The vast majority of the PCT is absolutely stunning. You don’t need much more to keep you engaged than the scenery around you. Every now and then, though, there’s a section that’s particularly barren and brutal for one reason or another.

Somehow this is the only picture I took of a Joshua tree, and it’s not a particularly interesting one. Somewhere between Tehachapi and Kennedy Meadows South.

I had just woken up from a brief two-hour nap after hiking through the night over the LA Aqueduct. I looked over at Stoker, in groggy disbelief, that he was actually standing in front of me.

“Dude, I’m so mad you’re here. Now I have to start hiking again too,” I joked.

I’d left Stoker under a bridge a few hours earlier, after he’d decided he needed to rest and couldn’t keep hiking through the night. I assumed he was down for the count, but here he was back on his feet, chipper as could be, as I rose like a zombie from my own dirt nap (that is, a literal nap in the dirt; no one was dying here).

The LA Aqueduct section is boring. It’s long, it’s hot, there’s no shade, and very little water. It’s mostly just empty desert except for the endless wind turbines dotting the hillsides. It isn’t without its own kind of charm. There are some incredible Joshua trees with their twisted trunks and spiky hats plucked straight from the pages of a Dr. Seuss book, and the history of the aqueduct itself is fascinating, if controversial. 

But from the pipeline to the turbines, to the shared right-of-way with a dirt road, to the bridge at the water source, the most obvious points of interest in this section are part of the built environment, not the natural one. Not exactly the views that drew me to hike the PCT.

Yet, almost to a person, every thru-hiker will describe the aqueduct as one of the most memorable parts of the desert.

The area around Hikertown has tons of horned lizards. For whatever reason, it’s the only place on the trail I saw them.

With the long water carry out of Hikertown and temperatures that often soar into the 90s and 100s during hiking season, most thru-hikers elect to wait out the heat of the day and hike the aqueduct overnight. I was no different, spending the day eating burritos and ice cream at the market before heading back to Hikertown to get my resupply together and hike out at sunset.

There was a big crowd getting ready to leave. Someone had glitter and offered to paint my face with it. Instead of dreading the overnight hike, there was excitement in the air, and the atmosphere was festive. Throughout that day, there had been a running joke among a few of us: “No sleep ‘til Tehachapi,” we’d crow at each other in passing.

It really was a joke. It was a bit over 40 miles from Hikertown to the road where most people hitchhike into Tehachapi, farther than any of us had gone in a day on the PCT so far. But the more we said it, the more the idea started to infiltrate my mind.

“Maybe,” I thought. “Just maybe.”

The beginning of the LA Aqueduct at sunset, all glittered up for the night hike.

I left Hikertown at sunset alone, as everyone else had gone ahead while I was still packing up. A few miles in, I caught up to Stoker, Rob, and JC in the dark along the shared right-of-way between the PCT, aqueduct, and road. I didn’t really have a plan and wasn’t sure if I wanted to hike with people or just put my head down and get through as many miles as I could. We got to talking though, and I sort of just fell in with the crew. The longer we walked together, the more the idea of heading straight through to Tehachapi gained steam.

Just like that, the march to Tehachapi was on…for now.

The aqueduct section itself is 17 miles from Hikertown to a bridge that goes over a creek. This is a common spot for people to set up camp after the overnight hike, trying to take advantage of the shade under the bridge to wait out the heat of the day again. We arrived a bit after 2 am, so we still had plenty of time before we had to worry about the sun and heat again, and we intended to just make a quick stop for water and assess how everyone was doing. While tired, we all wanted to press on and keep the “no sleep ‘til Tehachapi” dream alive, except for Stoker.

At first, I thought Stoker was just complaining about being tired like the rest of us, but it became clear he wasn’t enjoying the overnight hike anymore and wanted to stay at the bridge. We ran into another group of friends planning to camp there, so after some discussion, Stoker said he’d sleep for a couple of hours and either catch up to us in the next section or meet us in Tehachapi.

Satisfied that we had a new plan, Rob, JC, and I pressed on.

This time though, it felt like the party was officially over. We were too tired to keep the banter going, and everyone went at their own pace as we started to spread out a bit. I ended up in front, but every now and then I’d turn around and see two headlamps winding their way up the hillside through the windmills behind me.

Exposed sections of the LA Aqueduct at night.

I have no idea how fast or slow I was moving; this was the definition of head-down hiking. At the 24-mile mark, there’s a beautiful creek tucked into a hillside. I rolled in a bit before sunrise, though I could see the dawn light starting to creep in.

Rob and JC weren’t far behind, and it was clear when they arrived that they planned to get some rest. I was torn. I was exhausted, but I still felt like I had some gas left in the tank. More than that, if the plan was really just to get a couple of hours of rest and keep going to Tehachapi, I’m much better at functioning while tired than I am at waking up once I’m asleep. I don’t sleep a lot, but I sleep hard. Additionally, I was worried that I’d lose some good hiking hours before it got too hot, and would rather take a break in the heat of the day.

Despite all that, the prospect of pressing on solo didn’t sound particularly fun, and the exhaustion won out. I quickly inflated my pad on the ground, set my alarm for 7:30 am, and did my best to fall asleep as the sun peaked over the horizon. The alarm was really to placate the optimist in me, but I’m a hardcore snoozer, and I was pretty sure the push to Tehachapi was over.

As my phone alarm vibrated me awake, I heard hushed voices nearby. That’s when I spotted Stoker, risen from the dead and no longer doing his best impression of a troll living under a bridge, talking to JC and Rob. Everyone was actually awake, and shockingly vertical!

As I said, I’m not good at waking up, and that carries over to breaking camp. One of my hiking partners once told me, “You’re 20 minutes away from leaving for about two hours every morning.” I think that’s a pretty apt description. So, while they mostly looked ready to go, I still needed to pack up, and I told them to go ahead, and I’d catch up.

Exposed sections of the LA Aqueduct at night.

I don’t really know what was motivating me to keep pushing through to Tehachapi at that point.

The challenge of a 40+ mile day was intriguing, as I’d put in one 30+ mile day in the desert and several over 25, but nothing even approaching 40. I also absolutely loved the desert, but it was loooong, and I was starting to feel ready for a change of scenery. Getting to Tehachapi put Kennedy Meadows and the Sierra in sight. Having a group that was equally excited about it despite our exhaustion also helped immensely and made it feel more attainable. It wasn’t just some crazy idea that I had; it was a shared goal. With that said, I don’t think any one of these things alone would have been enough to make me fight the exhaustion to keep hiking.

