Setting Foot on the PCT: A Strange Time to Rest and Recover

I thought I would be scared, terrified even, as I set foot on this 2,650 mile long trail. And yet it felt normal. It had all felt normal – setting up my tent the night before at CLEEF. Going to bed early from exhaustion. To think I was looking forward to the trail to be able to rest more, finally. It seemed laughable really. No one in their right mind looks forward to the start of a 5-month trek as their time to rest and recover, right? In fairness, part of the chaos of the last week has been the preparation, which was a marathon in itself. Finally being here, and even forcing myself to take more time, was perhaps a healing in and of itself. 

The last few days before the trail had been a total whirlwind, so, by 8pm, I was exhausted and retired to my tent a little conflicted. There were so many new people to meet and trail families to be formed. It would have been nice to stay, yet in my heart I knew this would be my hike and mine alone – ‘hike your own hike’, they say. Perhaps one of the first lessons this experience will teach me is to do what I need and trust I’ll meet the right people when the time is right. 

I awoke at 5:30am to the sounds of tents being unzipped and sleeping bags being stuffed away. It was the first time I’d slept well in days. Weirdly I didn’t feel nervous. I got changed. I packed my backpack. I walked over to the hiker area and claimed my hot pancake. It was cooked by Papa Bear. I never asked how he got such a name but it seemed apt; imagine a bearded older man with the most soothing paternal lilt sitting by a fire imparting his wisdom. That was how we’d met Papa Bear the night before.  

During the day I flip-flopped between hiking alone and with groups, talking all things gear (finally people who are happy to talk about tents, packs and sleeping bags for hours!), jobs and most importantly where everyone was planning to camp for the night. Almost everyone had decided to camp at Hauser Creek at around mile 15. An ambitious few were planning to walk all the way to Lake Morena having heard the Wolverines, an infamous group of PCT alum, had set up for a long weekend to welcome new hikers to the trail with a BBQ and some pack shakedowns. For me though the little campsite at mile 11.4 had my name on it. When I arrived at a mere 2pm it felt silly and downright lazy to call it a day and yet I dutifully set up my tent to do the right thing and take it easy, to allow my dodgy foot and shin time to adapt to the trail. It was to be a frustrating few days watching everyone bypass me, yet I could not let myself be part of the many hikers who had to quit due to injury within the first three weeks, especially with an old one to manage from the get go. And so there I was, taking it slow. I just hoped it would pay off in the long run. 

My campsite for the night was a tiny secluded spot off a clearing where a few others had pitched up. While I thought I wanted to be around people, to socialise, to avoid camping alone, here I was at a campsite finding the most private spot possible! Admittedly it was still far from camping alone, but I supposed it wouldn’t be too long before that happened either. It’s funny, these days I sometimes find myself with little to say or contribute around many people. Perhaps I’m learning only to speak when I have something important to say? Or perhaps I’m just waiting for those who inspire me? Either way, I spent the afternoon stretching, writing, listening to music and lying in the sun. 

I was joined by more hikers as the afternoon went on. The evening passed with Maddy, Sophie, Lauren and I exchanging stories as the sun slipped below the horizon. Come sunset I was happily cosied up in my sleeping bag, the sounds of nature lulling me to sleep.

How lucky I am to be here in this beautiful place.