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Day 57 – 10 July 2026: Where’d Everyone Go?

📍 Mile 969.7 | 🥾 44.4 km | ⛰️ +1,553m / -1,359m

This week I had a mission: catch up with the group I’d convinced to come and side quest the Tahoe Rim Trail with me. I needed to cover 148 miles in 6 days: an average of just under 25 miles a day, plus some serious elevation gain. It was good incentive to get up and on trail earlier than usual. 

I worked my way out of Yosemite National Park, taking the time to read some of the informational signs that dotted the trail up to Soda Springs. Probably the most interesting thing I learned was how the meadows are formed: they’re on top of beds of depressed granite, so the soil stays wet and trees can’t grow there. Then I descended down, alongside Tuolumne Falls, which had a surprising amount of early morning traffic. Once I passed Glen Aulin, though, I had the trail pretty much to myself. A stark contrast to the last few days, where I could barely take a step without seeing at least one other hiker. The JMT ends in the Valley, too, so even that traffic dropped off. 

I wasn’t the only one appreciating the quiet. Today I spotted plenty of deer enjoying the grassy meadows, shooting away when they heard me coming. The scenery was a little bit of a comedown after the splendour of Yosemite Valley, though. There was lots of forest walking. But there was a lake to look forward to: comments on FarOut said the water was “almost warm”, so I was looking forward to a dip. But I wouldn’t exactly have called it warm. It was still a little chilly for me, although I did manage to fully submerge myself. Setting off again, my wet hair acted like an air conditioner in the warm afternoon, which was very pleasant. 

While the elevation gain remained pretty significant, it was definitely more gradual than it was in the High Sierra. The mountains, too, are starting to change. They’re still jagged, but in different ways; colours other than white and grey are starting to seep into the landscape. I decided to call it a day at Smedberg Lake, a respectable distance of just over 26 miles for the day. But when I arrived I discovered at least 15 other hikers already set up there. Luckily, some scouting revealed a small flat spot where I could cowboy. Sleep came easily. 

Day 58 – 11 July 2026: Mosquito Gauntlet

📍 Mile 998.1 | 🥾 46.7 km | ⛰️ +1,935m / -1,881m

This morning’s first few miles I felt a little tense. A few of the hikers camping at the lake last night left around the same time I did, so we were all walking pretty close to each other, and it felt like being tailgated. But at the next water source pretty much everyone stopped for a break; I didn’t, taking the opportunity to put some distance between us so I could relax. Although another, different hiker, left immediately after me. I made it my goal to move quickly to put more distance between us, which was a personal challenge that definitely got me up the next hill a lot faster than it otherwise would have.

At the top was a gorgeous lake, perfectly reflecting the bright azure sky, small granite outcrops, tall pine trees and pink wildflowers that surrounded it. But it was too early – and too cold – to stop for a swim, so I continued on. 

I’d woken up with the song “Satisfied” from Hamilton stuck in my head, so I spent most of the day listening to the entire soundtrack, which made the trail fly by as I climbed, descended, crossed a creek, climbed and descended and crossed another creek. Annoyingly, none of the creeks could be rock hopped, so shoes off it was. On the far side of one of them I stopped for lunch, and chatted there with Pipes, who’d also camped at the lake last night. 

After the next climb the grade levelled out a lot, although it was definitely still ascending it felt almost flat. It also sent me through a gorgeous meadow of wildflowers, but unfortunately I didn’t take any photos because it also proved to be a mosquito gauntlet. They were absolutely feral. I had to bust out the insect repellent and the head net, and still they were relentless. I could feel them on the backs of my legs, and tried to slap them away before they could actually bite me. I was largely successful, but it did feel like a lot of extra energy spend. 

Luckily, they dropped off as I approached Dorothy Lake, which was beautiful. I definitely wanted to camp nearby, and promised myself the first site I saw. Unfortunately, those were too small and sloped. The sky was turning grey, and it looked like it could rain, so I wanted to pitch my tent rather than cowboy. I meandered along the lakeside, but spotted – well, first I heard – a big encampment. I didn’t want to be too close to them, and somehow ended up at the far side of the lake before I found a spot I decided to settle for. It was pretty rocky, which made pitching a trekking pole tent hard, but luckily it wasn’t too windy so I thought it would survive the night. 

Day 59 – 12 July 2026: 1,000 Miles Down

📍 Mile 1,018.3 | 🥾 33.09 km | ⛰️ +1,188m / -1,152m 

Today’s goal was to make it to Sonora Pass, and Highway 108, in time for the 2.30pm shuttle to Kennedy Meadows North. My backup plan was to hitchhike, but I’m less comfortable hitching solo in the States than I was in New Zealand, so I’d like to avoid that where possible. 

