Florida Trail

I’d been aware of the Florida Trail for many years, but hadn’t really put much thought into thru hiking it. Like the Alaskan tundra–I was happy to know it was there, but had no desire to actually venture out and immerse myself in that terrain. When planning a pedestrian adventure, I focus on a pretty narrow list of desirable traits. Alaska and Florida don’t get my pulse thumping the same way other areas do.

I had heard a few stories. Friends who had set out to hike the trail from end to end didn’t have very high praises to sing. There were complaints of long, paved road walk sections. Endless miles of trudging through mucky swamps. An elevation profile devoid of any apparent physical challenge.

During my 2017 thru hike of the FT, I found many of the warnings to be true. I also discovered many of the gems that Florida has to offer.

Being that Florida doesn’t have public lands the same way they do out west, a thru hiker is often forced to reroute along highways to avoid private property. These road walks aren’t the two-track dirt roads of the Continental Divide Trail, either…these roads have semi truck traffic.

I can’t remember where, but I once heard someone say that a thru hike is like a pearl necklace. Each trail is composed of a number of beautiful pearls, but they’re connected by unremarkable lengths of string. To reach the pearls, one has to endure the string…and just like a necklace, each route is unique in the distance between each pearl. The Appalachian Trail has smaller pearls, but they’re all packed tight together. The Pacific Crest Trail has larger pearls, with short sections of string to connect the dots. The Continental Divide Trail has HUGE pearls but also longer strings. Each necklace is beautiful, and one artists design isn’t necessarily better than other…they’re just different. With the Florida Trail, the pearls may not be as grand as the Sierra mountains or the Wind River Range, but they’re gorgeous just the same. It’s just the damn strings between them are so long!

What really made me fall in love with the Florida Trail is different than my love affair with Americas other trails. Being able to set out on a thru hike in January, when the rest of the country is draped in snow, was what initially won my heart. While everyone else was planning their spring/summer hikes in the depths of winter, I was able to venture out in short shorts and a tank top shirt to enjoy Florida’s mild climate. The unique ecosystems also piqued my interest, since I’d never traveled through swamps before. The only alligator I’d ever seen was in a zoo, and who wants a metal fence separating them the toothy jaws of a prehistoric relic? I wanted to get the crap scared out of me with close encounters of SWAMP MONSTERS!

My main objective for this years winter was AVOIDING THE COLD! Something snapped in me this year, and the thought of another dreary Northwest winter sent spurts of ice through my veins. I didn’t want to wear a rain jacket and insulating layers while I escaped the city. I had no desire to tromp around in snowshoes and a parka, bicycle while getting sprayed with slush, or run circles on pavement while the mountains above where socked in with feet of snow. I WANTED TO BE WARM IN THE SUN! The plan was to drive south. Farther south. Like, Mexico south. My partner and I found ourselves on the sandy beaches of the Baja Peninsula, eating cheap tacos where land meets sea, and doing our best to communicate with our limited Spanish. Here we enjoyed a respite from the cold, but gas strikes across the peninsula made fuel. Being in an RV, we were dependent on combustible fossil fuels. We decided that this was the universe gently pushing us back north, so after a week or so we drove back across the border. Back in the United States, we filled up our tank and scratched our heads in frustration. Now what? Mexico was a bust, so where else could we hide from winters icy grip?

That’s when the Florida Trail popped into my head. I had all my thru hiking gear with me, and Florida NEVER has snow! I had really been looking forward to a steady diet of questionable Mexican street food and long runs on the beach, but the timing was perfect for a thru hike in Florida. So off we went, first towards Gainesville to purchase some maps from the Florida Trail Association and then down to the Everglades to start walking north. Nothing like zero preparation before a 1,100 mile journey to up the adventure factor!

The official start of the FT is at the Oasis Visitors Center in the Big Cypress Everglades, but I had heard from my buddy Jupiter that I really needed to extend my hike and begin 8 miles south of there for a true Florida swamp experience. Getting dropped off on some dirt road 8 miles from the official beginning of this hike didn’t seem like much, but holy cats, that section was an eye opener. Within a couple of miles the trail became submerged in water, and the friggin’ snakes started popping up all around me in numbers I couldn’t believe. These weren’t the polite rattlesnakes we have out west, who give a friendly warning rattle when you get too close…these vipers were dead quiet and gave no indication that they were pissed at your presence. Every ten minutes I spotted a gaping white mouth, opened wide in defense and aggression. I even had one fatty SWIM TOWARDS ME! Nothing quite like frantically locating a stick to scoop up and launch a vicious snake to get your blood pumping. Teaching snakes how to fly…this was my introduction to the Florida Trail. I don’t even wanna talk about the river crossing with the alligator snout poking up near the only reasonable route across.

