The Falls that Led Me to the PCT

Looking up at the trees.

The blueness of the winter sky emerged from its snuggly blanket of grey. Dainty rays of sunlight warmed the evergreen trees, making them cry and send tears onto the earth below. I closed the cabin door behind me and immediately was enveloped by the crisp morning air. It was time for a hike. With my trail runners tied and pack straps adjusted, I stepped off the cabin’s covered porch onto the flagstone walkway, marking the beginning of my morning’s journey. But before I could continue onwards, my once steady feet flailed, and the world tilted backward. Adrenaline rushed through me, begging my body to react—to avert this impending disaster—but it was too late. I was airborne and destined for impact. My tailbone touched the hard stone first, and pain rippled through my body. I lay there, whimpering, remembering, and wondering. I’ve been here many times before. Indeed, it was a series of falls that led me to the Pacific Crest Trail. 

Falling for the Outdoors

It was the summer before I turned thirteen when I first became enamored with outdoor adventure. I lived on a one-acre farm in a dusty suburb settled in the bowl that is inland Southern California. My parents had recently bought two Australian shepherd puppies that were both balls of irresistible cuteness and ultimate chaos. I had volunteered to entertain them in the mornings and was repeatedly dragged through the dirt by my shirt sleeves like a chew toy. By the afternoon, they were ready to nap, and I habitually collapsed on a patch of shady grass where I could indulge in some light reading until the pups awoke. One day, I borrowed one of my mom’s new issues of Sunset magazine and was introduced to a world of sublimity where nature’s wonders are witnessed in extreme solitude. That issue of Sunset featured an article on fire towers. I was entranced by each description and let my imagination saunter on the elevated peaks, seemingly detached from civilization. There was something so captivating, thrilling even, about the idea of being in the wilderness alone.

The article from the June 2016 issue of Sunset magazine that inspired me.

From that day on, I grew curiouser and curiouser about wild places and the adventurous activities that could be done in them. I created a list of all the skills I wanted to learn and things I wanted to do. At the top of the list was backpacking, and underlined in bold was the trail I thought embodied the ultimate hiking adventure one could undertake on the West Coast: the Pacific Crest Trail. 

Falling Feet

Fast forward four years, the PCT remained a landscape I continued to trek along in my mind. However, I now had a sampling of outdoor adventure memories that I could call my own. These memories allowed me to further vivify my daydreams. I thought about the feeling of walking through a superbloom, seeing Joshua Tree National Park for the first time, and meeting PCT hikers when I visited Warner Springs.

A photo from my first visit to the wondrous place that is Joshua Tree National Park.

I yearned to hike and continue to work on becoming the backpacker I knew I could be, but at the time, I couldn’t. Instead, I was a cancer patient. As I progressed through chemo, my mobility weakened, and I struggled to walk. Once I entered remission, recovery was slow, and I remained frustrated with my body. One evening, I found myself on the floor, unable to get up, and I made a vow. I would become strong again and not let my dreams waste away. 

Falling in the City

Four more years later, it is Halloween in 2024. I am hobbling in Greenwich Village. I have a stress fracture in my right ankle from overtraining, and I am wearing a walking boot as a result. Still, I weave my way through the crowds of costumed people in high spirits, thoughts bouncing around my mind like a ping pong ball. I have a PCT permit! I’m graduating with my master’s degree in May! I’ve been living in New York City for almost two years! I miss the West Coast! I want to hike! I continued to pick up the pace and began fiddling with my phone. Then I tripped. My left ankle rolled inward and made a loud “POP” sound. I found myself, once again, fallen. 

My left ankle a few days after Halloween.

The remaining events of that night were a whirlwind, but by the end of it, I was on crutches with two messed-up ankles. It was time to leave the city. I flew back to the West Coast, where I huddled away in a cabin with my partner. Recovery mode was once again engaged, but this time, when I daydreamed about the PCT, it wasn’t just a distant thing I knew I would do one day. I would be hiking the Pacific Crest Trail starting in May, and that made me bubble with a tangible excitement. Despite my ankle predicament, I remained confident that come May, I would be departing from Campo and heading towards Canada. However, the fall I took on Halloween did serve as a sobering reminder. It reminded me that I need to focus on the present and respect my body’s limits.

Laying It All Out

When I finally got up from the flagstone after falling on my tailbone, I continued with my plan and went for a hike. With every fall, there is a loss of control. You become briefly suspended. When you experience impact, you are forced to focus on the present. Then, you are grounded. Upon standing again, you are more conscious of your steps and search for steadiness. The Pacific Crest Trail has been a steady goal I have consciously stepped towards for the past nine years. In my mind, it still offers what I envision as the ultimate West Coast adventure. I am thru-hiking this trail to satisfy this craving for adventure but also because it will represent the pinnacle of me believing in my body and finding balance within it.

Me on a training hike.

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Comments 2

  • Andrea Dickson : Jan 22nd

    This fills my heart with joy and pride😘

    Reply
  • Janice Dickson : Jan 24th

    What a gift our family has received in Avalanche Lily

    Reply

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