trek

But first they reflect on their often-grueling journey of a lifetime.

By Charlie Patton, The Times-Union

The most perilous moment came late in their 2,650-mile journey along the Pacific Crest Trail.

Matt Balanky, 29, a Jacksonville resident, and Ben Webb, 35, his cousin, had reached Goat Rocks Wilderness in Washington state.

By then, they were several weeks behind schedule on the hike, which began on the Mexican border in April. The weather had turned frigid. Snow covered the frozen ground and fog limited their vision. Lost, they wandered onto a ridge known as the Knife Edge, so narrow it was like "standing on your dining room table," Webb said.

It wasn’t easy, but they’ve made it. Matt Balanky, of Jacksonville, and his cousin, Ben Webb finished their 2,650-mile trek from Mexico to Canada.

Here’s an excerpt from the e-mail they sent us today:

“Last night, after braving three-foot snowdrifts and blasting winds (for the last hundred miles), in the absolutely bitter cold of Manning Park, Canada, we limped into the lodge and got a room. We. Are. Done.”

We’re awaiting a return call so we can interview them about the trip.

-The Times-Union 

They’ve crossed water, hiked the hills and trudged through snow, looking for any sign that they’re closer to the  Canadian border.

We woke to much the same weather as we’d had the night before, very cold and windy with clear skies and great views.

After we broke camp, the first order of business was to climb up and over the pass where we were confronted with something we’d not seen in a while — snowfields.

They covered the steep north face of the pass (right along the trail, natch), making our traverse of the icy-slick slope a time-consuming and somewhat dangerous affair.

Military training prevailed in the end as we embodied my favorite Air Force slogan, to “Adapt and Overcome.” (The Army parallel to that phrase, on the other hand, would be “Haul out the Howitzer, blast the mountain to smithereens, and build a road over the rubble.”) Fortunately for us and the mountain, we lacked the equipment and manpower for such an enterprise.

Coming out of Sisters to Mackenzie Pass we were confronted with the same scene we’d left a few days earlier, a massive expanse of dark red lava rock baking in the early morning sunlight.

An early Forest Service employee, Dee Wright, had come to love the spot for stargazing, and in the same way people are compelled to construct castles out of beercans, Mr. Wright built an observatory from lava rock at that same spot. 

We could see a long way from the observatory, far across the lava fields and dense forests packing the valley floor, down the western edge so clearly delineated by one craggy volcano after another, Mount Washington to Three Fingered Jack to Mount Jefferson and all the way to our next touch of civilization at Mount Hood. 

Here’s Saturday’s story, written by Times-Union reporter Matt Coleman. As you can see, Matt (Balanky, not Coleman) and Ben are close. Enjoy the story:

A 170-mile hike would be daunting for even the most experienced of outdoorsmen.

But that’s nothing for cousins Matt Balanky and Ben Webb. After 2,480 miles - 170 is a leisurely stroll.

Their 2,650-mile Pacific Crest Trail voyage started April 14 in parched Californian deserts near the Mexican border.

Balanky, 29, of Jacksonville, worked for Target in Tifton, Ga., and Webb, 34, worked for a concrete supply company in his hometown of Fort Lauderdale before they decided to challenge themselves with the trek of a lifetime. Now their work day is occupied by finding a flat, dry place to cook lunch and keeping their body temperatures above freezing.

We interviewed Matt and Ben Friday, and they’re getting closer!

Want to know how close? Read Saturday’s Times-Union and jacksonville.com to find out when they’ll finish the 2,650-mile trek.

Also, check out the new photo gallery to see beautiful sites and Matt’s not-so-beautiful beard.

The sun was on the horizon as we got the ground cloth down and the tent strung out to its poles, ready for the rainfly.

As I waited for Matt to take the fly from its bag, three women walked by on the trail about 10 yards from us. It was a strange look they gave us, one a wealthy socialite might give to a homeless man on the street, and despite our wave of hello, they scurried down the trail, eager to leave our presence.

We finished staking out the tent and once my things were inside, the sun was almost gone and burly clouds were rushing to cloak the lake’s western edge.

“Please don’t be the morning.  Please don’t be the morning.” 

This was my mantra as dawn broke and we began to get up for the day. Thirty-one degrees in the tent, which meant colder outside, which meant my pants would feel like long icicles.

While I have tried and failed in the past, I never tire of attempting to hold the sleeping bag cinched to my nose while still putting on my clothes, thereby losing little of the precious heat in the bag. However, I ultimately surrender to limited space and time, unzipping the bag to let the icicles in. 

Nearing Crater Lake, the weather began to look different.

We woke to cold and misty, and after hiking a bit it turned to cool and cloudy, making for perfect hiking weather (in my opinion).

We also enjoyed the long, flat stretches of open forest fringed in bright huckleberry green and red, although soon we were climbing to ridgetops where the long green carpet of western and red fir ran the length of our view.

Also in our line of sight were Slate Butte and Devil’s Peak, both ancient volcano cones capped by large, striated rock heads, along with a random assortment of steep valleys and sparkling mountain lakes.