With Big Cypress Snake Breeding Reserve and Killer Gator Sanctuary behind me, the rest of my time on the FT was much more tame. This was a supported hike, as my lovely partner followed me along and met me at road crossings in our vehicle. Not only did this allow me to spend quality time with a loved one, I was treated to hot meals on a campstove, cold drinks from a mini fridge, and the occasional solar shower. I’m afraid if I brag about getting access to clean clothes and cartoons on my laptop every night, my status as a thru hiker will be diminished in the eyes of my hardcore hiker friends. Rest assured, I still was thru hiking, albeit with the pampering and support anyone would enjoy given the opportunity.

I’ll spare you any more details of this 42 day trip. There are a host of better authors out there who were actually journaling as they trekked north (check out dirtybowl.wordpress.com), and their descriptions of this route do a much better job than my simple brain can recall, weeks after completing the trip. (I wasn’t even going to write anything for this site, but I’ve been getting vague death threats from hikers who are SICK of me neglecting this page, so I’ve decided to finally start smashing my keyboard and hoping it’s worth reading.)

What I will say is that the Florida Trail is not to be missed, and hikers looking for a unique challenge during the winter months should consider a journey on this National Scenic Trail. The flora and fauna are incredible, weather is pleasant, and the community of trail maintainers I met are second to none. My path led through muddy swamps of cyprus trees, coniferous forests that towered above my head, and volunteers who put a lot of effort into maintaining this route.

Don’t let the swamps and road walks scare you! Encountering alligators and cottonmouth snakes builds character. Drinking swamp water rich in tannins keeps your immune system strong. Tromping along a paved road walk reminds us how important public lands really are, and how vigilant we need to be to their preservation. As thru hiking continues to grow in popularity, the communities along the way will see how setting aside public space increases revenue for their town and allows visitors to fully appreciate the special places they call home.

I’ll be back to hike the Florida Trail again, for certain. If you’d like to find me on trail, just look for the big tattooed dork in shorts that are borderline inappropriate and a blaze orange hat.


Altra Lone Peak 3.0 review

So, just to be perfectly clear about something—being an ambassador for a company doesn’t mean I’m going to blow a bunch of smoke your way, or give a thumbs up to a product that I don’t fully endorse. The relationships I have with gear companies are dictated quite simply by my desire to employ what works most effectively. I’ll never sing the praises of an item that I wouldn’t actually use, just because I got it for free or at a discount. I am not a salesman, and the only reason I write these reviews is to assist other thru hikers in the universal task of weeding through the ever-thickening gear jungle. I WISH I had access to reviews like this back in 2003 when I first began my love affair with long distance backpacking. I had to rely on REI sales people!…which is how I ended up sporting leather GoreTex boots on my first thru hike. Ouch.

I am often shamefully lax in reviewing footwear in a timely manner, thanks to the rather astonishing rate at which companies like Altra innovate and refine their products. By the time I’ve spent the summer thrashing a current model, a new and improved edition has hit the shelves. While there are fewer people clamoring to read a review for last year’s shoe, I sure ain’t gonna write up my opinion until I put it through the wringer to see how it truly performs. That said, lately I’ve been exploring more ultra running adventures than backpacking ones, and am now equipped to review on footwear in the fall/winter seasons. Which is handy for those of you preparing for an upcoming backpacking adventure, since it’s a good idea to have the footwear for your hike selected long before you actually set foot on trail.


Last year’s review of the Altra Lone Peak 2.0 gives an idea of why I love the design characteristics of this brand. A foot shaped toebox (shoes designed to be foot shaped…crazy, right?!) and a zero drop platform set Altra apart from everyone else. Most people have an “Ah-ha!” moment wearing them for the first time. Everything else on the market feels like a narrow little rock climbing shoe after you get comfortable in Altra, and wearing something that isn’t zero drop seriously feels like walking in high heels.

