These final hitches epitomized late-season adventures in the North Cascades, including mushrooms (yay!) and a lot of ever-changing weather.

Photo provided by Jade Crabtree

We’re not exaggerating. It ranged from sun to rain, hail, thunder, and lightning, way more rain, and finally snow! Our main objective was to improve trail conditions on the Bald Eagle Trail, an alternate access route for the North Fork Sauk to reach the Glacier Peak Wilderness section of the PCT. With so few access options into the Glacier Peak Wilderness, even doing a little maintenance on another trail can pay off big time when unexpected (yet inevitable) floods or fires close down one of our major arteries.

We set up a home base at Curry Gap and worked on log-out and tread, climbing up the trail toward Long John Camp.

The trail itself was a pleasant surprise to all of us; despite its proximity to the North Fork Sauk, its character was very different in terms of the landscape, ecology, and terrain. A major highlight was the amazing views of Glacier Peak in the distance, which we certainly appreciated each time the weather cleared. We even encountered a few PCT hikers, adding France and Argentina to our running list of countries people traveled from to come hike the trail.

Photos provided by Jade Crabtree.

Mother Nature bade us farewell on our final hitch, bringing an early-season storm that left the trail covered in snow, and us cold and wet.

As a consolation, we were treated to views of fresh snow on the mountains and a bluebird day for our hike out. On our drive from the trailhead, we encountered PCT hikers lamenting the “worst 24 hours on the trail all year”. Beyond the rain, thunder and lightning, hail, and snow, ridgeline portions of the PCT saw gusty winds and even colder temperatures. Despite this, folks seemed determined to eat a hot meal, dry out, work through logistics, and get back on the trail. PCT thru hikers: never failing to impress.

Photos uploaded by Carly Reiser.

During our last hitch, we frequently referred to the Bald Eagle Trail as “the trail that keeps on giving”.

We stayed pleasantly surprised by multiple aspects of the trail, keeping us ever curious about what might be around the corner. We found this to be an extremely apropos sentiment to capture our time working on the PCT this summer: in many ways, for thousands of hikers, it is in fact the trail that keeps on giving. As a crew, we feel extremely fortunate to have experienced and appreciated it all season, and to have gotten to know and work with each other, all while improving the trail experience for those who venture.

Photos uploaded by Jade Crabtree.

Thank you for reading and following us throughout the summer. It has truly been a pleasure. GPW crew, signing off!

The post The Glacier Peak Wilderness Saga: The Final Hitch appeared first on Pacific Crest Trail Association.

“This has to be one of the best days of our lives- mixture of joy, elation and sense of accomplishment.”
Photo by: Julianna Tsao

Earlier this year, the Pacific Crest Trail Association signed a new 10-year Memorandum of Understanding (MOU) with the USDA Forest Service, the National Park Service, the Bureau of Land Management and California State Parks.

What does this mean for the trail?

The agreement builds on the 1968 National Trails System Act, which established volunteer organizations as partners with federal and state agencies in the collaborative management of national trails. The MOU explicitly spells out the PCTA’s role as the agencies’ primary partner in the operation of the Pacific Crest National Scenic Trail. Under the agreement, the PCTA and the agencies coordinate the maintenance of the PCT and management of the trail and the surrounding corridor, which includes construction and maintenance, signing, condition surveys, trailhead and trail use surveys, volunteer programs, and educational materials.

“The MOU is an important tool that clearly articulates the roles and responsibilities of the PCTA and the federal and state agencies in the maintenance and management of the PCT. We’re excited to see this new MOU finalized and look forward to continued collaboration in the maintenance and management the trail.” – Justin Kooyman, PCTA Director of Trail Operations

The MOU further supports us in our mission of conserving the PCT and surrounding landscapes that are integral to providing for the trail experience. Our staff and volunteers work diligently to help maintain the trail, and with the MOU, we now have a framework that provides language toward not only highlighting the PCTA’s role in maintenance but management as well. PCTA staff bring renowned expertise with national scenic trail administration and management and work collaboratively with agency staff to ensure that planning efforts and project-level decisions support the PCT’s “nature and purposes.”