Perhaps the best way I can describe it is an embrace of the spontaneity that thru-hiking allows for. I was doing it because I wanted to, and that was all that mattered. Yes, I could stop and rest or call it off any time I wanted to if the miles, the heat, or the lack of sleep became too much, but that decision too would be made because it’s what I wanted at that moment. That choose-your-own-adventure mentality ran the other direction too. Sometimes 25 miles became 10 because I found a beautiful campsite and decided I was done for the day (or because the giant plate of spaghetti and entire loaded baked potato I had for breakfast coming out of Acton was making it hard for me to waddle through much more, though those short days were much more involuntary).

Regardless of my rationale, the push to Tehachapi was back on! It was perhaps in need of a rebrand, but “just a little bit of sleep before Tehachapi” doesn’t have quite the same ring to it.

Going down for a dirt nap–again, a literal nap in the dirt, no graves were dug that morning.

A few miles after the creek, there’s an 1,800-foot climb with no shade. It was still before 10 am, but the heat was already setting in. I passed one hiker trying to shelter in a tiny sliver of shade underneath a little desert shrub. She insisted she was fine, so I kept climbing.

It wasn’t the longest or the steepest climb, but it was one of the hottest climbs of the desert for me. By the time I got to the top, the combination of little sleep, heat, and over 30 miles of overnight hiking had taken its toll. Sweaty and tired, I rounded a corner and saw what must be a mirage. Tucked into a campsite off a dirt road was a little desert oasis! There were drinks, snacks, and even packs of ramen up for grabs. Most importantly, there was a big red deck umbrella providing shade for what must have been almost a dozen hikers.

The rest of my crew was already there. I grabbed a soda and sat down. I honestly don’t think I said a word to anyone. I just sat. In a real chair. It was glorious.

For months after that, every time someone brought up the aqueduct, I’d say, “Remember the red umbrella?!”

It stuck out so vividly in my mind. Finally, one of my hiking partners said to me, “You know that umbrella wasn’t red at all? I’ve heard you call it red to so many people, but it definitely wasn’t red.”

The “red” umbrella — photo courtesy of Natalie Versaggi, since I was too tired to take pictures while I was there.

I was positive she was wrong; I remembered it so clearly. But she produced the picture above, and sure enough, it was some sort of sun-faded beige. Apparently my sleep-deprived brain wasn’t firing on all cylinders. Who would have thought? Honestly, I’m still sort of convinced it was red despite photographic evidence. I’ve been accused of being a bit stubborn before.

I don’t remember much about the final ten miles to Tehachapi, other than it was mercifully cruisy and we walked through the biggest wind farm I’d ever seen. A truly absurd number of wind turbines.

Wind turbines outside Tehachapi.

We arrived at the road to hitch into Tehachapi around 4 pm, about 20 hours and 41 miles after leaving Hikertown. I was tired and hungry, ready to sleep in a bed and devour a town meal. I’m not sure if I can technically claim that I went from Hikertown to Tehachapi in a single push given my dirt nap (I do anyway), but I was happy, proud of what I’d accomplished over the last 24 hours, and had a lot of fun doing it–even if some of it was type 2 fun.

Again, end-to-end the PCT has to be one of the best bang-for-your-buck long trails out there, with a diverse array of scenery and near-constant views. When you get to those rare boring sections, though, get creative with it. Embrace the freedom and whimsy life on the trail allows. Break out the temporary tattoos, face paint, and glowsticks (make sure you pack it out and adhere to LNT principles!). Turn it into a challenge.

As long as you listen to your body and adjust your plans accordingly if you need a rest, you might turn these “boring” sections into some of your favorites.

The post Over the Aqueduct appeared first on Pacific Crest Trail Association.

Olive (left) and Eileen (right) pose together at the top of Mt. Whitney.

At the start of the season, down south in Campo, CA, our job was mainly to remind hikers of Leave No Trace principles and expectations, ease nerves, answer questions, and share current desert conditions. The second half of our season has been spent hiking all over the Southern Sierra, working alongside the National Park Service (NPS) and Forest Service (FS) – from Kennedy Meadows South to Horseshoe Meadows to Kearsarge Pass, Bishop, and Mammoth in 4–7-day stints to cheer on, educate, and support as many of you as possible. As we moved into the mountains, our role shifted to primarily supporting the FS and NPS with monitoring permit compliance and educating hikers on responsible use and wilderness ethics in these revered landscapes.

It is a great privilege to recreate in the backcountry of the Sierra Nevada.

Olive admiring the beauty of the Dusty Basin, headed up Bishop Pass.

Conditions that enable access to these epic spaces aren’t always guaranteed, especially amid staffing and funding ebbs with the public land management agencies. By picking up trash, packing out toilet paper, camping away from water, and avoiding trampling vegetation, every individual has a role to play in the longevity of our collective ability to enjoy these spectacular places.

Your actions can make a real difference in advancing the shared goal of local land stewards, including Parks and Forests staff, the PCTA, Friends of the Inyo, the John Muir Trail Wilderness Conservancy, and many others: preserving a lasting wilderness experience. This season, I noticed places such as Kearsarge Pass, Rae Lakes, Thousand Island Lakes, and the east side of Mt. Whitney showing the signs and wear of their popularity, which diminishes the wilderness experience. And while many backcountry users dutifully read through their permit agreement and have learned the basics of Leave No Trace, we hope you remain open to the contacts and education the trail and its stewards may provide, as we all work to maintain the accessibility and enjoyment of backcountry spaces.

I have been a long-time visitor of this land, from learning to ski in Mammoth Lakes as a kid to my first backpacking trip here in 2019, to now, spending my whole summer and countless miles exploring the trails made accessible through others’ hard work. The PCT and Sierra Nevada will always hold a special place in my heart, and being able to help care for these spaces alongside the organizations and individuals pouring their all into their preservation has been a privilege in and of itself. Rest assured, we (Crest Runners, Wilderness Rangers, and the like) are out here for you!

Admiring the hard work of our trail crews heading up Bear Ridge.

