NorCal Blues
After the Sierra Nevada, we entered Northern California – NorCal. There’s a term you should know for this section: The NorCal Blues.
You’ve just come off the Sierra highs—the snow, the passes, the lakes, and some of the most rewarding hiking of your life. Before that, even the desert had its own excitement as you watched your body adapt to moving every single day. And then, suddenly, NorCal is ahead of you.
It’s often considered the least exciting stretch of the trail. The terrain smooths out, the scenery feels repetitive, and mentally, a lot of people struggle here. This is where many hikers end their journey.
For me, quitting was never an option – something I already talked about back in my first PCT desert blog. I just couldn’t afford to quit.
Mr. Endurance
While I was on the PCT, my friends told me they were coming to Canada to visit. Since I’d lived in Vancouver before, I could show them around, take them on a round trip, but that meant I had to show up on the same day they arrived or at least very close to it.
When I realized what that actually meant on trail, it was intense. To make it work, I had to finish the remaining 2,600 km of the PCT in exactly 8 weeks averaging around 45 km / 28 miles per day, with roughly 1,500 meters / 5,000 feet of vertical gain, every single day, no rest days.
Total distance: 2,600 km / 1,615 miles
Total vertical gain: 85,665 meters / 281,000 feet (almost 10 Everests from Base Camp to the summit)
Time: 56 days
Zero rest days
Average pack weight: 11 to 13 kg
Bring it on.
Changing pace
Naturally, everyone in our group had a different timeline for finishing the trail. For me, regardless of whether my friends were coming or not, I was aiming for early to mid-August. Some people were looking at mid-September. So after spending so much time together, we naturally started splitting up, matching our own hiking paces and preferences. You know, they say, hike your own hike, and that’s really the most important thing. You just go at the pace that makes sense. You stop when you feel like you wanna stop.
The first few days were interesting. I still wasn’t sure if I could maintain over a marathon a day with 1,500–1,600 meters of gain every single day. But at the same time, I was curious. I thought, I’ll give it a few days, maybe a week, and see how I feel. The first days were really hard. Hiking all day and covering those distances, even in NorCal which is way easier than the Sierras just wears your body down in a different way. It feels strange at first, and while you want to stay with others, it’s tough to keep up with everyone.
So yeah, this was the start of some solo hiking for me as well—not immediately, but I knew I was ready to explore a different side of the trail.
The beginning of this blog is too serious, let’s take a look at this pass’ name
And as you can see, I was still very happy being on the trail
The contrasting lives of Rocky
Let’s talk about something fun. I was stopping in this tiny town just off Sierra City in NorCal—not to be confused with the Sierra Nevada mountains. Population? About 200. There’s a small general store where I was resupplying, and I noticed a public bathroom with a working shower. Naturally, I hit the shower. At the same time, I got an email from my future job—the one I’ll start in September—saying there’s a company retreat in Istanbul at a five-star hotel. It was a bizarre contrast. Here I am, showering in a public cold-water shower in a town of 200, while reading about a five-star hotel I’ll be in just a few months from now. I guess I’m happy I can appreciate both ends of the spectrum.
The longest day
The cold, long day in Sierra City ended up being my longest on trail – almost 36 miles / 57 kilometers. Day 82. And it was also the first time I camped completely by myself. That day really drove home the old saying, if you want to go fast, go alone, if you want to have fun, stay in the tramily. You could hike with people who are super fast and try to match them but that wasn’t my case. I was genuinely excited to have my first solo camp. And of course, as if to welcome me to the wilderness, I heard gunshots at night. Here you go, Rocky enjoy the freedom and solitude… and try not to get shot. I guess that’s the price of admission when you finally decide to split from the group and do your own thing.
Being in NorCal meant we were back up around 6,000 feet, roughly 1,800 meters of elevation on average and that’s what a normal day looked like
Ultimate Hoka fan
I didn’t have a single blister, the same as when I did the Camino. I was wearing Hokas, and honestly, I felt like an unofficial ambassador for them. They’re just easy shoes: they get wet fast, dry fast, and my feet felt fine every single day. I could move nonstop without any major issues. Once I started pushing big miles, though, I noticed the shoes were wearing out fast. After doing 45–50 km a day, I was hitting a thousand kilometers of heavy all-terrain use in less than 20 days. On average, they lasted about 800 – 1,000 km before they were done. Still, I stuck with them. At one point, if I saw anyone heading north in Hokas, I’d just tell them, “See you in Canada.” I knew if they were in Hokas, they were going to make it.
This was like day four of wearing a new pair. I contacted Hoka customer support, but they said I’d have to send in the shoes, they would evaluate them, and let me know if a refund could be made. That meant I’d either have no shoes to hike in or I’d have to buy a new pair.
The burnnnnn
NorCal is pretty boring for other reasons as well. There was a fire a couple of years ago—well, that was multiple years ago by the time I’m writing this in 2026, so I’m talking about 2022. Roughly 150 miles of the trail were destroyed, including the part of the Lassen National volcanic park PCT was passing through. It used to be a big attraction but now it’s just ashes and burned trees. Honestly, hiking through that was the most boring hiking I’ve ever done. I know some people skipped it but I thought, if I can just continue, I will. Still, it was long and monotonous. I only took 1 picture, and that basically sums up what I saw every day for those 4 days. That single photo probably represents 90% of the scenery.