The main gripe I’ve had with previous editions of the Altra Lone Peak has been durability. The mesh along the outside edge had a tendency to wear out, creating tiny holes, and the tread would be seriously compromised after 300-400 miles. Not a deal breaker, but there was room for improvement.

The Altra Lone Peak 3.0 is the newest model to hit the shelves, and bears significant upgrades. The tread pattern is much more aggressive than last years model. Which, by the way, never struck me as insufficient—but now that I’ve been tearing up and down the trails at a runner’s pace, I’ve noticed the difference. The durability of the sole is much higher. My current pair clocks in at over 300 miles of trail running, and they still look and feel great. The tread is still solid! How they did this while making the shoe a half ounce LIGHTER is beyond me, but I’m stoked to be cutting weight anywhere I can, especially in my footwear. There is some overall wear after 300 miles, but it looks to be mainly cosmetic (slight fraying of fabric and slightly rounded lugs). From a thru hiker’s perspective, these shoes are just getting broken in.


My favorite improvement by far is the toebox overlay. A synthetic leather material wraps around the front, rendering a once-weak point super beefy. I can’t imagine my pinkie toes ever wearing through these shoes. This overlay material does make the toebox feel a bit more constricted, but that’s only because previous models were constructed of mere mesh, which stretched out and felt roomier. If I had to nit-pick the 3.0, this is the only area I wish was different. Even though the manufacturers last is the same as the 2.5 model, the 3.0 could have been made slightly wider to give my toes more room to splay. I’ve been wearing Altras since 2012, so my feet are probably more used to splaying than most.


Note: the lacing pattern I use alleviates this issue, and I encourage others to experiment with how they run their laces. Skipping the holes up towards the toes allows the shoe to really stretch out. Subvert the dominant lacing paradigm!

Anyway, after a week, I didn’t even notice the difference, and am very happy to have more durability up front.

Those of you who wear gaiters will be stoked to see that Altra still incorporates built-in velcro on the heel, and now even has a little metal ring up near the forefoot to clip your gaiter hook! Pretty neat. Sizing is similar to the 2.5, which I found to run “true to size”, although I tend to wear a half size larger than necessary out of habit. In fact, I tie my laces a little loose so I can slip my shoes on and off without untying them. I like to be able to dump out rocks and dirt quickly, and being able to pull them off like a slipper suits me fine. Maybe I should start wearing gaiters…

Only a few months of thru hiking will truly test a shoe, but I’m exceptionally pleased with this model, and have been wearing it for all my training runs. It’ll be my choice of footwear for my next hike, for sure.


Contact page malfunction!

Unfortunately there was a problem with the “contact” link here on my website for a couple weeks. If you tried to reach me via that, I never received your email! Sorry about that, and please know if was because of a computer glitch, and not me ignoring you. I’d explain in more detail what exactly happened, but I’m embarrassed by my complete lack of knowledge when it comes to anything electronic.

Injinji love


(Shera and I with matching pink socks in 2006. https://sherahikes.wordpress.com/ )

Spring is right around the corner! But you, dear reader, are trapped inside while winter’s fury swaddles your favorite trail in snow. No better time to read about one of the most underrated aspects of a backpacker’s gear list–SOCKS!

I remember the first time I tried Injinjis (or “those weird toe socks”). I was thru-hiking the Pacific Crest Trail in 2006, and seeking a routine replacement for my beat up generic socks. While browsing the selection at a small outfitter somewhere in southern California, I came across a pair of Injinjis…in pink. I’m a sucker for fun bright colors, and while I will admit I bought them on that selling point alone, those fantastic looking socks were far too thin for extended backpacking. I wore through them rather quickly before writing them off as a novelty (albeit an extremely comfortable one) and returned to wearing “normal” socks.

Fast-forward to 2013, and untold numbers of blisters later…I hear rumors about Injinji issuing a beefier version of the sock I had tried to love years prior. I was skeptical at first, but damn am I ever glad I gave them a second shot! The Trail 2.0 version was the cat’s pajamas! These things were tough, and I was able to get a couple hundred miles out of a pair before developing holes (an inevitability with any sock, to be fair). However, unlike every other sock on the market, the Injinji put fabric between my toes, which prevented blisters from forming. When I combined them with my Altra Lone Peaks, I had a comfortable, blister-free combination that kept my feet (and therefore me!) happy, which is paramount on a journey that lasts thousands of miles. Eliminating toe friction can be done with goop like BodyGlide or Vaseline, but when you’re out in the woods for 1-2 weeks between showers, why not just choose a sock that does that for you?