The morning was overcast, which was initially disappointing. It seemed to dull the alpine landscape, which was already grey and white. The lakes, which ordinarily would have been a gleaming blue, were instead a dull grey. There were a couple of patches of blue in the sky, and I held out hope that they would win out, but it wasn’t to be. I crossed out of Yosemite National Park, and slowly picked my way down the rocky trail through the Hoover Wilderness, passing a monumental milestone: 1,000 miles down!

I crossed a very rickety bridge that looked almost certain to give out if I accidentally stepped too heavily, then made my way through forest until the trail began to climb again and suddenly the trees disappeared. Now I was grateful for the overcast day; otherwise, the sun would’ve been a tough adversary. 

I began to climb along a huge switchback, which frustratingly consisted primarily of scree underfoot. This made it hard to move fast, and therefore threatened to derail my arrival at the shuttle. But at the top of the climb I couldn’t help but pause to take in the unexpected view of an incredibly volcanic landscape, full of striped rainbow mountaintops which were decorated with a promising ribbon of ridgeline trail. Now, I was ecstatic, totally in my element. It was hard to resist the temptation to stop for too many photos.

Soon, another obstacle to my shuttle departure arrived: a patch of snow! I was almost in disbelief: there’d been hardly any in the High Sierra, and yet here was a patch with some exposure that had to be carefully picked across. Sure, a fall probably wouldn’t have been fatal, but the chances of at least a broken bone seemed high. I was torn between busting out my poles, or attempting a glissade. Remembering how the glissade down Forester Pass had been less than comfortable, I opted for the poles and carefully picked my way across. 

Thankfully, after that the trail became friendlier. After another pass I began the very gradual descent, enjoying the wildflowers that slowly began to creep back into the landscape. I arrived at Sonora Pass with plenty of time to spare, and enjoyed some trail magic in the form of fresh fruit from a couple who were helping their son with the logistics of a section hike. Then the shuttle arrived, and out of it poured the group I was trying to catch up with! We exchanged quick, excited updates before I had to jump onboard to be ferried down to Kennedy Meadows North, where I decided to treat myself to a bed in the dorm room. 

Day 60 – 13 July 2026: Loud Noises

📍 Mile 1,039.5 | 🥾 34.91 km | ⛰️ +1,248m / -1,645m 

Kennedy Meadows North runs on a generator. In the hostel dorm, we’d turned the lights off before we went to bed last night. But at 5am we all sat up with a jolt when a big thunk followed by loud whirrs led to our room light flashing brightly on; clearly, someone had flicked it in the middle of the night and forgotten to reset it. What a wake up call. I decided to take advantage of the early alarm, and headed downstairs to seek out breakfast at the restaurant. Everything looked good, but I eventually settled on a double breakfast: french toast and pancakes. Huge, and still cheaper than some of the other options. The shuttle back to trail wasn’t until 9am, so I sat there and enjoyed the company of other hikers that came in and out for most of the morning. 

At the trailhead there were at least 15 hikers waiting for the shuttle down to the resort. Clearly, I’d lucked out and gotten to KMN on a relatively quiet day. Still, starting my hike at the same time as the handful of others who left KMN when I did meant a few miles of leapfrogging until our paces shook out and it felt like I had the trail to myself again. 

The talk at breakfast this morning had been the weather forecast. There was a chance of thunderstorms. I’d taken the opportunity to Google lightning safety while I had wifi, and as the grey sky darkened further I was grateful to have done so. I was also thankful to be descending slowly through a valley and into treeline; I imagined what it would be like to have been up on yesterday’s exposed pass in thunderstorm conditions with a shudder. 

I seemed to be hiking away from the most ominous clouds, which made me relax. Just as I stopped for a photo of a meadow to prove this, however, the rain began. It was only spitting at first, but it soon turned into a full-on downpour. I’d stopped to put on my rain jacket, but hadn’t bothered with the rain pants. That was a mistake. Thunder boomed, and then lightning started to flash. Mercifully I was already in the trees – which my research told me was the safest place to be – as I hurried along to the next campsite listed on FarOut, which luckily was less than a mile away. But I found a sloped site, covered in the remnants of old cow patties, and then managed to do the worst pitch of my Durston X-Mid that I’ve ever done in my life. Somehow, it got wet on the inside. Still, it was better than hiking in the rain. I threw myself inside and sat in a little ball and hoped that the thunder and lightning would pass. I ordered a weather report on my Garmin, which said it should die off in an hour or so. 

