This is the latest installment in a series that follows the PCT Class of 2026 on their trek north, as they pass through eight of the unique ecoregions defined by the Environmental Protection Agency. For each region, we’re highlighting one example of mutualism, or a mutually beneficial symbiotic relationship between two or more native species. We hope that this series will remind readers that no single species can exist alone — humans, least of all.

Luminous Ponderosa Photo by Jesse Silverman

Dr. Melanie Jones, Professor Emerita of Biology at the University of British Columbia Okanagan, has an assignment for Pacific Crest Trail hikers this August and September.

Without straying too much from the trail, find a moist area near the base of a conifer, such as a lodgepole pine (Pinus contorta), a Douglas fir (Pseudotsuga menziesii), or a Sitka spruce (Picea sitchensis). Scrape off the needle litter and tease away the soil around the tree’s roots as gently as possible. You may be rewarded with a glimpse of fine white down or tiny, golden-orange filaments, just barely visible to the naked eye, permeating the soil.

Photo by Ury Podoler

If it were possible to follow one of those strands as one might follow a stray thread on a sweater, you’d find that each filament, called a hypha, is clinging to a spot on one of the roots belonging to the tree above you. What you’ll be looking at are a few examples of several thousand species of ectomycorrhizal fungi.

Readers of previous installments in our mutualism series may guess what comes next, but it’s neat enough to bear repeating: scientists like Dr. Jones agree that one group of species can’t thrive without the other.

Check out this study, led by Dr. Jones, as it closely follows these two species’ ranges.

Without those little neon hyphae clinging to its roots, your chosen conifer might not be standing there at all.

Ectomycorrhizal fungi are just one form of mycorrhizal fungi, which are characterized by their ability to provide water and nutrients like nitrogen and zinc to the roots of woody plants in exchange for sugars and lipids. Mycorrhizal fungi colonize the roots by growing in between the tree cells until plant and fungal cells are mixed like salt and pepper, forming a new structure called a mycorrhiza.

Photo by Agnieszka Kwiecień, wikimedia.org

In certain mycorrhizal cases, Dr. Jones explained, a tree appears to give more than it takes, and that relationship might be considered more parasitic than mutualistic. Confirming this in the wild can be difficult because the fungi are so ever-present in the soil that “we can never have a non-mycorrhizal tree.”

But we do know that when colonial settlements during the 1930s tried to plant mycorrhiza-developing trees in sub-Saharan Africa, where mycorrhizal fungi do not live in the soil, “the trees just wouldn’t thrive,” Dr. Jones said. “You could water them and fertilize them, and they would grow a little bit, but they would never really develop.” So, “we have a pretty good sense that to develop normally, these mycorrhizal associations are required.”

Conifers have a strong preference for ectomycorrhizal fungi, which are the kind that a hiker might be able to spot beneath the soil.

Boletus edulis, close to Mike Urich Camp, Government Meadows, Washington. Photo by Judith Mueller

This form of fungi still employs the salt-and-pepper technique, but adds a protective outer lattice of those tiny threads of hyphae (remember that “ecto-” means “outer” in Greek). As fall approaches, the hyphae sometimes produce fruiting bodies that are much easier to spot. Mushrooms!

“That time in the fall is really fun, even if you have no idea [what you’re looking for],” Dr. Jones said. “Just to go out and look at mushrooms… There’s so many different shapes and sizes, and they’re just gorgeous.” For community scientists interested in using iNaturalist to record fall mushrooms, Dr. Jones recommends observing and photographing the underside of each mushroom cap as well as the top. Spongy undersides almost certainly indicate an ectomycorrhizal mushroom, she advised, while gills or “teeth” may be ectomycorrhizal, or they may be another kind of fungus.

Mushrooms on a rainy day, Washington, section I.Photo by Larry Bettinger

Much of Dr. Jones’s own research has to do with the role of ectomycorrhizal fungi in the recovery of tree populations following forest fires. “These are fire-adapted [ecosystems], so of course the fungi have to be fire-adapted,” she said. Some ectomycorrhizal species “can’t take the heat” and don’t return after a fire, but others thrive after a fire sweeps through their home forest, meaning that new saplings become “perfectly well colonized.”

The problem is that even the most fire-loving fungi evolved for a cooler, wetter climate, and some research indicates that increasingly devastating wildfires may be too much even for fire-adapted ectomycorrhizal species. Time will reveal, Dr. Jones said, the threshold beyond which even the hardiest fungi will no longer be able to keep up.

“There is a pretty exciting world below ground that we can’t see,” Dr. Jones said, “and the diversity is incredible.”

It might even inspire hikers to take on a little homework.

The post Ecoregions: Eastern Cascades Slopes and Foothills appeared first on Pacific Crest Trail Association.

Last month, the GPW Pro Crew tackled the far northern end of the Glacier Peak Wilderness by heading in from Stehekin and working south along Agnes Creek.

There’s no simple way to access the Glacier Peak Wilderness. This remote slice of the trail requires several hours traveling by ferry up Lake Chelan, followed by a shuttle bus through the Stehekin Valley, just to set foot on the PCT. To top it all off, there’s still the 8-mile hike south to the work site.

(1) The crew using a crosscut saw to clear a downed tree. (2) View of basecamp.

Our hitch started as many great Stehekin adventures do…at the ferry dock.

Thankfully, we made it onto the boat with minutes to spare. Just as we settled in, Jade looked down at her Chacos and exclaimed, “My boots?!” Somehow, with six boots accounted for either in hand or on feet, we began our journey. On our ferry ride, we met Tom, a PCTA supporter from Portland who has been section-hiking the trail for years. He had originally planned to hike south from Stehekin to Stevens Pass, but changed course after reading a trip report from Eric, a longtime PCTA volunteer. 

Eric’s report documented 1,445 downed trees through the Glacier Peak Wilderness. After seeing that number, Tom opted to head north toward Rainy Pass instead. He predicted that the three of us could clear 150 trees during the hitch. 