Not to interrupt a hiker’s day or bother with information they might already know, not to police experiences or slow you down, but to preserve all user enjoyment through thoughtful permitting, place-based regulations, and education. As thru-hikers, section hikers, equestrians, weekend warriors, and day users continue to enjoy these trails, I urge you to remain mindful of your interactions with the land, stewards, and other recreationists, all here for similar reasons, all on the same “team”, all enjoying the backcountry as much and as responsibly as we possibly can.

It has been incredible to see the growth (and dirt) accumulate in PCT hikers over the first 900 miles of their hike.

Eileen headed up to Mt. Whitney before sunrise.

As your hikes continue, our season as your Crest Runners comes to an end. Eileen will continue her journey with the PCTA as their full-time Volunteer Coordinator – if you are interested in getting involved with PCTA as a volunteer, Eileen will be involved in your process! I, on the other hand, am taking advantage of the free time by continuing my PCT section hike efforts. I just may see y’all up in the Pacific Northwest!

“Hiking any section of the PCT is such a meaningful and transformative experience. Many people wonder how to adjust back to society after leaving the trail. The secret is that you don’t! Keep getting outside, keep putting yourself out in nature, and keep fostering community. As the PCTA’s new Volunteer Coordinator, I am honored that I get to help people maintain a meaningful relationship with the PCT and return to the trail that becomes like a second home. I loved getting to meet so many people this past summer, and I hope to see everyone back out on the trail during one of our volunteer outings this year.” – Eileen Wassel, PCTA Volunteer Coordinator

As hikers move past the Sierra Nevada, through NorCal, into Oregon and beyond, please stay safe in the smoky conditions reported further north, keep an eye on trail closures and reroutes, and continue to be mindful of the ecosystems and communities you pass through.

Thank you for your kindness and cooperation in working with us, Crest Runners, this season and ahead, and happy hiking!

~Olive Fortner, PCT ’26 Crest Runner signing off

The post PCT ’26 Crest Runners’ Season End appeared first on Pacific Crest Trail Association.

Selena posing in front of the California/Oregon border sign.

The administration is telling us that canceling Roadless Area protections will help combat wildfire.

And anyone who has hiked on the PCT in recent years knows that fire is a serious threat. Many of us weren’t even able to finish our hikes this year because of the intense fires in Oregon and Washington. But creating profit opportunities for the timber industry is not the answer. Contrary to what the timber industry would want you to believe, logging forest lands doesn’t help prevent fires – in fact, it can make them worse. Roads increase the likelihood of fires starting because they introduce humans into wild places, and most fires are human-caused. According to the Pacific Biodiversity Institute, 90% of all wildfires are started within a half-mile of a road.  

Middle Fork of the Feather River (left) and Deep Creek Hot Springs (right). Two of the 63 roadless areas along the PCT protected by the Roadless Rule,

Meanwhile, the U.S. Forest Service has fired or retired thousands of long-tenured employees. Wildfire research laboratories and field stations that are keeping people and communities safe are being shuttered. And the administration has proposed slashing the agency’s operating budget by 60% or more for the past two years. The administration’s real goal of repealing the 2001 Roadless Area Conservation Rule is to open our public lands to the logging, mining, and drilling that roads enable. You don’t have to take my word for it. Agriculture Secretary Brooke Rollins last year called the Roadless Rule “absurd” as she declared a “timber emergency,” saying the rule prohibited the Forest Service from getting more “logs on trucks.”  

The Roadless Rule protects roughly 11% of the PCT’s 2,650 miles from mining and large-scale logging operations.

These 63 roadless areas range from the San Bernardino Mountains to the North Cascades. They protect areas like the Deep Creek Hot Springs, Mt. Baden-Powell, the wild and scenic Middle Fork of the Feather River, and many places in the Klamath National Forest. You can see all of the areas mapped out here. These areas often surround National Parks or Wilderness areas, further protecting the health and character of these wild places. 

Selena at the summit of Mt. Baden-Powell.

If you love the PCT and agree that these wild places deserve continued protection, you can submit a comment in defense of the Roadless Rule to the U.S. Forest Service until October 6. 

As a kid who grew up backpacking in Oregon, hiking the PCT had long been a dream of mine. I wanted to be immersed in the various landscapes as they flowed from one into the other on the trail. I am so grateful that I got to have that experience this year, and I want others to have the same opportunity for decades to come. We must defend the Roadless Rule today to ensure that these lands stay majestic and wild for future generations. 

Written by Selena Blick. Blick is an avid hiker, birder, environmental advocate, and lifelong Oregonian.

The post More than 10 percent of the PCT is at Risk of Losing Protection appeared first on Pacific Crest Trail Association.

Glacier Peak Wilderness. To some, this name brings to mind majestic views of expansive alpine meadows or awe-inspiring, glaciated peaks. To others, this name brings forth memories of rugged, challenging trails.

To us at the PCTA, Glacier Peak Wilderness represents an opportunity, a chance to utilize our vast skill set to overcome the challenges of these remote wilderness areas and improve the quality of the PCT by removing the complex blowdown and other obstacles that pose hazards to users within the wilderness.

The Glacier Peak Wilderness encompasses most of the PCT’s notorious Section K and is some of the most remote and challenging terrain along the entire trail. Years of significant flooding events in the region have damaged access roads and trails to the PCT, leaving a nearly 100-mile stretch with only one good entry point for crews heading out to maintain the trail.

In early August, the PCTA sent a pro crew into Glacier Peak Wilderness, made up of 5 Regional Trail Stewardship Coordinators (RTSCs).

Photo provided by Matt Rump.

For those not familiar, PCTA’s Regional Trail Stewardship Coordinators are the best of the best. Their outdoor leadership and vast experience with coordinating trail projects to engage volunteers in addressing maintenance needs make them logistical wizards who know how to handle a crosscut saw and get the job done. This was the first time all the RTSC’s were on a single project together.

Not only did this stack the crew with a swath of high-level trail skills and knowledge, but it also gave us as RTSC’s the opportunity to connect personally and develop professionally. Spending eight days in the wilderness, we had ample time to discuss how each of our regions differs, how we handle different situations, and what we do specifically to make the projects we each organize more engaging and enjoyable for PCTA volunteers. This project was more than run-of-the-mill trail work; it was a unique opportunity for us to cross-pollinate our varied knowledge and skills in our roles as RTSC’s so that we can better serve our community of trail volunteers!

Photo by Suzanne Hessler.

