Learning to Trust on the PCT

I suppose everything starts with an introduction. I’m Angie, and I’m an aspiring 2024 PCT through-hiker starting NOBO in March. I struggled a bit about how exactly to kick off my writing here on The Trek, but luckily, I recently stumbled on an awesome introduction post by another aspiring through-hiker, and it got me thinking about my own backpacking origin story.

How it began ( or… some mostly relevant personal history )

I came to the US when I was five years old. As soon as they could afford to, my parents started taking me on roadtrips to see all the wonders that America had to offer. We saw the granite peaks of Yosemite, Old Faithful in Yellowstone, the buzzing swarm of flies that infested the shores of the Great Salt Lake in Utah, wherever my parents could either drive their beat up Corolla to, or find a Chinese speaking tour bus to. Thinking back on it now, these trips probably laid the foundation for my love of nature and all things outdoorsy. But these trips were also a reminder of how much my family depended on me – when we invariably got lost on road trips, I would be the one reluctantly getting out of the car to ask for directions, since I was the only person capable of speaking in unbroken, unaccented English. I was embarrassed twice over. That we were lost, and that we had to rely on a stranger to un-lose us, felt like proof that our family didn’t yet belong in America.

Being the eldest daughter of a first-generation immigrant family is a particular experience, so much so that there is an actual support group. My parents navigated this unfamiliar country with (very understandably) a distinct sense of fear. I was rarely allowed out after dark, warned constantly to be wary of getting taken advantage of, and yelled down if I wanted to deviate from the safe life path my parents had decided on (surprise surprise, going to medical school to become a doctor). I felt as if I was marching through a canyon to some inevitable destination, boxed in on both sides by all of the things I wasn’t allowed to, or perceived incapable of doing.

Like many other immigrant families, my parents sacrificed everything they knew and had to come to America in order to provide me (and eventually, my younger sister) with better opportunities. With that came a crushing set of expectations – to excel academically, to behave as a perfect example of filial piety, and to ensure my and my sister’s success. Though my parents tried their best, they weren’t equipped to support me in this new and alien culture, so I fumbled my own way through the experiences of making and losing friends, dating, getting into college, and applying for jobs. Through it all, I remembered the embarrassment of getting lost and asking for help, and so I turned the survival mechanism of struggling alone into a point of pride.

Unsurprisingly, I developed both a ferocious sense of independence and a rebellious streak. This is probably why backpacking appealed to me, when I went on my first trip almost 10 years ago – it felt like a way to simultaneously demand my own autonomy, and prove my self-sufficiency. I carry all I need for my own survival. I decide how many miles I walk each day, what views I want to see, and in which clearing I’d like to sleep.

my first backpacking trip! How young and naive I was :’)

A bit of a reframing

Through-hiking, however, feels like another beast entirely. I first came to the decision to hike the PCT as a reaffirmation of my autonomy ( I wrote elsewhere on why the PCT, so I won’t go into it here.. but a huge thank you in advance if you read that post 😉 ), but the more I’ve actually planned out my trip, the more I realize how much of a communal effort it is to enable these adventures. There are the Facebook groups where alumni enthusiastically offer advice to newbie through-hikers, the trail angels that will enable our safe passage to towns, and the friends and family back home that will help ship our resupply boxes. There are also the other through-hikers, who will band together to pool skills and resources to get one another safely through our respective journeys.

To be honest, this is probably the scariest part of through-hiking to me: that I need to open myself up to actually relying on others. The trail provides, or so it goes, but it’s a huge leap of faith for me to trust that it will. Actually, there’s probably a way to get through the entire PCT on my own if I really wanted to, but the more I plan the more I realize that I don’t want to, and that if I did so I would be missing an entire culture of mutual support and possible friendships. What I want to do, is nervously stick out my thumb ( or, lets be real, my type-A self will probably trawl the trail angel groups and plan pick-ups far in advance ) and learn cars will actually stop, and strangers will actually be kind enough to take me where I need to go. I want to make my own deposits into hiker boxes and hopefully pay the trail magic forward!

So… if you see me on the trail come March and I seem a bit shy, please say hi! I’m excited to meet you, to share a meal or a beer with you, and to celebrate the highs and lows of trail life with you. May the trail provide for all of us!