Although we appreciated Tom’s confidence in us, we still had a long hike in, so we kept to our goal of the 60 or so reported downed trees between Swamp Creek and Hemlock Camp. After our 8-mile hike up the Agnes Creek Trail to reach basecamp, our crew spent five nights working in gloriously remote country with a full load of tools and equipment, including crosscut saws, axes, and hand tools.

By the end of the trip, we had:

• Covered 4 miles of trail
• Cut out 75 trees using crosscut saws
• Cleared numerous downed branches
• Completed tread repair where it was needed most

The beautiful backcountry on display as the crew works to clear a downed tree.

We met PCT hikers from all over the United States as well as numerous other countries, including South Korea, Germany, England, and Tasmania! We even saw one black bear and happily ate approximately 25 bakery treats. Although we did not quite make it to Tom’s 150-tree dreams, we felt good about what we had achieved.

The various baked treats the crew enjoyed for all their hard work.

Our crew built on the excellent work of two earlier volunteer trips that had already cleared portions of the trail this season. Little by little, the trip from Suiattle Pass to High Bridge continues to become more and more accessible due to the help of our crews, volunteers, and land manager partners.

Stay tuned for a third hitch update! PCTA’s Regional Trail Stewardship Coordinators have recently joined the GPW Pro Crew and will surely have plenty to report back on.

The post Navigating the Glacier Peak Wilderness: Second Hitch Update appeared first on Pacific Crest Trail Association.

Hiking in a train of people with no place to get off the trail, the first period of my thru-hike arrived.

I practiced using my menstrual cup for three months before stepping off from the southern terminus. I read the forums and blogs and watched the videos. I knew there was a chance my cycle would go haywire out there. The physical stress, the calorie deficit, and the miles can all throw your body into survival mode, which can make your period unpredictable, or it can even make it disappear entirely.

Mine showed up more than a week early, in the Southern California desert I was hiking with a small group of new trail friends, all of us planning to make it to Mt. Laguna Campground that night. The moment of “Oh no, is that what I think it is?” That feeling… but… it’s a week early! Finally, I had to break away for an emergency stop; I was 98% sure my period had started, and there was nowhere to go but the edge of the trail. There was a cliff on one side and a sharp high slope on the other. I knew the odds of someone walking by were high, but I had no choice! I was wearing light purple leggings, and this was an emergency.

Well, thankfully I stopped, but then I decided in my infinite wisdom. Right there in the middle of a trail, where literally anyone could walk up on me at any second, was the perfect moment to try my bidet for the very first time.

Reader, this was an unwise decision.

I was crouched there for what felt like a geological age, fumbling with a piece of equipment I had never once practiced with, making an absolute mess of myself, when a hiker came around the bend. I didn’t see them, but they saw me, pants down and working on taking care of business. Eventually I stood up, and they very quickly passed me and squeaked out, “Hi, my name is Ali!” Well, that was a first…

A few minutes later, I was back on trail. I caught up to Ali, who had stopped for a moment to adjust their gear, and I did the only reasonable thing you can do after someone witnesses you at your most personal time: I invited them to come eat with our group in Mt. Laguna. And just like that, Ali and I went on to hike 500 miles together before an injury took them off trail. I have never been so happy to have had someone walk up on me taking care of my personal hygiene before.

So, the very first lesson of this series, before we get to a single piece of gear, is this: the trail has a way of turning your worst moments into your best stories.

The second lesson, equally important, is that I would have kept a great deal more of my dignity that morning if I had simply used the bidet at home first.

Photo by: Andrea Banicevic

This three-part series is everything I learned about managing my period across 4.5 months and roughly 2,650 miles, along with the hard-won wisdom of many other hikers who have spent their share of time bleeding in the backcountry. Part One is about hygiene: keeping your hands, your body, and your gear clean, and doing it all without leaving a trace. Part Two centers on how our bodies change, trail realities, and personal retellings from the community. Finally, Part Three will cover the products themselves, how to choose them, and how to deal with the aftermath.

Let’s talk about staying clean.

Why Hygiene Matters More Out Here 

At home, hand hygiene during your period is a background habit. On trail it becomes a genuine health decision. You are combining trail dirt, scarce water, and the regular need to insert and remove products, and the margin for error is smaller than you think. Get it right and it is a non-event. Get it wrong and you can end up with a bacterial or yeast infection days from the nearest town. 

The good news is that a clean system is simple to build and light to carry. The trick is to build it before you leave, not to improvise it in the desert with your pants down. (See above.) 

Hand Hygiene: The Thing You Cannot Skip 

Photo by: Marcel Meeuwissen

Proper hand hygiene is the single most important thing you can do for your health during your period on trail. Here is the routine experienced cup and disc users rely on: 

Rinse your hands thoroughly with filtered water first to remove the visible dirt. Scrub under your fingernails, where bacteria love to hide. Then use a small amount of biodegradable soap as your primary cleaner, at least 200 feet from any water source. Hand sanitizer is a fine finishing step, but it does not remove dirt, and it does not kill some viruses. Carrying soap and actually using it is cheap insurance. 

A few refinements the community has landed on over the years: 

• A small squeeze bottle, or a spare bottle cap with a hole poked in it, lets you direct a stream of water over your hands without contaminating your drinking supply. 

• Disposable nitrile or latex gloves let you handle everything cleanly and then peel the glove off inside out, containing the mess. Many hikers swear by them for this reason. 

Whatever system you choose, practice it at home until it is automatic. The moment you most need it to work smoothly is the moment you will be least equipped to troubleshoot it. 

Soap 

You do not need much. A concentrated biodegradable or Castile soap goes a very long way, and a tiny dropper bottle can last a month even with regular use. Powdered camp soaps and soap sheets are good lightweight alternatives, though the sheets turn to mush if a stray drop of water gets into the packet. 

The one non-negotiable rule: all soap, even the biodegradable kind, belongs at least 200 feet from any water source, including streams, lakes, and springs. When you are done, broadcast your soapy rinse water over a wide patch of ground rather than pouring it in one concentrated spot. 