Photo by: Shauni Bernau

“The MOU strengthens our shared commitment to steward the Pacific Crest Trail together. The PCT thrives because of the partnerships that bring its vision to life. It truly takes a community made up of dedicated volunteers, agencies, and supporters to operate, maintain, protect, and preserve this iconic Trail and the extraordinary values it embodies.” – Lindsey Steinwachs, Pacific Crest National Scenic Trail Administrator

What does this mean for you?

Photo by: Matt Sadowski

As a supporter of the PCT, it means that we have the privilege of continuing to ensure that people like you, who care as much as we do, feel connected to the trail. An inspirational outdoor experience does not simply happen; it is shaped by community and collaborative partnership from the ground up. The PCTA feels incredibly fortunate to be in the position of helping care for the trail. Thank you for your continued support.

Join us in celebrating all that we’ve accomplished and will continue to pursue over the next ten years for the betterment of the trail!

The post PCTA Signs a New 10-Year Memorandum of Understanding appeared first on Pacific Crest Trail Association.

PCTA’s Southern Sierra Regional Manager, Allissa Brush (left), tabling alongside Jen Havener (right), PCTA’s Philanthropy Coordinator, at REI in Folsom, California.

Since 1994, on the fourth Saturday of September, the nation has come together to appreciate and participate in celebrations commemorating our amazing public lands. National Public Lands Day is known as the largest single-day volunteer event for public lands, and it’s an important day to create awareness of the need to advocate for public lands.

This year, PCTA had the opportunity to partner with REI and the Partnership for the National Trails System to celebrate not just for the day, but all of September! For three weekends, the PCTA staff tabled at REI Co-op stores from San Diego all the way up to Issaquah. We attended 8 events total, getting to meet new friends, some very familiar with the trail and others who had never heard of the PCT but were eager to learn more! We loved connecting with local communities and helping introduce people to more ways to get involved in caring for our public lands.  

REI generously committed $1 million to fund trail projects and partners supporting over 60,600 miles of National Scenic and National Historic Trails, including the Pacific Crest Trail. They are asking members to vote on the categories where these funds should go: advocacy, education, and stewardship. The PCTA joined the education category, which supports training the next generation of trail leaders.  

We want to give a special thanks to the REI stores who included us in their festivities, and to all of you who stopped in to meet with PCTA and the other nonprofit stewards of our public lands. The Pacific Crest Trail traverses some of the most beautiful landscapes in the world. Ensuring access to the PCT and surrounding public lands is our shared responsibility.

These lands belong to all of us, and it’s been a pleasure to celebrate them with you!

Spencer Valenti, Regional Trail Stewardship Coordinator in Northern California and Southern Oregon, tabling at REI in Medford, Oregon.

We had a great time chatting with folks at the Medford REI location! Our staff learned early on that asking people walking past the table, “Have you hiked on the PCT?” was a great conversation opener. Some people had hiked on it in the area but hadn’t realized it until we showed them a map of the PCT.

Hana Wilder, our Senior Manager of Donor Relations, tabling at REI in Huntington, California.

We welcome the chance to meet people who aren’t familiar with the PCT and share this treasure with them. Bringing people into our world and helping them learn more about the trail and what we do as an organization is always rewarding.

Jack Haskel, our Trail Information Manager, tabling at REI in Sacramento, California.

We love questions! How do I volunteer? How long are volunteer outings? How else can I stay involved? The more the merrier. Your enthusiasm for the trail and encouragement of what we do as an organization means a great deal to us. Exchanging stories about the trail and the rich history of its surrounding regions was definitely a highlight!

We certainly hope you made the most of the day and found an opportunity to get outside!

But if not, caring for our public lands is a year-round affair. There’s always another chance for you to connect to the natural environment, even better if it’s on the PCT. Here are ways to get more involved: join PCTA as a member, sign up to volunteer with a local trail crew, or share advocacy efforts to protect the trail.

The post National Public Lands Day 2026: PCTA Tabling Events at REI! appeared first on Pacific Crest Trail Association.

