HexaTrek Tales Part 3: The End of Stage One and The Start of Who Knows

The cows stared at me and I stared back. Not at them but beyond. Beyond the piles of rocks and the fields of green. Beyond the sea of pines and the distant blurry farms. Between the land and the sky, there they were. The Alps. All the difficulties of the past month — the rain, the ticks, the loneliness, the pain, the failing gear, the questioning — they all receded in my memory as those mountains pulled me forward.

Stage One of the HexaTrek is officially complete.

Almost 700 kilometers and just over a month of walking. The trail and I have meandered through the Vosges mountains, dipped down to the banks of the Doubs river, and crossed over to the Swiss Jura.

I was surprisingly moved when I reached Lac Léman, marking the end of this stage. Usually, these milestones don’t phase me much. Intellectually, I appreciate the significance. Emotionally, I struggle to see them as more than an arbitrary marker on the map. The end of Stage One was different though. Honestly, I think I just felt really proud that I’d made it there.

Celebratory lunch of baked beans, bread, and lettuce after completing Stage One.

The past month has been one of the hardest months I’ve experienced while backpacking.

On the PCT, I experienced many different challenges. The challenges morphed as I walked — changing form based on terrain, climate, circumstance, and chance. On the HexaTrek, the challenges haven’t been morphing but accumulating. Instead of dealing with one difficulty at a time, I was juggling four or five. Unsurprisingly, this made things harder.

The night before finishing, I made a list of everything that had ‘gone wrong’ over the past month. The purpose was not to ruminate or garner sympathy for myself; it was to appreciate what I’d gotten through. I flashed memories through my mind: storms lighting up my tent at two in the morning, the pang in my knees that never went away, running out of food and asking restaurants if I could just buy some bread, fearing the nighttime rain that would flood my tent, constantly checking my body for ticks, waking up on the hard ground due to my deflating sleeping pad, wondering where the other Hexatrekkers were after my fourth day alone, feeling exhausted after speaking so much French, realizing the HexaTrek application could not be trusted, and being so sick that I couldn’t reach for my water bottle, let alone leave my tent. 

Waking up to puddles in the tent, always a great surprise.

These challenges were the reason I was so proud of finishing Stage One. I was proud because it was an accomplishment. It was an accomplishment because it wasn’t easy. It wasn’t easy because why would it be and why would I want it to be. 

I’ve learnt a few things this past month. 

Some of these learnings are profound; most are silly, unrelatable, and aren’t applicable to anything beyond thru-hiking. Here are some of them…

Have low expectations for tasty vegan foods in supermarkets and restaurants (even in bigger towns). Some supermarkets won’t have tofu, let alone vegan sausages. Either accept that most trail cravings won’t be satisfied, or focus on the achievable cravings (e.g., bread with jam). 

It’s hard to detach from the ‘making miles’ mindset. It’s also hard to get comfortable with not knowing how long I’ll walk for. I think I’ve made progress with each of these. 

Using my water bladder as a hot water bottle was a success. 

Packing out tofu was a success. Sometimes it leaks. Sometimes it grows white bits. Can’t win ‘em all.

Packing out tofu — huge, delicious, protein-y success. 

Applying lip balm can feel like you’re dressing up. 

A day when the water bottle is in the right pocket is really exciting. Don’t ask me why, it’s just fantastic. 

Hummus and taboulé are in many supermarkets and are an incredible combo.  

Ticks do exist; I have now verified this for myself many times. 

Don’t trust any information. If it says it’s not going to rain, it might. If it says there’s going to be a downpour, there might not be. If the application says there’s a water fountain, it probably hasn’t worked in years. If there’s a toilet, it’s probably closed. If there’s a bakery, it probably shuts early. If you’ve been following a red sign for five days, you might suddenly start following a yellow one.

Connection can look like many things. It doesn’t have to be a best friend or a soul mate; it can be an 87-year-old woman who you walk with for 15 minutes in a village. 

Do the thing that takes effort but will make you more comfortable later (e.g., going on a three-hour sidequest to buy repair tape). 

Don’t transfer water into different bottles inside the tent.

Don’t take your backpack up castle ruins. Those stairs get narrow and steep. 

I love having many layers for waterproofing. My backpack literally has waterproof bags within a backpack liner within my backpack within my backpack cover (which, if raining, is covered by my poncho). 

My mind likes to daydream, tell stories, and analyze. I also love talking to myself in French.

Packing emergency oats is essential. These are almost always not eaten in emergencies, but just when I’m craving more oats (which is often). 

Sometimes not speaking a foreign language very well can be quite poetic. For example, I couldn’t say the word for moss but I could say, ‘The green plant that’s like a blanket for earth.’. 

Have also learnt that there are some beautiful cabins along this trail you can shelter in.

Where to next?

As I mentioned previously, I’ve always been very uncertain about how much of this trail I’ll complete. 

The next stage of the HexaTrek ventures into the Alps. Similar to the PCT last year, the Alps have received an insane amount of snow (not sure what it is about me and high-snow years). This means the decision about if, when, and where to continue walking is not just one of preference but also safety. There are many options. I could continue walking and test out the snowy Alps, flip to a later stage with no snow, or skip to the end and walk in the opposite direction. 

I’ve decided to mull this decision over while spending a couple weeks in Italy with one of my best friends (poor me). Connecting, laughing, recovering, eating, and experiencing a new culture; all under the guise of, ‘seeing if some snow melts’. It feels strange to take a break from trail, but also nice to honor my love of sidequests and commitment to not taking this trail too seriously. The snow is really just a convenient excuse. 

Have been seeing some pretty cool mountains in Italy, too.

I still have no idea when I’ll stop walking. 

I thought an answer might appear to me during Stage One, but no luck. It’s still as cloudy as it was on day one.  

What is clear is that the same words keep returning to me. They visit me when I grasp my morning cup of tea and when I walk with a random day hiker for a couple hours. They pop up when the sun warms my face and I realize it’s been days since I’ve seen a tick. They run through my mind when I stand under a hot shower for the first time in days and when I swim in a lake. They were the words on repeat in my head as I stared at the Alps that day, beyond the cows and the rocks, the fields and the pines and the farms. 

I’m not finished yet.