Pain, misery and beauty. Arlington man survives grueling Pacific Crest Trail adventure.

Some look at the most extreme challenges and ask “why?”

Then, there are the few, like Arlington’s Justin McCormick, who see those same challenges as opportunities and ask “why not?”

That never-back-down mindset is what drove McCormick to recently take on the most grueling challenge of his life, trekking from the U.S-Mexico border to Canada along the Pacific Crest Trail, a total of 2,653 miles. The journey took the 40-year-old McCormick a little more than half a year, sending him through California, Oregon and Washington, spending the majority of his adventure camping out in the wilderness.

“I wanted to have an adventure. And in my mind, it’s not an adventure unless there is some pain, suffering or misery,” McCormick said. “Choosing the Pacific Crest Trail as my actual route was fulfilling something that had been on my mind since childhood.

“I grew up reading ‘National Geographic’ magazines, and one had a story on the PCT that captured my imagination. So when life offered up this opportunity, I took it.”

The Pacific Crest Trail starts near Campo, California, and ends on the U.S. border at Manning Provincial Park in British Columbia. It was designated as one of the first National Scenic Trails in 1968. It climbs nearly 60 major mountain passes, goes through three national monuments, seven national parks, 24 national forests, and 33 federally mandated wildernesses. It also passes the three deepest lakes in the nation, Crater Lake (1,949 feet), Lake Tahoe (1,645 feet), and Lake Chelan (1,486 feet).

McCormick began his great adventure March 11 and finished Sept. 14, accomplishing a relatively rare feat. According to the Pacific Crest Trail association, a little more than 7,500 people have finished the trail to join the 2,600 miler list based on the honor system.

Comfort zone

McCormick has never been a stranger to the outdoors. Originally from the Yukon Territories in Canada, he grew up in a cabin in the woods, with no electricity and his family living off the land. He was raised on adventure activities such as snowshoeing, skiing, canoeing down remote rivers, and rock climbing.

And though he’s done lots of backpacking, hiking and camping, this was like nothing he’d ever attempted. His longest previous hike was 96 miles.

“I have backpacked in the Philippines, Ecuador, Iceland, and Alaska. But after the first week of hiking (the PCT), it was all a new experience,” he said.

Though he made the journey alone, McCormick did meet other hikers along the way, he said.

“There was not a whole lot of other people walking across the southern desert sections of California, but in Kennedy Meadows, the gateway to the Sierra Nevada Mountains, lots of hikers camped out waiting for favorable weather, to resupply packages and climbing gear,” he said.

“Hikers also form teams to take on the challenging mountain sections ahead. I formed a team with four other hikers and we hiked together every day until we reached South Lake Tahoe. After that I would occasionally hike with other hikers but never as a team.”

And, of course, when a signal would allow, he shared his adventure on social media.

“Following his Instagram stories when he was passing through the Sierra had me on the edge of my seat,” said McCormick’s friend, Adam Paashaus. “He is a true inspiration and did something really special. Not many people would have had the drive to complete that trail under those conditions.”

Survivor mode

Those scary moments seen in movies when someone is alone in the wild? They really happen, McCormick said. In fact, he had several dangerous encounters during his journey.

“There was many frightening moments, and many times I was putting my life on the line. Most of these intense moments happened in the Sierra Nevada Mountains, and Yosemite National Park,” he said.

In the mountains the danger resulted from the passes. To make matters more challenging, late season storms continually dumped fresh snow in the mountains during a record snow year.

Many hikers turned back or left the trail due to the snowy conditions. Others suffered frostbite and/or wound up getting saved by search and rescue teams. Not McCormick, who was among those who pushed through and endured.

“The most dangerous situation I found myself in was at the base of Forester Pass. It was the seventh day out from Kennedy Meadows and my food was running dangerously low,” he said. “I had another day and a half before I could drop out of the mountains to the small town of Independence in Owens Valley to get re-supplied. But before I could get there I had to climb Forester Pass.”

At 13,153 feet the pass looms high as a wall of frozen rock, snow and ice. He sat up camp at the base with the plan to climb over it in the morning, but that night a storm rolled in and he awoke covered in snow in a whiteout blizzard.

“I knew I had to retreat off the mountain and find shelter in some trees I had passed the day before seven miles back,” he said.

The next challenge was navigating through what was now a minefield of avalanche zones. McCormick had to carefully navigate in a complete whiteout using a topographic map, avoiding avalanche areas.