Wipes: Choose Wisely, Pack It All Out 

My friend Stardust stands in front of the North Cascades with a birthday cap on her pack, celebrating our last few days of our 2024 PCT thru.
Photo by: Charlie Evans

Wipes are the small luxury that make you feel human again, but the choice matters more than most people realize. 

I skipped baby wipes and used durable, fragrance-free face wipes, the kind made for sensitive skin, available at almost any drugstore. They are sturdier than baby wipes, work anywhere on your body, and do not leave you smelling like a nursery, which on trail matters more than you would expect. Water-based and pH-balanced unscented wipes are both good options for sensitive skin. 

For the weight-conscious, dehydrated wipe tablets expand with a splash of water and take up almost no room. 

And the rule that has no exceptions: every single wipe gets packed out. Even wipes labeled biodegradable take years to break down in the backcountry. They do not go in catholes, under rocks, or buried. They go in your trash. 

Bidets: Please, Practice Before You Go 

I cannot stress this enough, and you already know why. If you plan to carry a bidet, practice with it at home for months before your start date. Mine sat unused in my pack after day three because I had never touched it before that infamous morning. 

The popular options are a bidet attachment that screws onto a standard water bottle, a flexible bladder-style bidet, and the ultralight favorite, a small hole poked in a spare bottle cap to create a directed stream. Paired with filtered water and a little soap, a bidet gives you a genuinely clean system and lets cup users rinse off after a change without any toilet paper. But squatting in the backcountry and getting the angle right takes familiarity. Practice until it feels natural, not until it feels like an experiment. Since my hike, there are more bidet options that work much more effectively and are also ultralight, and I have one in my kit that works great!  

The Kula Cloth 

Taps watching the moonrise above the San Jacinto range. Photo by: Rory Fuller

The Kula Cloth is a reusable, antimicrobial pee cloth. It eliminates the toilet paper you would otherwise carry and pack out for urination, which is a real Leave No Trace win. 

It also pairs beautifully with a menstrual cup for a low-waste system. The absorbent side is black, so staining does not show, and when it needs cleaning you rinse it with biodegradable soap and hang it to dry. It is genuinely excellent gear, and it earns its place in a period kit. 

Cleaning Up on Trail 

Here is the rhythm most cup and disc users settle into. Dig a cathole first, six to eight inches deep and 200 feet from water, camp, and trail. Clean your hands. Squat, empty into the hole, wipe things down with a wipe, do a small rinse with filtered water if you have it to spare, and reinsert. In the desert, where water is precious, a wipe and a tiny rinse is enough between changes. Clean your hands again afterward. That is the whole ceremony. 

It is not instant. Sitara (@sitaraskhan) budgets 15 extra minutes at least twice a day for the full routine on trail, carrying a trowel, filtered water, a bidet, and a Kula cloth. As they put it, the cup is not easy by any means, but it was the choice that felt right to them for Leave No Trace on a five-month hike. Plan for the time, and it stops feeling like a crisis and starts feeling like a chore, which is a big improvement. 

Leave No Trace 

Beep-Beep and Captain celebrate reaching the highest point of the PCT
Photo by: Joe Benson

Whatever method you use, these apply without exception: 

• Blood buries. Menstrual blood from a cup or disc goes in a cathole, exactly like human waste. Dig six to eight inches deep, at least 200 feet from water, camp, and trail. 

• Products pack out. Never bury tampons, pads, or wipes. Even “biodegradable” materials take years to break down, and animals dig them up. Everything comes out with you. 

• Soap stays away from water. At least 200 feet, always, and broadcast the greywater widely. 

Leave the backcountry cleaner than you found it. That is the deal. 

A Note on Bears 

The fear that bears are drawn to menstrual blood is one of the most persistent myths in backcountry hiking, and it is not supported by the research on black bears, the species you will meet on the PCT. Store used products with your food waste, follow standard bear canister protocol in required areas, and do not let this myth drive your product choices or steal your peace of mind. 

Up Next

Friends keeping each other warm while waiting for the sunrise on Mt. Whitney
Photo by: Dan Punshon-Smith

In Part Two, we’re diving deeper into your stories from the trail. The real, gritty, raw experiences of what it truly means to navigate menstruation while on the trail and how it affects us all uniquely. No holding back. This is the gathered wisdom and hard-earned effort from the community coming together. That is also where I will pick my own story back up, cramps and all.

The post Managing Your Period on the PCT: Let’s Talk About It appeared first on Pacific Crest Trail Association.

Jude works with the Forest Service crew on the crosscut to open access to the Glacier Peak Wilderness.

Coming, respectively, from Texas, Pennsylvania, and California, we have all found ourselves in Washington State one way or another. We are all first-time PCTA employees, and each brings a unique set of skills to the work we have set out to get done in the GPW. We are excited to bring our knowledge and experience in plant identification, ecology, restoration, trails, saws, generally doing a lot of digging in the dirt, and exploring the wilderness.

Outside of backcountry life, we enjoy gardening, a variety of art forms and crafts, cooking and baking delicious things, and dressing up… or not dressing up. To pass the time on trail, we like to discuss everything from making our plants grow to what our dreams might be trying to tell us. Favored topics include all things related to eating, music, the important animals and people in our lives, and random subjects generally deemed strange, nonsensical, or otherwise entertaining, like the vibrantly descriptive adjectives on a package of revitalizing juicy dried apricots.

Follow along this summer as we share our work and our thoughts as we make our way through this section of the wilderness.

Wilderness work means using minimal equipment to get the job done–here the crew rolls a rootwad out of the trail on makeshift log rollers.

End of first hitch update

PCTA’s pro crew has been working hard this past month in coordination with Forest Service crews to clear the only PCT access trail available this season between Stevens Pass and Stehekin (over 100 miles!).

Together, they’ve cleared dozens of fallen trees, hauled rootwads and rocks out of the trail, and repaired large sections of tread that were washed out in last December’s storms.