I’d only hiked 16 miles today, but was still trying to reach South Lake Tahoe and catch up with my group in two days. I didn’t want to be arriving too late in the day; I’d need to resupply and get some other chores done before we set off on the TRT. So although it was still raining and there was a bit of thunder, since the lightning had seemed to disappear I decided to try and hike a little further to make the next couple of days shorter. I packed quickly and set off. The whole time I chanted to myself “no thunder, no lightning, no thunder, no lightning,” as though I could manifest it away. There were a couple of exposed meadows which I literally ran through. Sadly my manifesting didn’t seem particularly effective, and in the last mile or two there were a couple of flashes of lightning; although they didn’t seem too close. I arrived at the campsite I’d been aiming for, dismayed to see none of the sites were beneath the trees, except one that was already occupied by a two-person tent. I asked if they would mind if I got cosy with them, and they said to go for it, so I pitched. We were very close; it definitely would’ve been a no-no in finer conditions, but safety first. 

Day 61 – 14 July 2026: Outrunning the Storm

📍 Mile 1,070.9 | 🥾 52.58 km | ⛰️ +1,902m / -1,815m 

More thunderstorms were forecast today, but only in the afternoon. When I woke, there was a battle in the sky between clear blue and gathering grey. I hoped blue would win, and made it my goal to out-hike the storm. 

The forest soon grew scraggly and more exposed as I gained elevation, and I was glad I’d pitched where I had last night. I made it to a saddle and decided to take the opportunity to dry my gear in the sun; last night, the inside of my tent had been so wet that I’d actually laid my groundsheet inside so my sleeping pad wouldn’t be soaked. With the clouds constantly shifting in the sky, though, I tried not to linger there too long. 

I definitely wasn’t in the High Sierra anymore. Today’s landscape was mostly open meadows, bright pops of orange, purple and yellow wildflowers foregrounding distant volcanic mountains of dark composite rock. 

I stopped to give way to a day hiker heading uphill. She stopped for a brief chat, remarking that I was the only female PCT hiker – and solo, no less – she’d seen yesterday or today. She thought it was awesome that I was out here, and alone to boot. That interaction made me reflect a little; I hadn’t really noticed it much before, but I suppose the genders aren’t exactly balanced out here, and I definitely haven’t come across many women hiking alone. I’m happy to be helping correct that, though. 

As the day wore on I found myself constantly checking the sky, trying to assess whether it was growing darker or lighter. Mercifully, the clouds seemed to be losing the battle. It looked like I’d successfully outwalk the storm. In fact, for the last couple of hours of the day there was hardly a cloud in the sky, and I breathed a sigh of relief as I climbed on colourful mountainsides above lakes, arriving at Lost Lakes towards dusk, whose still waters created a perfect dusky mirror for the tall pine trees and clouds turned gold with the sunset. 

Day 62 – 15 July 2026: Sorry For Enjoying the Moment

📍 Mile 1,091.9 | 🥾 34.1 km | ⛰️ +1,003m / -1,429m 

All traces of poor weather had disappeared overnight. That, combined with yesterday’s 31+ mile day, made for a more relaxing hike today; only 21 miles until I could hitch into town. A short jaunt through forest soon led me into the open tops of the Carson Pass Management Area, which offered sweeping views before returning to forest but with a spectacularly wide and well-maintained trail. Then I started to come across day hikers. There was a surprising number of them out early on a Wednesday morning. 

Then, suddenly and unexpectedly, I arrived at the Carson Pass Visitor Information station, where there was a whole section dedicated to PCT hikers. A binder full of local trail angel information, a logbook, free wifi, and even trail magic in the form of cold drinks and an assortment of snacks. The temptation to vortex was strong as I grabbed a coke and inhaled some snacks, managing to resist connecting to the wifi, though. When my watch reminded me I hadn’t been moving for 30 minutes, I decided I’d better get going. 

A short climb soon brought me to a world of green, blooming wildflower meadows. The walking was easy, and fast. Butterflies were out in droves, a cloud of them taking off with almost every step I advanced. Then the PCT joined the TRT and I grinned every time I saw the double blazes on a tree or directional sign, looking forward to my upcoming side quest. 

