PCT California Section G: Walker Pass to Crabtree Meadows (miles 653.2–768.2)

Note: I am taking the PCT while working full time remotely. I work Monday through Thursday from my RV, run Monday through Thursday nights, and hike Friday through Sunday before returning to base camp. It’s a balance between miles of trails, logistics and recovery; Learn more about how it works here: https://thetrek.co/pacific-crest-trail/my-plan-to-hike-the-pct.

Everything before Kennedy Meadows had been preparing for the Sierra. Now, he was finally standing in the doorway.

I expected the biggest challenge to be snow, river crossings or altitude.

Instead, it was weight.

For the first time on the PCT, I was carrying a bear canister and almost a week’s worth of food. The extra weight changed everything. My pace slowed, my back began to hurt in new ways, and each climb seemed more demanding.

The Sierra had not yet fully started and already had a new problem to solve.

Section Snapshot

• Miles: 653.2 → 768.2
• Start/End: Walker Pass → Crabtree Grasslands
• Conditions: Warm days in the desert, cool nights in the mountains, a major storm day
• Land: Southern Sierra Foothills → Kennedy Meadows → high alpine terrain
• Style: Hybrid (RV support transitioning to traditional backpacking)
• Passed: Consistent 20+ mile days despite elevation gain
• RV Campgrounds: Walker Pass Campground, Kennedy Meadows Campground

What defined section G

This section was defined by transition.

Walker Pass still looked like Southern California. Kennedy Meadows felt like a gateway. When I arrived at Crabtree Meadows, the environment completely changed.

The desert began to disappear.

The trees grew bigger. The transmissions became more frequent. The mountains dominated the horizon.

Most importantly, this is where the logistics of a hike changed.

The bear boat arrived.

Food transports became longer.

And the consequences of the errors became greater.

Mileage

• Saturday May 23, 2026 — Mile 653.2 to 674.0
• Sunday, May 24, 2026 — Mile 674.0 to 682.1
• Monday, May 25, 2026: Day Zero (0 miles)
• Tuesday, May 26, 2026 — Mile 682.1 to 703.4
• Wednesday, May 27, 2026 — Mile 703.4 to 705.8
• Thursday, May 28, 2026 — Day Zero (0 miles)
• Friday, May 29, 2026 — Mile 705.8 to 729.1
• Saturday, May 30, 2026 — Mile 729.1 to 750.7
• Sunday, May 31, 2026 — Mile 750.7 to 768.2

One last taste of Southern California

The first day out of Walker Pass was exhausting.

The terrain was relentlessly rocky. Every step required attention. My feet were constantly moving over loose rocks, uneven footprints, and angled surfaces. By the end of the afternoon, both my feet and my back hurt.

When I finally arrived at the campsite I had planned to use, I discovered that all the established spots were already taken.

At 5pm, after walking all day, that was not what I wanted to see.

Instead, I spent time doing some unofficial landscaping, clearing rocks and creating an area flat enough to pitch my tent.

It wasn’t ideal, but it worked.

The afternoon heat lingered well into the night and I ended up eating dinner inside the lobby of the store while I waited for the temperature to drop.

Fortunately, sleeping was easier than expected.

Becoming «Instacart»

The next day was much easier.

The terrain seemed more forgiving and mentally I was in a much better place.

At Chimney Creek Campground, I stumbled upon the magic of trails.

There were burritos.

There were beers.

And there were hikers gathered, enjoying a rare break from life on the trails.

At some point in the afternoon, I helped coordinate grocery delivery for several hikers who were struggling to understand the logistics of resupply.

Apparently that was enough.

Some of them started calling me «Instacart.»

The name stuck.

After almost 700 miles, I finally had a name for the trail.

I had always assumed it would come from some embarrassing mistake.

Instead, it came from contributing to the magic of the trail.

Kennedy Meadows

After taking a recovery day at Kennedy Meadows Campground, I was driven back to Chimney Creek, hiked to Kennedy Meadows, and finally entered what many hikers consider the unofficial start of the Sierra.

Kennedy Meadows feels different.

Not because the terrain changes dramatically overnight, but because the culture changes.

Everyone talks about the Sierra.

People compare snow reports.

Discuss river crossings.

Discussion on equipment options.

You can feel the anticipation.