Burnt sections also meant exposed sections, no shade, all sweat
I was having some issues with my lenses too, and as you can see – pretty mediocre mood hiking through the burnt zone
Friends and kindness
So basically, the next stop for me was Quincy. I was trying to get there and just push through this burned section and forget about it. As I was making my way, there were major thunderstorms close by, so I was happy I managed to get there just before the storms hit. Once I got there, I actually met up with a few of the guys I’d been hiking with earlier, so I was like, okay, maybe I don’t need to skip the burned section entirely. Honestly, I think skipping it is the smart call for most people.
Didn’t feel a single drop
At the same time, apparently there had been a mudslide in a town close to Quincy. Quincy itself has only about 2,000 people, so there aren’t many places to stay. Because of the mudslide, all the local workers were staying in the accommodations, so we had nowhere to stay. We just chilled by the park and started chatting with some strangers. One of the ladies was walking her dogs, and when we told her we were starving, she said we could just crash in her backyard. And that’s exactly what we did. We played with her dogs, hung out on her sofa, used the bathroom, got water, charged our stuff – it was amazing. The lady who hosted us even made cupcakes for us. By the end, she said she needed us more than we needed her. Really nice, but at the same time, it says a lot about the sadness of people’s lives in general.
In Quincy, we went full dirtbag, eating food outside the grocery store, and honestly, that was totally fine
The top notch Quincy backyard accommodation
And apart from that, kindness showed up once again, actually. There’s an ice cream shop in Quincy that basically gives free ice cream to anyone who’s hiked up to that point on the PCT, whether you’re heading north from Mexico or south from Canada. That was absolutely amazing just such a cool gesture.
The midpoint
Another point where people often feel like quitting is the midpoint. By then, you’ve already spent way more time than you expected for half the hike, and way more money than you thought you would. So if the start of Northern California hasn’t worn you down, this is usually where the “NorCal blues” hit hard. I wasn’t immune either I felt it too but I just decided to take it day by day. Focus on getting through one day, go to sleep, wake up hopefully in a better mood, and eventually the trail gets more fun, better scenery, more engaging sections and things start to change.
I look like a proper hiker, I know
40 miles in a single day
I previously wrote about doing my first 50 km day on the Camino—the day I realized I actually had what it takes to hike the PCT. Well, on this specific day in NorCal, it just made sense to push even further and go for 40 miles (64 km).
Why? Because the terrain was relatively flat, and I knew that at the end of those 40 miles there was a guy parked in a van doing trail magic for anyone passing by. I’d been hiking through brutal, shadeless burn areas, sweating in the heat, and I kept asking myself: can I push 40 miles in a single day for a can of Coke?
The answer was yes.
There were some other hikers too, it just felt tranquil and I got my sugar cravings!
Along the way, I also saw my first bear named Cinnamon Roll. Apparently, he’s a local celebrity. He just chills, and he gets his name from his distinct color. Looking back, it’s kind of funny: I pushed through a 40-mile day just for the promise of a soda, and got a bear sighting as a bonus.
Random morning
Some random bits from NorcCal
1. Some random things happened while I was in NorCal as well, so I’m just gonna list them here. First of all, because we were early in the season, there were fewer people on trail. But there was this stretch of more than two days where I didn’t see a single person. Honestly, I couldn’t believe it. I know long-distance hiking can be lonely sometimes, but this was different. I didn’t see anyone for 2 full days. I kept checking the map just to make sure I was still on trail, because it felt unreal.
2. Then we stayed in the small town of Burney. We were actually able to sleep inside a church that was hosting hikers, which was amazing. The town itself had a McDonald’s (not the church) and a Dollar General, so for me it was perfect—cheap food, an easy resupply, sleeping indoors, and even playing some basketball.
The boyz (German and English) were prepping for July 4th
3. Yes, I broke my tent poles again for the second time. This time I managed to get a replacement part much faster, so it wasn’t as bad—but I was still pretty disappointed that it happened again.
4. Additionally, I had a friend who was attempting a Calendar Year Triple Crown. He had the smallest backpack I’ve ever seen, less than 30 liters, and was trying to hike the Pacific Crest Trail, the Appalachian Trail, and the Continental Divide Trail all within a single calendar year.
That’s him
5. Final bits and shots from NorCal
Stats
So I guess you’re probably wondering how I actually did compared to the plan. In short—really well. I made it through NorCal in three weeks, averaging just over 48 km / 30 m per day, with around 1,600 m / 5,250 ft of vertical gain daily. I was extremely happy with that. And that pace included town stops in Truckee, Quincy, Chester, Burney, Dunsmuir, and Etna. So even with resupplying and spending time in towns, sometimes almost a full day, I was still moving fast enough to stay ahead of schedule. At that point, I knew I was on track and even beating the timeline I needed to make it to Canada in time.
NorCal Totals: Distance: 596 miles (959 km) Time: 21 days Elevation Gain: 108,507 ft (33,075 m)
NorCal Daily Averages: Distance: 28.39 miles (45.68 km) Elevation Gain: 5,167 ft (1,575 m)