December floods cut a 4-foot-deep, 20-foot-wide chunk of trail out here; crews used nearby materials to reestablish the tread.

Rootwads can be a complicated obstacle on the trail, requiring many tools and much ingenuity to remove.

Jude finishes off the first cut on this log from the bottom with a handsaw.

Stay tuned for a second hitch update!

The post What does it take to get into the Glacier Peak Wilderness? appeared first on Pacific Crest Trail Association.

The last weekend of June (26-28), our Northern Sierra region hosted their annual Tahoe Trail Skills College. As our premier trail maintenance educational program, Trail Skills College takes place up and down the Pacific Crest Trail. These events are designed to go above and beyond; we bring in instructors from all over who love teaching these skills to learners of all ability levels.

It’s a wonderful opportunity to learn from experts in the field and really dive deep into specific topics in the art of trail work. Whether you’re learning the basics, honing a skill, or learning how to teach others, it’s a great opening to come together with like-minded peers for a weekend of giving back to the places we love to recreate in.

With the help of participating partners such as the U.S. Forest Service, Tahoe Area Mountain Bike Association, Tahoe Rim Trail Association, Truckee Donner Land Trust, Amador Trail Stewardship, and Mono County Parks & Recreation, we hosted a wide array of courses for volunteers and professionals. Students and instructors were able to partake in 5 separate courses, including:

• 100/102 Intro to Trail Maintenance
• 201 Drainage Design
• 203 Waterbars and Checks
• 304 Crew Leadership: Working with Volunteers
• Intro to Mechanical Advantage and Rigging for Trail Work

Our 100/102 Intro to Trail Maintenance is always popular and an excellent first step into trail maintenance and volunteering! The rigging was also quite popular over the weekend and offered a unique opportunity to learn the fundamentals of a more advanced skill set for more complex trail maintenance projects.

“Weekends like this provide outstanding instruction to trail stewards, which in turn is taught to others. It provides a platform to learn skills and techniques that are sustainable and safe, providing a better trail and trail experience for everyone. Once the skills are learned and stewards become empowered, they will practice and implement those skills independently on future trail projects.” – Connor Swift, Northern Sierra Regional Manager

Trail Skills College is fantastic for a plethora of reasons; it offers an amazing networking opportunity that brings together a diverse community of trail maintainers. Events like Trail Skills College bring folks from different geographic regions and agencies together to work side by side and allow for cross-pollination of ideas, techniques, and interests. For some, this may be the perfect intro to the world of trail maintenance and volunteering, inspiring continued interest in serving as a steward of the PCT and other beloved trails.

“I highly recommend folks join a project on the trail that interests them, our volunteers and staff are always willing to provide ready and quality instruction in the field.” – Matt Rump, Northern Sierra Regional Trail Stewardship Coordinator

For anyone who missed Trail Skills College this year, you can still get involved with us!

We equip students with the skills to take back to their favorite trails, whether it be the PCT or elsewhere. Link up with PCTA’s volunteer program or your local trail stewardship organization and practice what you’ve learned. Attending Trail Skills College is not a prerequisite for volunteering; we happily teach in the field and want to encourage your enthusiasm for learning more about the art of trail maintenance.

To those who attended this year, we appreciate your time and willingness to learn immensely. Trail Skills College is a labor of love. Lots and lots of dedicated conversation and collaboration with partners go into making these events what they are.

Thank you to everyone who helped make the 2026 Tahoe Trail Skills College a great success! We hope to see you next year.

The post 2026 Tahoe Trail Skills College appeared first on Pacific Crest Trail Association.

After poking around for my own site with no success, I took Dapper up on his offer and introduced myself as I pitched my tent next to his. We were perched on a ridge overlooking Oriflamme Canyon, concealed behind some large boulders that acted as a windbreak. The storm that had loomed over my first few days on the PCT finally broke and the sun peaked through just in time for sunset, but the wind was still whipping around us and my phone told me temperatures would drop well below freezing that night.

The boulders that sheltered our tents on the ridge over Oriflamme Canyon.

I felt strange about invading Dapper’s campsite. It was still my first week on trail, and I hadn’t fully adjusted to the thruhiker mentality where normal social etiquette around privacy and personal space often doesn’t apply. More than that, though, I’d spent much of my first few days alone, intentionally trying to find secluded campsites and solitude. I came into the PCT not caring if I made friends or if I found a “tramily” in a traditional sense. I was there to live outside, to test my limits, to reaffirm my love for the great outdoors!

Yes, I’m aware that saying “I don’t want friends; I’m here to do serious hiking” makes me sound like a tool. It didn’t take long for me to throw that approach out the window, though. It turns out if you toss me a beer and start a conversation, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. 

Dapper was a lanky 30-something climber. He was American, but had been living in Amsterdam for several years, and had returned to the U.S. only a few days before he started the PCT. We hung out with a few other hikers that night on the ridge–a trio of teenagers from New Zealand and a woman who’d been hiking with them. Another hiker came in and set up nearby. I was pretty sure I’d run into her that morning as I was leaving Mount Laguna, but I wasn’t 100% positive. We did that awkward “great to see you again and/or meet you for the very first time” dance. Sure enough, she introduced herself to some of the others as Natalie, confirming my suspicions.

That morning, I’d woken up on the floor of a bar.

Thankfully, that was a first for me. No, I hadn’t fallen off a barstool after a few too many drinks and gotten accidentally locked in for the night. Mount Laguna had been expecting snow, and the owner of the pub took pity on a few other hikers and me since all the accommodations in town were booked up. He offered to let us sleep on the ground amongst the scattered tables and chairs, and I readily accepted. Laying my sleeping pad down next to the roaring fire made me feel like a hobbit at the beginning of my own journey there (but not really back again).

The fireplace at the pub in Mount Laguna.

Little did I know, my time at the pub and on the ridge over Oriflamme Canyon the next day would also begin the formation of the fellowship that would be by my side for the vast majority of the PCT.

