Monday, June 23, 2025

I feel the trail calling and this year I’ve decided to go to Cascade Locks on the Oregon-Washington border for PCT Days, which is an annual celebration of the trail in August. It is timed so a lot of NoBo hikers that have made it that far will be coming through on their hikes. There are all kinds of gear companies and hiking associations that set up booths and it’s just a good time for thru hikers. This year it is set for August 15-17 and I’m set up for a volunteer shift helping run sound on one of the stages, harkening back to my days in the music industry.

This year, I was initially going to try and hike some of the PCT going north in the Sierra from Kennedy Meadows South up to either Mammoth Lakes or Yosemite with Stix, but we couldn’t quite get it coordinated. I looked at my options and I’ve always wanted to see what PCT Days is like. Then I can hike south from Cascade Locks and go to the Mt Hood area for a few days and get some more miles completed. I’m planning on 6 days and around 70-75 miles or so.

The first part of this hike is actually an alternate trail that almost every hiker takes, the Eagle Creek Alternate, because it takes you through some amazing waterfalls in a gorgeous canyon, most notably Tunnel Falls.

I also will get to go to the Timberline Lodge on Mt Hood, which is famous for being the exterior of the hotel in The Shining. Should be a fun hike and I’m sure I’ll meet some really interesting people at PCT Days.

Off to buy plane tickets!

I came across this article via the PCT Trail Dirt Newsletter, originally published in the digital version of Backpacker Magazine (parent company Outside+) a few weeks ago and wanted to share. It wouldn’t let me link directly, as it is a paid subscription service, so I had to go the copy and paste route. The Outside+ articles are by and large really good and I recommend subscribing if you are an outdoor enthusiast of any kind.

Meadow Ed was a PCT legend and this was a lovely tribute from Barney Mann, another PCT legend in his own right:

“Meadow Ed” Wasn’t Just a Trail Angel—He Was a Pacific Crest Trail Hero.

A friend to the thousands of hikers he fed, the late Ed Faubert helped Cheryl Strayed during the journey she chronicled in “Wild,” and earned a place in PCT history along the way.

Published Nov 19, 2024

Barney Scout MannFollow

That’s distracting, thought Cheryl Strayed, the author of Wild. She was giving a talk at Skylight Books in Los Angeles when a balding, round-bellied man began bouncing up and down in an attempt to get her attention.

“Sir, can I help you?” Strayed asked. The man clutched a shiny red handle with a sharp-toothed blade. “Cheryl,” he said, “it’s me, Ed. Here’s the saw you left behind at Kennedy Meadows.”

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Ed Faubert and that saw were the stars in Strayed’s “pack shakedown” in the movie Wild. In that scene, Ed, played by Cliff DeYoung, sorts through the contents of Strayed’s pack, pulling out questionable items like deodorant, an entire roll of condoms, and that toothy tool. It’s the movie’s funniest moment. What the humor of it overshadows is that Faubert likely saved Strayed’s hike.

In an interview, Strayed concurred: “I’d reached Kennedy Meadows after that first 100 miles and thought, ‘I’m an idiot. I should probably quit.’ Ed and the others gave me this boost to hike on.”

Millions first learned of the Pacific Crest Trail through Wild. They might never have known of the trail but for Ed Faubert, who passed away quietly last month in a Pasadena, California, assisted living facility at age 79.

Roger Carpenter—”Greg” in the movie—was there with Strayed. Now a hardened Triple Crowner who goes by the trail name “Greg from Wild,” he recalls unequivocally that “Ed, his encampment, and that small group of hikers he’d gathered gave Cheryl the confidence that she belonged on the trail.”

It all began in 1995. As a 50th birthday present to himself, Faubert drove to Kennedy Meadows in the southern Sierra Nevada. Riding shotgun in his Bronco was nephew Andre Faubert. My uncle “wanted to be in a place he loved, not moping at home in Los Angeles,” Andre says today.

The same day they arrived, seven tired, bedraggled PCT thru-hikers wandered into their  campsite. It was second nature for Faubert, an itinerant chef and experienced backpacker, to feed those hungry souls. Faubert dished out heaping plates together with dollops of trail wisdom. When they left, Faubert’s cooler lay bare, and he drove four hours back to Los Angeles to restock. Now a budding trail angel, he soon ministered to a second batch of six backpackers that included Cheryl Strayed and Roger Carpenter.