“My heart was racing as I waded (sometimes waist high) through the fresh snow, realizing that I was in a terrible situation and that the stakes were very serious,” he said.. “If I headed off in the wrong direction I could be setting off dangerous avalanches. But I kept calm and eventually made it further south to the protection of some trees and waited for the storm to pass.”

A couple days later, he was met by another group of brave hikers coming up behind the storm and they pushed their way through into Independence.

“I ended up hiking a whole day without food after living off tiny rations of refried beans the days previous,” he said.

Also, the section between Tuolumne Meadows and Sonora Pass (the second highest pass in the Sierra Nevada at 9,623 feet) was very dangerous. McCormick was faced with numerous crossings of rivers that were flooded with all the snow melting from the mountains.

“A couple times I almost got swept down river,” he said.

Healing sunset

Along with the minor injuries that are going to accompany any such adventure came one major one. He fractured a rib while crossing a small snow bridge over a stream only a day out from South Lake Tahoe. The snow bridge collapsed and he fell onto an ice ledge below, then landed in water.

“I was in so much pain that it took some time before I could climb out of the creek and on to the opposite shore,” he said.

While the injury was incredibly painful, and he had to move slower, losing precious miles each day, McCormick was determined to not let the mishap take him off the trail.

“I just gritted my teeth and kept going, telling myself that slow miles were better than no miles,” he said. “It began to heal up noticeably after the third week, and by a month’s time it no longer bothered me and I was able to do large mile days.”

Along with the danger came beauty — lots of beauty.

“What really struck me was the diversity of the beauty,” he said.

That diversity ranged from the dusty Mojave Desert scattered with clumps of Joshua trees, majestic snow-covered mountains of the Sierra Nevada, thick old-growth Oregon forests, glacier-covered peaks of the Cascades, and fog-shrouded rain forests of the Pacific Northwest.

“There was one particular day that stood out to me. My team and I had pushed hard over Muir Pass and were exhausted,” he said. “We had done more miles than we had originally planned, and it was late in the day with a storm rolling in. Everyone was low on food and morale was down. There was a depressing gloom and grumpiness that hung thick in the air as we stomped down the snow to set up our tents.

“Just as we were about to climb into our tents, the storm suddenly lifted and the sky split open into a majestic sunset. The snow around us glowed rose pink and the sky flared with deep saturated reds and oranges.”

Despite their exhaustion, McCormick said they all ran to the crest of a nearby ridge line to take in every moment of what was unfolding.

“It felt like a reward or a gift for the day’s efforts, and it lifted our spirits. It reminded us how lucky we were,” he said. “No one else was seeing this sunset as beautifully crafted as we were, nestled up there in the high Sierra hundreds of miles from civilization. We all climbed into our sleeping bags that night, our hearts full of joy just from that simple sunset.”

Family support

Along the way, McCormick said his feet grew a full shoe size larger and he lost 45 pounds. He had five encounters with rattlesnakes and four with bears. His longest hike in one day was 34 miles, and he joked, “I got really good at hitchhiking into towns for resupply.”

The most difficult challenge, McCormick said, was homesickness. Communication with his family was sporadic at best.

“I had my phone that I used to call or FaceTime with my wife and kids, but being dependent on a signal meant this was not always possible,” he said. “Sometimes I would go through sections in the mountains for weeks without being able to communicate. I would occasionally send letters, but getting pen and paper was a hassle.

“I felt the guilt of having left them while I pursued this crazy dream. Yet, knowing how much they were sacrificing and still giving me their full support kept me going, especially on the difficult days.”

Paashaus said, “His wife Kirsten is amazing, and the gift that she gave him in supporting his PCT thru-hike was more than most husbands could ever ask.”

McCormick did have a family encounter on the journey, however. His sister, Arlan Hall, lives in California and met him at one stop with some goodies.

“She brought me some Trail Magic beer, whiskey and food,” he said.

“He has always been an adventurer. His socks never matched and he could live out in the wilderness without complaint for endless amounts of time,” Hall said. “When he brought up wanting to hike the PCT my first thoughts were that if anyone could do it, he could. Never a doubt.

“I have been really proud of his climbing accomplishments prior to the trail, and even more so after. It was interesting to hear about the way the trail brought on a kind of meditation about life. I loved hearing his stories about all the characters he had met along the way.”

While he’s still resting and recovering now, McCormick is already thinking about what his next adventure might be. But he said he’s in no hurry.

“I am working on a few exciting ideas, but have not settled on anything yet,” he said. “It’s not that I feel like I have to top what I just did, but it has upped the standards for what I consider an exciting adventure. However, for now I am content on spending as much time as I can with my family.”

This story was originally published January 17, 2020 at 6:00 AM.