A California landscape artist is thru-hiking the iconic trail with his art supplies in his backpack. Every day, he stops and paints another picture of an iconic vista, breathtaking wildflower, or scenic forest.
Kevin Gleason is painting the Pacific Crest Trail this summer (Photo: Kevin Gleason)
Published July 14, 2026 02:12PM
Kevin Gleason, a Santa Barbara, California-based painter and former high school art teacher, is hiking the Pacific Crest Trail this summer. Every day, Gleason, who is 50, finds a new spot along the iconic 2,650-mile trail to capture with his paintbrush. He told Outside about his process for painting the trail, and what he’s learned from the different sights along the way.
The other day was my wedding anniversary, and I started the day wondering about what picture my wife would most love to see. She’s my backpacking buddy but I’m doing this thru-hike solo. I saw two columbine flowers sitting next to each other and painted them. No, it wasn’t a spectacular mountain pass or a lake vista. But I knew it was what she’d like to see, and I put a little more intention into that painting the scene.
This task that I’ve taken on—painting one picture every day along the Pacific Crest Trail—has given me a truly singular experience during this Mexico-to-Canada hike. Sometimes when you are thru-hiking, you can get a little too focused on the destination. People on the Pacific Crest Trail want to get to Canada, so they know the must attain a daily goal of 25 miles over 106 days of walking. It can cause a hiker to get tunnel vision. I need to reach the next resupply. I need to get to the next town.
My project has shifted these goals. I spend my day thinking about where I’m going to stop and sit for a while and really take in the view. There’s something about sitting down for two hours to paint that gives you a completely different appreciation for a hike. You see how the topography and landscape changes, and how the colors change. A view can get burned into your memory.
Every day, I hike between 20 and 25 miles, and I try to capture one view along the way. The other night I was sleeping under the stars, and when I awoke I saw the sunrise, and painted it. Other days, what I paint is the last view I see before I go to bed. Most days, I choose a landscape that happens somewhere in between.
I’m intentionally trying to find different types of views. If I painted a forest yesterday, then today I might focus on a creek. I’ll do a mountain pass tomorrow. I want the paintings to look distinct, because the way the trail looks is constantly changing.
I sit down crosslegged and use a piece of corrugated plastic as a desktop. I clip my sketchbook to it, and then I take out my folding palette, paints, a few cups of water, and my five brushes.
If I wasn’t doing the art, my backpack would be much lighter. My painting stuff probably adds about four pounds. I have my paints, brushes, and a sketchbook with 54 pages.
The painting affects my resupply. My wife shipped me food boxes the other day and I asked her to throw some more titanium white paint into the box. Since I’m painting with Gouache, a water-based paint made from natural pigments, I use white a lot because it makes the other colors lighter. I’ve also used a lot of ultramarine blue. The other colors have been steady since I left Mexico back int he spring.
I also carry an umbrella with me for shade, because the Gouache watercolors I use dry so fast. So I zip-tie my umbrella to one of my hiking poles and then stand it up like a beach parasol.
It usually takes me about two hours to paint each portrait, but to be honest, when I’m painting, I lose track of time. I become completely absorbed. A painting is nothing more than a bunch of shapes and color together on a page. I spend my time appreciating the colors and shapes in nature, and then attempting to recreate them on the page.
I’ve learned during this process hat I cannot capture everything in a view. I focus on the one thing about the landscape that is truly amazing, and I make that the focus of the painting.
Every painting is on a 9-by-12-inch paper and I draw out a 6-by-8-inch rectangle to frame them. I’m carrying the pictures with me in sketchbooks, and I plan to send each book home with my wife when they are filled.
Other hikers have been extremely supportive when they see me painting. They will come over to observe the picture, or stop me at the next campsite and ask if they can check out the finished landscape. One guy said “you must paint really fast out there.” That’s how I got my trail name.
They call me Quickdraw.
As told to Frederick Dreier.