In 1996 Faubert came back, and the dozen hikers became fifty. Faubert set up first in Kennedy Meadows, then Reds Meadows, then Tuolumne Meadows. “When will we see you again, Ed?” one hiker asked. Faubert responded, “Where’s the next meadow?” With that, Faubert became “Meadow Ed.”

Faubert was raised in Manchaug, Massachusetts, the youngest of five boys, shoe-horned into a mill town company-built home. His mom Mildred worked in the mill and dad William in construction. When he was only 8, his father died in a construction accident. He never finished high school but hitchhiked west and entered Glendale College. Faubert was voted class president and earned an English degree, but he was more interested in cooking for others. He became a self-made chef, and bounced like a pinball between local diners and line cook positions at distant Yosemite and Glacier National Parks. Soon, he fell in love with the Sierra, polishing his backpacking skills against a backdrop of glacier-polished granite.

Husky even in college, Faubert had a fifty-year-old’s receding hairline when he was in his twenties. On his tiptoes he stood five-foot-eight, and with that barrel chest you would expect a basso-profundo to emerge. But Faubert spoke in a surprisingly elfin, near-falsetto voice.

As the number of hikers he fed increased, Faubert wasn’t daunted. Instead, he expanded his work to become a PCT “Kickoff” leader. That event took place twenty miles north of the PCT southern terminus and at the time was the equivalent of Appalachian Trail Days in Damascus, Virginia. Meadow Ed’s “water report” talk routinely had standing-room-only crowds. Hikers hung on every word. The notes they took may have saved lives.

To Faubert, the hikers he fed and advised weren’t just souls passing by. They were his lifelong friends. In his later years, he lived rent-free in the basement apartment of Darlene Finocchiaro, a college friend of 50 years. I visited him a few months before he died; prominently hung on one wall was a photo collage titled “Some of my Best Friends,” featuring scores of PCT hikers.

One of those friends was Jackie McDonnell, author of the Yogi’s PCT Handbook and a Pacific Crest Trail legend in her own right.  McDonnell, who would go on to become the first female Double Triple Crowner, met Faubert in 2001 on her first PCT thru-hike. In that low snow year, McDonnell recalled that she’d asked about the upcoming Sierra Nevada. Faubert replied, “At 10,000 feet you’ll hit mosquitos and at 11,000 feet you’ll hit snow.” McDonnell still marvels: “Guess what happened? At 10,000 feet a wall of mosquitos and at 11,000 feet snow. This old guy at the campground. How did he know?”

In 2014, McDonnell was in the front row beaming when the American Long Distance Hiking Association-West named Faubert “Trail Angel of the Year.”  I was the emcee and I’d been asked to limit Faubert to a ten-minute acceptance speech. He came to the mic with six handwritten single-spaced pages. He glowed. I didn’t have the heart to cut him short.

Roger Carpenter, too, remained in Faubert’s lifelong circle of friends. One day, seventeen years after they first met, Faubert sent an email with the subject line: “Look what Cheryl did.” Faubert was so proud. The Wild  book and movie validated his decades ministering to hikers.

The year 2015 marked the last Kickoff, and in 2016 after serving platefuls to multiple thousands of hikers, Faubert gave his last hiker feed. He let his driver’s license lapse as he became more physically limited. On McDonnell’s last visit, only weeks before he passed, the conversation remained the same. Animated, elfin voice: “Do you remember this hiker? Do you remember that hiker?”

Near the collage of hiker photos were framed awards for Faubert’s poetry, a nod to his old English degree. A poem he wrote in 2006 could stand as his eulogy. The floor is yours, Meadow Ed.

A scholar with a camp stove lectern,

A preacher with a church 2,560 miles long and two feet wide, ….

A poet with the wilderness for an audience.

Overflowing with kindness and compassion.

What else could anyone ask to be… 

Meadow Ed

I started the PCT at Campo, California one year ago today.

I almost don’t remember it. It is weird, but helpful to look back on it right now. The years of planning, literally YEARS, had all culminated in this moment. The bundle of nerves that I had contorted myself into at that point was almost overwhelming. I found that out 8 miles in.

I have hiked 8 miles hundreds of times in my life. The weather was lovely. Temperature was in the 70s. It should have been fine. But yet I found myself huddled under my umbrella after lunch, wondering if I was going to have to hit the SOS button on my inreach. Was I going to be that person? Was I going to maybe be that person that you read about that gets airlifted out on the first day of the trail?

As if I hadn’t trained and worked for this for YEARS and prepared myself to avoid this very situation? The thought was terrifying. The thought.