As much as there was talking, there was even more doing.

To say the project was difficult would be an understatement. There is no easy way to get into the Glacier Peak wilderness. We went in via the North Fork Sauk Trail, a rugged 8.5-mile trail with just over 3,000 feet of elevation gain in the last third of the hike, where it ties in with the PCT just north of White Pass.

The crew went a few more miles north from this junction to Glacier Peak meadows to set camp, a beautiful spot with a perfect view of Dakobed, Glacier Peak. It wasn’t until the tail end of the hitch that we had a chance to see this view, as the start of this trek was fraught with wildfire smoke clogging the valley. We persevered through the smoke with the help of PCTA’s GIS Specialist, Galen Keily, who provided us with real-time smoke forecasts that gave us a better understanding of whether we would have safe working conditions. Simply put, if the smoke wasn’t going to let up, we’d have to bail. Galen was…eerily accurate with his predictions, earning himself the title of the RTSC’s All-Knowing Oracle.

Photo by Suzanne Hessler.

The trail descends into the White Chuck drainage at the foot of Glacier Peak with steep switchbacks, following along a few different streams and crossing over several more. We cleared 62 logs in just three miles of this section, finishing our hitch by tying in with Baekos Creek. Shoutout to PCTA’s Glacier Peak Wilderness Crew’s Jude, Carly, and Jade, who have also been working to clear tough sections of trail in the GPW south of where we started. They will continue efforts north of Baekos Creek throughout the summer.

Three miles of trail can be tedious and time-consuming work when it’s in an area as remote as this wilderness. Some of the largest trees on the PCT can be found on this section of trail, and they end up falling on the trail all the time. Given the size of these trees, most of the blowdown we cleared took several hours per log, with extra time spent emphasizing safety and best practices when dealing with more complex problems.

We also took time for a quick refresher on how to use an under-bucker, a tool that, when used properly, can mitigate many hazards. One notable encounter was this one tree in particular—maybe 32 inches in diameter—that we ended up needing to cut four separate times because it had fallen perpendicular onto a series of five different switchbacks. A day and a half was spent clearing this tree alone.

Overall, this project was a major success for us RTSC’s—we cleared big logs, saw beautiful views, solved complex problems, and had fun doing it.

Photo by Matt Rump.

But lest we forget, in the end, this is but only a fraction of the work needed, both in the Glacier Peak Wilderness and beyond. The work we do is not easy—the days can be long, working conditions rough, and tasks complex. It takes a whole lot of people and a whole lot of effort to get out into your favorite sections of this beautiful trail and keep it in pristine shape. We know there are more areas that need a whole lot of love and attention, and I promise you we will do our best to fix it; it just might take some time. For now, my fellow RTSC’s and I will continue organizing volunteer opportunities across all regions of the trail so that we can keep this most amazing trail a most amazing hike.

Big thanks to Kathryn Conley, Jake Rawdin, Matt Rump, and Suzanne Hessler for all their hard work on this enormous project, and to all the other amazing PCTA staff who helped get this project off the ground.

The post The RTSCs take on Glacier Peak Wilderness appeared first on Pacific Crest Trail Association.

This final installment is more on the practical side: what to pack for your period while backpacking, what to expect from each method, and how to deal with everything.

Photo by: Daniel Wambaugh

(This is not medical advice; all options should be discussed with your medical provider.)

The Cup: Worth It, but Prepare Before You Go 

The menstrual cup is the overwhelming favorite among thru-hikers. It’s reusable, produces almost no waste, can stay in up to 12 hours, and spares you from packing out used products every day. It also requires practice; the trail is not the place to figure it out for the first time. 

Every cup is a different shape, size, and firmness, and what fits one person perfectly is wrong for another. Cup-fit quizzes online are a good starting point, and many hikers need two or three tries to find their match. A few tips the community keeps repeating always break the seal before removing the cup, give it a gentle twist after insertion to make sure it’s seated properly (the most common fix for leaking), and empty more often on heavy days. 

Between periods, boil your cup to fully sanitize it. This matters more than people expect, since the small ventilation holes need boiling water to clean properly, and disinfectant wipes alone won’t reach them. 

Even devoted cup users hit rough nights. Laila Cohen (@lailarachel_) became, in their words, a “die hard Diva Cup girlie” for most of their hike, until it leaked everywhere overnight somewhere past the halfway point, in bear can territory, a night or two from town. Their base layers were “rosy,” and they sat there wondering what the point of a bear can even was when everything they owned already smelled insane. They survived the night, took a shower and did laundry the next day, and kept moving. What they do differently now: keep wipes and hand sanitizer somewhere you can reach without unpacking your whole bag, because the moment you need them is never the moment you’re organized. 

Linz McKlinz (@mcklinzer), who documented their own cup routine on YouTube, notes something worth planning around: day one of their period sometimes needs two changes, but the days after usually only need one. Knowing that rhythm ahead of time makes it easier to budget your stops instead of guessing. 

Photo by: Dan Punshon-Smith

The Disc: An Underrated Alternative 

The menstrual disc deserves serious consideration, especially if you’ve struggled with cups or want fewer full change-stops per day. Caro (@otter.unterwegs) makes the case well: “You can empty it throughout the day while peeing without taking it out and you only have to deal with the bloody mess like once a day. I would have loved to know this beforehand.” 

The disc sits at the base of the cervix rather than in the vaginal canal, which many hikers find more comfortable under a hip belt, and it doesn’t create the suction a cup does. Both disposable and reusable versions exist; practice at home before you need it, same as with a cup. 

If the Cup or Disc Isn’t for You 

Tampons without applicators are the most compact and familiar alternative. Heads-up for international hikers: they’re common in many countries but harder to find in smaller US trail towns, so plan ahead for resupply. 

Cailin Keenan, a nurse, chose tampons over a cup for exactly the reasons you’d expect from someone in their field: they didn’t want to worry about sanitizing a reusable cup or needing extra water to rinse it in dusty, infection-prone conditions. They kept used tampons sealed tightly in a dedicated trash bag, packed out in their bear can when required. It’s a reminder that “best” gear is often about what fits your risk tolerance, not just what’s lightest or lowest-waste. 

Pads are generally the least trail-friendly option; adhesive and plastic cause chafing in heat and sweat, especially on high-mileage days when your underwear runs damp. If pads are your choice, unscented is essential. 

