Pacific Crest Trail: Section I (Washington)
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One section down, two ahead of me. For those of you who've just stumbled upon this digital trail mix of words: You just opened a chapter of the narrative on my attempt of making my way down the Washington-section of the Pacific Crest Trail, heading southbound. Part of my rather recent life project to tackle one (at least 500km+) thru-hike each year. Now, before I regale you with tales of breathtaking vistas and a profound communion with nature, let’s just acknowledge that this particular journey started with a bit of a, shall we say, foot-related hiccup. Even after all those hiking years, I still managed to ignore the most common slice of trail-wisdom: never start a trek on new footwear. Result: I was striding through some of the most stunning landscapes America has to offer – which I could wholeheartedly endorse—while simultaneously harboring a deep, abiding hatred for my own two feet. The kind of pain that starts as a background hum and quickly escalates to a full-blown, headlining act.
Faced with the consequences of my own poor decisions, combined with the overwhelming remoteness of Washington’s backcountry, I was forced to walk myself back to civilization for four agonizing days. Back to Seattle. An unplanned "two-day" respite – a chance to lick my wounds, acquire more sensible footwear, and perhaps indulge in a beverage or two not procured from a questionable mountain stream. Well, that morphed into a four-day recess, as it turns out, my feet’s recovery journey was a bit slower than I had anticipated. The small blisters were easy to deal with, but some larger ones were the size of a golf ball. Even after those four days they were still not completely gone, but with my new old pair of shoes, the pressure points shifted and the pain became much more manageable.
So, if you’re ready for a story of hiking, hobbling, and human resilience with a healthy dose of mountain-induced madness, settle in. Let's once again dive into the glorious absurdity of long-distance hiking. Consider Section J conquered (or perhaps survived), now I’m staring Section I in the eyes.
Faced with the consequences of my own poor decisions, combined with the overwhelming remoteness of Washington’s backcountry, I was forced to walk myself back to civilization for four agonizing days. Back to Seattle. An unplanned "two-day" respite – a chance to lick my wounds, acquire more sensible footwear, and perhaps indulge in a beverage or two not procured from a questionable mountain stream. Well, that morphed into a four-day recess, as it turns out, my feet’s recovery journey was a bit slower than I had anticipated. The small blisters were easy to deal with, but some larger ones were the size of a golf ball. Even after those four days they were still not completely gone, but with my new old pair of shoes, the pressure points shifted and the pain became much more manageable.
So, if you’re ready for a story of hiking, hobbling, and human resilience with a healthy dose of mountain-induced madness, settle in. Let's once again dive into the glorious absurdity of long-distance hiking. Consider Section J conquered (or perhaps survived), now I’m staring Section I in the eyes.
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Section I (southbound): Snoqualmie Pass – White Pass
Day 5: Snoqualmie Pass – Stampede
Distance: 26.4km.
GPS: FarOut App.
Ascent:1215m.
Descent: 975m.
Terrain: Clear trail, mostly forest trails. Pleasant surface.
Water Situation: Plenty of sources (filtering needed), check FarOut app for locations and recent reviews on them.
Food Resupply Options: Snoqualmie Pass. Gas stations with small selection. For a more varied and affordable resupply, it is recommended to send yourself a food package here.
(Misty, cloudy, but dry)
Navigating the complexities of the US public transport system can feel like a modern-day Odyssey. Such was the case with my quest to return to Snoqualmie Pass, yet another ski resort nestled in the Cascade Range. Reaching this mountain pass requires a certain degree of patience, as the local bus system only goes as far as the charming little mountain town called North Bend (with numerous stops and changes). This leaves any PCT hiker with the (to some) unorthodox solution of hitchhiking (my favorite way of getting around), which, as the prominent signage loudly declared, is strictly forbidden here. Naturally, I promptly disregarded this prohibition and to my delight, I received an instant ride. Arriving at Snoqualmie Pass, I was greeted by the predictable mix of ski-resort amenities: restaurants with warming aromas, a hotel promising well-needed rest, and the ever-present ski slopes themselves, now melted and bathed in the midday sun. Unfortunately, the logistical dance had delayed my start, pushing my departure towards noon, a less-than-ideal time to commence any ambitious undertaking.
Nevertheless, a great trail day lay ahead of me, even when cut in half. Heading south from the Snoqualmie Pass, I was enveloped by a world of green, a forest canopy so dense it felt like hiking through a perpetual twilight. The terrain offered a welcome change from the usual boot-bruising rocks: a sort of rolling sandy carpet of gentle forest paths that seemed almost suspiciously kind to my weary feet. Water sources were plentiful, practically tripping over themselves to offer a refill, a luxury that felt almost decadent. To top it off: As a strange anomaly, some flat stretches appeared, offering a brief respite to the leg muscles accustomed to relentless verticality. The only thing that weigh heavily on my shoulders was… well, the actual weight on my shoulders. Seven days worth of calories until White Pass, plus the ever-present insurance policy of an extra day's worth of provisions, just in case shit hits the fan. Technically there is another road in the middle of this section leading back to Seattle (Chinook Pass), but I’ve heard it’s a lonely, desolate place for a hitch, a sort of black hole of cell phone service and passing vehicles. So, no, I’ll stick to the plan, and the trail.
Day 5: Snoqualmie Pass – Stampede
Distance: 26.4km.
GPS: FarOut App.
Ascent:1215m.
Descent: 975m.
Terrain: Clear trail, mostly forest trails. Pleasant surface.
Water Situation: Plenty of sources (filtering needed), check FarOut app for locations and recent reviews on them.
Food Resupply Options: Snoqualmie Pass. Gas stations with small selection. For a more varied and affordable resupply, it is recommended to send yourself a food package here.
(Misty, cloudy, but dry)
Navigating the complexities of the US public transport system can feel like a modern-day Odyssey. Such was the case with my quest to return to Snoqualmie Pass, yet another ski resort nestled in the Cascade Range. Reaching this mountain pass requires a certain degree of patience, as the local bus system only goes as far as the charming little mountain town called North Bend (with numerous stops and changes). This leaves any PCT hiker with the (to some) unorthodox solution of hitchhiking (my favorite way of getting around), which, as the prominent signage loudly declared, is strictly forbidden here. Naturally, I promptly disregarded this prohibition and to my delight, I received an instant ride. Arriving at Snoqualmie Pass, I was greeted by the predictable mix of ski-resort amenities: restaurants with warming aromas, a hotel promising well-needed rest, and the ever-present ski slopes themselves, now melted and bathed in the midday sun. Unfortunately, the logistical dance had delayed my start, pushing my departure towards noon, a less-than-ideal time to commence any ambitious undertaking.
