2,650 Miles North: A Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) Reflection

Two hikers set out to walk from Mexico to Canada. What carried them wasn’t an achievement mark, but the discipline of showing up, day after day. Ali and Noah set foot on the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) in the spring of 2025 with a simple goal: walk to Canada. They didn't carry an elaborate vision of the finish. Instead, they focused on what it would take to keep moving. Once they told friends and family they were going, the decision hardened.

Quitting was no longer part of the equation.

“Together we ruminated on what the trail would be like. We decided in January of 2024, so we had a little over a year to prepare,” Ali says, “The main focus was preparing mentally. We both were absolutely set on finishing, and we didn’t want anything to stop us from reaching the Canadian border. I don’t think I ever truly imagined what the end would be like. I mostly focused on making sure that I got there...Nothing was going to stop us.”

Five months on the trail is a long time, with daily rhythm naturally evolving. The first day covered 11 miles. It took nearly seven hours. They started hiking around 8 a.m., packs heavy with food and unfamiliar weight.

The heat didn’t stop them.

“Our daily rhythm was as follows: wake up, eat overnight oats or something like a pop tart/granola bar, hike until we needed to filter water, filter water, hike until lunch, eat lunch, hike until we needed another break, hike until camp, set up camp, eat dinner, do the bedtime routine, go to sleep. Wake up, repeat... By the time we reached our final days, the rhythm was set in stone.”

The simplicity was deceptive. The effort was constant.

Over time, their bodies adjusted. Eleven-mile days gave way to 20-mile days, then 25. By the final weeks, they were consistently hiking 25+ miles. The routine became automatic. What once required planning became steady instinct. In honing this instinct, pain followed them. Noah developed anterior tendonitis while crossing the Sierra Nevada. He managed it with daily anti-inflammatories and a rule he repeated often-

Ali noticed a different shift in the relationship with her body.

“I realized how capable I was in my body. My mind was the only thing holding me back. In the beginning, my mind took over and fear overcame instinct. Once we hit the Sierra, I couldn’t let my mind deter me from completing a pass. I had to do it, and once I did it, I realized how capable I was.”

As the miles accumulated, trust replaced hesitation. High passes left little room for doubt. Ali moved because she had to, and because she could.

The scope of the trail revealed itself unevenly. For Noah, the moment came in Northern California. After completing the Sierra, the mileage marker told a hard truth. At roughly mile 1,020, they had finished less than half the route. The elevation drops into town, followed by steep climbs back to the trail, made the remaining distance feel heavier. Yet the solution remained unchanged: take the next step.

For Ali, mile 2,000 was a monumental moment. They reached the marker with a man they had met on their first day and had not seen since.

“We hit mile 2,000 with him," Ali says. "Noah and I each had a beer we carried, and while Noah took a bathroom break, I sat there and cried. It was the first day in a while that I realized the magnitude of what we had been doing for four months. I don’t think I’ve ever counted 2,000 anything in my life. To walk that length and sit at the mile marker with a beer? I don’t think I’ll ever forget it.”

Four months of continuous forward movement had accumulated into a number she could not ignore.

Among such variations in the landscapes and ecosystems of the PCT, the section that left the strongest impression on both hikers was the Sierra Nevada. They entered on May 11, choosing not to wait for further snowmelt, nor did they decide to take a small break. The week before, they had hiked 100 miles in four days and wanted to maintain momentum. Above 9,000 feet, the landscape reduced itself to snow, rock, and moving water.

They woke at 2 a.m. and started hiking by 3 a.m., navigating under the Milky Way and hiking towards the Big Dipper.

Muir Pass became a defining moment, hiking across snowfields up towards the pass itself. They reached the stone hut at the top just as the sky began to lighten. Inside, they sat with friends in the warming hut, reluctant to leave. Snow stretched in every direction that would soon be melted under the sun. Eventually, they moved on, descending to lower elevation and covering about 10 miles on hard-packed snow that day.

