In 2014 I thru-hiked Pacific Crest Trail a second time. You can see all 116 of those blog posts here. Why did I hike the PCT a second time? I don’t know. Why does anything do anything? Why is there something instead of nothing?
In 2015 I thru-hiked the Continental Divide Trail. You can see all those posts here. Since then I’ve also thru-hiked the Lowest to Highest Route, the Hayduke Route, the Wind River High Route and the Kings Canyon High Basin Route. Those links are in the menu up top.
In the summer of 2018 I’ll traverse Alaska via Brooks Range. You can read those blog posts by clicking “Home” in the menu.
Contact me: email@example.com
More about me:
I am 35 years old. I was raised in Alaska on welfare by a schizophrenic single mother who thought that she was the reincarnation of the Virgin Mary. At fourteen I was adopted by my conservative catholic grandparents, and I went to highschool in a small Colorado town near the Utah border. At seventeen I moved out on my own. I worked graveyard shifts at Denny’s to support myself during my senior year of highschool. In 2001, at nineteen, I moved to Portland, and fell in with a bunch of straight-edge anarchists. They taught me how to ride freight trains, dumpster all my food, talk about my feelings, and cook things in cast iron skillets. It was fucking awesome. I spent my twenties working summers in Alaska, writing in the winters in Portland, and in between I hitchhiked and rode freight trains across this great North American continent. At 28 I was tired of breathing diesel exhaust and accruing trespassing tickets so I hung up my stained carharts, so to speak, figuring my life of adventure was over. That sucked. Luckily, a few years later I discovered long-distance hiking. And here we are.
My FAQ page is here.
People email me asking how they can help support my writing. There are two ways to do this. One way is to pledge to my blog via patreon; if you pledge one dollar, for example, I’ll get that amount each time I publish a blog post. This is a great way to both support my burger fund in town when I’m hiking and subtly pressure me into writing more.
If you’d like, you can also just straight-up buy me a burger while I’m on the trail. I will eat this giant, greasy, dripping burger in a little trail town somewhere while my laundry spins merrily at the laundromat, and this burger will be the ultimate burger, the burger that transcends all burgers; this burger will be the anticipation of burgers and the experience of burgers and the longing to be hungry and eat burgers again, forever and ever and ever.