Period underwear and reusable pads work far better as a backup layer than a primary method. They soak up sweat as readily as blood, require more water to wash than is often available, and are slow to dry in the desert. Where they shine is as an overnight backup with a cup or disc, catching leaks without forcing you to deal with your primary method in the dark. 

Hormonal Suppression: Plan Way Ahead 

If you have the option, suppressing your period for the duration of the trail is worth a conversation with your medical provider before your start date. Hikers have used hormonal IUDs, implants, continuous birth control pills (skipping the placebo week), the three-month shot, and a vaginal ring used continuously, all with success. Every body responds differently, and there are no guarantees. The universal recommendation: get your chosen method in place at least three to six months before your start date, so your body has time to settle, and you have time to switch if it’s not working. 

Jessica Bagnell (@jcababy814) used a Diva Cup on their AT thru-hike and called it “the best decision ever”, emptying it into their cat hole each morning and rinsing it with a splash of water, also into the hole. But on the PCT, they switched to Annovera, a continuous-wear birth control ring that stops menstruation entirely while it’s in. It’s a squishy silicone ring, and they cleaned it when they shower in town. Their take: if they didn’t need birth control anyway, they’d still recommend the cup. 

Photo by: Emma Beech

Managing Cramps and Symptoms 

• Ibuprofen taken before cramps peak works better than taken after 

• A hard-sided water bottle filled with warm water, pressed against your abdomen or lower back 

• Iron and a daily multivitamin; blood loss depletes iron, and many hikers are already running a deficit 

• Eating enough, harder than it sounds when appetite fluctuates, and snacks go monotonous 

• Taking care of yourself in town: this is recovery, not indulgence 

Disposal and Odor Control 

Part One covered the rule: no products get buried; all trash comes out with you. Here’s how experienced hikers actually make that manageable. For tampons and pads, wrapping each used item in a small square of aluminum foil keeps it compact and nearly odor-free. From there, double or triple bag: zip-top bags inside odor-blocking packaging. Odor-blocking food bags (like OPSAK, or the kind jerky comes in) work remarkably better than a plain zip-top. Whatever you use, extra layers buy you confidence, and confidence is worth a few grams. 

Explore Your Options, Quick Reference 

Photo by: Bryce Bizer

Collection methods 

• Menstrual cups (many shapes/sizes/firmnesses, try an online fit quiz) 

• Menstrual discs (disposable and reusable) 

• Tampons (applicator-free are most compact) 

• Pads (unscented; if you use reusable cloth pads, cleaning on trail can be difficult) 

• Period underwear (best as backup, not primary) 

• Free bleeding (works for some with very light flow, or as a last resort) 

Hormonal suppression (discuss with your medical provider well in advance) 

• Hormonal IUD 

• Hormonal implant 

• Continuous birth control pills (skip the placebo week) 

• The three-month shot 

• Vaginal ring used continuously 

• Progestin-only or extended-cycle pills 

• Non-hormonal prescription flow reducer 

Photo by: Thomas Skrlj

Pain and symptom management 

• OTC pain medication (take before cramps peak) 

• Daily multivitamin with iron 

• A hard-sided water bottle as a heat pad 

• Adhesive or air-activated heat patches 

Disposal and odor control 

• Multiple zip-top bags 

• Odor-blocking food bags 

• Odor-barrier dry bags 

• Aluminum foil for wrapping individual items 

Sanitation and Hygiene Kit 

• A small pot for boiling your cup between periods (some prefer a separate container from their eating pot) 

• A trowel for catholes, six to eight inches deep and 200 feet from water, camp, and trail 

• Concentrated biodegradable or Castile soap in a tiny dropper bottle 

• Fragrance-free, sensitive-skin wipes, or dehydrated wipe tablets to save space, packed out without exception 

• A bidet, practiced at home long before your start date 

• A Kula Cloth, the reusable antimicrobial pee cloth that pairs beautifully with a cup 

• Disposable gloves (optional; some hikers like them for a clean removal, most skip them) 

One Last Thing 

Photo by: Clint Hart

Having your period on trail is not fun, but it’s completely doable. It may feel like it’s taking us down, but we get back up and keep going. If we talk about it and share with one another what has helped or hasn’t, we can find information that may benefit others, and we can even start to laugh at the silly, weird things that happen. For instance, the time I felt so filthy after eight days of no showering and having had my period on trail, I could no longer take it.

I jumped into the next lake I found. Fully clothed, even though I was hiking into town that day! I wrung out my clothes, but they were still soaking, and I was too cold, so I decided to wear my town shirt the rest of the way into town instead of my sun hoodie, which left me with a blistering sunburn on my shoulders. Was that jump in that freezing cold lake just to rinse off a bit of the nasty eight days of hiking worth it? Yes,100%. Was the resulting sunburn? Umm, as a redhead, I knew better, but yes, still worth it.  

Because you’re not alone and your experiences matter.

After 5 months and 2,650 miles of walking, Ranger and Storyteller embrace in a hug upon finally reaching the northern terminus of the PCT. Photo by: Danny Miller

Hopefully you haven’t been driven to dive into a freezing cold lake fully clothed yet. My story was just a small conversation starter; I hope you feel more empowered to ask the questions you need to ask or share the stories you want to share.

The post Managing Your Period on the PCT: The Gear and Packing Guide appeared first on Pacific Crest Trail Association.

Teddi sits next to herself on the PCT in 1976.

In May of 1976, Teddi Boston, a 49-year-old mother of four, set out on the Pacific Crest Trail from Manning Park, Canada. 169 days later, she reached the Mexican border, becoming the first woman to hike the PCT southbound solo and inspiring countless others to follow in her footsteps. 

Her journey motivated her to become a passionate advocate for the PCT and the national trails system. Teddi represented the PCTA as part of our Hike the Hill team in Washington, D.C., from 2011 – 2016 and has volunteered for many years with the San Gorgonio Wilderness Area, where she trains volunteers and provides leadership and mentorship to the stewards of our public lands. 

Teddi all decked out in her uniform for the party. It was a surprise; she thought she had been asked to wear her uniform to give a program on PCT.

On August 8, 2026, more than 100 people made their way into the mess hall and surrounding porches at Camp de Benneville Pines, where Teddi lives every summer, to eat a camp lunch and celebrate Teddi’s achievements. Many of her family, friends, fellow volunteers, partners, and camp residents were able to attend, watch a video compilation of her story, and share heartfelt songs and memories of Teddi’s accomplishments. It was clear that this passionate and energetic 99-year-old woman has truly created a legacy that will be carried forward for generations to come.  