Photo by: Christopher Thompson

In 2020, the Bear Fire burned across roughly 30 miles of the Pacific Crest Trail at the Middle Fork Feather River in the northern Sierra Nevada. Five years later, we’re still working hard in the burn scar each year. We analyzed ten years of trailwork statistics in an attempt to better understand how much additional effort is needed to restore and maintain the trail after the wildfire.

The result: we’ve put around six times the maintenance hours into this stretch of trail in the five years since the fire compared with the five years before it. Our new Story Map lays out the reasons for this, with a side-by-side map you can swipe to compare maintenance projects before and after the fire within the burn scar.

As the Story Map shows, what once was routine work turns into a multi-year challenge to keep the trail open and passable after it burns.

The Bear Fire is one fire among many. Since 2020, about 250 miles of the PCT have burned — roughly 9.4 percent of the trail. Many of those burns demand this same kind of multi-year recovery work, and every hour spent there is an hour not spent on routine maintenance somewhere else.

Our Trail Operations Director Justin Kooyman, who was a key contributor on this project, says this:

“Large wildfires inherently change and destabilize entire landscapes. This can have huge impacts on our ability to repair and maintain the PCT. The stability of entire hillsides can be compromised, and keeping up with the erosion is challenging. The number of trees coming down increases exponentially. The result is that post-wildfire work isn’t a one-and-done approach. It demands years of increased efforts to restabilize the trail and keep it clear and passable for hikers and horseback riders.”

Post-fire recovery is a permanent part of caring for the PCT, and sustaining it will take more federal funding, more private support, and more volunteers.

Photo by: Suzanne Vetter

Visit the Story Map to scroll through the maps and images, see the data, and get a clearer picture of what it now takes to keep the trail open.

Explore the Story Map →Six Times the Work: Maintaining the PCT After the Bear Fire

While we’re still compiling numbers from 2026, it was a similarly huge effort to maintain this stretch, as hundreds or thousands of trees fell again over the winter, and there was a new season’s worth of brush to cut back.

The post Six Times the Work: Maintaining the PCT After the Bear Fire appeared first on Pacific Crest Trail Association.

The theme of this hitch was teamwork and collaboration!

Photo by Sam Webster.

We started the hitch with the help of a packer who lightened our loads by dropping our food and gear at White Pass, so we could climb the North Fork Sauk switchbacks with unusually light packs and save energy for many days of sawing. After a night at White Pass, we loaded back up with tools and gear and started out north on the PCT.  We continued our hike, appreciating the clear trail, thanks to the work of the Regional Trail Stewardship Coordinators who’d been there the week before.

We started working north from Baekos Creek, thankful for an extra set of hands from Sam, our North Cascades Regional Manager, who’d joined us for the first half of our hitch.

We had a productive, fast first couple of days of work, logging out a couple of miles before we hit a series of large trees that took time, as well as considerable work and planning, to log out. Working north towards Sitkum Camp, we cleared logs and a few severely brushy areas, ultimately working our way to Kennedy Creek. We found Kennedy Creek to be quite foreboding; between the precariously balanced logs and the chocolate-colored waters, we opted not to cross, as we had plenty to do on the south side of the creek.

We had the somewhat unfortunate opportunity to talk to many hikers twice on this hitch, as the Miners Ridge Fire closure caused many thru-hikers to have to turn around and come back the way they came. Those hiking southbound were largely able to escape the closure, and several people commented on the improved condition of the GPW, including the notoriously brushy Milk Creek section where the Forest Service crew has been working diligently for several weeks.

Photo by Carly Reiser.

While it seems unlikely that thru-hikers will be able to complete the GPW section for the remainder of this season, it was pretty great to hear that our efforts, combined with the good work of the Forest Service as well as numerous other crews working hard throughout the season, were in fact improving the hiker experience heading through the Glacier Peak Wilderness…even if it is one log at a time!

The post The Glacier Peak Wilderness Saga Continued: North Fork Sauk Trail to Baekos Creek appeared first on Pacific Crest Trail Association.

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, Marlin, 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, Marlin, 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.

Marlin 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 Marlin. 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 USFS National Trails 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.