COOS BAY — Hiking the perilous Pacific Crest Trail is considered a once-in-a-lifetime experience in most backpacking circles. It’s one Jim Batdorff spent nearly half of his life completing.

Twenty-six years, that’s how long it took the Coos Bay native to cover the 2,653-mile trail, which stretches from Campo, Calif., at the U.S.-Mexico border, to Manning Park, British Columbia, at the U.S.-Canada border.

As a sectional backpacker, the 65-year-old Batdorff took his time. He broke the odyssey up into 52 hikes, each spanning 51 miles. From 1981 to 2007, Batdorff tackled two of these sections per year based on a schedule that matched the seasons. Batdorff hiked the southern legs for the winter and saved the colder northern hikes for the summer.

The routine finally ended Aug. 23.

“It’s hard to describe how challenging and fulfilling the adventure was,” Batdorff said. “It was quite an experience.”

It’s one he shared with several friends and family members, who put their loyalty to the test while hiking through stifling California deserts, freezing Sierra Nevada and lush Yosemite wilderness.

“It can be arduous at times,” recalled Jon Batdorff, one of Jim’s two sons who hiked with him — the other being James Batdorff Jr. “Looking back on it, though, it was pretty fulfilling and exciting.

“The hardest part is keep up with him. I’m half his age and he’s still hard to stay with.”

Jim has three photo albums filled with snapshots taken along the trail. Unlike his surroundings, Batdorff’s rugged image — complete with his welcoming smile and impressive physique — never changes.

“He’s a very fit individual,” James said. “He runs marathons in his spare time. I never thought for a second he’d have trouble on the trail.”

Jim had both of his sons alongside him for the first and final legs of the trail. For the latter, the three Batdorffs met in Yosemite National Park, where the passage would be completed.

Jon, a 1987 Marshfield High School graduate, made the trip from Fort Wayne, Ind., to Coos Bay, where he and James met before driving down to meet Jim in California.

“I was in the area for my 20th high school reunion and told him he better plan that final hike for when I’m in town,” Jon said.

Batdorff’s journey of 178 camp-outs ended on a sun-drenched Thursday at Tuolumne Meadows in Yosemite. As he closed in on the final few miles, Jim picked up the pace.

“I think we were running by the last mile,” said James, who’s on active duty with the Air National Guard in Albany. “He was kicking it in high gear, while Jon and I were sprinting just to keep up with him.”

A road sign for the intersecting John Muir Trail served as the finish line, and Batdorff crossed it with a slight grin, looking as stoic as the Redwood trees surrounding him.

“I think it hit me more than him,” Jon said. “He really was overwhelmed, I think. How do you react to something that big?

“To me, it’s pretty amazing — the hugeness of the goal and then being able to reach it. I’m in awe of what he did.”

Jim Batdorff’s odyssey started at the same time he took up long-distance backpacking in the summer of 1981. He spent the next three years leisurely hiking parts of the Pacific Crest Trail with James — then a freshman at Marshfield — and some of his church buddies before getting “hooked” to the trail in 1984.

“I said to myself, ‘I can do this if I really try,’” Batdorff said. “So, after a couple years, I set the goal of doing 100 miles a year.”

It was all Batdorff could do while juggling family obligations and work as a district silviculturist for the Bureau of Land Management. Hence, Batdorff was molded into a section hiker.

“The good thing about being a section hiker, as opposed to a through-hiker, who does the whole trip in one shot, is you can set a slower pace for yourself and do a little bit at a time,” he said. “Plus, you can calculate when and where you want to hike to avoid rough climate.”

Even with his Rand-McNally plotting, Batdorff still roughed it in extreme temperatures several times. He set up camp in the snowy San Jacinto Mountains near Idyllwild, Calif., and in summer heat, trekked parts of the John Muir Trail with no lakes or streams in sight for hours.

“If you can do the John Muir Trail in California, you can hike any part of Oregon and Washington, no sweat,” he said.

Section F proved to be one of the more rigorous parts of the journey, as Batdorff noted in his trail log in 1999:

“... One’s physical performance cannot always be predicted. Such was the case when I hiked section F in California, the stretch from Walker Pass south to Tehachapi Pass.”

It was 43.8 miles of bears, rattlesnakes and sickness — all at 6,900 feet above sea level for Batdorff and his friend, Ken Looney.

“Ken was beginning to have some stomach troubles and being a little light headed,” Batdorff wrote on May 8, 1999 and then later: “The following morning we decided to keep going and that if Ken’s problem didn’t improve, hike to the next crossing with the Piute Mountain Road, and attempt to abort the hike. Things did not improve ... we decided it was best to leave the trail.”

Batdorff completed the dreaded section F two years later, this time while hiking with his daughter-in-law, Kellie Cook Batdorff and her twin sister, Krystie Cook. The hike spiraled into another trial by fire after Kellie developed crippling pain in her legs near Jawbone Canyon.

With Kellie’s cell phone, Batdorff called the late Julian Almaraz, a Pacific Crest Trail coordinator, for help and vectored him from his home in Ridgecrest, Calif., using maps.

“After another two hours we were back at our car on the Piute Mountain Road homeward bound. ... Since then I’ve always carried a cell phone,” Batdorff wrote.

A year later, Batdorff had problems at section G, a five-day, 30-mile trek north of Walker Pass, Calif. The hike was aborted early after three tick bites became infected.

“Picked upwards of 300 ticks off clothes within a two hour period,” he wrote while in 40-degree weather. “Only patch of snow seen was enough to make a small snowball. Good time of year to hike this section.”

Batdorff heard plenty of Pacific Crest Trail stories like these before he ever set foot on the trail. And, in the spirit of British climber George Mallory, who scaled Mount Everest “because it’s there,” Batdorff’s excitement only grew.

“We’d keep hearing stories from other hikers, and that helped him decide if he wanted to do it or not,” James said. “My father’s always been someone that never gives up. It was really scary, though, when he’d go hiking without us. There were a couple times he didn’t come back on time. There were some late calls, too. We’d always be ready to buy plane tickets to go down and find him but then he’d call us and everything would be back to normal.”

Back to normal — Batdorff mulled over the concept while thumbing through his 50-pound pack; his dog-eared trail guides and maps; his faded photographs and his prized certificate, from the Pacific Crest Trail Association, honoring the hike.

 “It’s mind boggling to realize you covered that much territory in 26 years,” said Batdorff, who was 40 when he started the journey. “I suppose the reality still hasn’t set in just yet — the reality that it’s finally over. It’s a good, good feeling though.”

The words stayed with him as he glanced at the framed certificate once more — perhaps to look at his reflection and the spirit that never gave up.