Among the hikers seeking refuge at the pub was a burly bearded guy named Lightweight, though instead of joining us on the floor, he graciously slept on a couch in the other room to insulate us from his snoring. He was from Southern California and served in the Navy before working as a lineman building electric transmission infrastructure in California. He’d only gotten a permit on a whim a couple of weeks before starting and was carrying way too much weight (hence the name). When I say he was carrying too much, I’m not saying he forgot to saw his toothbrush in half and had a couple extra ounces. I’m pretty sure when I met him, he was carrying three sleeping pads and a four-person tent.

Another hiker named Radish came by to hang out with Lightweight. He was hiking the PCT with his fiancée, Happy Hour, whom he’d met hiking the Appalachian Trail a few years earlier, though she was holed up at the tiny houses out back. We all drank beers and watched My Cousin Vinny on TV–an experience I don’t generally recommend since I have a nasty habit of yelling every line a moment before it’s delivered.

The next morning, I was the last one out (this won’t surprise anyone who knows me). On my way out the door, I ran into a middle-aged couple.

“Are you a thru-hiker?” the man asked me. “I hiked the first four days with my daughter, but she’s hiking the whole thing.”

“That’s great! I actually talked about starting with my dad too, but he’s meeting me in Idyllwild instead,” I told him.

A young woman, clearly the aforementioned daughter, emerged from the bathroom and came up to us. We exchanged pleasantries. Her name was Natalie, and she’d grown up outside of Philadelphia but now lived in New Orleans. I left them to their breakfast and made my way back to trail.  

At the time, none of these interactions seemed particularly significant. There was standard small talk, some excited reminiscing about early days on trail, sharing of tips and tricks and gear notes. All of it fun, but nothing that would indicate the deeper bonds that would begin to form. 

Back on the ridge, it turned out to be one of the coldest nights on trail, but I managed to drag myself out of bed for sunrise. The brisk dawn air was calm and peaceful compared to the wind, hail, snow, and rain of the past few days. As I sat behind my tripod firing off the occasional shot and waiting for the sun to peak over the horizon, I turned around and saw Natalie walking around among the boulders eating her breakfast. I waved over to her, and she smiled and waved back. I thought she might come over and watch the sun come up, but instead she disappeared back among the rocks.

Sunrise on the ridge.

By the time I packed up and got back to my campsite, everyone else was gone, and I was alone again. 

The photos from that morning overlooking Oriflamme Canyon aren’t necessarily my favorites, but I still look back at them all the time. It reminds me of the people I met in those first few days. I broke camp that morning alone, but suddenly there were familiar faces everywhere. Even if it took 700 miles for us to really come together, they became my closest friends. 

I hiked with Radish and Happy Hour on and off through parts of the desert, but didn’t fully join them until the Sierra. Of the thousands of photos I took on trail, the most important by far was for their wedding Save the Date announcement at the summit of Mount Whitney.  

Lightweight and I also occasionally hiked together in the desert. In the Sierra, though, we were inseparable. After the first week or so, I didn’t see Natalie again until Kennedy Meadows South, but we then spent the next 2,000 miles within ten feet of each other all the way to Canada. She and Lightweight became my main hiking partners.

I ran into Dapper again in the Sierra, too. We hiked together for several days, including over Mather Pass (one of my favorite spots on trail!) before he split off to continue recovering from a bout of giardia. I got to see him again in NorCal and Washington after that. We even got a bit of a victory lap together when I walked into a trail magic tent in the pouring rain at Harts Pass after I’d touched the Canadian border, and he was sitting there about to head for the terminus himself.

There’s nothing quite like sharing a beer a few miles from the Canadian border with the same people you met so many months before, just a few miles from Mexico.

Dapper, Lightweight, and Natalie climbing Mather Pass

In the months since I left the trail, Radish, Happy Hour, Lightweight, Natalie, and I have traveled halfway around the world to Vietnam together to visit other friends we met on the PCT. We got to see Happy Hour and Radish get married at a beautiful venue just off the Appalachian Trail where they met. Lightweight came and lived with me for a few weeks. I got to re-meet Natalie’s parents at their house on the Jersey Shore and go skiing with her and her sisters in Colorado. They aren’t just my trail friends or even my tramily anymore. They’re people I’ll know for the rest of my life. That I’ll continue to hike with, sure, but who I’ll laugh and cry and share all the moments in between with too. 

You don’t have to start hiking with the first people you meet on trail, but things have a strange way of coming full circle on the PCT.

That person you bumped into at the southern terminus might just be standing by your side when you touch Canada. Even more importantly, you might find yourself sharing not just trail memories with the people you meet along the way, but major milestones back in real life. “The trail provides” is an oft-overplayed cliché, but sometimes it rings true. The things you need, be it a warm place to sleep by the fire or the friends you thought you didn’t want, might just find their way to you, even if you didn’t know you were looking for them. 

The post Friends? I Don’t Need Any Friends appeared first on Pacific Crest Trail Association.

This is the latest installment in a series that follows the PCT Class of 2026 on their trek north as it passes through eight of the unique ecoregions defined by the Environmental Protection Agency. For each region, we’re highlighting one example of mutualism, or a mutually beneficial symbiotic relationship between two or more native species. We hope that this series will remind readers that no single species can exist alone—humans, least of all.

A young black bear grazing in a trail-side meadow at Blue Bell Pass, near Crystal Mountain Resort, Washington. Photo by: Ann Marshall

Perhaps no animal found along the Pacific Crest Trail is as recognized or mythologized, as feared or revered, as the American black bear (Ursinus americanus). We couldn’t keep our blog’s proverbial paws off this species, or its many cases of seed distribution mutualism, for long once the Class of ‘26 made their way into the southernmost reaches of black bear territory in the Sierra Nevada.