Nevertheless, a great trail day lay ahead of me, even when cut in half. Heading south from the Snoqualmie Pass, I was enveloped by a world of green, a forest canopy so dense it felt like hiking through a perpetual twilight. The terrain offered a welcome change from the usual boot-bruising rocks: a sort of rolling sandy carpet of gentle forest paths that seemed almost suspiciously kind to my weary feet. Water sources were plentiful, practically tripping over themselves to offer a refill, a luxury that felt almost decadent. To top it off: As a strange anomaly, some flat stretches appeared, offering a brief respite to the leg muscles accustomed to relentless verticality. The only thing that weigh heavily on my shoulders was… well, the actual weight on my shoulders. Seven days worth of calories until White Pass, plus the ever-present insurance policy of an extra day's worth of provisions, just in case shit hits the fan. Technically there is another road in the middle of this section leading back to Seattle (Chinook Pass), but I’ve heard it’s a lonely, desolate place for a hitch, a sort of black hole of cell phone service and passing vehicles. So, no, I’ll stick to the plan, and the trail.
The mist hung heavy today, obscuring any potential vistas, which oddly provided a perfect natural air conditioning. It made for a day of pleasant, almost meditative exercise, a hike that felt more like a gentle dance with the forest than a battle of wills. Quite the change with Section J!
Considering my noon start, it’s frankly a minor miracle I clocked 26km of distance. The advantageous combination of good shoes (at last) and feet that are, dare I say, semi-functional. These new old boots are a revelation. They’re a sorry sight: full of holes, with parts starting to come loose… but broken in for a solid two years, and with different pressure points leaving the blisters untroubled, while my toes have discovered the concept of "personal space." Add in the Gore-Tex glory, banishing the constant damp sock misery of my previous “waterproof” ones (not offering any ventilation), and you’ve got a recipe for surprisingly efficient trekking. I crawled in my tent contently, my mind at ease. It’s fascinating, isn’t it, how the city’s frenetic cacophony, the to-do lists and the low-grade anxiety that seem permanently lodged in your psyche, just sort of… dissipate after a day out in the wilderness? Like a bad song finally fading from the radio. You suddenly realize the most pressing thing you "gotta do" is simply be – be here, be present, maybe take a step or two (or many thousands). Therapy in its most effective shape.
Day 6: Stampede - Blowout Mountain
Distance: 30.9km.
GPS: FarOut App.
Ascent: 1656m.
Descent: 1127m.
Terrain: Clear trail, mostly forest trails. Pleasant surface.
Water Situation: Scarce. Three sources the entire day. The last source is the last one for 19km/12 miles. You have to carry all that water up and down Blowout Mountain. Check the FarOut app for the latest information.
Food Resupply Options: None.
(Misty, later sunny)
I started the day incredibly early, even more so if you realise who you’re dealing with. Yes, can we just shortly pause for a modest standing ovation for my 5AM alarms, an anomality in my freedom-lifestyle? I noticed that it’s not only getting darker earlier, it's also getting light later (like I never experienced autumn before… yet it hits different when you’re outside 24/7). My early bird attempts are now met with the frustrating realization that dawn itself is on a leisurely schedule, not bothering to show up until a decidedly un-perky 6:30AM. It's like the sun is saying, "Oh, you wanted to hike? Guess what, I'm pressing snooze." My forest camping spot was idyllic, offering level ground and a nearby stream… a luxury I definitely shouldn’t get used to today, as this was the first one of only three in total. The second one, thirstily reached after many hours, turned out to be the home of a lone, half-submerged band-aid. I'd rather die a slow death of dehydration than ingest bandaid-broth. An old childhood trauma caused by forced swimming classes in a pool containing more bandaids than actual H2O (at least, that’s how this memory morphed itself into adulthood). I pushed on, sucking the dew from the leaves here and there instead, a sorry solution.
Considering my noon start, it’s frankly a minor miracle I clocked 26km of distance. The advantageous combination of good shoes (at last) and feet that are, dare I say, semi-functional. These new old boots are a revelation. They’re a sorry sight: full of holes, with parts starting to come loose… but broken in for a solid two years, and with different pressure points leaving the blisters untroubled, while my toes have discovered the concept of "personal space." Add in the Gore-Tex glory, banishing the constant damp sock misery of my previous “waterproof” ones (not offering any ventilation), and you’ve got a recipe for surprisingly efficient trekking. I crawled in my tent contently, my mind at ease. It’s fascinating, isn’t it, how the city’s frenetic cacophony, the to-do lists and the low-grade anxiety that seem permanently lodged in your psyche, just sort of… dissipate after a day out in the wilderness? Like a bad song finally fading from the radio. You suddenly realize the most pressing thing you "gotta do" is simply be – be here, be present, maybe take a step or two (or many thousands). Therapy in its most effective shape.
Day 6: Stampede - Blowout Mountain
Distance: 30.9km.
GPS: FarOut App.
Ascent: 1656m.
Descent: 1127m.
Terrain: Clear trail, mostly forest trails. Pleasant surface.
Water Situation: Scarce. Three sources the entire day. The last source is the last one for 19km/12 miles. You have to carry all that water up and down Blowout Mountain. Check the FarOut app for the latest information.
Food Resupply Options: None.
(Misty, later sunny)
I started the day incredibly early, even more so if you realise who you’re dealing with. Yes, can we just shortly pause for a modest standing ovation for my 5AM alarms, an anomality in my freedom-lifestyle? I noticed that it’s not only getting darker earlier, it's also getting light later (like I never experienced autumn before… yet it hits different when you’re outside 24/7). My early bird attempts are now met with the frustrating realization that dawn itself is on a leisurely schedule, not bothering to show up until a decidedly un-perky 6:30AM. It's like the sun is saying, "Oh, you wanted to hike? Guess what, I'm pressing snooze." My forest camping spot was idyllic, offering level ground and a nearby stream… a luxury I definitely shouldn’t get used to today, as this was the first one of only three in total. The second one, thirstily reached after many hours, turned out to be the home of a lone, half-submerged band-aid. I'd rather die a slow death of dehydration than ingest bandaid-broth. An old childhood trauma caused by forced swimming classes in a pool containing more bandaids than actual H2O (at least, that’s how this memory morphed itself into adulthood). I pushed on, sucking the dew from the leaves here and there instead, a sorry solution.
That said, I was facing yet another pleasant day on the trail. The PCT, in its infinite wisdom (or perhaps just a fleeting moment of kindness), decided to lay off the ankle-twisting, boulder-strewn paths and once again offer up some genuinely pleasant forest trails. There were a handful of views here and there, notably the majestic Mount Rainier showing off its snow-capped glory at a distance. After a misty morning, granting downright elvish scenes of sunrays piecing through the fog, the sun eventually decided to grace me with its presence as well, allowing for a quick and efficient drying session of my damp tent. Yet, this particular slice of trail felt a bit less "untamed" than the previous section. Dirt roads cut through the landscape, cars buzzed around, and I even spotted mushroom foragers and what I assume were hunters. While convenient, it did rather diminish the feeling of being alone in the wilderness. On the upside: Actual cell phone reception (!) offered the opportunity of a comforting call with the home front, while keeping a sharp eye on the responsibility of battery preservation. There are obviously no opportunities to charge, you’re relying on your powerbanks only (of which I caried two, one standard model and one solar).
