How to (un)pack your fears

A common refrain that backpackers hear when it comes to gear is that “you pack your fears”. What this means is: you can usually tell by what gear a hiker has drastically over-provisioned weight for, which of the most common through-hiking fears (being cold, wet, hungry, or tired/sore) the hiker is most wary of. As I’m finalizing my gear list now, and really seeing where I’ve spent most of my time making tradeoffs and doing research, I present: a few key pieces of my gear, organized by how they address my fears.

Cold

Given that I’m starting my northbound hike on March 23rd, hitting snow in San Jacinto and the Sierras is a huge concern, so I spent probably 50% more energy on mitigating the cold than anything else. For example: when I was in the market for a new tent, I made a snap decision to buy the Nemo Hornet 2P because I had tried it once and liked it, and because a friend had insisted that I would appreciate having extra space to unpack my equipment inside my tent. On the other hand, I spent about 10 hours laboriously poring over the minutiae of down jacket specs, to the point where I could detail the pros and cons of even the stitching patterns and their effects on insulation.

I tried the Neolite xlite NXT ( r-value 4.5 ) on a late-October backpacking trip to Havasupai, and when the anticipated cold snap didn’t materialize but I was still barely comfortable, I decided to swap in the Neolite xTherm ( r-value 7.3 ) and get both insulated pants and booties ( EE Torrid ), just to be safe. After shivering sleeplessly through a few low-40s nights while bundled in a 10-year old 20-degree Marmot bag and wearing every single layer I had packed, I replaced the bag with a 10 degree overstuffed quilt ( Hammock Gear Economy Burrow ). On top of that, the quilt will double as a cape if the Katabatic Tincup jacket I finally decided on ( despite several reddit posts claiming it would be overkill for PCT conditions ) is not warm enough at rest.

Wet

A natural extension of being afraid of the cold is being afraid of getting wet, since getting wet, if you’re me, necessarily means getting cold. I’ll be packing both a water-resistant wind layer ( Brooks Canopy ) and an actual rain jacket ( Janji Rainrunner ). I opted for a rainskirt ( onewind rainskirt, from Amazon ) that I can instantly throw over whatever pants I’m wearing, to minimize how long I might spend getting wet while changing into rain pants (or the alternative – having to wear rain pants when there’s a chance of rain, and then getting wet from my own sweat ). I was warned about some terrifying-sounding affliction called trench hands, which is caused by prolonged exposure to moisture, and instantly sprung for a pair of rain mitts ( REI GTX Rain Mitts ). I even briefly toyed with the idea of getting an ultralight umbrella for the extra protection, but ultimately my weight-conscious side won out.

Hungry

For a reprieve from the onslaught of anxiety, I’m actually not very worried about being hungry. As a small-framed 5’3” woman who frequently forgets to feed herself, I’m very used to running around, sometimes doing 2-3 workouts a day while starving, and I’m sure I’ll be able to pack enough food into my generously sized backpack ( Gossamer Gear Mariposa 60L ) to keep myself well fed. The only thing I’d be concerned about is missing the flavors I’m used to eating at home – Korean soups, Chinese stir fries, Vietnamese noodles, and Thai curries. I’m hoping that throwing a few ramen packs from my local HMart into my resupply boxes will tide me over for the 4-5 months I’m anticipating being on trail.

Tired

Another thing I’m worried about is sleep quality. At home, I often struggle with insomnia, which during backpacking trips is exacerbated by even the tiniest discomfort. One of the reasons I originally picked the xlite over the xTherm is because I read a few reviews saying the xTherm crunches a bit, and I was concerned the noise would wake me up. Then, I decided that I would sleep better being warmer, and earplugs ( Loops ) would probably block out most of the noise.

Pillow-wise, I’ve tried sleeping both using a bundle of clothing, as well as with a lumpy expandable foam pillow, and both leave me hollow-eyed and sore-necked. On my last backpacking trip, I finally upgraded to a Sea to Summit Aeros UL inflatable pillow, and I finally experienced what I feels like to actually get rest while sleeping outdoors! Add a makeshift eye mask ( a merino buff pulled down over my eyes at night ), and I’m confident I’ll manage my levels of insomnia-induced exhaustion.

Change

What I can’t pack with me, however, is a salve to heal the thing I fear most: that in my absence the world spins on without me. Friends will continue to meet for dinner, and there won’t be a spot for me at the table. At home, my partner will roll over and finally stretch his weary limbs across the entirety of the bed. Even the memory foam of our mattress will eventually forget my shape.

When I first decided to hike the PCT, I was so focused on the thrill of adventure that I didn’t think through all that I would be leaving behind. I love the life I’m leading in New York – Saturday long runs with friends through Central Park, giggling over my girl friends’ latest escapades while trying every cocktail on the menu, lazy nights nestled on the couch with my partner. Now that the year has turned and thrown my start date – only 3 weeks away! – into sharp relief, so has it started the clock on the time I have left in New York. How will these treasured moments change while I’m gone? How will I change? I can’t imagine that I will return in half a year and slot perfectly back into place, like a broken part removed briefly for maintenance.

Of course, I’ll do the best I can to stay in touch. I’ll share my inReach link with friends and family who might check in occasionally to see how far my dot has migrated north. I might even splurge for the more expensive satellite texting plan so I can remind them every now and then, “I love you,” or “I miss you.” But I’ll always have to contend with the unbridgeable physical distance between us.

I shared a few of these fears with friends, and for the most part, I hear a version of: “Don’t worry, you’ll meet so many new friends on the trail!” Maybe I haven’t said what I meant to say, which is not that I’ll miss having friends as if friendship were some general cup that needed filling, but that I will miss the specific shape of each of my friends in my life. I know I’ll make new friends, but that doesn’t mean I won’t miss my old ones too.

This is specifically the fear that I will go to the PCT to face. More than the discomfort of being cold, wet, hungry, or tired, is the fear of changing the comfortable life that I love. Change is a constant thing; I know this in my mind, but my heart refuses to let go without me wrestling it into a whole other world. I have to force a change to prove to myself that I can survive it.

Recently over dinner, I shared this fear for about the twelfth time, and a friend responded with something new: “Call me if you ever feel lonely,” he said. “You can always call any of us,” the others at the table chimed in. “I’m gonna be calling ya’ll 20 minutes in,” I joked in response. I hadn’t known that I needed to be reminded that I’ll always have a thread back to home, that I can tug on that thread and feel its reassuring tension, the way a kite tugs at its tail while dancing amongst the clouds. The wave of relief I felt choked me up a little, and I… might have shed a tear into my beer :p

Change will be constant, like the shapes of clouds shifting as they expand against the endless sky. I will change, and my friends probably will too; I’m trying my best to remind myself of this over the next few months, to breathe through the inevitable twitch of fear. But it’s comforting to know that as we flutter in our respective corners of the world, there will be a thread that links us together, one that’ll eventually call me home.

Oh, and if you expected to actually see my full list of gear, check out my lighterpack here!