neither of these references mean anything to you, you need to take a good long look in the mirror). I hiked through the burn zone for a while, but it soon turned back into a live forest and then a ridge covered in hoodoo-style lava formations. At camp, I made cilantro-lime rice with wild Alaskan salmon. I wonder if Tony would be proud?

Day Eighty-two, miles 1317.2-1342.1

There were two main objectives for today – hit the halfway marker and then hitch into Chester for one of their famously gigantic milkshakes to celebrate. The day started with a climb up Butt Mountain (I refer you again to the question, who names these things?) and then it was a quick sprint downhill to the unassuming concrete post that marked 1350 miles from Mexico and another 1350 to Canada. I had a little sobbing fit, partly because of the insane achievement of having made it this far, partly because I knew I had to do it all over again. Okay, mostly the second one.

There were another eight miles to go to the highway to hitch into town, and as ever when motivated by food, I practically ran them, the pain in my feet magically disappearing at the prospect of eating my body weight in calories. Aquaman and I soon caught a ride and headed straight for Pine Shack Frosty and ordered milkshakes and jalapeño poppers, sneaking worried peeks at the darkening sky. We made our way back to the road and before we could even stick our thumbs out, a pickup truck driven by a dude smoking a cigar pulled over and asked if we wanted a ride. Thus we were on our way back to the trail, riding at what felt like 100mph in the bed of the pickup, holding onto our belongings for dear life. Definitely ranks in my top five most American experiences ever.

We’d just started hiking again when we heard a clap of thunder, and at the same time saw a dead tree crack and fall to the ground. With these bad omens spurring us on we spent nine miles trying to outrun the storm, and the rain started just as I’d jumped into my tent. We’d gotten away with it again.

Day Eighty-three, miles 1342.1-1371.1

Today’s hike would take us through Lassen Volcanic National park, and the morning began with a quick detour to a geyser, where grey water bubbled sluggishly as steam rose into the sky. You could tell Lassen had been stunning in its day – rows and rows of trees and waist high grasses with lava formations dotted around, but it had all been burnt to a crisp in a wildfire. There was a ranch just off trail that I was hoping to satisfy my never ending hunger at, but I arrived precisely between breakfast and lunch, so I sat on a picnic bench and abused their WiFi while eating my stupid boring snack and drinking my stupid boring water.

Yesterday’s storm clouds were still looming and it started to rain just as I’d been pondering a lunch stop, so I quickly constructed a pathetic, sagging structure from my tent fly and dove under it, where I was immediately joined by fifty mosquitos. My rain jacket, sitting in a post office in Burney fifty miles away – where I’d shipped it after carrying it for three months and using it exactly once – was presumably having a good laugh at my expense.

I sat chewing moodily on a stale bagel, wearing my tent like a shroud. The kicker was I couldn’t even stop for very long – Lassen has a bear can restriction, and mine was currently wending its way back to Kennedy Meadows, so I still had 15 miles to hike to get out of the park before I could stop for the day. It was just as well. Cathartic as a good sulk is, it would have been beneath me to call it a day after only 14 miles because of what could be described only in the most melodramatic sense as ‘drizzle’.

I took snack inventory, staring at a pack of Welch’s fruit snacks I’d been carrying for 300 miles before deciding I still wasn’t in the mood for them, then deconstructed the shelter. Or rather I waited five minutes for it to collapse on its own then deemed that the end of my lunch break. The rain continued on and off all afternoon, but the thunder was constant, following me along a vast plateau punctuated by endless charred trees. It was cool, in a creepy sort of way. I felt like I was a character in a video game about the end of the world, the blue sky winking tantalisingly up ahead but never coming any closer.

My shin started giving me grief in the last five miles so I half walked, half jogged the rest of the way, desperate to get the day over with. The trail opened up onto a view of a vast, jungle-like valley, mist hanging over the distant mountains. I made it to camp by 5.30 and repeated my cilantro rice salmon dinner, adding cheddar ritz crackers to great success. Aquaman informed me there was a gas station just off the trail tomorrow. I could barely sleep for excitement. It was like Christmas Eve.

Day Eighty-four, miles 1371.1-1398.3

The day began with a barely averted breakfast disaster when, in the dark of my tent, I mistook a bag of sweaty salami for a cinnamon roll. Heart still pounding at the near miss, I hiked out into the quiet morning, last night’s rain dripping gently from the trees. Maybe it was because we’d been hiking through burn zones for days, but the living forest looked particularly beautiful, glowing in the weak sunlight. Seven miles later I arrived at Old Station, which claimed to house a deli inside the gas station. The deli turned out to be a freezer full of burritos and a microwave, but whatever. Chef Mike heated up my breakfast and I helped myself to a Reese’s hot chocolate then sat on a bench outside with Dracula and Aquaman to consume the goods, returning soon after for another round. There was a dead owl in the parking lot, seemingly the most interesting thing that had happened in Old Station all year, given every passing car pulled up to take a look at it until a local finally grabbed it by the legs and tossed it into the trees. ‘This’ll be on the news tomorrow,’ said Aquaman, sipping his coffee.