Today's adventure is mainly an uphill affair. Now, I’m not one to complain about that – in fact, I embrace it, channeling my inner mountain goat. My legs, trained by cycling 9,500km just before I started hiking, practically function as wings making me fly upwards. It's the downhills where things get less graceful. Suddenly, I’m a walking, wobbling testament to the fact that gravity is a cruel mistress. And don't even get me started on my knees: just like myself, they’re not 20 years old anymore either. Reaching the day’s final water source – the only decent one since this morning, mind you – felt like striking gold. Filling every bottle and bladder was a necessity with 19km of drought ahead of me, with a night smack-bang in the middle, requiring water for dinner, breakfast, and the first 10km stretch of tomorrow. Combine that with a week’s worth of supplies, and one could say I was lugging the equivalent of a small child all the way up to the Blowout Mountain. Someone on the FarOut app wrote: “Blowout Mountain, more like Blowme Mountain with this pointless climb with no water sources for miles.” I can only agree wholeheartedly. On the heavy way up, I did what’s reasonable and cooked dinner before reaching my campsite, shaving off a few grams. Distance- and daylight-wise I was forced to stop close to the mountain’s cold and damp peak. That said, 31km were all mine to celebrate, in spite of the spicy ascends and descends. At last. Finally, my legs were able to strut their stuff without the tyrannical interference of my shoes. My good old trusted hiking boots and I truly are on the same team, finally enabling the proper Steph-distance I am capable of.
Today's adventure is mainly an uphill affair. Now, I’m not one to complain about that – in fact, I embrace it, channeling my inner mountain goat. My legs, trained by cycling 9,500km just before I started hiking, practically function as wings making me fly upwards. It's the downhills where things get less graceful. Suddenly, I’m a walking, wobbling testament to the fact that gravity is a cruel mistress. And don't even get me started on my knees: just like myself, they’re not 20 years old anymore either. Reaching the day’s final water source – the only decent one since this morning, mind you – felt like striking gold. Filling every bottle and bladder was a necessity with 19km of drought ahead of me, with a night smack-bang in the middle, requiring water for dinner, breakfast, and the first 10km stretch of tomorrow. Combine that with a week’s worth of supplies, and one could say I was lugging the equivalent of a small child all the way up to the Blowout Mountain. Someone on the FarOut app wrote: “Blowout Mountain, more like Blowme Mountain with this pointless climb with no water sources for miles.” I can only agree wholeheartedly. On the heavy way up, I did what’s reasonable and cooked dinner before reaching my campsite, shaving off a few grams. Distance- and daylight-wise I was forced to stop close to the mountain’s cold and damp peak. That said, 31km were all mine to celebrate, in spite of the spicy ascends and descends. At last. Finally, my legs were able to strut their stuff without the tyrannical interference of my shoes. My good old trusted hiking boots and I truly are on the same team, finally enabling the proper Steph-distance I am capable of.
Day 7: Blowout Mountain - Cougar Valley
Distance: 30km.
GPS: FarOut App.
Ascent: 1040m.
Descent: 894m.
Terrain: Clear trail, mostly forest trails. Pleasant surface.
Water Situation: Scarce. Three sources the entire day, once again. The last source is the last one for 12km.
Food Resupply Options: None.
(Misty and wet in the morning, sunny afternoon. Fierce wind.)
That was a miserable night. I mean, the name Blowout Mountain alone should have been a red flag. Besides the heavy wind hauling in my ears all night, it also “blew out” all the forest’s rain reserves straight from the trees, slamming on my tent canvas like hand grenades. The sudden cold was also unforgiving. Merino wool socks and my entire puffy jacket wrapped around my icy feet weren’t up to the task: My toes were on a one-way trip to frostbite city. The ultimate “blow me” factor was, however, the sole availability of slanted camping spots. I had picked the most level one I could find, but still hit the hay with both fingers crossed, hoping I wouldn’t roll off my sleeping mat at midnight. The same poor nightly conditions made for a downtown hectic morning ritual as well. Packing a soaking wet tent at top speed is a hiker’s most dreaded exercise, especially while your backpack lays there like a thirsty sponge, sucking up all the mud and moisture and drenching every item that’s inside.
Once I finally got moving, I had chic plastic bags swaddled around my shoes. My "new" old shoes might be comfortable, but their waterproof abilities were about as effective as a paper umbrella in a hurricane. To make matters worse, the views were a hazy mess (unlike yesterday’s fairytale), the mist having swallowed everything except the pain. My body, it seemed, decided on one last revolt. My blisters were healing, my knee was on the mend, but my ankle decided to throw an unwelcome surprise party. Frustrated, I kept pulling over, massaging my muscles and mummifying my ankle with tape, not entirely having a clue of what I was doing. I had no time for this kind of bullshit though, I swallowed the necessary dose on Section J already and I simply won’t be having it any longer. My mind is a totalitarian dictator, suppressing the rebellion, by all means necessary. “The means” in this case being: Ibuprofen. Lots of it.
Distance: 30km.
GPS: FarOut App.
Ascent: 1040m.
Descent: 894m.
Terrain: Clear trail, mostly forest trails. Pleasant surface.
Water Situation: Scarce. Three sources the entire day, once again. The last source is the last one for 12km.
Food Resupply Options: None.
(Misty and wet in the morning, sunny afternoon. Fierce wind.)
That was a miserable night. I mean, the name Blowout Mountain alone should have been a red flag. Besides the heavy wind hauling in my ears all night, it also “blew out” all the forest’s rain reserves straight from the trees, slamming on my tent canvas like hand grenades. The sudden cold was also unforgiving. Merino wool socks and my entire puffy jacket wrapped around my icy feet weren’t up to the task: My toes were on a one-way trip to frostbite city. The ultimate “blow me” factor was, however, the sole availability of slanted camping spots. I had picked the most level one I could find, but still hit the hay with both fingers crossed, hoping I wouldn’t roll off my sleeping mat at midnight. The same poor nightly conditions made for a downtown hectic morning ritual as well. Packing a soaking wet tent at top speed is a hiker’s most dreaded exercise, especially while your backpack lays there like a thirsty sponge, sucking up all the mud and moisture and drenching every item that’s inside.
Once I finally got moving, I had chic plastic bags swaddled around my shoes. My "new" old shoes might be comfortable, but their waterproof abilities were about as effective as a paper umbrella in a hurricane. To make matters worse, the views were a hazy mess (unlike yesterday’s fairytale), the mist having swallowed everything except the pain. My body, it seemed, decided on one last revolt. My blisters were healing, my knee was on the mend, but my ankle decided to throw an unwelcome surprise party. Frustrated, I kept pulling over, massaging my muscles and mummifying my ankle with tape, not entirely having a clue of what I was doing. I had no time for this kind of bullshit though, I swallowed the necessary dose on Section J already and I simply won’t be having it any longer. My mind is a totalitarian dictator, suppressing the rebellion, by all means necessary. “The means” in this case being: Ibuprofen. Lots of it.