Help Honor Teddi’s PCT Legacy

PCTA Southern California Regional Representative, Anitra Kass, helping honor Teddi. Photo provided by Dee Milosch.

We invite you to make a donation to the PCTA Trail Maintenance Fund in Teddi’s honor and share a special message for Teddi. Your donation helps care for the trail that has meant so much to Teddi—and to all of us—while ensuring it remains a place of adventure and inspiration for generations to come. 

The post Celebrating the 50th Anniversary of Teddi Boston’s Historic Pacific Crest Trail Thru-Hike appeared first on Pacific Crest Trail Association.

The crowd gathered at the main stage of PCT Days 2026. Photo provided by Abigail Bassett.

Every year, thru-hikers and outdoor enthusiasts make the much-anticipated trek to the Marine Park of Cascade Locks, Oregon, to bask in a weekend of celebration for all things hiking, backpacking, camping, and outdoor stewardship. On August 14-15, PCTA had the pleasure of hanging out with so many new and familiar faces at the PCTA booth. It is always a great deal of fun to attend, share the work we do to protect the trail, and see the community’s shared passion for the PCT.

The summer festival offers something for everyone, and that goes for the weather as well. In recent years, PCT Days has taken its “rain or shine” motto to new heights, offering a mixed bag of forecasts. Luckily for us, some light winds and a chilly morning with a drizzle were the worst of it. No blown-away tents this year (oh yes, it’s happened)!

The weekend was buzzing with good energy all-around, and we have the PCT Days team to thank for that! Event producer Jason Waicunas and his crew go above and beyond to make each year better than the last. This year’s raffle raised over $9,000, to be shared among Trailkeepers of Oregon, the American Long-Distance Hiking Association West (ALDHA-West), and the PCTA.

The PCTA booth. Photo by Grey Feather Photography.

“This was such a great event bringing all of us together. PCTA is happy to be included and to get a chance to celebrate the PCT and connect with the community that loves and supports the trail.” – Angie Williamson, Senior Manager, Gifts & Partnerships

The weekend always offers a whirlwind of opportunities to catch up with friends and partners of the PCTA! This year, we collaborated with Enlightened Equipment on a fun giveaway for their limited-edition quilt and gift boxes. It was nice to chat with vendors and to reminisce on how both the event and the trail community have grown over the years.

Photo by Abigail Bassett.

“This was my second PCT Days. Ironically, I wasn’t able to make it to PCT Days the year I thru hiked but I plan to keep on going. It’s an event not to miss–it really is like a family reunion, even though you haven’t met most of the people there. You all know each other in a way; you have a bond that can’t be explained to others outside the long-distance trail community through your shared passion for the PCT.” – Abigail Bassett, PCT thru-hiker turned PCTA MarCom volunteer

Between drinking our share of Triple Crown Coffee, watching the Enlighted Equipment Tramily Feud, and having fun with glitter, it’s almost hard to choose what our favorite memory of the weekend was, but if we’re being honest, it would have to be our The Trail Changes Us speaker series. Saturday afternoon, three incredible speakers took to the main stage: Abigail Basset, Jay France, and Glen Van Peski.

They shared personal stories of adventure, challenge, friendship, and discovery on the PCT. We are so fortunate to have had such a fantastic lineup of speakers. We want to give a massive thank-you to them and to our incredible volunteers who helped us hold down the booth. Every question answered, every temporary tattoo applied, and all the smiles and positivity do not go unnoticed!

Photo by Grey Feather Photography.

“From our dedicated local volunteers and staff to fellow trail organizations, outdoor partners, 2026 thru-hikers, and alumni. I especially enjoy connecting with people who stop by the PCTA tent. Hearing their stories, learning about their experiences on the trail, and seeing how much joy and gratitude this community has for being outdoors makes it all so worthwhile. I feel incredibly fortunate to be part of these spaces and to spend time with the people who make the PCT community so special.” – Amy Calvillo Aubin, Associate Director of Volunteer Programs

We’re already daydreaming about PCT Days 2027!

The PCT 2026 crew. Photo provided by Abigail Bassett

In the meantime, be sure to visit the PCT Days website for more information. We’ll see you next year, but before you go, be sure to take a look through all the amazing photos captured by Shonda and Les at Grey Feather Photography and MarCom volunteer Abigail Bassett.  

PCTA staff applying our temporary PCT emblem tattoos at the booth. Photo by Grey Feather Photography.

PCT Days attendees stopping by the booth and having fun with some glitter.

Angie Williamson and Kula Cloth owner, Anastasia Allison, pose with the new ‘A PCT Daydream’  Kula Cloth.

Our PCT Days 2026 staff and volunteers. Photo by Grey Feather Photography.

The post Temporary Tattoos, Storytelling, and a Trail Reunion: PCT Days 2026 appeared first on Pacific Crest Trail Association.

Abigail in WA.

In the middle of the Sierras, days from the nearest town, I fell into a stream and thought I may have broken my arm, outside of Lake Tahoe my pinky toe met a bolder and it was purple for a couple of weeks, I had blisters that were so deep that needle I had packed almost couldn’t puncture them, I experienced severe sunburns that blistered, countless ankle rolls, or and even headaches that kept me in camp until 11:00 AM. But none of that caused me to take a single painkiller.

But cramps did. I never would have expected that. After all the prep work and research I did for my thru hike, I was sure I would need my painkillers for something other than cramps.

What worked for me may not work for you. A menstrual cup worked for me; I did practice with it for three months before I left. When my period showed up a week early on day three, the cup itself was never the problem. (The bidet I had never touched was the problem, but you can read about that catastrophe in Part One.) Everything I got right, I got right because I rehearsed it at home. Everything that went sideways went sideways because I improvised.

Abigail laughing after having fallen from throwing a rock too hard toward a pond.

So, this half of the series is the practical one: what your body is likely to do out there, how to take care of it, what to put in your kit, and how to deal with everything after. Let’s get into it.

The most consistent advice from experienced hikers is also the least comforting: expect the unexpected.