That was my experience in the first four hours of the PCT.

What I found out, as everyone does, is that the trail provides.

As I sat under my umbrella, dousing myself with water to keep cool, a fellow PCT hiker finally appeared. Until that point, I hadn’t seen anyone all day.

“Hey man, can I hike with you a bit? I’m not doing great and I just want to be with someone.”

“Of course!”, came his reply.

His name was John and I never saw him again after we parted ways a couple of miles later.

I started feeling better and then met a Danish brother and sister that I made the hike down into Hauser Canyon with to end the day. We got to the bottom and there were already a few other groups set up to camp for the night at the bottom of this canyon with a nice creek that normally wouldn’t be flowing at this time of year.

This was 15 miles in. I was terrified. Once I got my tent set up, I cooked dinner. I ate almost nothing. I felt sick as a dog. I felt like an alien in my skin (credit to Nikki for that description). I had never felt so vulnerable.

Now I am sitting in Austin reflecting on this day and writing about it.

My month on this trail changed me in ways that I wanted to be changed. I have so many miles to go, but I am forever grateful for this experience and I am going to follow my soul to try and add more miles in the coming years.

I plan to hike SoBo (southbound) on the trail at the end of July from South Lake Tahoe to Mammoth Lakes, 189 miles. My buddy Stix, who has been hiking the Arizona Trail this spring (#walk_in_memory_and_peace on instagram) is going to hike sobo from Chester, CA to Kennedy Meadows and finish the Sierra he skipped last year due to snow, so I’m going to join him for two weeks.

The trail is epic. The experience is completely unique. I will continue to hike it and eventually will finish, though the miles aren’t the point. The journey along the way is the point. As in life.

Feb 3, 2024

Shall we go again?

Nah, not the full trail…BUT

I am going to meet up with my buddy Stix in July at South Lake Tahoe and hike down to Mammoth Lakes for a PCT section hike of 189 miles.

There are no permit quotas for going southbound on the PCT if you start north of Sonora Pass (and south of Washington), so I don’t feel bad bending the rules a tad on not going more than 500 miles.

Let’s keep that between us though.

Planned start date right now is July 20th, give or take a day, depending on when Stix gets there. He is starting further north at Chester where he flipped up to last year when he skipped the Sierra due to insane snowmelt. He will then continue on all the way to Kennedy Meadows to complete his full PCT hike!

I’m pumped to get to hike with a partner this time. This trip should be right around 2 weeks in length. Hoping for beautiful weather and not too many bugs!

Also going to test out some new gear as I train this spring, so I’ll probably blog that here too.

Excited to knock out some more PCT miles!

Thursday, July 27, 2023

I dreamed about the trail last night. I don’t think that will ever stop.

Seven years ago today I first set foot on the Appalachian Trail. I had no idea what that day would set off for me: a lifelong love of long trails.

I had been hiking regularly for 3 years at that point, but something about seeing that white blaze in Massachusetts sparked a feeling in my soul.

A lot of people don’t seem to understand this dream, and that’s ok, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to stop trying. I love being out in nature and it is good for my soul.

I hope everyone can find something in life that stirs them the way long trails stir me.

I decided to leave the trail for a multitude of reasons. Yes, my feet were trashed, yes, I was tired, and yes, the trail is hard. But none of those were the main reasons.

I learned so much in just under a month on trail and 300 miles-ish of hiking. Within the first three days I realized that my expectations of the experience were wildly different than the reality, despite my years of planning. I knew it would be hard, both physically and mentally. I knew it would be unlike anything I had ever gone through.

But one of the first things I learned was that I am indeed a social animal. I need people. I did not like hiking alone. I did not expect this and the amount of couples, partners, and groups I found that hiked together from the beginning was more than I thought. Solo hikers were fewer and further between. It’s easy to say people suck and that the world is a fucked up place, especially in today’s environment being bombarded by social media (if you let yourself), the internet, and the endless other connections available, but humans are capable of really kind and considerate behavior too.

One of the things I wanted to get out of the trail was a restoration of faith in humanity. I got that in a very short time with the people I met on trail and off. Interacting in a deeply personal way with people so dedicated to the same goal was such a rewarding experience. From Sticks and Clay to the Rocket Surgeons to Postmaster and 4Runner and everyone in between, they all gave me a deeper appreciation. Not to mention the trail angels. I know this would have continued on down the trail, but I will come back and experience it again later on.