Altra Lone Peak 2.0 review

It’s no secret that I’m a huge fan of Altra footwear. Some might even call me borderline “obsessed”. However, rest assured–it’s a fanaticism built upon thousands of consecutive miles in what are simply the best shoes I’ve found to date. Cranking out 3000+ miles a year (and a subsequent 4-6 pairs of footwear in the process) allows one to become very familiar with any downsides of a particular brand or style, and until recently I’d been disappointed in one way or another with manufacturers across the board. Every shoe felt like a compromise.
After having discovered Altra’s Lone Peak (model 1.0) in 2012, I’ve become a diehard fan. I fretted so much over the uncertainty of this small new company’s future that I ended up buying 15 pairs of the original 1.0 model. You know, for backup. I didn’t want to risk the possibility of showing up to, say, a zombie apocalypse in less-than-sufficient footwear. I mean, what if those fools could RUN?!

Fifteen pair of shoes might sound like a lot, but I burn through ’em pretty quick. The Lone Peak 1.5 has come and gone, succeeded by the 2.0–the subject of this review–which I’ve been doing my best to put through the wringer to see if they stand up to the original that I fell in love with.

First thing I noticed was the new upper material. It’s wicked soft and even more comfortable than the original. Feet have a tendency to swell in the beginnings of a thru hike (especially if temperatures are high) but these puppies won’t cramp your style since there is room to spare! The deliciously functional anatomical shape that Altra is known for really shines in the 2.0, and gives my toes plenty of space to breathe, wiggle, and splay, which I’ve found to be key in the quest to remain blister free. Rock these babies with a pair of Injinji toe-socks and you have the kind of winning combination that makes lifelong converts.

As with all of Altra’s offerings, this model is designed as a “zero drop” shoe, which means there is no difference in height of the sole between the forefoot and heel. Chances are the shoes you’re wearing right now have at least a 2:1 ratio, the heel being twice as thick as under the forefoot. Having a big squishy heel might sound like a good idea in theory, but I and many others have found it to encourage a very unnatural walking stride. There are countless arguments online regarding the merits of both schools of thought, but I urge you to experiment and see if a zero drop platform works for you. Personally, I found it to be liberating, and now I feel like I’m wearing ridiculously high heeled shoes if I wear anything that isn’t zero drop.

The 2.0 has more cushion underfoot than previous models, and my feet appreciate it when the trail gets rocky. If you thought the previous models were comfortable, be ready for your plush-o-meter to spike into the MEGA COMFORT ZONE. This is by no means a minimalist shoe, despite what some might think after hearing the words “zero drop”. The Lone Peak offers substantial material underfoot without feeling overbuilt or clunky, and casually soaks up the gnar on the roughest routes I’ve been able to throw myself at. Peep the tread under that A-Bound EVA midsole–you’ll see a tread pattern aggressive enough to keep me upright as I flail down insanely steep trail, arms flapping wildly in a futile attempt to look like I meant to do that.

There are a few other minor upgrades only shoe nerds like me (and you, dear reader) will truly appreciate. On the heel is a handy velcro strip is already built into the heel for those who like to rock gaiters. DirtyGirl gaiter users are gonna LOVE this feature. The tongue has also been redesigned for a more comfortable fit, and the rear “rudder” has shrunk in size. I’ve always cut that guy off in a nitpicky attempt to save weight, but then again, I cut the handle off my toothbrush (that’s how nutty I am about ultralight practices!).10700264_950876478271485_4112333650252098849_o

Thru hikers ask a lot of their feet. Pounding out ultramarathon distances daily for months at a time can be grueling punishment if you’re wearing uncomfortable (or even simply less than ideal) footwear. I am the first to admit that there is no “magic bullet” shoe that will work for everyone, but I cannot say enough good things about these shoes. Since 2012, there has been a HUGE surge in numbers of thru hikers switching to Altra, and it’s for good reason. These things are the most functional footwear available and I implore you to try them yourself and see what you’ve (probably) been missing.