But then the trail suddenly changed. The pleasant, well-maintained and relatively gentle meadow trail gave way to a brutally rocky and much steeper descent. Realistically, it wasn’t that bad; but after cruising along at above 3 miles per hour, it was frustrating to have to drop to 2.5 miles an hour or less just so I wouldn’t break a leg. To add insult to injury, the trail reentered forest, which obscured all but one small view of Lake Tahoe. I grew crankier and crankier, realising that I could fix that by stopping for lunch, but unwilling to do so since it would only delay my arrival in town even further.

In the last couple of miles the trail levelled out, but sent me through an old burn scar. At least I had phone service, so I could reach out to the group. But there was bad news for me: they’d all hitched into town from Carson Pass! I could’ve called it a day way earlier, if only I’d actually checked my messages when I was there. But the miles were done now, so I trudged down to the highway and stuck my thumb out. It took over half an hour to get a hitch, despite a good amount of traffic on the road. Eventually a kind local stopped to give me a lift into town, dropping me right in the middle. I headed for the campsite where the others were hanging out, totally spent. Luckily for me, there was a trail angel there providing copious amounts of trail magic in the form of cold drinks and lots of food. I passed the afternoon in a daze of exhaustion, the huge miles and gain of the last few days catching up with me. 

I learned that the group was planning to zero in town tomorrow, and was relieved. I definitely needed the recovery time. We headed to an Airbnb they’d booked, where we spent a few hours lazing around before a simple supermarket dinner one of the others had picked up. When I tried to head to bed I ended up in a very polite argument with Sass; who’d volunteered to take the couch but is 6’4” and definitely didn’t fit on it. Eventually I wore him down and claimed the couch for myself. It ended up being surprisingly comfy, especially since I got to bust out my quilt, which has become a real comfort item on trail. 

Day 63 – 16 July 2026: Where’d the Day Go?

📍 South Lake Tahoe | 🥾 0 km | ⛰️ +0m / -0m 

Unusually, today I woke up early: 6am. Earlier than everyone else. I made a first breakfast of cereal as quietly as I could as I waited for everyone to begin their day. I was looking forward to a bougie town breakfast later – I was practically desperate for a latte, and ideally an acai bowl – but none of the cafes were open until at least 7.30am.

As the opening hours grew nearer I headed out, accompanied by Sass. Everyone else was still asleep, or didn’t fancy spending too much more money in town. They’d all actually gotten to town two nights ago, and had done breakfast out yesterday. The acai bowl was sadly disappointing, but the coffee wasn’t too bad. As we ate, we negotiated tactics for the TRT: where we’d start, and how long we’d resupply for. Afterwards, since we were already close to the Grocery Outlet, we headed off to resupply. I’ve learned that Grocery Outlet is a pretty cheap way to get most of your resupply, but you’re almost always going to need to go to a second supermarket afterwards. And that’s exactly what we did, swinging past the Raley’s on the way back to the Airbnb. 

Chores sadly make town days disappear quite quickly. Laundry ate up most of my midday. I’d had to go back to the campsite to do it, since the Airbnb didn’t have any facilities. This wasn’t a problem, except that there was no phone service or reliable wifi there, so I couldn’t get my other major chore done. Over the last few massive days of solo hiking, I’d decided to challenge myself with some gear changes. The weight and inconvenient bulk of the bear can made me want to try and go as ultralight as possible. I wanted to ditch my stove, switch to a foam sleeping pad instead of my inflatable – which was still half-deflating every night, even though I’d had no luck finding any other pinholes – take the stays out of my pack, and upgrade to lighter rain gear. Not to mention, I was soon going to need new shoes and socks. The afternoon, once laundry was done, was spent meticulously researching the price vs weight vs shipping time of all these changes. 

By the time I was done and had repacked my resupply into the awful, heavy bear can, it was 5pm. I felt like I hadn’t even had the chance to enjoy the town. Luckily, Astrid had the bright idea of heading down to the lakeside beach for sunset. We all piled into an Uber and were soon delivered to a gorgeous, sandy beach, backdropped by mountains. Waves lapped the shore, but it’s not a tidal lake so it must’ve been the wind that made it seem like a coastal beach. A couple of inquisitive geese got a little close to us; one went so far as to peck Pokey when he didn’t offer it any food, and then another made as though it was hissing at me even though no noises left its beak. 

Another group of hikers we were friendly with arrived, bringing a case of beer with them. We all enjoyed a drink as the sun set, before beginning to make our way back towards town, and dinner. But we hadn’t really factored in the nearly 3 mile walk, and by the time we were in the town centre almost everything was shut. I settled for a supermarket dinner of pre-made pasta instead.