After a nearly three-year-long, mental-illness-induced hiatus, this summer I finally got my slightly more mentally stable ass back out on the trail. Huzzah!

To celebrate, I thought it’d be fun to do a “hiking wrapped” for the season.

Number of trails hiked: Six.

Total distance hiked: At least 56.6 miles (91 kilometers). Due to an egregious glitch in the AllTrails app, I have no idea how far I actually hiked when I hiked Mount Defiance and Starvation Ridge. The general consensus is the trail is at least 12.1 miles (19.4 kilometers), so that’s the distance I’ve gone with here.

Shortest trail: Angel’s Rest – 4.6 miles (7.4 kilometers).

Longest trail: Lower Punchbowl, Tunnel, and Twister Falls – 13.4 miles (21.5 kilometers).

Average trail distance: 9.4 miles (15.1 kilometers).

Total elevation gain: 13,477 feet (4,108 meters).

Least elevation gain: Oxbow Loop – 633 feet (193 meters).

Most elevation gain: Mount Defiance and Starvation Ridge – 5,984 feet (1,824 meters), at the god-awful rate of 1,000 feet per mile (20% grade) for at least five straight miles.

Average elevation gain: 2,246 feet (684.5 meters).

Total hike time: 24 hours, 5 minutes.

Average hike time: 4 hours, 1 minute.

Slowest pace: Mount Defiance and Starvation Ridge – 34:43 per mile (21:34 per kilometer).

Fastest pace: Oxbow Loop – 20:07 per mile (12:30 per kilometer).

Average pace: 22:30 per mile (15:46 per kilometer).

Best views: Tom Dick and Harry Mountain.

Most strenuous hike: Mount Defiance and Starvation Ridge.

Most memorable hike: Lower Punchbowl, Tunnel, and Twister Falls. Of all the hikes I went on this summer, this is the one most similar to the hike that spiraled me into acute mental illness in 2022 (it was the hike with the most exposure and the narrowest sections of (exposed) trail), and I got through it on my own without incident. Shout out to my brain and nervous system.

(I think I did the imperial-to-metric conversions correctly? Sorry if not! (I’m not the math-y type of autistic).)

Other takeaways

Knee sleeves. After reading so many reviews and trip reports about how steep the trail is, and knowing how janky and cranky my knees are on level ground, I wore my knee sleeves (a lifting accessory) for the first time ever during a hike while hiking Mount Defiance and Starvation Ridge. Complete game-changer. I will never hike without them again, especially on steeper trails, and I can’t believe it took me this long to even think to wear them on the trail. I highly recommend investing in a pair if you find yourself hiking trails that aren’t compatible with your knees with any sort of regularity. The two main brands are Rehband (the brand I wear) and SBD.

Trekking poles. This summer taught me that along with knee sleeves, trekking poles are a middle-aged hiker’s best friend. It’s pretty incredible how big of a help they can be, especially during steep descents. I’m glad I invested in a pair when I had the money to do so. I would’ve been so fucked without them this summer.

Fanny pack. Another new day hike staple. I got real sick of having to stop and take off my backpack and dig through the top pouch every time I wanted to grab my phone to take a photo, or when I needed chapstick or a tissue or a new piece of gum or a small snack or a hair tie or whatever. So I took my ass to REI and bought a fanny pack (the exact one I bought was on clearance and is no longer listed on their website, sorry!). Another game-changer. Like knee sleeves, I can’t believe it took me so long to add this item to my gear.

Maps, music, and podcasts. Downloading every piece of media there’s even the slightest chance I’ll need (or want) while on the trail—or during the very likely scenario of driving stretches of road that don’t have service—the night before my hike is the move. Trail maps, directions to/from trailhead, music and/or podcasts to listen to, etc.

Earbuds v. AirPods. If you’re going to listen to anything while hiking, I highly recommend wearing earbuds that loop around your ear v. AirPods. Like these. For safety’s sake, I wear only one of them and when I have something playing, I keep the volume pretty low. I think the volume on the ESCs is easier to control than it is on AirPods, the audio quality is better, the battery lasts longer, and there’s much less risk of them falling out of your ear and then you falling off a cliff while reaching after them.

Granola. The good news is, I recently discovered not all granola is gross. The bad news is, I learned this months too late for my summer hiking season. The other good news is, now I know and have another compact trail snack option for my next hiking season.

Early bird gets all the cobwebs. The biggest downside to being the first hiker on the trail for the day is you take all the cobwebs straight to the face. The best solution: waving one of your trekking poles in front of you as you hike.

Carbs. The best part of any strenuous hike is the carb-loading I get to do in the day or two leading up to it and again immediately afterward.