The Journey to Becoming an Ultramarathoner

The first time I thought about ultra running, I was smack in the middle of a 2,650 mile hike across the country. At that point I was entirely self-supported–carrying all my gear–routinely cranking out 30+ mile days. The prospect of traversing the 31 miles that an ultra marathon entailed sounded…well, to be quite honest? Easy. I thought “Hell, I do that EVERY DAY out here! How hard could it really be with aid stations peppering the route? I don’t even have to carry a backpack?! A cinch.”

Turned out, there was (a lot) more to ultra running than I thought.

As a long distance hiker with something like 23,000 miles of hiking under my feet, I had firmly established a personal pace that enabled my body to walk 30-40 miles per day for months at a stretch. 3 MPH was where my internal governor redlined, and as I’d soon discover, I was ill-prepared for upping to a pace that allowed for feasibly beating cut-off times. A year and some change later (August 23rd of this year, to be exact) I toed the line at the Headwaters 50K feeling strong. When the herd of fellow participants started galloping away from me, I confidently stuck to my plan and set off in a hybrid shuffle-hike that I guessed was around 4-5 MPH. Plenty of time to beat those weird cut-off times I’d read about, right?

Upon arrival at the first aid station, I started to get worried. The volunteers there informed me that I was barely on track to beat the clock! In my fear I started traveling faster–much faster than I had during my training–a 2,180 mile hike of the Appalachian Trail! The leg muscles that had allowed me to complete the AT in a mere 86 days were not conditioned for running, and I was hurting more than I’d ever experienced on trail by the time I hit the 18 mile mark.

Looking back now from the comfort of my couch, I can clearly see the switch that happened in my brain. The misery that I was experiencing on that ultra race was the same familiar pain I had felt on my very first long hike, back in 2003. In the 11 thru hikes since, I’d forged my body into a thru hiking machine, but I had neglected to consider the different muscles needed to run rather than simply hike. At that 18 mile mark I realized that I was in the same old boat I had been as an inexperienced cocky kid, taking my first steps as a long distance backpacker. Here I was, fresh off a multi-thousand mile hike, yet woefully unprepared for the mere 50K run I had felt so confident about.

I finished that race. Gritting my teeth, I ran for as long as I could, shuffled the climbs, and eventually crossed the finish line. My legs were thrashed, my ego crushed…but my face was stretched into a smile. I was elated to finally find a new challenge. Thru hiking had become such a normal aspect of my life that it had ceased to present me with any real hardship. This ultra running business was TOUGH!

The next month I ran the Flagline 50K, followed shortly by the Lithia Loop trail marathon. In between these races I started to do something I never even imagined: training runs. Every day I’d strap on my Altra Lone Peaks and head to the nearby trails, pumping up the climbs with a renewed sense of purpose and ripping the descents, arms out like airplane wings. When my body and brain inevitably tried to slow my pace to a something more closely resembling a “thru hiker” speed, I’d remember the pain of that first ultra run and kick it up a notch.

As much as I hate to admit it, it’s just not possible to live my entire life immersed in a thru hike. However, with trail running I can get my fix of wilderness travel, albeit at a much faster clip (and within a much smaller window). Being taken down a notch has proven extremely beneficial to my mental health, and has stopped me from resting on the long distance hiker laurels I’d become so comfortable upon. Ultra running isn’t just a new obsession–it’s a new, solid foundation to complement and augment my yearly mega hikes, and I cannot wait to see the changes in the way I travel next year.


When I first started long distance hiking, food was an afterthought. The items I brought along to eat were chosen based on convenience and cost, so my diet was full of junk. Ramen noodles, instant potatoes, candy bars; all traditional backpacking foods which are still in common use today. These foods are cheap and excite the tastebuds with their weird chemical slurry, but are mostly devoid of nutrition. With the exception of dried fruit and nuts, most edibles hikers tend to bring aren’t really food at all.

I’m still guilty of faux-food on occasions, but over the past couple years I’ve been experimenting with more wholesome items. Back when I still used a stove I liked to cook up kasha (aka buckwheat groats) and top it off with dehydrated chili or lentils from the bulk bins at the local hippie food store. Kasha is a quick cooking gluten free whole grain that serves as a base for whatever you wish to top it with, and the bulk bins at Whole Foods or your local co-op (and online!) offer a variety of dehydrated health foods.