In July 2022, Abigail Bassett, a frequent volunteer contributor to the PCT Association blog, succeeded in spooking a bear on the trail near Mile Marker 1480 in Northern California. “The bear seemed so confused as to why I was yelling at it,” Abigail recalled on their own blog, adding, “Poor thing.” That’s likely to be the sentiment of most hikers who meet black bears on the PCT. In temperament, they’re sometimes compared to 300-pound raccoons; their more aggressive cousin, the California grizzly bear (Ursus arctos californicus), was hunted to extinction by the 1920s. (Other grizzly populations are still thriving further north, but not near the PCT).

Relaxing cinnamon-colored juvenile black bear near Wilma Lake in Yosemite National Park. Photo by: Ulrich Arnold

Still, maintaining diplomacy with these wild animals requires tact and vigilance from every hiker.

Proper food storage techniques and leave-no-trace practices aren’t just in place to keep humans and bears safe from one another. The consequences of shrugging off those rules could be felt even by some of the smallest beings in the Sierra ecosystem.

Later in Abigail’s thru-hike, near Mile Marker 2450 in Washington’s Central Cascades, they spotted another black bear. This time, they later wrote, the bear was “just chillin’” some distance from the trail, “munching on berries.” That bear was doing an excellent job at demonstrating its ecological niche as a seed distributor. Our previous installment in this series described Clark’s nutcracker, a bird species that is specialized to distribute whitebark pine seeds by harvesting and caching the seeds (and inevitably forgetting about a few caches). Black bears manage to play a similar role with far less specialized evolution, and in far fewer steps. 

If you think the beauty of the Sierra Nevada is unbeatable, wait until the colourful huckleberry bushes on a sunny fall day in Washington’s Glacier Peak Wilderness may change your mind (mile 2.502). Photo by: Alexander Hormann

They chow down on a wide variety of flora, which in the Sierra Nevada includes berries like the Sierra huckleberry (Vaccinium membranaceum), shrubs like hairy manzanita (Arctostaphylos columbiana), and grasses like Idaho fescue (Festuca idahoensis). The bears are none the wiser when they uphold their end of the mutualism deal later by distributing the seeds later via their scat.

At least, that’s how it’s supposed to work.

Black bear habitat in the Sierra Nevada.

Grant Briedenbach, a bear enthusiast and the Marketing & Sales Manager for the food canister company BearVault, a partner of the PCTA, explained recently that black bears live in a “survival of the smartest” universe, and that “once they’ve learned where and when to find human food, they don’t forget that easily.” A 2019 study found that even bears in the Sierra who don’t live near urban centers have begun to rely in part on human food. That could mean an increase in dicey human/bear encounters and poor-quality nutrition for the bears, as well as a decrease in biodiversity along the trail and throughout bear country. (Check out our recent bear safety webinar, featuring Grant, right here).

“Any edible plant along the PCT—you have a bear to thank for that,” Briedenbach said.

Hiker admiring his bear canister in the Sierra Nevada. Photo by: Natalie Celmo

He urged hikers who are frustrated with the added weight of the recommended bearproof canisters to visualize a network of scroll-like, bony structures called turbinates inside their own nasal cavity, which when unscrolled, he said, would cover about the area of a postage stamp. Bloodhounds have a sheet of printer paper’s worth of turbinates under the hood, Briedenbach explained, and an “average Joe” black bear boasts four sheets’ worth. That’s supposed to mean a lot of natural foraging and seed distribution, and very few Snickers bars.

“It’s important that we take the stewardship of the landscape seriously,” Briedenbach said. “How cool is it that we get to share it” with these “awesome megafauna”?

Abigail agreed. Reflecting on the berry-munching black bear up in the cascades, they wrote that “it was so neat to see a happy, healthy bear just living its best life.” With cooperation and care, hikers can ensure that future generations will feel the same way—and live their own best lives as a result.

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We can’t wait to meet you, and we’re thrilled that you’re coming to the trail. It’s an incredibly special place. As you plan your trip, from physical training to prepare for the adventure to refining your wilderness skills, we know that getting a permit is a key part of the journey.

This was our first look at Marie Lakes after going over Selden Pass. Photo by Julianna Tsao

Thirty-three different areas along the Pacific Crest Trail have permit systems in place, representing about a third of the trail. These are special places, typically designated Wilderness, where a permit helps to protect the area and ensure you have an enjoyable experience. If you plan on hiking or horseback riding 500 or more miles along the PCT in a single, continuous trip, you can apply for a PCT Long-distance Permit. The U.S. Forest Service authorizes the PCTA to issue the interagency PCT Long-distance Permit on behalf of federal and state agencies to simplify your planning, provide for long-distance travel and improve information about the trail. It allows you to travel and camp along the PCT in the many places that require permits.

Instructions to successfully apply for a PCT Long-distance Permit are located on our permit page.

Application dates for 2027 PCT Long-distance Permits

If you’re hoping to apply on a Permit Release Day, you will need to register in advance. Registration is done once per permit-year. If you registered in previous years, you must still register again if you would like to apply for a 2027 permit.

• October 15 at 10:30 AM Pacific Time through October 22 at 3 PM Pacific Time: 1^st registration period
• November 4: 1^st Permit Release Day
• November 5 at 10:30 AM through December 11 at 3 PM Pacific Time: 2^nd registration period
• January 13: 2^nd Permit Release Day
• January 14 at 10:30 AM: registration and application reopen

Learn more about when and how to apply for permits.

Learn more about PCT Long-distance Permits

Not sure when or where to start? First, read our page about PCT Long-distance Permits. Then, learn about when to hike the PCT. Choose a start date that meets your level of experience and ability; many people who start too early or too late encounter challenges beyond their skill level. Just because a permit is available doesn’t mean that conditions are favorable for all skill levels.

The PCT Long-distance Permit requires that you start on the date and at the location that is listed on your permit. This term is in place to spread people out to better protect the PCT experience and environment for everyone.

These permits are free to the public. While applying, you will have the opportunity to donate to support the management and maintenance of the trail.

Submitting a permit application secures your requested date. Wait until your application is reviewed and approved before making travel arrangements.