Heavily medicated, I managed to crush 17km without a proper pause. To an actual hut, that is, the first of its kind on this Washington-section of the PCT! It was like stumbling into a hiker's haven – a crackling campfire, fellow trail-trodden souls, and hooks everywhere. My tent, a soggy testament to that night’s weather, got a prime spot on said hook system for a proper drying ritual. I ran into a couple of fellow south-bounders I've been leapfrogging with for days. They decided to make the hut their nightly residence while I, fuelled by some renewed proper-shoe-induced enthusiasm, couldn't quite bring myself to stop at just 17 klicks. Time isn't of the essence, but I'm not exactly planning on growing roots here either, especially since mice are an often-seen night visitor in this shelter. That said, I did allow myself a long, lavish break, cooking up dinner for lunch as to optimize the sudden comfort and resources (a fresh water stream for starters, only 1 out of 3 today). The conversations in the hut were a welcome respite, a reminder that the trail, despite long periods of meditative solitude, also offers tiny pockets of human connection.
I continued my hike until the sun took that last bit of daylight away. I had to rush through a former burning zone, to get out before sunset, as its charred and broken trees make camping rather sketchy. It’s neither exactly the kind of vista that inspires profound reflection. The upside, I suppose, was a rather charming congregation of deer, who seemed entirely unfazed by the apocalyptic mood, shortly lifting my mood by proving the adaptability of nature's creatures. The lack of wind-free camping spots led me to passed the 30km-mark again… forcing me to set up camp in a place called Cougar Valley. Oh boy. Fingers crossed the name is purely poetic, and not a hint of me becoming an unplanned addition to the local food chain.
I continued my hike until the sun took that last bit of daylight away. I had to rush through a former burning zone, to get out before sunset, as its charred and broken trees make camping rather sketchy. It’s neither exactly the kind of vista that inspires profound reflection. The upside, I suppose, was a rather charming congregation of deer, who seemed entirely unfazed by the apocalyptic mood, shortly lifting my mood by proving the adaptability of nature's creatures. The lack of wind-free camping spots led me to passed the 30km-mark again… forcing me to set up camp in a place called Cougar Valley. Oh boy. Fingers crossed the name is purely poetic, and not a hint of me becoming an unplanned addition to the local food chain.
Day 8: Cougar Valley - Dewey Lake
Distance: 30.9km.
GPS: FarOut App.
Ascent: 882m.
Descent: 1097m.
Terrain: Clear trail. Mostly rocky and uneven surfaces, painful to the feet and ankles.
Water Situation: Scarce. You have to plan it well and carry enough, use of the FarOut app essential.
Food Resupply Options: None.
(Cold morning, sunny afternoon)
The night remained undisturbed by cougars, though I have been told they're masters of the art of stealthiness. I had set up camp in a sudden non-burnt patch in the former burning zone - a safe haven where I wouldn't be flattened by falling timber in the dead of night, be it without a water source. I greeted the sunrise during my morning coffee, then set off into the charred landscape.
The initial 10-15km guided me through a nearly post-apocalyptic scenery – a burned-out wasteland of scorched trees, eerily reminiscent of an underground horror film. Not exactly the vibrant greenery I'd envisioned, but at least it satisfied me with its uniqueness. Then, in a surreal twist, I stumbled upon a field of alpacas, a fluffy interruption of the bleakness triggering sudden memories of other hiking endeavours in the Andes section through Peru. The trail started to ascend, unexpectedly gifting me a short splurge of cell service at the ridge, likely thanks to a nearby ski resort nestled below. From there, however, the terrain decided to get personal, morphing into a rocky obstacle course of loose, shifting stones that had me tip-toeing like a toddler on a sugar rush. The pace slowed to a crawl, but the views, thankfully, began to compensate. And the real payoff? First-class, panoramic views of Mount Rainier, my ever-handsome and steadfast hiking companion.
Distance: 30.9km.
GPS: FarOut App.
Ascent: 882m.
Descent: 1097m.
Terrain: Clear trail. Mostly rocky and uneven surfaces, painful to the feet and ankles.
Water Situation: Scarce. You have to plan it well and carry enough, use of the FarOut app essential.
Food Resupply Options: None.
(Cold morning, sunny afternoon)
The night remained undisturbed by cougars, though I have been told they're masters of the art of stealthiness. I had set up camp in a sudden non-burnt patch in the former burning zone - a safe haven where I wouldn't be flattened by falling timber in the dead of night, be it without a water source. I greeted the sunrise during my morning coffee, then set off into the charred landscape.
The initial 10-15km guided me through a nearly post-apocalyptic scenery – a burned-out wasteland of scorched trees, eerily reminiscent of an underground horror film. Not exactly the vibrant greenery I'd envisioned, but at least it satisfied me with its uniqueness. Then, in a surreal twist, I stumbled upon a field of alpacas, a fluffy interruption of the bleakness triggering sudden memories of other hiking endeavours in the Andes section through Peru. The trail started to ascend, unexpectedly gifting me a short splurge of cell service at the ridge, likely thanks to a nearby ski resort nestled below. From there, however, the terrain decided to get personal, morphing into a rocky obstacle course of loose, shifting stones that had me tip-toeing like a toddler on a sugar rush. The pace slowed to a crawl, but the views, thankfully, began to compensate. And the real payoff? First-class, panoramic views of Mount Rainier, my ever-handsome and steadfast hiking companion.
I reached Chinook Pass. The supposedly deserted, middle-of-nowhere road people had told me about, too remote to connect to Tacoma to resupply. Turns out that the “middle of nowhere” turns into a full-blown natural Disneyland on a Saturday. The iconic pedestrian bridge had turned into a launching pad for a veritable horde of weekend warriors. Understandable, as the trails suddenly transformed from wilderness paths into wide, well-trodden promenades, connecting the road to scenic lakes within a leisurely stroll of only 4-5km. Sadly, that also meant that the many camping spots surrounding the lakes were prime real estate. They were claimed with the fierce determination of a Black Friday shopper by those who had perhaps conquered 10-15% of my day’s distance. Not trying to be entitled, everyone deserves to be there of course, but after 31km I had hoped for a shred of peace and a better recovery space than just the slanted clearing that nobody else wanted. By no means I will put the beauty of Dewey Lake in question, as it truly deserves its popularity, but quiet and tranquil it was not. The lake seemed to act as a natural amplifier for every conversation emanating from the surrounding campsites, carrying the drunk chants straight across the water. Yet, under a blanket of stars, and with a well-earned powder-meal in my belly, even the cacophony of fellow campers couldn’t entirely dampen my spirits. I was grateful to be here… next time though, make it a Monday.
