In the spring of 2013 Trauma and I made an attempt to ski from Sonora Pass to Mt Whitney. Anyone living in the Sierra that winter who looked out of their window could tell you the snowpack was nothing to write home about. Sometimes despite best laid plans, logic is blindsided by stubbornness. We departed for that trip fully knowing that condition were ‘less than idea’ to say the least. We spent more time walking than skiing, and consequently I spent a lot of time questioning myself and my motives. As I looked at the bruises and blisters covering my feet from walking mile upon mile in ski boots, the big looming question rolling around in my head was maybe I was done with all of this. All of this suffering, all of this pushing of limits, all of this time spent away from home and loved ones. How do you gracefully bow out of a life that has fulfilled you for so long? How do you know when you have seen it all, felt it all and experienced life to the fullest? When does the pursuit of passion become habitual, ritualized?

    I’ve since had 18 months to ponder this very question. I committed myself and my time (and subsequently) new role within Outward Bound. To date, I will have worked nearly 500 days within that 18 month period. If you do the math there is a level of obsession that directly correlates to the void of feeling lost and purposeless; a replacement of sorts. My life is one of extremes and I’ve concluded that this reality will never cease. Long distance pursuits have been a vessel to channel those thoughts and desires. It is when I am most fulfilled, most at ease and most at edge. With that I welcome the dawn of a new era. One that is directed at focused intent, calculated risk and subscribing to the very essence that has sustained me for over a decade. I am ready for the next journey into the unknown.

    Trauma and I have been discussing for many years the possibility of a winter traverse of the Pacific Crest Trail.  I can honestly say that this trip extents from a place of curiosity and doubt. The curiosity directly combats any sense of acting on habit. I want to see a familiar place in a different setting. I want to again push myself to new limits and struggle along side a close friend. The doubt stems from a greater sense of reality and, for the first time in a long time, the possibility of complete and utter failure. As it goes, the doubt fuels my curiosity, round and round, in a vicious and circular pattern.

    Our plan is to begin hiking around October 20th from the Mexican border. If the stars align we will switch to skis and hit the High Sierra just before Christmas when the snowpack has had a chance to set up for the season. January is a notoriously dry month in the Sierra and it will be our window of opportunity to cover ground for the inevitable storm(s) that will grind our progress to a halt in February and March. Our route should be considered more of a corridor than a precise line drawn on the ground. Flexibility and judgment will be our two governing bodies over any sense of purity. The true PCT trail will add a contrived element to an otherwise continuous, aesthetic route of our design. We will be banking on stable spring conditions through the Cascades on our final stretch to the Canadian border. As much as feasible, we will defer to a self-support style and approach. Fear not, we too wish for at least an average snowpack this winter. It would only be fair.

Thing we have working in our favor:

1. 1.Wilderness experience: Trauma and I have traveled many miles (50,000+ collectively), many of which were together pioneering some of our hardest projects, including the Great Himalaya Trail, the Te Araroa in New Zealand and the Hayduke Trail, long before it gained popularity.
   

2. 2.Familiarity to the PCT: Collectively we have both hiked it three times, with many long section hikes in between.
   

3. 3.Familiarity to the Sierra snowpack: Trauma and I have both lived on Donner Summit for many winter seasons, having seen a variety of conditions and extremes.
   

4. 4.Experience with extreme cold and winter conditions: I have guided dogsledding trips during the winters of Minnesota, with temperatures plummeting to -40F.
   

5. 5.Avalanche awareness: Trauma is certified at a AVI II level and has been active as a ski patroller with over a decade of experience. I also have my AVI I certification
   

6. 6.Long distance mentality: Multi-month trips are nothing new to us.
   

7. 7.A unified vision and purpose: Without this, miscommunication and assumptions can blur expectations.
   

8. 8.Judgment and Risk Assessment: My role as an outdoor educator and trainer has sharpened my skills to make level-headed decisions in a timely manner. Hazards will be ever present.
   

Challenges to overcome:

1. 1.Lack of familiarity to the Cascade snowpack.
   

2. 2.Availability of ski equipment built for the duration and efficiency for this style of this trip.
   

3. 3.Lack of awareness to the long term durability of chosen ski equipment.
   

4. 4.Lack of prior experience to draw from. Very few have attempted a trip in this manner so much of our planning is based on conjecture.
   

5. 5.Unpredictable weather patterns. Who is to say what our winter will be like?
   

6. 6.Road access for resupply during the winter. This will create long stretches without resupply opportunities. The Sierra alone will necessitate several 300+ miles stretches.
   

7. 7.Non-reliable water. Most caches will have been removed as well as Forest Service faucets due to the pipes freezing. Most flowing sources will be frozen by winter.
   

8. 8.Timeline: I have a work schedule to conform to and travel will be inherently slower than summer conditions. We are allowing roughly 150 days for completion.
   

9. 9.Unfamiliarity to current trail culture, support and resources. A lot has changes in the 10+ years since we’ve hiked the trail.