It Starts

I’m on day nine of my attempt to through hike the Pacific Crest Trail from Mexico to Canada. My feet hurt, my legs are tired, I’m hungry, and it’s cold.

I was about twelve when I first heard about what would become the PCT. I grew up hiking almost every summer weekend with my dad. Many of those hikes ran across the Cascade Crest Trail – it was the super highway of trails in Washington. I remember my dad telling me that they were going to make the trail go all the way from Mexico to Canada. I thought that was the coolest thing ever, and thought that would be fun to do someday. At the time, it wasn’t a a thing I knew I wanted to do, just something cool. I thought I *could* do. I continued hiking with my dad into my young adult years, and then his age, and my job family, and life slid hiking to the wayside. It stayed there for quite a long time.

During the pandemic, like many other others, I fell into hours of YouTube traps to combat the isolation boredom. One weekend I came across some videos of hikers, hiking Pacific Trail, and documenting their journey. I was instantly in love with hiking again. My eyes swelled up as I saw these people doing what I didn’t realize that I wanted to do for so long. I told my partner a few days later about my dreams. We didn’t have a plan yet, but we agreed it should happen.

But first, there was another problem to solve. I hadn’t been hiking in nearly thirty years. Maybe I didn’t like it. Maybe it wouldn’t be fun. Maybe it wouldn’t have the same joy as it did when I was a kid. So I bought a pack, dug out my old sleeping bag, and did some research. I began to do hikes, as they were easy to do while everybody was distancing. I loved the solitude. I loved the miles on trail being alone with my thoughts, and I loved the scenery. I did a few overnight trips. I live in Washington, so even though I would sometimes get poured on at night, I was happy. I did section hikes on the PCT in Washington. I did the Wonderland Trail twice. Every moment of those trips were moments, I enjoyed and cherished, even when they were hard.

Then, for the first time in my adult life, I found myself in a job that was wrong for me. The job they wanted me to do and the things that I made a career out of excelling at were two completely different things. I’ve always loved to work, sometimes too much, but this job was not good for my mental or physical health. I got a permit for the PCT, quit my job, and on April 20 began the trip of the lifetime.

It’s nine in the morning and I’m  descending towards Paradise Valley Café. My feet hurt, my legs are tired, I’m hungry, it’s cold, and I’m having the time of my life.