We hiked back up the highway to return to trail, soon emerging at a viewpoint where we could see the shadow of Mount Shasta looming up ahead. A group of bikers took great interest in us and asked us tons of questions, my favourite of which was: ‘Why the hell are your legs so dirty?’ I don’t understand how you can explain to someone what hiking the PCT entails and they then expect you to look like you just stepped out of a Neutrogena advert. Like, did you hear the part where I said I just hiked 1350 miles?

The rest of the afternoon was spent hiking along a beautiful exposed ridge with views all around, the overcast weather making the lengthy water carry just about bearable. The last few miles took us down through fields of volcanic rocks before arriving at a campsite that looked more like the Serengeti than California, with gnarled trees poking up through yellowing grass and the misty blue mountains presiding over the scene. I spent an hour or so reading the rave reviews on Burney Mountain Guest Ranch, tomorrow’s destination, and fell asleep dreaming of soft serve ice cream. Again.

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Destinations & Things To Do

Oregon! Yippee! – The Trek

Published

2 hours ago

July 28, 2025

Mint Trip

Greetings from Ashland, Oregon!

For many hikers who came from Mexico, entry into Oregon marks the end of their journey. Not literally, but the hardest part is complete and it’s clear sailing from here on out.

Canada still seems very far, crap!

Even though I still have a ways to go, it’s still a fun milestone. I’m feeling stronger and stronger every day and while I don’t think I have my trail legs quite yet, I don’t feel quite as naïve as I did when I started. So for me, it’s like graduating from junior high and now I’m a freshman. Still so much to learn.

The PCT meanders so much, why can’t we just walk in a straight line?

One thing I noticed on this section more than any other, was the high rate of- how shall we say?- shortcuts.

The climb out of Seiad was about 6000 feet of climbing over about 10 miles. But, you could take a forest road which trimmed off 1000 feet of climbing and a few miles.

Everyone has their own definition of what constitutes hiking the PCT. Hike your own hike, they say. but I suspect that when you are so close to Oregon and being done, you are much more willing to bend your own definition of what you mean when you say, “I hiked the PCT.” Take a forest road and trim off a few miles? Hell, yeah! I was sometimes dismayed to find that hikers that had been behind me were suddenly ahead of me. Not that it’s a race or anything. I keep telling myself that. I certainly can’t take the “high road” (pun intended) because I also did this going into Castella, where the trail did this meandering switchback but a road went straight down cutting 3 miles off our journey.

An emotional moment

I had my first tears on the trail. I was hiking in the morning sunshine, listening to music – Tending the Spark by Heather Houston – just as I entered a peaceful shady wooded area. Somehow the combination of the music and lyrics and the beautiful woods raised up emotions. I was completely alone so let the tears fall uninhibited. I wasn’t really sure what I was crying about.

Here are the lyrics:

And we will care for each other
As the world around us unravels
And we will tend to the spark
Of hope that lives within our grieving hearts
And we are here now, in this present moment
Lifting our voices and hearts
And we are here now, we have come together
We are tending the spark of hope
Oh may it grow
And we will care for each other

Ashland, here I come!

Coming down the mountains into Ashland was filled with amazing wildflower displays.

Sunrise on the way into Ashland

Thank you!

My husband T met me in Ashland and we enjoyed a zero day together. Two nights in a bed! What a luxury. I am so thankful for T for making all the arrangements and also dealing with the ever-growing list items to bring. Some gear and clothing are being changed out.

I’m also thankful to Mustard Patty for letting me use her resupply that she had sent to Seiad. It was fun to have some different snacks and meals than what I would normally pack. And while I can safely say that I prefer coffee to matcha, it did provide great energy on the trail (and made my poop green).

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Destinations & Things To Do

Leatherman Premium Fixed-Blade and Folding Knives

Published

2 hours ago

July 28, 2025

Alison Jaksen

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Long admired as the go-to brand for durable, high-quality multitools in the outdoors, Leatherman has a new slate of knives that builds up their reputation by stripping things down. Its new premium fixed-blade and foldable knives are addition by subtraction—dedicated offerings for those who need the singular performance of a purpose-built outdoor knife.

The five knives in the collection include three fixed-blade knives—Rustle, Pioneer, and Trac—and two folding knives, the Glider and Blazer. All knives are fully customizable and made in the USA with MagnaCut® stainless steel to deliver durability, edge retention, and corrosion resistance. Each knife was created with a different type of outdoor enthusiast in mind.