Day 9: Dewey Lake - Pipe Lake
Distance: 30.3km.
GPS: FarOut App.
Ascent: 909m.
Descent: 893m.
Terrain: Clear trail. Sometimes rocky and uneven surfaces, sometimes forest trails.
Water Situation: Regularly, there are many lakes on this stretch. SoBo: After Dewey Lake there’s 14km of drought (end/Sep).
Food Resupply Options: None.
(Moderate climate, sunny)
Camping at Dewey Lake was like stepping into a postcard, except with tiger balm and throbbing feet. Yesterday, I was the last stubborn soul to drag myself into the camping area, chased forward by the last rays of daylight. This morning, I was the first one out. Before the camping crowds could roll out of their sleeping bags and swim off their hangovers, my tent was packed, my gear ready, and I was perched lakeside boiling breakfast, watching the universe paint its masterpiece. After yesterday’s dinner date with the Milky Way beneath a starlit canopy, I now witnessed the morning light transform like a painter's fever dream: pinks, purples, oranges blending together like they'd signed a non-compete agreement to outdo one another. A mystical mist dancing on the lake, delicate and ephemeral, like ghostly whispers performing an exclusive ballet just for me. Mesmerizing, an otherworldly charm… the true reason I’m out here. Dewey Lake made it worth elbowing for tent space.
Today was a day that will forever be etched in my memory as the epitome of outdoor perfection. I found myself on the cusp of Mount Rainier National Park, where the scenery was so stunning that even my camera sighed in disbelief. There are no more "burning zones" in sight - just flourishing greenery and the majestic volcanic cone of Mount Rainier looming like a proud giant watching over its domain. With its iconic 4393m (14,411 feet) snow-capped summit, Mount Rainier reigns as the crown jewel of the Cascade Range. The trails are a challenging blend of serene forest paths littered with sandy goodness, and rocky paths that make your feet damn their fate. I pranced around blissfully, with my Spotify playlist blasting out my personal hiking hits, each song a triumphant anthem that matched the elevation of my mood. You know that feeling, like you hit the shuffle button and every track is a certified banger? Every song somehow seeped into the fabric of the moment, creating a delightful, head-bobbing harmony with the scenery. Singing along from the top of my lungs, I had some interesting introductions to the few fellow hikers who shared the trails, striking up brief, cheerful conversations. That said, I noticed that the crowds were thinning out. The last full-on PCT’ers were embarking on their last stretches north of me, rushing to finish up while winter would hit relentlessly, and I was hiking southwards where they already passed through. It’s better this way. There’s something deeply satisfying about enjoying one's own company, closing all those mental tabs until only silence is left. People removed from the scene, also provides the serenity for wildlife to enter the stage. Today, this was a snake, black adorned with yellow stripes. A common gartersnake. These non-venomous beauties are like the introverts of the snake world – harmless, unobtrusive and also the ultimate pest-control squad, happily snacking on slugs, worms, and even the occasional amphibian. They can survive in freezing temperatures and even “play dead” when startled, which, honestly, is relatable.
Day 9: Dewey Lake - Pipe Lake
Distance: 30.3km.
GPS: FarOut App.
Ascent: 909m.
Descent: 893m.
Terrain: Clear trail. Sometimes rocky and uneven surfaces, sometimes forest trails.
Water Situation: Regularly, there are many lakes on this stretch. SoBo: After Dewey Lake there’s 14km of drought (end/Sep).
Food Resupply Options: None.
(Moderate climate, sunny)
Camping at Dewey Lake was like stepping into a postcard, except with tiger balm and throbbing feet. Yesterday, I was the last stubborn soul to drag myself into the camping area, chased forward by the last rays of daylight. This morning, I was the first one out. Before the camping crowds could roll out of their sleeping bags and swim off their hangovers, my tent was packed, my gear ready, and I was perched lakeside boiling breakfast, watching the universe paint its masterpiece. After yesterday’s dinner date with the Milky Way beneath a starlit canopy, I now witnessed the morning light transform like a painter's fever dream: pinks, purples, oranges blending together like they'd signed a non-compete agreement to outdo one another. A mystical mist dancing on the lake, delicate and ephemeral, like ghostly whispers performing an exclusive ballet just for me. Mesmerizing, an otherworldly charm… the true reason I’m out here. Dewey Lake made it worth elbowing for tent space.
Today was a day that will forever be etched in my memory as the epitome of outdoor perfection. I found myself on the cusp of Mount Rainier National Park, where the scenery was so stunning that even my camera sighed in disbelief. There are no more "burning zones" in sight - just flourishing greenery and the majestic volcanic cone of Mount Rainier looming like a proud giant watching over its domain. With its iconic 4393m (14,411 feet) snow-capped summit, Mount Rainier reigns as the crown jewel of the Cascade Range. The trails are a challenging blend of serene forest paths littered with sandy goodness, and rocky paths that make your feet damn their fate. I pranced around blissfully, with my Spotify playlist blasting out my personal hiking hits, each song a triumphant anthem that matched the elevation of my mood. You know that feeling, like you hit the shuffle button and every track is a certified banger? Every song somehow seeped into the fabric of the moment, creating a delightful, head-bobbing harmony with the scenery. Singing along from the top of my lungs, I had some interesting introductions to the few fellow hikers who shared the trails, striking up brief, cheerful conversations. That said, I noticed that the crowds were thinning out. The last full-on PCT’ers were embarking on their last stretches north of me, rushing to finish up while winter would hit relentlessly, and I was hiking southwards where they already passed through. It’s better this way. There’s something deeply satisfying about enjoying one's own company, closing all those mental tabs until only silence is left. People removed from the scene, also provides the serenity for wildlife to enter the stage. Today, this was a snake, black adorned with yellow stripes. A common gartersnake. These non-venomous beauties are like the introverts of the snake world – harmless, unobtrusive and also the ultimate pest-control squad, happily snacking on slugs, worms, and even the occasional amphibian. They can survive in freezing temperatures and even “play dead” when startled, which, honestly, is relatable.
I, myself, had apparently turned into a mountain goat. Once again, I’m covering 30-35km a day -20 miles! That’s my kind of distance usually, but honestly, I didn’t think I’d be zooming along this fast with all this weight on my back and the endless up-and-down elevation I’m facing here in Washington. Unfortunately that simultaneously meant I overpacked food for this section, as I underestimated my pace. At least the lakes are everywhere today, so overcarrying water is not an issue (just one dry stretch, a 14km grind south of Dewey Lake, to keep me on my toes). At the end of daylight I found myself at the shore of Pipe Lake, home to a comfy little camping area. Truth be told, my legs still had the gas to keep going, but at this time of the year the sun was ducking out early. As I settled in, I dug up the small, smoky surprise I found at the trailhead: a lil’ doobie. Trail magic*, perhaps? Who knows. Did I accept the universe’s mysterious gift? Absolutely. When the sun sets, and you're surrounded by nothing but nature’s glory, sometimes you just have to roll with it—pun fully intended.