I spent time eating pizza at Grumpy Bear’s, wandering around the general store, shopping for new gear (winter gloves, a padded liner, and a massage ball) at 2 Foot Adventures, and even joining a game of poker with other hikers.

For the first time in a long time, it felt less like a race against miles and more like a community preparing for something together.

Then a storm came.

Rain fell most of the next day and I spent it happily inside the RV.

The Sierra wasn’t going anywhere.

Entering the High Sierra

When I finally left Kennedy Meadows for good, the trail immediately reminded me that this was a different environment.

Leaving Kennedy Meadows was one of the hardest days I’ve had so far.

Between miles on and off trail, I covered about 25 miles and gained about 6,000 feet of elevation.

The day seemed endless.

Every time she reached what seemed like the top of one climb, another one appeared behind her.

At the same time, I was carrying more weight than ever.

The bear’s bowl was full.

My food bag was full.

Everything felt heavier.

By the time I got to camp, I was completely exhausted.

Still, there was something exciting about it.

The mountains finally seemed big.

The weight problem

The next two days revolved around one theme.

My back.

The bear canister and carrying six days of food transformed my backpack from something manageable to something I really didn’t like using.

The pain was no longer isolated in one place.

It moved.

I would tighten the straps and get relief for a few miles. Then another area would start to hurt.

Adjust again.

Relief.

Pain elsewhere.

Repeat.

To compensate, I started carrying less water whenever possible.

Instead of four liters, I used to carry two.

The Sierra’s more reliable water sources made this possible and helped keep the overall weight down.

I finally experienced a major change.

Instead of strapping the bear canister on top of my backpack, I packed it horizontally inside.

It wasn’t perfect, but it helped.

The load felt more balanced.

The pain became a little more manageable.

Most importantly, every meal I ate reduced the problem.

As the food disappeared, the pack became lighter and my back immediately noticed the difference.

Learning what I’m capable of

Despite the discomfort, one thing surprised me.

I continued doing twenty mile days.

These are not flat twenty-mile days.

Twenty mile days with significant elevation gain and carrying the heaviest load of the entire hike so far.

That realization was encouraging.

At the beginning of the trail, twenty miles seemed intimidating.

Now it was becoming normal.

It’s not easy.

But normal.

That’s one of the strange things about hiking.

Things that once seemed impossible gradually become your foundation.

Arriving at Crabtree Meadows

When I finally arrived at Crabtree Meadows, the atmosphere completely changed.

Mount Whitney was no longer a distant future goal.

It was tomorrow.

I set up camp near the ranger station and spent the night making final preparations.

Other hikers did the same.

All conversations seemed to revolve around summit plans, wake-up times, weather forecasts, and expected conditions.

The excitement was obvious.

So was anxiety.

I had planned to wake up at 2 in the morning to begin the climb to the summit.

Unfortunately, that meant that sleeping was nearly impossible.

Between anticipation, nerves, and repeatedly checking the time, I managed to get about two hours of sleep all night.

Not ideal preparation for the highest point of the Lower 48.

But at that point there was no turning back.

• Rocky terrain fatigue
  • The constant unevenness of the foot increased the pain in the feet and back.
  • More grueling than the mileage alone would suggest.
• Bear Canister Weight
  • Greatest physical challenge of the section.
  • Constant experimentation with package configuration was required.
• Longer food transport
  • Six days of eating significantly increased the weight of the pack.
  • He improved naturally as the food was consumed.
• Campsite availability
  • Popular areas filled up quickly.
  • Flexibility became important.

• Kennedy Meadows is more than a resupply stop: It serves as a transition point mentally and logistically. Most hikers spend a lot of time preparing here.
• The location of the Bear container is important: Small changes in packaging strategy can dramatically affect convenience.
• Water is no longer a concern: Compared to Southern California, water availability improves significantly.
• Elevation gain begins to dominate planning: Mileage becomes less important than climbing.

Section G felt like the end of one hike and the beginning of another.

The desert is behind me.

The Sierra is finally here.

What stands out the most is not the landscape or even the kilometers.

It is the understanding that the challenges have changed.

The previous sections were about learning how to use equipment, managing water, and determining pacing.

Now the questions are different.

Can my body support the weight?

Can my back continue to cooperate?

Am I ready for what’s coming?

Tomorrow starts with a 2am alarm and a climb up Mount Whitney.

I’ll find out very soon.