Rustle: For the Camp Chef

The Rustle’s Santoku-style blade is the ideal companion for the camp chef. (Photo: Leatherman)

If you’re more likely to count onions than ounces, the Rustle is the knife for you. Designed for early morning omelets and post-hike stir-fries, the Rustle’s thoughtful features make it perfect for outdoor cooking. The blade’s full bevel design with a slight curve toward the tip offers optimal slicing, especially when making thin cuts of meats and veggies. The santoku-inspired blade shape is also ideal for chopping, giving you everything you need to turn fireside chowdowns into five-star meals.
Weight: 4.3 oz
Width: 0.49 in
Blade length: 4 in
Total length: 8.3 in
Handle: G10 with blade jimping
Sheath material: Kydex

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Pioneer: For the Survivalist

Each knife was created with a different type of outdoor enthusiast in mind. (Photo: Leatherman)

Building your own backcountry shelter requires a knife that’s totally reliable in the wilderness, and the Pioneer is an adventure partner that’s as tough as you. The blade’s heavy-duty, full-tang construction with a Japanese Tanto design offers trustworthy strength when cutting canvas, slicing through cording, or batoning wood. Field-ready features include an oversized lanyard hole to add a leash or cording and a handy notch on the jimping to strike a ferro rod when you need to get a fire going.
Weight: 8.3 oz
Width: .66 in
Blade length: 5 in
Total length: 10 in
Handle: G10 with blade jimping
Sheath material: Hybrid Kydex and full-grain American leather

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Trac: For the Always-Outdoors

The Trac’s rugged, hollow ground blade was designed for the tough tasks of those that are chronically outdoors. (Photo: Leatherman)

Whether you’re waiting for deer, a bite on your line, to stumble upon some mushrooms, or just the next job around the ranch, the Trac will be ready when you are. From foraging to fishing to farming, the versatile and well-balanced Trac knife is a worthy outdoor partner from sunup to sundown. Its rugged, hollow-ground blade was designed for tough tasks that still require precision, like field-dressing game. Because when you’re outside all day, the work should be as easy and accurate as possible.
Weight: 6.4 oz
Width: 0.62 in
Blade length: 4.2 in
Total length: 8.93 in
Handle: G10 with blade jimping
Sheath materials: Full-grain American leather

Shop Trac

Glider and Blazer: For the Always Prepared

The Glider and Blazer are convenient enough to carry anywhere and tackle any task. (Photo: Leatherman)

For you, “unprepared” may as well be a four-letter word. The Glider and Blazer folding knives are convenient enough to carry anywhere, reliable enough to always count on, and versatile enough for any task. Their supersleek design uses only 12 total components, resulting in fewer points of failure when you’re in the backcountry. A reversible, removable pocket clip makes them easy to carry anywhere and everywhere, and an attached lanyard with a built-in bit driver delivers extra versatility whether you’re setting up camp or setting up shop.
Weight: 3.7 oz
Width: 0.37 in
Blade length: 3.15 in (Blazer), 3 in (Glider)
Open length: 7.3 in
Closed length: 4.15 in (Blazer), 4.3 in (Glider)
Handle: Stainless steel with Cerakote® finish (except on Stainless Blazer model)

Shop Blazer
Shop Glider

Founded in 1983 by Tim Leatherman, Oregon-based Leatherman Tool Group is the world’s largest manufacturer of high-quality multipurpose products with distribution in more than 86 countries. Built upon three principles—unwavering perseverance, ingenious design, and the ability to save the day—Leatherman has empowered people around the world to solve problems, big and small. Proudly based and manufactured in Portland, Oregon, the brand’s factory is located in the same building as the company headquarters. For more information, visit Leatherman.com.

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Destinations & Things To Do

A Good Day – The Trek

Published

3 hours ago

July 28, 2025

Darkside

Day 95- 15 Miles today from The Lookout to Thistle Hill Shelter, 3,700 Feet Up, 4,400 Feet down, AT Mile Marker 1742 (MM)

The Lookout

It was cold this morning. It felt good in my sleeping bag and I didn’t want to get out in the cold yet. So I put on my puffy and merino wool tights I’ve been carrying but have not worn in months. I don’t have much beyond that for warmer clothing. I’ve only got 15 miles and 3,700 feet elevation today.

The Lookout was a rustic cabin with a fireplace and windows. It had a loft area also. There was a ladder with a widow’s walk on top of the roof. From the widow’s walk you could see spectacular views. It is so nice that this private ownership allows us to use this shelter.

There were two other people in the Lookout last night. The wind was blowing hard up on top of this ridge.

Meralgia Paresthetica

Meralgia Paresthetica Is what I had according to my Google research. My thigh was numb. Compression of the lfcn nerve can cause this condition. Yesterday it was very numb and it was painful.