* Trail magic is an American hiking phenomenon focussing on random acts of kindness aimed at the thru-hiking community. Friendly local souls called Trail Angels enjoy leaving goodies and food at trailheads, offering rides, hosting hikers, or can even be found grilling burgers and stashing tacos in the middle of nowhere. It blends the rugged wilderness spirit with good vibes and a dash of "why not?"
* Trail magic is an American hiking phenomenon focussing on random acts of kindness aimed at the thru-hiking community. Friendly local souls called Trail Angels enjoy leaving goodies and food at trailheads, offering rides, hosting hikers, or can even be found grilling burgers and stashing tacos in the middle of nowhere. It blends the rugged wilderness spirit with good vibes and a dash of "why not?"
Rest day: Pipe Lake - White Pass (Packwood)
Distance: 12.2km.
GPS: FarOut App.
Ascent: 199m.
Descent: 419m.
Terrain: Clear trail. Mainly comfortable forest trails.
Water Situation: Regularly, there are many lakes on this stretch.
Food Resupply Options: White Pass (a small shop called the Kracker Barrel) and Packwood (33km/20 miles from trailhead).
(Moderate climate, sunny)
As the sun peeked up from the horizon, casting a kaleidoscope of colors over Pipe Lake, my final I-section stretch to White Pass loomed ahead. A short 12km jaunt that would begin with a short ascent before surrendering to the comfort of downhill trails. With visions of arriving already swirling in my mind, I muscled through the distance faster than expected, fueled by the anticipation of a filling meal and a warm hotel bed. Yet, upon reaching the trailhead at White Pass, reality hit like a cold splash of lake water; this scenic spot was ironically devoid of life. I resorted to the age-old tactic, hitchhiking with my thumb raised in hopeful defiance of the sparse traffic. I spent a good 45 minutes waiting, before wandering off westward to a quaint ski area marked by a lonely outpost dubbed The Kracker Barrel: an old-fashioned pit stop catering to hungry hikers and skiers, and their resupply needs (very limited though, and rather pricy). It was there I met fellow wanderers and quirky spirits Blueberry and Sparrow. Another American hiking phenomenon: Trail names! Typically stemming from a memorable incident, my own identity on the trail remains yet to be determined. After a quick coffee and a cookie, serendipity struck in the form of a Packwood Trail Angel - a savior of sorts - who dropped off a duo of hikers at the outpost. With ease and a generous spirit, they offered to also whisk the three of us away to Packwood, a charming mountain village boasting a couple of restaurants, a few accommodations, and two small supermarkets, needed for a resupply for the next section.
After an eternity of trail mix and rehydrated meals, the prospect of a proper restaurant dinner was tantalizing, nearly divine. We lumbered into the local pizzeria, famed for its Chicago-style delicacy, only for Blueberry and Sparrow to face a budgetary reckoning as it dawned on them that their hiking journey had drained their wallets. Yet luck, or perhaps the kindness of yet another local Trail Angel, graced us when he spontaneously treated us to an epic culinary feast of three oversized pizzas (one each! – seriously the biggest pizza I have seen in my 37 years of life), alongside some well-deserved alcoholic refreshment. It was enough to carry me through the next five meals! Human kindness hits so much harder than its negative counter side.
Distance: 12.2km.
GPS: FarOut App.
Ascent: 199m.
Descent: 419m.
Terrain: Clear trail. Mainly comfortable forest trails.
Water Situation: Regularly, there are many lakes on this stretch.
Food Resupply Options: White Pass (a small shop called the Kracker Barrel) and Packwood (33km/20 miles from trailhead).
(Moderate climate, sunny)
As the sun peeked up from the horizon, casting a kaleidoscope of colors over Pipe Lake, my final I-section stretch to White Pass loomed ahead. A short 12km jaunt that would begin with a short ascent before surrendering to the comfort of downhill trails. With visions of arriving already swirling in my mind, I muscled through the distance faster than expected, fueled by the anticipation of a filling meal and a warm hotel bed. Yet, upon reaching the trailhead at White Pass, reality hit like a cold splash of lake water; this scenic spot was ironically devoid of life. I resorted to the age-old tactic, hitchhiking with my thumb raised in hopeful defiance of the sparse traffic. I spent a good 45 minutes waiting, before wandering off westward to a quaint ski area marked by a lonely outpost dubbed The Kracker Barrel: an old-fashioned pit stop catering to hungry hikers and skiers, and their resupply needs (very limited though, and rather pricy). It was there I met fellow wanderers and quirky spirits Blueberry and Sparrow. Another American hiking phenomenon: Trail names! Typically stemming from a memorable incident, my own identity on the trail remains yet to be determined. After a quick coffee and a cookie, serendipity struck in the form of a Packwood Trail Angel - a savior of sorts - who dropped off a duo of hikers at the outpost. With ease and a generous spirit, they offered to also whisk the three of us away to Packwood, a charming mountain village boasting a couple of restaurants, a few accommodations, and two small supermarkets, needed for a resupply for the next section.
After an eternity of trail mix and rehydrated meals, the prospect of a proper restaurant dinner was tantalizing, nearly divine. We lumbered into the local pizzeria, famed for its Chicago-style delicacy, only for Blueberry and Sparrow to face a budgetary reckoning as it dawned on them that their hiking journey had drained their wallets. Yet luck, or perhaps the kindness of yet another local Trail Angel, graced us when he spontaneously treated us to an epic culinary feast of three oversized pizzas (one each! – seriously the biggest pizza I have seen in my 37 years of life), alongside some well-deserved alcoholic refreshment. It was enough to carry me through the next five meals! Human kindness hits so much harder than its negative counter side.
The Kracker Barrel might offer free camping, and the Cowlitz River Lodge boasts almost-nothing-rates for PCT hikers, but after nearly a week in a tent and, mind you, no shower (the lakes are numbingly cold at the start of October), I decided to indulge in a little trail luxury. The Packwood Inn offered a PCT discount, albeit still a staggering $120, not including their standard VAT and always-expected through-the-roof-tips (but including laundry, highly needed). The United States is simply expensive, there’s no way around it. Walking the PCT might be a rather cost-sensitive way of exploration, but every purchase inevitably drains your travel savings. Yet, as I was already a full month in Washington without spending a dime on accommodation (I’m a hardcore housesitter), I was happy to throw some money at soft sheets and a hot shower. While at it, I invited my newfound pals and every PCT-hiker passing by to scrub up as well, do their laundry and enjoy the comforts of the inn, even tossing in an extra bottle of wine for good measure. Suddenly, my hotel room turned into a convivial gathering space filled with tales of trail escapades, camaraderie sparking like campfire embers amidst shared adventures. Yet as the night deepened and the laughter faded, it concluded with just me, still smiling and reclining in the lavish silky sheets with a bottle of wine in one hand and a glass in the other, feeling like a little victor in my own wilderness saga. A reward well-earned. Cheers to Section I!