Community shaped the hike as much as terrain. In the Sierra, they met Tomtom and Gil (from Switzerland and North Carolina), who would hike with them through later sections. Gaspard, a hiker from France, pushed their daily mileage, contributing to multiple 30-mile days. Bonds on the trail are as strong as the hikers themselves, and months after finishing, they remain in contact, with visits planned across continents.

Support also came from outside the trail corridor. In Idyllwild they encountered their first Trail Angel, a woman named Lori, who supported their progress town by town, encouraging them through messages.

“Having a shared experience and pain with others doing the same thing as us connected us in a way we’ve never felt," Ali says. "In the same vein, the community of trail angels helping us out along the way were some of the kindest people we’ve ever come across... The trail ... provides.”

Extended disconnection from technology proved grounding. The longest uninterrupted stretch came in the

Sierra, where days passed without notifications or outside demands. Resupply points dictated daily mileage, reinforcing discipline. Returning to life off-trail felt disorienting. Convenience replaced necessity.

On their return, the hikers say, “Coming back to life off-trail was so interesting because we fell back into a sort of lazy attitude. ‘I don’t have to walk 25 miles a day, I have all of these luxuries close by, so why do I need to do xyz?’”

Now looking back at life on-trail, even small items were essential to them.

Safety pins held Noah’s backpack together after it began to fail—the result of a pesky ice axe having torn holes into the sides of his pack near the hip belt. Ali relied on her hat and sunglasses daily due to light sensitivity.

When asked what stayed with them most, Ali points to kindness. One particular encounter left a lasting mark. On this she says, “I literally had a man give me the shoes off his feet because I told him mine broke earlier that day and I had another 50 miles to the next town to get shoes.” Noah describes a lasting confidence that things tend to work out, even when the path ahead is unclear. Both agree that completing the PCT changed the way they feel nature and their place within it. Noah says, “Noticing beauty, simple moments, environments and vistas. It is unbelievably easy to stay present in a moment when all you experience is the nature around you for five months.”

They reached the Canadian border the same way they left the Mexican one: by walking. One step at a time. For those gearing up for the thru-hike in 2026, Ali and Noah have supplied recommendations. They emphasize involving family and friends in resupply planning. Out of 34 resupplies, about 20 were sent by loved ones. These packages often had letters and photos that became treasured morale boosters.

Gear-wise, they kept things simple and affordable, relying largely on secondhand gear and minimal rain protection. They suggest using a CNOC bag with a Platypus or Sawyer Squeeze, and use a shoelace to gravity hang. Gravity hanging became a game-changer once they adopted it.

Favorite Gear: Ali’s favorite trail item was her Sambob microgrid, lasting the whole way and keeping her warm on the coldest nights in the Sierra. Noah’s favorite trail item was his Patagonia puffy suitable for any environment (he also says, “Plus it was a great pillow!”).

Shaping their 5-month PCT thru-hike into a playlist of 5 songs, the two hikers capture the whole of their experience:

● For Noah: “Freebird” by Lynyrd Skynyrd | “(Sittin’ On)the Dock of the Bay” by Otis Redding | “Foam” by Royel Otis, “Moon Rocks” by flipturn | “Dive” by Olivia Dean.

“Freebird, Foam and Moon Rocks helped me push myself and get uphill and work harder. Dive and (Sittin’ On)the Dock of the Bay were for the vibe and appreciation of what I was doing,” says Noah.

● For Ali: “Freebird” by Lynyrd Skynyrd | “Not Like Us” by Kendrick Lamar | “Daisies” by Justin Bieber | “The Kill” by Maggie Rogers | “Thunder Road” by Bruce Springsteen

“Because since leaving the trail, when these songs come on I think of all the times I listened to them while hiking. It is so easy to connect one of these songs to a particular moment on the trail because I know exactly where I was and how I felt while listening to them,” says Ali.

You can follow Ali and Noah’s continued journey on Instagram: @2sillygoosers | You are also invited to follow Ali’s blog for The Trek: https://thetrek.co/author/alison-calamoneri/.