Second, I reaffirmed something I really already knew and one of my bedrock, core values: I want to experience this world with my family. Courtney and my dogs are the most important things on this earth to me. I am 40 years old and have set up my life in a very specific way on purpose, with the intention of sharing our experiences together. Shit, it was in my wedding vows. I wanted to try this solo adventure and see how it went, but I quickly realized it wasn’t aligned with my values.

A thru hike is an amazing idea and accomplishment for people who are in certain circumstances. I will venture down the road of folly and say that a thru hike is more suited for people who have a very specific reason for staying on trail (Sticks) or those who have no reason to not leave the trail. I am not one of those people. And there is nothing wrong with either situation. It’s just not me.

There is a reason many people are section hikers, a class of which I now consider myself. You can hike parts of the trail whenever and wherever it pleases you. You can pick and choose sections during the most beautiful parts of the year for that area. You can stretch out the experience over multiple years or even decades, which actually sounds even more appealing and amazing to me than a thru hike. Most importantly, you can tailor your hikes to what fits with your lifestyle. Six months on one trail sounds great on paper, but in my reality, it’s much better broken up.

Sticks met a guy in Julian named Cheez It. He has hiked the trail 7 times and never finished. Every time he’s gotten to the point where he’s just done with it and wants to go home. To paraphrase him: Don’t make up an injury or something. Just admit you miss your family and you want to go home!

He’s not wrong.

What am I at? Third? I really got tired of the lifestyle. Living in the dirt is just…not that great. I love hiking. I love camping. But after two or three weeks, the minutiae of camp chores is just mentally exhausting. That said, I did learn to love the simplicity of it. I loved my little tent and the system I had down. Once I got everything done, I was damn comfy in there. But there were definitely times I was setting up and was like, “this is asinine”. Also, I got good at shitting in the woods, but I still vastly prefer a toilet.

Fourth, my feet are actually trashed. As of this writing, I can’t feel my left big toe, though it seems to be getting better. It also feels like there’s a hole boring into the ball of my right foot. Not super fun.

Another thing I want to make sure I say is that this adventure was something I wanted to do for my grandfathers. Moondad, my mother’s father, passed in 2006 and Granddad, my father’s father, passed just recently. Both of them were men who appreciated the outdoors and I feel like they would be proud of me for this. I am not a religious person, but I want to think there is something spiritual in this world and I like to think they were looking over me and would have been interested in this. They definitely were family men that also would have understood my reasons for putting family over trail. I loved both of them and am glad they were with me on this journey.

As I sit here writing this with my wife and my dogs next to me, I know I made the right choice for me. Biff just gave me a full on whine/groan for no reason. That’s what I love. They are my world.

I came back home and two days later, Court, Biff, Finn, and I set off on a road trip to one of our absolute favorite places: Telluride. We have spent so much time there in the past three years that it is starting to feel like a second home. So I’m already back on trail, just a different one!

I plan on going back out to trail this July to meet Sticks and Clay. I don’t know if I will hike a couple of weeks or maybe just do trail magic for hikers. Being out there is what matters. Not how long you are out there or how far you hike.

The producer of one of my favorite PCT documentaries told me to get out on trail for a week and it would change my life. He wasn’t wrong either.

I look forward to continuing the trail over the years and I’ll probably blog it here. I’m paying to keep this blog up, so I might as well use it.

Thanks to those who followed me on this abbreviated journey and I hope perhaps it was inspiring or at least entertaining.

Hike on and, most importantly, hike your own hike.

Dammit. The app is…finicky. I try to keep the date of the actual events in bold. Sorry if they post out of order sometimes. Blogging from the trail is hard!

Thursday, April 20, 2023

I’m enjoying my last night at home with my wife and my dogs. They got all sorts of treats and new toys for my going away. Going to miss the hell out of these two boys.

I packed all my gear into my big Samsonite suitcase and got my next resupply box (with ice axe and microspikes) ready for Court to send when she gets back from San Diego.

Oh, I also shaved my head (!). I used to shave it all the time when I was in my 20s, but grew it out for my wife. But the trail doesn’t care what I look like and I don’t want to have to deal with it.

So that’s it. We are dropping the dogs off at a friend’s tonight and getting up early to fly to San Diego for the weekend. There I will do a couple of last minute errands like buying fuel for my stove and anything else I might decide I need.

Then Monday morning, the 24th of April, I will walk away from the Southern Terminus monument. Surreal.