Quick Budget Fact Overview
US Facts
Short History Recap
1565: 1st permanent European settlement: St Augustine, now Florida (Spanish). 1607: Jamestown, Virginia, founded by English. 17th-18th centuries: 100,000s of Africans brought in as slaves to work on cotton and tobacco plantations. 1763: Seven Years' War: England gets control over territory up to the Mississippi. ’74: Colonists form First Continental Congress. ’75: American Revolution: Continental Army under George Washington fight British rule. ’76: Declaration of Independence, colonies declare independence. ’83: Treaty of Paris, UK loses colonies. ’87: Founding Fathers, new constitution. ’89: George Washington first president. ’91: Bill of Rights, individual freedom. 1803: France sells Louisiana to US. ’08: Atlantic slave trade abolished. ‘12-’15: War of 1812 US -UK. Resistance by indigenous people. Massive European immigration. Number of states rises from 17 to 45.’46-48: Mexican War - US acquires large territories of Mexico, incl. New Mexico & California.’54: Abolitionists of slavery start Republican Party. ’60: Abraham Lincoln Republican president. ‘60-’61: 11 pro-slavery southern states secede from Union and form Confederate States of America = civil war with abolitionist northern states. ’63: Emancipation Proclamation by Lincoln, slaves in Confederate free. ’65: Slavery abolished in 13th Amendment. Lincoln killed. ’98: Spanish-American War = Puerto Rico, Philippines, Guam & Cuba American. US annexes Hawaii. 1917-’18: US mingles in WWI. Rejects membership of League of Nation. ’20: Women voting right. Sale and manufacture of alcohol forbidden. ’24: Indigenous people allowed citizenship. ’29-33: Wall Street stock market crash, triggers the Great Depression. Roosevelt’s "New Deal" recovery programme. Alcohol legal again. ’41: Japanese Pearl Harbour attack. Leads to US joining WWII against Axis powers. ’45: US drops 2 atomic bombs on Hiroshima & Nagasaki. ’47: Truman Doctrine: aid against communism. Start Cold War with Soviet Union. ’48: Marshall Plan. ‘50-’53: US participates in Korean War. ‘50-’54: Anti-communist crusade within US by Senator McCarthy.’54: Racial segregation in schools unconstitutional. Civil disobedience, pro African-American. ‘60: Nixon. ’61: Bay of Pigs = attempt to invade Cuba, unsuccessful. ’62: Cuban missile crisis. ’63: John F Kennedy assassinated. Johnson president. ’64: Military intervention Vietnam. Nationally, anti-discrimination law. ’68: Martin Luther King assassinated. ’69: Republican Nixon. Neil Armstrong on the Moon. ’73: Vietnam ceasefire. ’74: Watergate scandal, Nixon resigns. ’76: Carter. ’79: US embassy in Tehran hostage crisis. ’80: Reagan, Republican. Anti-communist. ’86: Bombing Libyan cities. ’88: Bush Sr. ’89: Panama invasion, Noriega arrested for drug-trafficking. ’91: Iraq War involvement. ’92: Clinton, democratic. ’92: Nafta. ’99: Nato bombardment Yugoslavia in response to Serb violence against ethnic Albanians in Kosovo. 2000: Bush Jr. ’01: 9/11, excuse for War on Terror. Invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq. Against Taliban. ’02: Department of Homeland Security. ’05: Hurricane Katrina. ’08: Democratic Obama, 1st black president. ’09: 1st Tea Party rally = protest against bailing out banks and introduce healthcare reform. ’11: Presumed Al-Qaeda leader Osama Bin Laden killed. ’13: Snowden flees to Russia after leaking info on extensive internet and telephone surveillance by US. ’14: Diplomatic relations with Cuba. ’16: Trump. ’17: Trump restricts visas for Muslim-majority countries. Recognises Jerusalem as capital of Israel & sovereignty over Golan Heights. ’18: Trump meets Kim Jong-un (North Korea). New Trade deal with Canada & Mexico. ’19: Withdrawing troops from northern Syria. Turkey occupy Kurdish-run parts, create buffer zone. Trump impeached by House of Representatives on charges of abuse of power and obstruction of Congress. ’20: Covid-19 pandemic. Nationwide protests about killing of African-American George Floyd. ’21: Biden. ’25: Trump again.
US Facts
- Capital: Washington DC
- Language: English (Spanish)
- Population: ± 334.9mln
- Sq km: ± 9,833,517
- Currency: Dollar ($ - USD)
- Electricity Outlet: A + B / 120 V / 60 Hz.
- Country Code Phone: +1
- Emergency Phone: 911
- Visa: Some countries need to apply for a visa, which can be done here .Residents of visa-exempt countries can apply online for a visa waiver, called an ESTA.
- Vaccinations: None.
- Climate: The country is so huge, that we’re dealing with several climate zones. Find a map overview here.
- High season: June-August. Summer attracts most crowds due to school vacations.
