PCT Section I: Tuolumne Meadows to Sonora Pass (miles 943.7–1018.1)

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.

I thought this section was going to be easier.

The largest passes of the Sierra were behind me. The elevation profile seemed manageable. The mileage was not particularly intimidating.

I made a mistake.

What this section lacked in spectacular mountain passes, it made up for in relentless stream crossings, endless mosquitoes, wet feet, and some of the most grueling hiking I’ve experienced yet.

In the end, I wasn’t thinking about the landscape.

I was thinking about dry socks.

Section Snapshot

• Miles: 943.7 → 1018.1
• Start/End: Tuolumne Meadows → Sonora Pass
• Conditions: Warm days, cool nights, intense mosquito activity.
• Land: Alpine lakes, waterfalls, forests, stream crossings, lingering snow
• Style: Traditional backpacker
• Passed: Three consecutive 25 mile days
• RV Campgrounds: Mono Vista RV Park

Mileage

• Monday, June 15, 2026 – Thursday, June 18, 2026 — Zero days (0 miles)
• Friday, June 19, 2026 — Mile 943.7 to 968.7
• Saturday June 20, 2026 — Mile 943.7 to 991.2
• Sunday June 21, 2026 — Mile 991.2 to 1018.1

What Section I defined

Section I was defined by water.

Streams crossed the road.

Lakes surrounded the trail.

The waterfalls fell many meters next to the trail.

The thaw ran down the slopes of the mountains.

Almost all of the challenges in this section involved water in some way.

And in the end, my shoes never dried.

Four days of recovery

After arriving at Tuolumne Meadows, I took four full days off.

The right moment was needed.

The blisters from my backpack on my hip had become increasingly painful. Each morning I started by cleaning them, applying Neosporin, and covering them with new bandages.

For the first time in a long time, I didn’t focus on mileage.

I was focused on healing.

The break gave my body a chance to recover from the Sierra and prepared me for one last push before returning to work.

Fast miles and wet feet

The section began in Soda Springs.

Naturally, I had to test the water.

Unfortunately, it tasted exactly what a bubbling mineral spring looked like.

I quickly moved on.

The first few kilometers seemed surprisingly easy. The trail was smooth dirt, the elevation was gentle, and my legs felt fresh after four days of rest. Soon I started doing calculations. Maybe I could finish this section in three days instead of four.

The idea sounded great.

As usual, the trail had other plans.

As the day progressed, the terrain became more demanding. Large waterfalls tumbled alongside the trail, alpine lakes reflected the surrounding peaks, and stream crossings became a constant obstacle. Some required carefully skipping rocks. Others involved balancing between logs. Some simply required passing through.

Finally one of them caught me.

While crossing a fast-flowing stream on a log, I slipped and fell into the water. I stayed upright, but stubbed my thumb and watched one of my two water bottles disappear downstream. From that moment on I had to complete the rest of the section carrying only one liter of water at a time. Fortunately, water was rarely far away.

Finding a place to camp that night proved surprisingly difficult. Much of the terrain was made up of granite slabs, rocky soil or areas too close to water. Finally, I found a marginal site where the soil was so shallow that my stakes only penetrated halfway. A nearby hiker showed me how to anchor the front of the tent using large rocks.

It’s surprising how many useful trail skills come not from tour guides, but from random conversations with other hikers.

The mosquito war

If I remember anything from this section it will be the mosquitoes.

They were everywhere.

Not annoying.

It’s not a drawback.

Relentless.

The scenery on the second day was incredible. Alpine lakes stretched across the landscape. Snow still lingered on the distant peaks. Waterfalls fell over the polished granite walls.

But every time I stopped moving, the mosquitoes came.

Immediately.

Filtering the water became a race against them.

Taking breaks became almost impossible.

Staying still for more than thirty seconds guaranteed a swarm.

At one point I started timing my water stops simply to minimize exposure.

The only thing that kept me sane was listening to Harry Potter on Audible.

For hours I alternated between mountainous landscapes and Hogwarts.

It was surprisingly effective.

That night, I finally reached the only reasonable campsite I could find within a several-mile radius.

The mosquitoes were a little less aggressive.

Just a little.

I ended up wearing my raincoat despite the warm temperatures because the fabric was thick enough that they couldn’t bite through it.

When I finally dove into my tent, only three mosquitoes had managed to sneak inside.

Outside, hundreds waited.

I could see them covering parts of the mesh.

The final push

I woke up at 5 in the morning.

The mosquitoes were still sleeping.

I wasn’t going to waste that opportunity.

My goal was simple.

Finish the section in three days.

The first kilometers were pleasant. A gentle dirt path winds through forests and meadows. The cooler temperatures in the morning made everything seem easier.

Then the climbing began.

The first step featured a steady elevation gain.

The second pass felt significantly steeper.

In the afternoon my feet hurt.

My back hurts.

And I still had about ten miles left.

I told myself that the final stretch would be easy.

Flat trail.

Gentle walk.

Simple finish.

I was wrong again.

The final kilometers contained more than ten snow-covered curves that slowed progress considerably. The snow still lingered on the shady slopes, making it necessary to walk carefully despite it being so late.

At the same time, my one liter of water was not enough to get me to the finish line.

With no obvious streams nearby, I ended up collecting melted snow that dripped down the cliffs.

The water tasted slimy.

I didn’t care.

At that time, hydration mattered more than flavor.

finishing strong

When I finally arrived at Sonora Pass around 6:30 pm, I felt proud.

Three consecutive 25 mile days.

Approximately 5,000 feet of elevation gain each day.

Wet feet all the time.

Mosquitoes.

Snow.

Stream crossings.

A lost water bottle.

And somehow, I still finished a day earlier than planned.

The section had taken its toll.

My hips were scraped and bruised.

Mosquito bites covered my hands.

One of my big nails finally gave up and fell off.

But compared to previous sections, something felt different.

Mileage that once seemed impossible was becoming normal.

It’s not easy.

But achievable.

• Constantly wet feet
  • Stream crossings were inevitable.
  • The shoes stayed wet for almost the entire section.
• mosquitoes
  • The worst bug pressure of the hike so far.
  • It significantly affected breaks and camp routines.
• Lost water bottle
  • Load capacity reduced to one liter.
  • More frequent forced filtering.
• Persistent wear
  • Hip blisters, bruises, mosquito bites and losing a toenail.
  • Nothing serious individually, but collectively exhausting.

• Expect wet feet: Stream crossings are frequent and often unavoidable.
• Mosquito protection matters: Pants, long sleeves, hood, scarf, and campsite selection become important.
• Campsites may be limited: Much of the terrain is rocky or exposed.
• There is still snow: Even late-season hikers should expect lingering snow on the highest passes.

What surprised me most about this section was not the difficulty.

That’s how normal and difficult things started to feel.

A few months ago, three consecutive days of 40 kilometers would have seemed impossible.

Now they felt challenging but realistic.

The same goes for wet feet, trips in the snow and long climbs.

The road hasn’t gotten any easier.

I have simply adapted to it.

When I finished at Sonora Pass, I realized something.

The person who started in Campo probably wouldn’t recognize what now seems like a normal day of hiking.

And that is one of the most rewarding parts of this journey.