PCT Day 125 – Indian Springs Trailhead (2130.7) Across The Bridge Of The Gods to Washington (2150.5)

August 8, 2026

Total PCT miles: 1.0

Non PCT miles: 15.0

Total: 16 miles / 25.7 km

Total elevation gain: 942 ft

Total elevation loss: 5007 ft

Steps: 40289

Remaining Distance: 499.5 miles

I woke up this morning knowing that today would be my last day hiking north on the Pacific Crest Trail.

That was a strange thing to know.

For 125 days, almost every morning has started with the same basic objective: pack up my tent, put on my backpack and walk north. Sometimes toward the next water source, sometimes toward town, sometimes toward an arbitrary number on a map, but always north.

Today I knew exactly where I was going.

The Bridge of the Gods, the end of my PCT journey.

Rather than stay on the official PCT, I took the Indian Springs Trail dropping down near 2000 ft in 2 miles to the Eagle Creek Trail Alternate. In my opinion, this really should be the PCT.

The Eagle Creek area was devastated by wildfire in 2017 after a teenager threw a firework into the Columbia River Gorge, igniting a fire that would eventually burn tens of thousands of acres. Nearly a decade later, evidence of the fire is still everywhere, but so is the recovery. And it is absolutely beautiful.

The trail follows Eagle Creek through an incredibly lush gorge, passing waterfalls, cliffs and sections of trail carved directly into the rock. After everything I’ve seen over the last four months, this might genuinely be one of my favorite stretches of the entire journey.

Tunnel Falls in particular is incredible. The trail approaches a massive waterfall before disappearing into a tunnel blasted directly through the rock behind it. You literally walk behind the falling water before emerging on the other side of the canyon. It felt like an appropriate place to spend some of my final miles.

Eventually I reached the trail head and took the paved path toward Cascade Locks. And then there it was.

The Bridge of the Gods.

I’ve thought about this bridge for years. It’s one of the major landmarks of the Pacific Crest Trail. The place where you leave Oregon behind, cross the Columbia River and enter Washington. There is no sidewalk on this bridge, you walk along with vehicle traffic. As I crossed the bridge a car stopped and the driver held out his hand and said “Trail Magic!” He put a few large, pungent buds in my hand that I later gave to another hiker.

Crossing the bridge knowing these would be the final steps of my Northbound journey I thought I’d be emotional. Maybe I’d cry. Maybe I’d feel devastated knowing I wasn’t continuing. Maybe I’d feel an enormous sense of relief.

Instead, I just felt content.

I walked across the bridge, crossed the state line into Washington and stood there for a while. No huge emotional moment. No overwhelming sadness. No regret.

Just a quiet feeling that I’d made the right decision.

There are still 499.5 miles of the Pacific Crest Trail between here and Canada. For the first time since leaving Campo, I’m choosing not to walk them.

And I’m okay with that.

After crossing the bridge, I called Mel. Then my mom and dad. Then a few friends.

I’m coming home. Those were pretty incredible words to finally say.

My PCT hike ends here, but I’m not quite finished with the Pacific Crest Trail yet. Before going home, there are a couple more things I want to do. PCT Days is happening here in Cascade Locks next week, and after spending four months living and breathing this trail, it seems like an appropriate place to say goodbye to this strange little community I’ve become part of.

And there’s one other loose end I plan on tying up in the next few days.

Today, though, my northbound journey is over.

There are so many people I need to thank. Everyone who followed along, read my blog, commented on my posts, sent messages and encouraged me from home. The amazing hiker trash I met and shared miles, meals, laughs and struggles with along the way. The incredibly generous trail angels who opened their homes, gave rides, left water, fed us and reminded me over and over again how good people can be.

And most importantly, my fiancée, Mel, who supported this ridiculous dream from the beginning. She supported me every step of the way, through the incredible days and the really difficult ones, and somehow always knew exactly what I needed to hear.

There’s another reason I’m proud of what I accomplished out here.

This wasn’t my first attempt at the Pacific Crest Trail.

In 2018, I set out from Campo with the same dream of walking to Canada. About 200 miles into that hike, I sprained my ankle and my PCT journey came to an end.

Looking back now, the ankle was only part of the reason. The truth is, I wasn’t ready. Before starting the PCT, the longest backpacking trip I had ever done was seven days. I understood the physical challenge of walking a long way, but I don’t think I understood what it would take mentally to live on the trail for months. When things went wrong, I didn’t yet have the experience or resilience to deal with them.

Eight years later, almost unbelievably, history repeated itself.

About 200 miles into this hike, I sprained my ankle again. For a little while, it looked like my second attempt might end almost exactly where the first one had. But this time I dint make rash decisions, rested, somewhat recovered, put my pack back on and kept walking.

And I kept walking for more than another 1,600 miles.

I don’t think resilience means refusing to quit. Sometimes the harder decision is recognizing when it’s time to stop. To me, resilience is getting knocked down, figuring out what comes next, and continuing forward—even when forward doesn’t look the way you originally imagined it would.

The person who stepped onto the PCT in 2026 was very different from the person who stepped onto it in 2018.

Maybe that’s one of the biggest things these 1,830 miles have shown me. I didn’t need to walk all 2,650 miles to prove that.

It’s going to take me a long time to process these 125 days and everything this journey has taught me. There were incredible highs, some pretty dark lows, and more experiences packed into four months than I could possibly summarize in one post.

I walked out of Campo 125 days ago not knowing what was ahead of me. 1,830 miles, thousands of photographs, and more pain, laughter, frustration, generosity, beauty and memories than I could ever fit into this blog later, I’m walking off the trail knowing a little more about myself than when I started.

And I think that was always the point.

I didn’t thru-hike the Pacific Crest Trail.

But I sure as hell hiked it.

And I’m proud of that.