Short History Recap
1565: 1st permanent European settlement: St Augustine, now Florida (Spanish). 1607: Jamestown, Virginia, founded by English. 17th-18th centuries: 100,000s of Africans brought in as slaves to work on cotton and tobacco plantations. 1763: Seven Years' War: England gets control over territory up to the Mississippi. ’74: Colonists form First Continental Congress. ’75: American Revolution: Continental Army under George Washington fight British rule. ’76: Declaration of Independence, colonies declare independence. ’83: Treaty of Paris, UK loses colonies. ’87: Founding Fathers, new constitution. ’89: George Washington first president. ’91: Bill of Rights, individual freedom. 1803: France sells Louisiana to US. ’08: Atlantic slave trade abolished. ‘12-’15: War of 1812 US -UK. Resistance by indigenous people. Massive European immigration. Number of states rises from 17 to 45.’46-48: Mexican War - US acquires large territories of Mexico, incl. New Mexico & California.’54: Abolitionists of slavery start Republican Party. ’60: Abraham Lincoln Republican president. ‘60-’61: 11 pro-slavery southern states secede from Union and form Confederate States of America = civil war with abolitionist northern states. ’63: Emancipation Proclamation by Lincoln, slaves in Confederate free. ’65: Slavery abolished in 13th Amendment. Lincoln killed. ’98: Spanish-American War = Puerto Rico, Philippines, Guam & Cuba American. US annexes Hawaii. 1917-’18: US mingles in WWI. Rejects membership of League of Nation. ’20: Women voting right. Sale and manufacture of alcohol forbidden. ’24: Indigenous people allowed citizenship. ’29-33: Wall Street stock market crash, triggers the Great Depression. Roosevelt’s "New Deal" recovery programme. Alcohol legal again. ’41: Japanese Pearl Harbour attack. Leads to US joining WWII against Axis powers. ’45: US drops 2 atomic bombs on Hiroshima & Nagasaki. ’47: Truman Doctrine: aid against communism. Start Cold War with Soviet Union. ’48: Marshall Plan. ‘50-’53: US participates in Korean War. ‘50-’54: Anti-communist crusade within US by Senator McCarthy.’54: Racial segregation in schools unconstitutional. Civil disobedience, pro African-American. ‘60: Nixon. ’61: Bay of Pigs = attempt to invade Cuba, unsuccessful. ’62: Cuban missile crisis. ’63: John F Kennedy assassinated. Johnson president. ’64: Military intervention Vietnam. Nationally, anti-discrimination law. ’68: Martin Luther King assassinated. ’69: Republican Nixon. Neil Armstrong on the Moon. ’73: Vietnam ceasefire. ’74: Watergate scandal, Nixon resigns. ’76: Carter. ’79: US embassy in Tehran hostage crisis. ’80: Reagan, Republican. Anti-communist. ’86: Bombing Libyan cities. ’88: Bush Sr. ’89: Panama invasion, Noriega arrested for drug-trafficking. ’91: Iraq War involvement. ’92: Clinton, democratic. ’92: Nafta. ’99: Nato bombardment Yugoslavia in response to Serb violence against ethnic Albanians in Kosovo. 2000: Bush Jr. ’01: 9/11, excuse for War on Terror. Invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq. Against Taliban. ’02: Department of Homeland Security. ’05: Hurricane Katrina. ’08: Democratic Obama, 1st black president. ’09: 1st Tea Party rally = protest against bailing out banks and introduce healthcare reform. ’11: Presumed Al-Qaeda leader Osama Bin Laden killed. ’13: Snowden flees to Russia after leaking info on extensive internet and telephone surveillance by US. ’14: Diplomatic relations with Cuba. ’16: Trump. ’17: Trump restricts visas for Muslim-majority countries. Recognises Jerusalem as capital of Israel & sovereignty over Golan Heights. ’18: Trump meets Kim Jong-un (North Korea). New Trade deal with Canada & Mexico. ’19: Withdrawing troops from northern Syria. Turkey occupy Kurdish-run parts, create buffer zone. Trump impeached by House of Representatives on charges of abuse of power and obstruction of Congress. ’20: Covid-19 pandemic. Nationwide protests about killing of African-American George Floyd. ’21: Biden. ’25: Trump again.
Budget Bites
Mama Said
- Main Supermarket Chains (Washington): Trader Joe’s, Safeway, Wholefoods, Metropolitan Market, Target, Albertsons, Walmart.
- Local Dishes (national): Hamburger, Hot Dogs, Buffalo Wings, BBQ Ribs, Roasted Turkey, Mac & Cheese, Meat Loaf, Sweet Potato Casserole, Fried Okra, Cobb Salad (avocado, chicken, hardboiled egg), Tex-Mex, Crab Cake, Corndogs, Clam Chowder, Gumbo, Jambalaya, Crayfish, General Tso Chicken, Chicago-Style Pizza, Chicken & Waffles, Biscuits and Gravy, Mission Burrito, Cheesesteak, Cornbread, Peanutbutter & Jelly Sandwich, Club Sandwich, Frybread, Po Boy (sandwich), Reuben Sandwich, Sloppy Joe, American Pancakes, Breakfast Burrito, Monterey Jack Cheese, Chocolate Chip Cookies, Chocolate Brownies, Fudge, Jell-O, S’mores, Donuts, Hushpuppies.
- The Veg Situation: Going veg is not so complicated in the United States, as vegetarianism and veganism is widely accepted. Most supermarkets contain veg products, be it very processed at times. Veg restaurants can be found here: https://www.happycow.net/north_america/usa/
- National Drink: Coca Cola.
Mama Said
- Safety: Overall, the United States is a safe country. Yet, all cities deal with a major drug addiction and homelessness problem, which can bring safety in jeopardy. Also, with guns legal to all, gun violence is always around the corner. Don’t trespass, interact with caution and like everywhere else in the world, go around using common sense.
- Tap Water: is safe to drink.
- The best credit/debit card for traveling is Wise, as they use the live conversion rates with minimal exchange fees. Wise also has the lowest fees for sending money to foreign accounts. That said, I do find their customer service rather questionable. Revolut is comparable, but they have higher exchange fees in the weekend and less wallet-options. Also, you can only wire money to Revolut in the currency you opened the account with, whereas Wise has IBAN’s from a wide variety of currencies, so you don’t have to pay a double exchange fee. Both Revolut and Wise have the option to open an American Dollar wallet. Most American ATMs charge a fee for cash outs, but card payments are accepted everywhere.
- Simcard: This can be of considerate cost in the United States. However, lately the market is opening up with more budget players entering the scene. During my 5-month visit, I order a Mint Mobile simcard, which has great coverage and offers low cost packages with particularly economical deals to new members. Other budget operators are Boost Mobile, Lyca, Mobile X, Ultra Mobile, Visible, Cricket, Metro and Tracfone. The main providers are AT&T, T-Mobile and Verizon.
Transport
Next?
- Walking: The bigger American cities are quite spread out and designed for car traffic. Walking is generally a feasible option per neighbourhood, but might be too much of an effort on a city-wide level.
- Cycling: The United States does not have a cycling culture whatsoever. However, recently many cities are making an effort to promote this green way of transport by building cycle lanes and creating shared-bike-programs.
- Public Transport: Within the bigger cities, public transport is usually widely available. Expect an extensive bus network, potentially including a metro, tram or light rail network. On the coast, ferries are generally included in the public transit system. Day passes offer affordable deals within the city limits. To get from city to city, public transportation options are limited to bus lines and certain train connections. Smaller towns and villages are harder to reach.
- Taxi / Uber: The US has taxi apps such as Uber, Lyft and Easy Taxi.
- Train: The train network in the United States is limited. Trajectories are operated by Amtrak, BNSF Railway, Canadian National Railway, Canadian Pacific Kansas City, CSX Transportation, Norfolk Southern Railway and Union Pacific Railroad. The cities on the east- and west-coast are well-connected, but land inwards only certain routes are available. Find an overview on this map.
- Car Rental: This is not a cheap option in the US. However, the best deals can generally be found when the car is picked up from an airport or… from Las Vegas.
- Hitchhiking: is uncommon in the US, but certainly possible. Americans tend to be sceptical and scared in this regards, so it’s definitely not always easy to be picked up, yet I managed to get a ride on all the occasions when I tried to do so. Be aware that on some highway entries and around correctional facilities there are signs stating that hitchhiking is prohibited. More info on hitchhiking in the USA can be found on Hitchwiki.
Next?
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