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Other Hike Stories These stories were updated just after reaching Red's Meadow, and so Mexico through the High Sierra only. Later, I'll update them to cover more.

Dan's Pre-Hike PCT History People often want to know when I first wanted to hike the PCT, how I planned it, etcetera, so here goes.

In 1989, I was about a year out of college, working as an engineer. I liked hiking, especially when the hike went through a transition from one type of plant community to another, as from desert to chaparral, etcetera. I came up with a plan, I would hike all the way across San Diego County on the PCT. There was also some inkling of an idea to section hike the entire PCT over my lifetime. My dad thought hiking across San Diego County was a good idea and joined me. Over a few years we made our way to Pedro Fages Monument, near Lake Cuyamaca, from the Mexican border. Then it was time to go down to Scissors Crossing. Since it's only a few miles as the crow flies, I stupidly did not read the trail guide to find out that the trail meanders everywhere and is 17 miles. I thought it would be much shorter. My dad and I reached the end at nightfall, hungry, dehydrated, and exhausted. We went to a restaurant in Julian, and I remember that they served us water in pitchers full of ice, and even though I was shivering, I drank the icy water as fast as I could. My dad decided he'd had enough of the PCT, so I needed a new partner. I recruited my friend Jim, and mindful that the next section, Scissors Crossing to Barrel Springs, has no water for something like 23 miles, made my plan. We would night hike a few days before the full moon, so we could hike on a well lit trail from 8 pm through 1 am. Then we would sleep, and finish the hike the following day. We picked a November weekend, so that even the day would be cool. As we were driving out, there were notices posted of snow and traffic problems in the Lagunas and Cuyamacas. I suppose that should have been our first clue. We just drove the Warner Springs route to avoid the delay. As we hiked up the switchbacks at Scissors Crossing, it began to snow. It never snowed much, but the cold and wind slowed us down. We got to a saddle and camped. The following day, the wind was so bitterly cold, and this section has so little protection from the wind, that we were not able to rest for more than a few minutes at any time. As a consequence, we were quite tired and didn't hike very fast. We finished the hike at nightfall at Barrel Springs, exhausted. Jim decided he'd had enough of the PCT. I was on my own. One day, after an uneventful round trip from Barrel Springs to the Warner Springs Fire Station, I decided to do a little more hiking. I parked on the north side of the pasture at Warner Springs and started south to the fire station. As I approached the grazing cattle, I noticed they were all staring at me. As I passed a few, they began to follow me. I decided this was too weird, I could do the hike some other day, and headed back towards my car. Except then, all the cattle were following me. So I decided if I was to be trampled anyway, I might as well be trampled while finishing the hike. I turned south again, and some cattle followed me, lots charged across the trail ahead of me, a few even ran circles around me. Eventually, I passed all the cattle and they left me alone. On reaching the fire station, I decided against a repeat performance, and walked the highway back to my car. I completed one more section, up the stream and to a dirt road, but never did get all the way across San Diego County until this thru hike.

Later, while working for Boeing in Seattle, I convinced Jim to hike the PCT from Hart's Pass to Canada, then return by the valley to the east. Although years had passed, it wasn't easy to talk him onto the PCT again, considering the last experience. Just before the trip, Boeing laid off all contractors, including me. My bosses kept trying to apologize, I kept trying to convince them that being responsibility free in the mountains of Washington starting in July was great. Jim and I did our hike, it was so enjoyable that I hiked up and down the ridges and valleys to the east of the PCT for some time. Then I started hiking south on the PCT, at first in loop trips, then having someone drop me off and hiking south to the Greyhound bus in Snoqualmie Pass, then after a drop at White Pass east of Mount Rainier, I hiked north to Snoqualmie Pass and bussed home again. By now, hunters were out in force, and with each shot that rang through the forest, I worried. I got off the trail and got a job.

In the fall of 2002, Jim and I visited the Emigrant Wilderness east of San Francisco for a week. I decided that at this rate, I would never finish a section hike of the PCT, I should step up the pace. Over the week, my plans progressed from hiking a couple of weeks to taking a couple of months off, and finally to quitting my job and through hiking. Once I decided to quit the job and finish the PCT, it was clear I should rehike the sections I'd already done, after all, it had been years, and it would only require another month or so.

I started my thru hike from Mexico to Canada in April 2003.  Read about my trip at Pacific Crest Trail Stories, and my PCT Trip Log.

Tales from off the PCT

The Bobcat Story Once when hiking in Lopez Canyon in San Diego, I faced off with a bobcat. I was on a winding, brushy trail, about to reach a road, when I came around a bush and was about 8 feet from a bobcat. He didn't move and neither did I, we stared each others down. Moments dragged on as I considered my options. I didn't want to turn around and hike away, I would have been showing my fear, and perhaps worse, my back. Waiting around wasn't producing any results. I decided to walk straight at the cat and see what happened. A couple of steps closed half the distance, and the cat turned around and sauntered down the trail and across the road into some 2 foot high grass. Maintaining a confident stride, I turned up the road, and watched over my shoulder. The cat stayed still in the grass, I could see his head. I walked on, and when I returned home, the bobcat was not to be found where I had left him.

The Coyote Story On a Christmas sea kayak trip to Magdalena Bay in Baja California, I and a party of about 8 camped on the barrier islands protecting the bay from the pounding Pacific Ocean. I usually camp a little away from any big group, so I chose a spot between two sand dunes about 100 feet from the main camp. Also as usual, I slept in a sleeping bag with no tent. As dusk came on and I laid in my bag, some coyotes came around to check the camp. They first watched me from a couple of dunes over, then the closest dune, then started to come right up and check me out. This I met with swipes. I never managed to hit one, and after a few minutes they were no longer afraid of being slapped. The islands are made entirely of fine, almost dusty sand, there wasn't a rock to throw within miles. So I went down to the kayaks and brought up an armload of canned food. This ammo was quite effective, after several accurate throws, they left me alone for a while. But as I was drifting off to sleep, I felt one come up and bite through my hair. I could actually feel his teeth slide against my scalp, and then comb through my hair as I chased him away with an automatic swipe. I moved my bag down among the tents of the others and stayed awake for a while. They did not come back, and the rest of the night was uneventful.

Hua Shan A year ago, I was working outside of Xian, China. One weekend, I went to climb all the peaks of Hua Shan, one of China's sacred mountains. I took a tourist bus to the base of the mountain, and then a gondola half way up. from the gondola, I could see several staircases chipped into the rock, with lots of people walking up the thousands of feet I was skipping in the gondola. All over the mountain, people were selling cheap brass padlocks, which I was much encouraged to buy by the other tourists. Grandmas, children, rich, poor, we all clung tightly to chain handrails as we climbed up steps chiseled into sheer granite cliffs. As I reached the first peak of Hua Shan, going through several old temples perched atop the narrow ridgeline, there was good visibility, and I could see far away the ground below, and out to the countryside beyond. Somewhere along the way, I snapped my lock on the chain  

If you've heard me tell a story that should be on here, or if you want to see more of my shameless pontification on some specific hiking gear or techniques, email me at [email protected].  

" How To" Stories

Stories from The Pacific Crest Trail