Lately I’ve been drawn towards stoveless cooking, or the “soaking method” as it’s sometimes called. To soak my foods I use a 2 cup plastic Ziplock container commonly found in any grocery store. You’ve seen them, and probably even have some in your house! They have a blue screw-on lid and are pretty darn solid. Instead of carrying a pot, stove, and fuel (often the heaviest of the 3) I allow my dehydrated foods to gently soak for a few hours as I hike, and when I’m ready to eat my dinner, its the ambient temperature of my surroundings. Stove aficionados, this isn’t as horrible as it sounds, especially when I’m eating dank foods like butternut squash curry with peanut sauce, served over a bed of rice noodles! Or perhaps lentil dal with spinach and brown rice. Sound intriguing? Well, unfortunately you’re gonna have to do a little work before your adventure to eat this good, but it’s worth it.

The secret to my mouth watering meals is a simple food dehydrator. My Excalibur dehydrator was a costly investment, but it’s paid for itself ten times over in a single year. Granted I do have a vegan chef partner at home preparing my meals, but as I watched her prepare all these goodies from a safe distance, I can safely say it isn’t beyond the capabilities of anyone who is willing to learn. Cook yourself dinner…but make that recipe for 20 people, and then dehydrate the leftovers! A dehydrator is easy to use, and with a bit of experimentation you can create simple, wholesome meals at home to bring on your next adventure. After nonchalantly teasing countless hikers on the PCT with my food, and promising to add a recipe section on my website, this is the first step towards making that a reality.

End of the journey

Arguably one of the highlights of the Arizona Trail is the Grand Canyon, and with that ahead of me I really put on the afterburners and cranked out some big miles. Another reason I was hiking 40 miles a day was to catch my friend S.O.L., who was waiting for me at the South Rim of the canyon at my good buddy Li’s apartment. Li works for the Park Service, and puts out an EXCELLENT series of maps for the AZT, in addition to offering his home up to weary travelers who need a shower and laundry.

The Grand Canyon lived up to the hype….photo (8)

The trail in this section was amazing. Not only because of the views, but also the careful construction of tread in a vertical world of rock.

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This was truly a feast for the eyes, and the constant sense of wonder made me forget the steep elevation changes. Losing thousands of feet in elevation, only to regain them the next day, didn’t even register in my head. I was too busy taking in views like this;

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Once out of the canyon, S.O.L and I hiked together, both of us excited to complete the AZT. Water sources were few and far apart, but the constant chatter we shared made up for it. In an odd twist of events, we had gotten slightly ahead of Dirtmonger, but he caught us while we took a break, and I was elated to have TWO friends to hike with. The last section of trail was smooth and easy, even more so now that I had some company. The trail popped out at the border of Utah, and as quickly as it had started, my hike across Arizona was over.

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I’m typing this from Portland Oregon, and while my journey through Arizona is over, my summer still has many miles left. I’ll be headed out on the Pacific Crest Trail soon, and will hopefully keep my blog updated in a more timely fashion.


As I suspected, the trail north of Pine was vastly different than what I had been walking through. Once up on the Mogollon Rim, the terrein was flat and conifers outnumbered cacti. Smooth sailing! I encountered a rattlesnake, who was not pleased to be interrupted and warned me with a buzzing rattle.

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Once I got closer to the town of Flagstaff, the trail crossed a highway and I stopped to take a break nearby. No sooner had I stopped when a car drove by and the driver stared at me, obviously looking for something. The car slammed on the brakes, pulled over, and a man sprang out yelling “hiker trash!” It was my friend Brooks, who I had met last year on the CDT! He had came out looking for me, and offered me fresh fruit and water, which I gratefully accepted.

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Once in Flagstaff I called my friend Guino, who lived in town and had offered me a place to clean up. Much mayhem happened that evening, and my brain cannot recall all the details, but we ended up out drinking beer on a Friday night in downtown dressed up in animal costumes. Please enjoy this photo of me in a gorilla suit;

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In Flagstaff, I also purchased another pair of Lone Peak shoes to get me the rest of the way, and was able to pick up a maildrop chock full of organic, vegan dehydrated food that my girlfriend had made and mailed to me. I generally try to eat healthy on trail, but my boring old concoction of beans and vegetables were no match for her lentils, butternut squash curry and peanut sauce. And don’t get me started on the raw tomato walnut crackers! I’d never eaten so well on a hike.