After doing my research I decided yesterday I would keep my hip belt loose. It was hard on my shoulders especially with the heavy weight of the food resupply and then the heavy carry of water. But I wanted to see if the belt was causing the numbness. Today the numbness was minimal .

Cool Morning

I took off about 7 am this morning and the other two ladies were still up in the loft. It was a rather cool morning almost cold. I haven’t felt cold like this since probably Tennessee. It’s actually feels good to get moving. I’m looking forward to warming up on the first climb.

So far it’s a partly cloudy day almost looks like some dark clouds that might drop a little bit of rain but it’s not supposed to.

The woods yesterday evening were dark and eerie. This morning the woods are dark again. The sun has not yet shown its rays in the forest.

Challenging Day

Yesterday was an extremely challenging day not as challenging as the miserable day I had about a week ago but a still a challenge. First of all I had to leave the comfort of a hostel, in a nice comfortable bed, in a cool little town with a brewery two doors away.

I started off day yesterday with two bee stings. And then I had an extremely heavy backpack and I pushed long miles and a lot of elevation. My backpack was full of food from my resupply. And then on the final climb yesterday I had to add 6 lb of water to carry me through the last night and a good bit of today until the next water source.

But today is a new day. Just like life right? One day maybe the shittiest day you had in a long time. A day where everything seems hard and seems to go wrong. And then everything changes as it always does, nothing is permanent. Even bad times.

I know but there will be tough times like there always have been in life similar to the trail. But you plow through these tough times and good times prevail again. That is one trail lesson I hope I can take with me off the trail.

Look Around

The trail was really easy so far today. Just one small climb but a lot of very easy grades with not too many obstacles. After coming out on a dirt road the trail wound parallel to an old rock wall. That always makes me smile

Today so far it’s like a fall day and if I stop moving I actually get kind of cold. I just noticed no gnats and flies buzzing my head. It’s amazing that I didn’t even think about this until just now.

With the gnats I have to always look down to keep them from diving into my eyes. But today so far there are no gnats. I can take the time to look up and look around more.

Tree Falls In the Woods

I just dropped into another pine forest with huge pine trees. The trail was fairly level and covered in pine needles. It was like a soft feather bed under my feet.

Looking up I noticed the ruins of some old structure. It didn’t look like a house but it looked more like the ruins of a mill of some type.

Hiking on I heard a creaking noise up above as if a large limb was about to break loose. I scanned above and couldn’t tell exactly what it was but I hurried beyond it. A very short time later I heard a crash in the woods behind me.

It felt like a very special magical morning as the sun came out fully. It feels nice and warm for once rather than hot and scorching. It has been many months since I stopped and basked in the sun simply to absorb the heat of the sun rays on my body.

Never Quit on a Bad Day

Yesterday when I was talking with two ladies I was sharing the Lookout with we talked about the trail and how some people have quit. I tried to explain to them that after all the excitement of the first part of the trail and then the more recent drudgery of bugs, heat, rain and green tunnel kinda sapped the fun out of the hike.

She asked me what keeps me going. I said I really want to see this through. I also told her never quit on a bad day. Today it’s definitely a good day so far.

Farm Stand

In about 3 hours I had already hiked 6 miles. I was getting hungry. Coming up ahead is a small road walk and supposedly goes to a farm stand.

The trail came down a steep ridge and then popped out of the woods into a farm field. The rolling green hills reminded me of sections of Northern Virginia.

On the Edge Farm stand was not too far of a road walk. Inside they had all kinds of wonderful treats. I got a yogurt, banana, a ham and swiss sandwich, and an orange cranberry muffin. It was so good I had to go back and get an apple tart an 8 oz block of cheese. It was a wonderful stop. Along the way I passed by an old barn and farmhouse that was right on the road.

Old Tree

Coming from the road the trail did a steep one mile climb up to the top of Dana hill. About halfway up the first climb was what looked to be the top of the old Volkswagen van. I have no idea how that would have gotten up here unless somebody pushed it off from the top.

The trail dropped down to another road and then once again made a climb up and over another mountain with some open fields. When I entered back into the woods there were huge trees and one tree that was probably 300 years old . That tree had sprouted a bunch of baby trees around its base. I guess if the mother tree was to die then the little stump sprouts would take over. That’s immortality

The trail today has been up and then down and then through a jungle for quite a while now. It’s pretty steep climbs up to the top of a hill and then dropping down off that hill, opening into a farm field. Many times can hardly see the trail it’s such a jungle. Only to cross a road and repeat the process.

Old Road

The Meadows while they were overgrown were quite beautiful. Lots of flowers, lots of interesting plants, and the wind was blowing the tall grasses around like waves on a small lake.

The trail then climbed up another pud this time with a nice bench and a view. Immediately after that was two parallel rock walls obviously an old road at one time

The trail travel down this road. Before entering back into the woods and on to the shelter.