While you are waiting, this is a great time to learn about the trail

Please take a moment to check out our PCT specific Leave No Trace information. It’s up to all of us to take care of the trail and the surrounding landscape. Your choices and behaviors can help protect the environment and ensure that the PCT provides a wild experience for all hikers and horseback riders for years to come.

After you’ve studied up about protecting this special place, keep learning about how to have a wonderful and safe time on the trail in our Backcountry Basics section.

Have a wonderful year on the trail!

The post Application dates for the 2027 interagency PCT Long-distance Permit appeared first on Pacific Crest Trail Association.

The PCT does that to people. For many, the feeling fades when real life creeps back in. Sometimes, the sweeping wave of a dream can become so much more. For these four people, the PCT inspired them to produce something truly unique and to give back to the trail.

A shared story with four different paths taken.

Tina Tempest built a way to wear the trail. Goda Latvys wove it into art. Dylan Tonkin stitched it into clothing that connects hikers who have never met. And Zach Davis turned it into a media company that has helped hundreds of thousands of people mentally prepare for the journey. Their businesses are different in every way except one: none of them would exist without the trail.

Photo credit: Tina Tempest

Tina Tempest stepped off the Appalachian Trail in 2009 with a head full of ideas and no real plan for any of them. One became The Quarter Way Inn, a hiker hostel near Marion, Virginia, now in its 11th season. Another took a decade to find its shape: a way to make the enormity of a thru-hike visible and wearable, something you could carry with you long after the miles ended. 

“If you have a unique idea, take the risk of putting it out into the world,” Tina says. “When you find your people and they do love what you make, it’s pretty amazing.” 

Photo credit: Tina Tempest

Each necklace in her Bead by Bead Adventures line is a map of a long-distance trail, with each bead representing roughly 30 trail miles and different colors marking each section: the orange of the desert, the white of the Sierra, the green of Oregon, the purple of Washington’s huckleberries. A moveable tracking ring lets hikers, or the people waiting at home, follow every step of the journey.  What began as a single AT design has grown to fourteen trails, carried forward the way everything travels in the hiking community: by word of mouth, with total conviction. 

Her reason for giving back is simple. “If it weren’t for the organizations that maintain, protect, and advocate for the trails, there would be no trails, and I would have no business. Pretty simple, really.” 

Tina’s answer to the post-trail ache was to make something that kept the trail alive for other people. Goda Latvys found her answer in much the same place, just expressed through different hands. 

Goda thru-hiked the PCT in 2019, all 2,653 miles of it, and came home changed. She had always been an artist, a writer, and a maker of things. But the trail deepened all of it, gave it direction and purpose. Her calling, as she describes it, is to help people tune back into nature and rediscover themselves through natural fibers, meditation, and sustainable living. She channels that through GoodVibeGoda, a brand of hand-knotted macramé clothing, paintings, and home décor rooted in her life on trail. 

She scrapbooks every trail she hikes, a habit that turns out to be its own kind of medicine against the post-trail blues. “By the time I finish up a scrapbook, I’m on my way to another trail,” she says. The grief of finishing doesn’t disappear. She just keeps moving through it into the next thing. 

For every purchase made through her shop, Goda donates 20% of profits to the PCTA. Her reason is both personal and generous. Most of the people who find her work have never heard of thru-hiking. She sees her business as a door. “I give back so that others can look into where I’m donating and hopefully inspire them enough to get up and go out there.” 

Where Tina and Goda turned the trail’s influence into physical objects, something to hold and wear and keep, Dylan Tonkin turned it into community itself. 

Dylan, known on trail as Pickle, hiked the AT in 2016 and the PCT in 2018. He wasn’t looking to start a business. He was looking for a way to stay inside the community that, as he put it, makes him the best version of himself. After completing the PCT and feeling the sting of post-trail blues, he launched Town Shirt Co. from his home in Baltimore, partnering with artists to create Hawaiian-style sun shirts printed with the plants, birds, and landscapes that hikers carry in their memories long after the trail ends. 

Town Shirt’s first release honored PCT Trail Angels Terrie and Joe Anderson and their beloved hiker refuge, Casa de Luna, with a design celebrating the manzanita forests behind their home. From there the line grew into desert mariposas, Steller’s jays, golden-winged warblers. Images that may not mean much to most people but everything to the right ones. The kind of image that makes a stranger across a trailhead do a quiet double take that says, without saying anything: you get it too. 

For Dylan, giving back is part of the mission. Supporting the PCTA helps protect the trail, the people who maintain it, and ensures it will still be there for future hikers, including his own family. 

“Thru hiking isn’t just about hiking,” Dylan says. “It’s about the community, the nature we’re immersed in, and the memories we make along the way.” 

That belief, that the trail is really about what it does to people and what people then do with it, is also exactly what drove Zach Davis to build something entirely different. 

Photo credit: Zach Davis

Zach hiked the AT in 2011 with zero backpacking experience and came home with one conviction: a thru-hike is not primarily a physical challenge. It is a mental one. He wrote a book about it. Appalachian Trials was followed by Pacific Crest Trials, both written specifically to mentally prepare aspiring thru-hikers for what lay ahead. The company, The Trek, grew from there. 

The Trek now features more than 300 active long-distance backpackers writing about their lives on trail, alongside dozens of former thru-hikers sharing gear reviews and hard-won wisdom. Their flagship podcast, Backpacker Radio, the site’s contributors are not observers of trail culture. They are trail culture. “I don’t see it as a good deed but as my duty as a member of the hiking community to support the organizations that make these incredible experiences possible,” said Zach.  

Photo credit: Zach Davis

And his advice for anyone sitting on an idea, waiting for the right moment: “Life is short. It’s better to fail while chasing something meaningful than to watch your dreams evaporate.” 

What the PCT hands you, if you let it, is not just blisters and a story. It’s a new way of seeing what matters, and an almost irresistible urge to do something about it. In every bead strung onto a necklace, every knot pulled tight in a macramé dress, every shirt printed with a desert mariposa, every article helping someone prepare for the journey ahead; the trail keeps going long after the miles end. 