Experience/d. I have experience hiking. I’m not an experienced hiker. There’s a difference, and it’s important. There’s a lot I have yet to encounter; there’s a lot I have yet to learn. In many ways, I’m very prepared, even over-prepared, every time I step on a trail. In many other, equally important ways, I’m just as under- or unprepared.

Parting thoughts

My original plan was to hike once a week through at least September, ideally October. By mid-August, some health issues (not mental illness) began flaring and I had to take a break. I’ve not hiked since. I’m frustrated I got in only six hikes this summer, and I’m happy I got in six entire hikes this summer—it’s six more than last summer, and the summer before that.

Finally, and most importantly, my biggest takeaway from my time on the trail this summer: I wish I’d known when I was 17 what the Pacific Crest Trail and section- and thru-hiking were—I think I would’ve found on the trail what I spent too many years unsuccessfully searching for in other (wrong) places.

Hike number six of the season, which was also my final hike of the summer: Ramona Falls Loop, a seven-mile loop along the Pacific Crest Trail in Mount Hood National Forest, about an hour outside of Portland.

This trail is fairly flat—there’s only about a thousand feet of elevation gain overall—and therefore very dog- and kid-friendly (dogs must be leashed). I saw a handful of families with children of various ages camping in the backcountry, including one family with younger kids (they looked to be early elementary school age) on a multi-day backpacking trip.

I first attempted this hike in early June 2022. I went much later in the day than usual and right as I approached the river crossing it began sleeting and then snowing, which I, an unseasoned Oregon hiker at the time, didn’t expect so close to the start of summer. The river was flowing much faster than I expected, and the water was freezing. Combined with the surprise weather, being out there on my own, and my naturally extremely anxious and catastrophizing brain, I was too nervous to attempt the river crossing. I turned around and walked the mile back to my car.

This time, I went much earlier in the day and much later in the season, crossed the river just fine both times, and finally finished this hike.

Like many Oregon summer mornings, it was overcast when I began (shortly after 5:30 am).

And like many Oregon summer mornings, less than two hours later, the sky was completely clear and the sun hung high.

Most of this hike is through tree canopy, some of it very thick overhead, which is a blessing on clear, hot day. There are only a few short stretches where you’re directly exposed to the sun. Because I went counterclockwise, I hit most of these stretches at the end of my hike. If you go clockwise, you’ll hit these stretches at the start of your hike; or, if you begin early enough on an overcast day, you’ll avoid most of them altogether. I recommend going counterclockwise; it provides a much more dramatic first visual of the falls.

Per usual, in the days leading up to this hike, I checked the trail’s AllTrails page for new reviews/comments. There was a single one that mentioned how enormous the falls are in person; how photos don’t clearly convey the size of the thing. Reader, that hiker was correct. This thing is massive. Look how tiny I am in comparison!

There are several spots to camp next to and just beyond (or, if you’re going clockwise, just before) the falls. Also just beyond (or, if you’re going clockwise, just before) the falls: incredibly beautiful cliff faces of rusty orange and milky blue and grey rock (?).

These cliff faces were enormous. They looked so slick and smooth and sharp and, with the sun rising overhead, they appeared at times to glimmer and glow. There was nothing about these cliff faces in any of the AllTrails comments/reviews I read. Coming upon them was a very unexpected surprise, and a much better unexpected surprise than sleet and snow and a rising, raging river.

I wish I’d been able to better capture their beauty with my iPhone camera.

By the time I hit the river crossing on my return, the day was fully awake. Unfortunately, the sun rising over Mount Hood made it impossible to get a photo of the mountain in which it didn’t look completely washed-out.

It was still early when I hit the river crossing on my way back—a few minutes after 8:00 am. I wasn’t ready to leave yet. The sun felt so nice, the scenery was so beautiful, and no one else was out there. So, I set up on some wide, sturdy logs, and spent some (more) time taking it all in.

This hike is fully in the backcountry. As such, there’s no cell service beginning about four miles before the trailhead. If you attempt this hike, make sure you’re prepared for the water crossing and for being completely out of cell service range; check recent reports about trail and river conditions in the days leading up to your hike. Download your trail map and any music or podcasts you plan to listen to on the trail before you leave home. You’ll be able to easily navigate back to the main road without GPS—there’s plenty of clear signage, and most of the time, there’s only one way you can go.

The parking lot is huge. It could easily fit probably a couple hundred vehicles. Both times I’ve been here, there’s been at least one porta-pottty; best to come equipped with your own toilet paper. The road leading to the trailhead is single-lane in some stretches and has some pretty gnarly potholes, though there are significantly fewer of them, and they’re much less gnarly, now than in 2022. Pay attention and, if you, like me, don’t have a rugged outdoor vehicle, maybe go a little slower than you think you need to. What a bitch it would be to pop a tire out there on a narrow-ass road several miles from cell service.