Day 157: One Day More

I got on trail at 7am, immediately reaching Hart’s Pass within the hour. And the emotions came flooding in. Hart’s Pass is the final road before the northern terminus. It truly is the beginning of the final stretch, the final 30 miles.

I walked up to the Hart’s Pass Ranger Station where a podium stood. I knew the deal. I lifted it open to find the final trail registry of the Pacific Crest Trail. I began tearing up. I scoured the previous pages, looking for names I might recognize. Every person that signed this book before me had already hiked to Canada, touched the northern terminus, and completed their thru-hike on the Pacific Crest Trail. It was less of a log book, and more of a yearbook. The final signatures, the final time writing out their trail names, the final time writing “NOBO.” There was one final column in the registry, where just about every hiker left their final words. Some, words of encouragement and accomplishment. Others, words of humor and wit. But no matter the intent, every single word in this book carried such heavy weight. They were each hikers final words to the trail, and those that come after them. I began to cry. It felt final. It felt like I was entering the point of no return. I signed my name in big, bold letters: B-R-O-A-D-W-A-Y. The pen felt immovable, every additional letter resisting more and more. And when I got to the empty box on the end, I sat in thought. What could I possibly write that could fully represent how meaningful the past 5 months had been? What could I possibly say in this tiny space that could convey my deep emotional gratitude for such a beautiful experience? Perhaps that’s why some hikers opted for humor? I accepted the fact that nothing I wrote, within this small log book box, or within a 500-page book, could accurately depict this adventure and how much it has meant to me.

But in an attempt to leave something, a small part of me behind, I thought of my love of theatre, and of themes and lyrics that live deep in my soul. With a trail name Broadway, a musical theatre reference for my final words were required, right? And then it hit me. Words that reverberate in my soul, a musical that makes me weep every time I watch it or even listen to it. A musical about friendship, community, love, bravery, and resilience. RENT. And the final words of the musical? “No day but today.”

Crying, I left Harts Pass and began the 30 mile hike to the end. In all honesty, it wasn’t exactly the end, as one can’t legally hike into Canada. So, upon arrival at the border and northern terminus, all PCT hikers have to turn around and hike the 30 miles back to Harts Pass. A victory lap, if you will. As I hiked northward, the trail became a hike down memory lane. Besides my own personal reflection of the past 5 months, I ran into fellow PCT hikers making their way back to Harts Pass. I first ran into Boyscout, Girl Dinner, and Stork, all of whom I started with on Day 1. We exchanged congratulations, caught up, shared stories, and wished each other well in future endeavors. And the emotions kept flowing. As if the next 30 miles weren’t going to be difficult enough from hiking and my own emotions, now I have to say goodbye to some of the people that made the past 158 days so incredibly magical.

Next up: Rocket Sauce, Margarita, and MagBag. Three beautiful souls that made me feel seen, safe, and strong. I hiked a few different days with and around them, but how I wished I’d run into them more and spend more time with them.

I ran into maybe 15 others hikers I had met at some point on trail.  We shared congratulatory hugs and words. I cried.

The last 5 miles to camp, I took a look around. I stared at rocks on the trail I normally would have walked right over. I crouched down to a small white flower, of which I had seen thousands of over the past few months. I felt a soft breeze bring chills to my body. A chipmunk squeaked at me, as if he knew I was taking a final inventory of all the small things, the parts of trail I might normally overlook. I spoke with him. I told him how thankful I was for him, and all of his little friends, even the pestering ones. And I thanked him for guiding me north. I thanked the rocks I thought I hated, the ones that pierced my feet and had me cursing them out. I thanked the small trickle of an almost dried up stream, and all the water sources I’d encountered on trail. How they truly had giving us life out here. I looked up, the sun now behind some evening clouds. But I knew she was still there. I thanked her for lighting the way, for warming us and giving life to all the nature around us. How I normally take her for granted. But how I realized I needed her so often on trail. I took a deep breath of the fresh mountain air, and slowly exhaled. I am so grateful to the living world around me, the universe, for embracing me and guiding me every step of the way.

My final campsite of the Pacific Crest Trail was at Woody Pass, just 11.1 miles from the northern terminus (angel numbers, I know)! Beautiful southeast views looked out at stunning mountains and forest down below. Small plumes of smoke exploded above the nearest mountain ridge. Surely, there was an active fire just south of us. I enjoyed one final night, reflecting on it all, before I’d touch the Canadian border tomorrow. How bittersweet.