Somewhere around mile 1,155 of the Pacific Crest Trail, the mountains stop being the main event. A thru-hiker writing for The Trek describes the transition out of the Sierra Nevada and into Northern California — a stretch of the trail that's notoriously hard to love and even harder to stay motivated through.
The week began where the Sierra ends: Echo Lake, just shy of Lake Tahoe. Our hiker and her two companions, trail friends Sass and Pokey, had detoured onto the Tahoe Rim Trail for eight days and were rejoining the PCT proper. The verdict on NorCal, after quizzing every hiker coming the other way? Nobody seemed to know what to expect — except that this section is famous for the "section blues", a motivational slump that hits many thru-hikers as the dramatic alpine scenery gives way to long, green miles.
The opening days offered plenty to distract from any slump: exposed ridgeline walking above ski fields near Donner, with sweeping views over lumpy rock outcroppings. There's even a perk for PCT hikers at Donner Ski Ranch — a free 40-ounce beer (the hiker notes it's technically malt liquor) plus cheap bar food. The celebratory stop backfired slightly: nursing a litre of malt liquor while navigating rocky trail at dusk is a recipe for a rolled ankle, which the writer hiked on for days, trekking poles out and scenery appreciation on hold.
Beyond the injury, this week is a useful window into real thru-hiker logistics. The trio aimed for huge daily distances — often 45 to 50 km — to finish the trail before 30 September, the rough cutoff before early snow makes Washington's North Cascades risky. They planned double resupply stops in Sierra City and Quincy, and coordinated moves over patchy phone service at the I-80 rest area. Wildlife is part of the deal too: one companion woke to a bear in his face at a South Lake Tahoe campground, and later the group stowed bear cans well away from camp after hearing one clawing a tree nearby.
Sierra City itself emerges as the classic small trail town. There are free (spring-fed, decidedly cold) showers at the public restrooms, a Country Store serving burritos big enough to kill hiker hunger and any appetite for resupply shopping, hikers allowed to sleep on the store porch, and the Sierra Pines Resort as the only breakfast option on a Monday. Trail magic appeared on the way in — pancakes, bacon and coffee laid on for a cold morning's worth of shivering hikers. The week also delivered a trail name: after a middle-of-the-night yell at some unseen crashing animal, the writer was christened "Banshee" by fellow hikers Sabretooth and Shakedown.
For anyone dreaming of a PCT thru-hike — or just daydreaming about the towns along it — this is a candid, funny account of the unglamorous middle miles: sore ankles, post-office queues, gear boxes waiting in town, and the social gravity of a trail town that makes a 10am departure slip to well past 11.
The Trek