We’re deeply grateful to Tina, Goda, Dylan, and Zach for turning their love of the trail into something that gives back to it. Find their work on our Shop page and support the trail every time you shop with our partners. 

The post Trail-Born: How the PCT Inspired Four Entrepreneurs to Build Something Real appeared first on Pacific Crest Trail Association.

Photo by: Scott McCorquodale

Traveling the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) is an amazing adventure, whether it’s done on foot or by riding a four-legged friend. There are endless sights to see and people to meet. Each day brings something new and unexpected. This is one of the many great experiences of being out on the trail – the unexpected. We don’t know what lies behind the next turn or over the next pass, it’s an ever-ongoing journey of discovery.

While the unknown is exciting and intriguing, knowing what lies ahead and access to accurate, up-to-date trail information is extremely beneficial. Much of the PCT can be enjoyed without the need for an abundance of information ahead of time, though there are sections where it can be helpful to know the current trail conditions.

Although the Northern Sierra is a magnificent region of the PCT, it has been impacted by catastrophic wildfires, such as the Dixie Fire in 2021 and the North Complex (Bear Fire) in 2020. Five years later, the region is still recovering from the impacts, and the trail continues to be affected by post-wildfire damage.

Current Trail Conditions in the Northern Sierra

The PCTA has been hard at work maintaining the trail (over 1000 trees have been removed thus far in 2026), but we are still finding extremely high numbers of downfall within the burn areas. In addition to the vast number of down trees, we are experiencing rapid growth of brush, making the trail difficult to follow in many of these places. The following sections of the trail in the Northern Sierra will be particularly difficult for hikers and equestrians due to these challenging conditions. Some of these areas may be impassable for pack and saddle, so please plan accordingly.

• The PCT on the south side of the Middle Fork of the Feather River on the Plumas National Forest (north of Quincy LaPorte Rd.) will be difficult to follow due to a high volume of down trees across the trail. The North 350 Blades, a volunteer trail group from WA, started tackling this work at the beginning of June 2026. The crew cleared hundreds of trees from the PCT, as well as hundreds of trees from the road that provides access to the trail. 

• The north side of the Middle Fork of the Feather River on the Plumas National Forest is overgrown with brush and impacted by hundreds of downed trees. The PCTA, the Plumas National Forest, and the American Conservation Experience are scheduled to clear and repair this section of trail in September 2026.
• The Bucks Lake Wilderness on the Plumas National Forest (just north of the Middle Fork of the Feather River) also has hundreds of downed trees across the trail. The USFS Trail Crew from the Mt. Hough Ranger District will be clearing the PCT of downed trees throughout the summer.
• The PCT in Upper Chips Creek, heading north from Hwy 70 toward CA-36 on the Lassen National Forest, experienced a tremendous amount of blowdown this past winter. In addition, the trail in Upper Chips Creek is unidentifiable from overgrown brush. PCTA’s goal is to have this section of trail cleared and passable by October 2026.

While many miles of the PCT in the region continue to experience post-wildfire impacts, most of the trail remains clear, passable, and in excellent condition. The southern portion of the region has not been impacted by devastating wildfires, allowing for much easier travel on the PCT.  

Aside from the West Fork of the Walker River Bridge closure, the PCT is currently passable and in excellent condition on the Humboldt-Toiyabe National Forest, Stanislaus National Forest, Eldorado National Forest, Tahoe National Forest, and the Lake Tahoe Basin.  

That said, crews continue to perform annual maintenance and logout work in these areas in conjunction with the post-wildfire repairs in the northern part of the region. 

Maintenance Efforts & Collaborations

The region’s focus in 2026 has been on clearing the trail corridor. This includes cutting back the overgrown brush, removing noxious plants (such as poison oak), and cutting out all the down trees with chainsaws and crosscut saws. PCTA volunteers & staff have completed a significant amount of work, both through individual efforts and through larger groups projects. Our trail crews have been working across the entire region, with notable projects occurring at Bucks Summit and Bucks Lake Wilderness, Belden, Hat Creek Rim, and across much of the Feather River Ranger District on the Plumas National Forest.  

The region will also host a trail crew from the American Conservation Experience (ACE) for 4 months this summer. The trail crew will be paired with a PCTA Field Project Specialist, diligently working through the worst sections of trail in the burn areas and completing much-needed technical repairs in the region. Approximately half of their time this season will be spent at the Sierra Buttes and the Granite Chief Wilderness on the Tahoe National Forest, and the other half of their time will be focused on the burn areas. 

In addition, many partner organizations assist with trail maintenance and support our work as a whole. The Tahoe Rim Trail Association (TRTA) maintains approximately 55 miles of the PCT along the west shore of Lake Tahoe and through the Desolation Wilderness, hosting a number of volunteer projects and funding other trail crews from organizations like the California Conservation Corps (CCC) and ACE. In addition, PCTA partners with the Gold Country Trails Council and the Truckee Trails Foundation to complete annual maintenance and trail construction throughout the Tahoe National Forest.  

In special situations and when resources are available, PCTA will hire private contractors and trail crews to perform work. The region recently began collaboration with a local company from the Quincy area, Mountain Surf Creative, and we are excited to implement a large project repairing some extensive wildfire suppression damage during the Bear Fire near Quincy LaPorte Rd and Chimney Rock.  

Safety Alert & Conclusion

PCTA has been hard at work maintaining the trail throughout the region, but there are many things to still consider if hiking or riding in the Northern Sierra. As mentioned previously, much of the region has been impacted by wildfire, and these landscapes continue to change. The PCT is still experiencing downfall in large numbers and extensive erosion on steeper slopes. Rain and wind events are often the trigger, so be mindful if traveling on the trail shortly after either of these situations.  

Please follow local fire restrictions and regulations and help us protect our public lands from unnecessary impacts. For those seeking out a volunteer opportunity, please check out our Project Schedule for the trail.

Come join us for a great time on the PCT! 

The post State of the trail: Northern Sierra appeared first on Pacific Crest Trail Association.