“One of my last mornings on trail with one of the most magical chilly sunrises.” Photo by Alec Anderson

Laila Cohen (@lailarachel_) put it perfectly. Their period showed up early and hard, and they ended up getting their cycle twice in a single month. Their warning should be posted at every trailhead: do not bounce your cup ahead, because your cycle is not going to suddenly become predictable out there, and the trail absolutely does not care about your calendar.

Many hikers find their periods stop altogether after the first month or two, as the calorie deficit and physical load signal to the body that now is not the time. A stopped cycle could be your body telling you something, often that you are not eating enough or that the load has become too much. Track it, fuel aggressively, and take it seriously. Some hikers who lost their period on the trail discovered significant nutritional deficiencies afterward, including low levels of iron, B12, and vitamin D. Discussing this with your medical provider prior to departing for the trail could help prevent some of these issues before they start.

Coming Home Changes Things Too

“Me on top of San Jacinto just after emptying my menstrual cup (in a hole) in the snow.”

The trail changes your cycle coming home, too. Laura Kuijper (@walking_throughlife), who got their period like clockwork the entire way, including the day they summited Mt. San Jacinto, found that once they returned to normal life, their period came back twice as hard, because their body needed to readjust from what it had just been through. It settled after a couple of cycles.

Cramps Can Go Either Way

Photo by: Charlie Evans

Cramps can go either direction on trail. Some hikers find that their cramps ease with constant movement. Others find the opposite. Cailin Keenan, a nurse who submitted their story to the PCTA, described being “crumbled over in the desert, wracked with cramps, with a heavy flow when it is 100 degrees and bugs won’t stop harassing you.” One underrated culprit: the hip belt of a loaded pack sitting directly on your abdomen, which can make cramps meaningfully worse. On bad days, loosening the belt and shifting weight to your shoulders can get you through.

Hiking, let alone long-distance hiking, can already test the bounds of one’s emotional fortitude. When you are on your cycle, everything can become amplified. Sitara (@sitaraskhan) makes a practice of being open with their trail family about it: “I make sure to always share that I’m on my period, because it’s such an impactful thing that comes with pain, emotions, and fatigue.” Their tramily was always supportive, and the trail community tends to be. You do not have to white-knuckle through it alone.

Slowing Down as a Strategy  

Photo by: Dominic Owtram

Give yourself permission to slow down. In the week or so before your period, hormone fluctuations can bring real fatigue, a higher body temperature, and mood shifts. Your mileage may drop. It is common for hikers to go from big days to noticeably shorter ones in that stretch, and it is not your body failing you. It is your body doing exactly what it is designed to do. Comparing your pace on those days to someone else’s is a trap. Hiking your own hike applies to your body’s rhythms as much as anything.  

One Story That Captures It All  

Cailin Keenan’s most memorable period story captures the whole experience. Racing to catch the morning ferry to a resort while cramping and emotionally wrung out, they made it, and then:

“I got my club sandwich at VVR, talked to my family on the phone, and watched the women’s Italian soccer game. I didn’t talk to anyone; I basked in my internal peace of having a real meal before me and a bathroom where I could wash the blood off my stained pants, have a door with privacy and running water to wash my hands. It’s amazing how you learn the luxury of the simple things in life.”  

Photo by: Michaela Perinajova

That is the PCT period experience in one paragraph.  

Next up, Part Three: the practical gear and packing guide, a condensed rundown of what to bring and how to manage it on trail.  

The post Managing Your Period on the PCT: Insights from Menstruating Hikers appeared first on Pacific Crest Trail Association.

Photo by: Ryan Barnes

The U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) is moving forward a plan announced last year to eliminate protections for millions of acres of roadless National Forest lands across the country, including 288 miles of the Pacific Crest Trail.

The Forest Service seeks public comments on its plan to diminish protections for nearly 45 million acres that were established under the 2001 Roadless Area Conservation Rule. The agency championed the rule 25 years ago as a way of providing long-term protection for Inventoried Roadless Areas across the National Forest System.

But today, the Department says the rule creates a “regulatory burden” that makes it difficult for local authorities to manage forests. “Increased management flexibility,” the Department says, is needed to meet its multiple-use mission. The proposal follows presidential executive orders to increase logging, mineral extraction, and oil and gas production on public lands.

“Near Crag Mountain in Washington, the valley opens into a huge sweep of forest, ridge, and sky, with a towering summer cloud rising in the distance.” Photo by: Alexander Ure

There are nearly 59 million acres of roadless areas in the U.S. These represent about a third of the territory in our National Forests, and they are the last remaining intact forest tracts that are not designated as wilderness. State-approved roadless area rules in Idaho and Colorado supersede the federal rule, according to the USDA, meaning not all national forest land would be affected by the proposed rule rescission.

The Roadless Rule has been extremely popular because it strictly limits road building in a significant portion of national forests, preventing large-scale timber extraction and mining while protecting crucial wildlife habitat, drinking water sources, and cherished recreational opportunities like the Pacific Crest National Scenic Trail.

There are 63 roadless areas along 288 miles of the PCT in California, Oregon and Washington. These miles represent roughly 11% of the trail. Removing Roadless Rule protections could threaten the trail’s character, recreational value, and ecological integrity.

In her announcement of the government’s intention this week, Secretary of Agriculture Brooke Rollins cited concerns about the Forest Service’s ability to effectively manage these open spaces and fight wildfires. She cited forest overgrowth, insect outbreaks and disease, which “turn healthy landscapes into tinder boxes.”

Wildfire

Photo by: Bryce Bizer

Wildfire is surely one of the most complex challenges facing public land managers. The Forest Service estimates that 80 million acres of National Forest land need some form of treatment for forest health and fuels reduction. The USDA says that local land managers need more flexibility to reduce wildfire risk across the 28 million roadless acres it identifies as high or very high fire-risk zones.

To be clear, the Roadless Rule already explicitly allows the government to manage these places for forest health and fire prevention. Actions like tree cutting and other fuel removal work—and even road construction in cases of imminent fire threat—are allowed. The existing rule also allows habitat restoration and post-fire recovery projects while avoiding unnecessary heavy road construction.

Data on where wildfires start and spread add additional context. Studies using data from the National Interagency Fire Center have found that only 3% of all mapped historical wildfire ignition points over the last 50 years have occurred within Inventoried Roadless Areas.

Research has found that roughly 90% of all wildfires start within a half-mile of a road, and that 88% are human-caused—with roads acting as corridors for human error, including accidental sparks, unattended campfires, and other ignition sources that can spark blazes. A separate analysis of four decades of satellite data found that Roadless Areas have not burned at significantly higher rates or severity than roaded forest lands, and that in the most recent decade, roadless areas burned at a slightly lower rate than forests with roads. 

These studies show that the stated wildfire concern is a red herring which masks the administration’s true intention of carving roads into some of the country’s last wild places for timber production. That intention was evident in August 2025, when Rollins first announced a potential rule rescission. She declared a “timber emergency” and called the Roadless Rule an “absurd” obstacle to common-sense management because it prohibited the Forest Service from fulfilling its mandate to get more “logs on trucks.”  

Forest Service Road System

“Walked up on a concerning amount of smoke quickly rising across the trail. I was relieved to see about a dozen Forest Service firefighters already handling what appeared to be a lightning-caused fire right next to the trail. They were waiting on a truck to bring more water up a nearby forest road.” Photo by: Sean Day

The Forest Service already maintains a 371,000-mile road system— twice as long as the nation’s highway system. It’s so extensive that the Forest Service can’t afford to properly maintain it—maintenance deferrals have ballooned. The agency estimated the road maintenance backlog at $8.6 billion in 2023. Yet rather than addressing this backlog or increasing fire mitigation efforts, the administration has cut 5,800 Forest Service staff since 2025 and has for the past two budget cycles proposed slashing the agency’s annual operating budget by 60%. 

Further, the agency has stated that increasing timber sales will provide minimal gains for taxpayers. The Forest Service estimates that it could open to logging on an estimated 4.8 million acres, raise national timber harvest volume by 5-10% and generate an extra $4.6-$10.6 million a year in revenue for the timber industry.  

The U.S Bureau of Economic Analysis says the outdoor recreation economy generates $1.3 trillion in economic output annually, 2.4% of U.S. Gross Domestic Product (GDP). It also provides 5.2 million jobs, 3.2% of U.S. employment. 

The public commenting process is now open, and we need you to participate!

“Walking past Mt. Hood, on our way to Timberline Lodge.” Photo by: Marissa Schmidt

The Roadless Rule was established in 2001 under President Bill Clinton after the largest public input process in Forest Service history. The agency held 600 public hearings across the country and received 1.6 million comments, mostly in favor.  

The public’s appetite for protecting these lands was high, and it remains so. In 2025, the public responded to the USDA’s Notice of Intent to rescind the rule with overwhelming opposition. More than 600,000 people submitted comments, with 99.8% opposing rescinding the rule.  

Because the Roadless Rule was created through an administrative process, not passed by Congress as legislation, it can be rescinded or revised in much the same way. Part of that process includes a public opportunity to respond to the Draft Environmental Impact Statement. The Forest Service is required to consider all substantive comments submitted while the comment period is open. 

You can add your opinion here. 

If you would like to submit a comment, consider including details like: 

1. Your knowledge or experience in specific locations—use our map to copy and paste GPS coordinates into your comment, or reference place names like geographic features or trail numbers. 
   2. Your personal background—describe your experiences living near, working in, and/or exploring these areas. 
   3. Relevant data—Reference the figures in our stories and maps.
   4. Add specific responses to the agency’s analysis of impacts in the different alternatives in the DEIS. 

You will not be commenting alone. The American public has already shown that it is on the side of protecting these forests across political parties, by wide margins. What is missing is not opposition. What is missing is opposition on the record, in the language the agency must answer in.

Photo by: Marion Blais

Talking points for your public comments  

• I oppose the repeal of the Roadless Area Conservation Rule. 

• There are 63 roadless areas along 288 miles of the PCT in California, Oregon and Washington. These miles represent roughly 11% of the trail. 

• Roadless areas provide clean drinking water to 60 million Americans. 

• These undeveloped lands are critical to our nation’s ecological health.  

• These areas store 20% of all carbon in U.S. national forests. 

• Roadless areas offer abundant outdoor recreation opportunities such as hiking hunting, fishing, camping and other activities. Every year, millions of people take advantage of the free (or extremely affordable) access to these public lands. 

• The outdoor recreation economy generates $730 billion annually, far more than timber sales. 

• Roadless areas are crucial habitat for 1,600+ threatened species. 

• We already have 370,000 miles of forest roads with a multi-billion dollar maintenance backlog. 

• Studies show wildfire ignitions are 4x more likely near roads than in roadless areas 

Your voice matters in this moment! This is a crucial opportunity to help ensure that the PCT experience remains vital, undeveloped, and available to us today and to future generations. Thank you for taking the time to add your comments to the official record.

Photo by: Charlie Evans

Thank you for all you do to protect the PCT. 

The post Get involved: The USDA Moves to Allow Logging in Pristine Forests Along the PCT appeared first on Pacific Crest Trail Association.

Weather and fires were the story of this hitch…

We started off with 3 days of wind and rain and subsequently met many PCT hikers who were trying their best to dry out after a couple of challenging nights on the trail.  The nature of this storm was especially jarring coming from the east side, where it was smoky, dry, and HOT, contributing to the declaration of a particularly dangerous weather event for the first weekend of hitch.  After the rain subsided, we woke up to a frosty morning, and after the frost subsided, we woke up to several smoky mornings.

While the storm manifested differently depending on where you were on the trail, hikers were universally seeking information about trail conditions, closures, and fires as they considered Plan Bs and Cs to continue their PCT journeys.  We met a father-daughter hiking duo from Colorado who were planning to head down the North Fork Sauk before piecing together trails to reach the Canadian border farther west. We also met a German hiker planning to continue on to Stehekin and Chelan, then walk the roads to reach the border east of the trail.  Those heading south seemed relieved to be past a challenging part of the journey, while some northbound hikers were considering return trips when the views were (hopefully) clear.

Despite these challenging conditions, we felt good about the work we accomplished, including cutting out some technical and challenging logs that tested both our skills and our patience!   After our long hike out of the backcountry, we realized we’d logged out nearly 7 miles of trail,  walking more than 80 miles in the process, justifying how tired and hungry we all felt by the time we got back to the trailhead!

Stay tuned for more updates. In the meantime, check out some additional photos from the crew!

The post Deeper into the Glacier Peak Wilderness: White Pass to Dishpan Gap appeared first on Pacific Crest Trail Association.