Dear Diary,

I have always been fascinated by Antarctica, a remote place rarely seen by humans. My obsession grew with the stories of early explorers racing to the South Pole and epic tales of survival. These explorers documented their adventures through journaling, capturing their experiences vividly. Inspired by them, I decided to record my adventures, forever reliving these moments through my journal. As I reflect on my 2023 PCT experiences in 2024, my daily journal brings back the essence of those unforgettable days spent in the great outdoors. I encourage everyone to make journaling a part of their daily routine while on a life-altering journey and to keep a record of the adventures that unfold. Trust me as you read them later, they will have the ability to transport you back to that moment in time. Although I share my account, I recognize that my words can only paint a fraction of the true experience of stepping into the unknown. Whether it’s your inaugural backpacking expedition or a bold decision to break free from the routine and embrace a gap year, the raw, unfiltered encounter with nature, paired with adventure, is unparalleled.

Day 11 – What The F*** Is This Place!? Oh, This Is Mike’s Place!? We Are Staying Here!?!?!

April 30th, 2023: Agua Caliente Creek to Mike’s Place (Mile 127.3)

Jakob, Angry Dane, and I woke up to find the main group already heading out. Jakob, with his distinctive German accent, entertained us as he read the package of his Beast Cookies. There was something comical about the bold statement, urging you to ‘slay your hunger and unlock the beast,’ especially when delivered in his German accent.

We set off later than the main group and formed our inner circle, which we dubbed ‘The Hunters.’ The night before, we had camped above the main group overlooking them from a sandy spot. It felt like we were hunters in a safari, stalking our prey, observing any weaklings, tracking their migration, and noting where they ate, gathered water, and bedded down for the night. About an hour behind them, we eventually caught up and playfully revealed that we had tracked them down. It was a game the three of us were playing, unknown to them.

We stopped in an area that seemed like another bug air force base, but it soon turned into a warzone with bugs attacking from all directions. We had to get up and move, finding a spot between hills with some brush and a pre-existing campsite. Setting up my rain fly provided much-needed shade, and we waited out the heat. Surprisingly, there was a refreshing breeze, and no bugs to bother us. We shared a meal and laughter, finding joy in simple moments like seeking refuge from the sun. Eventually, we had to leave to make our way to a trail famous location, Mike’s Place.

As we hiked the remaining stretch of the trail, a painted sign emerged, signaling Mike’s Place. It led us up a steep trail, marked with another sign featuring a squiggly arrow indicating switchbacks. Following the trail, we crossed a dirt road to a sign post guiding us to Mike’s Place. Water tanks came into view. Filling up our water, we could hear our group nearby. Although the sign declared ‘all are welcome,’ it felt like we were breaking in. An opening in the fence revealed a steep and unstable staircase, serving as our entrance.

Mike’s Place appeared like an abandoned house in the middle of nowhere, adorned with a broken-down camper in the front yard and various stockpiles of items like old tires and microwaves. The western-style house, reminiscent of scenes from horror movies, was scattered with belongings. Despite its eerie appearance, the presence of our group and a few familiar faces provided a sense of security.

Setting up camp in what seemed to be the front yard and driveway, marked by an open fence and tire tracks, we decided to close the gate before pitching our tents. Dinner with the group was a lively affair, filled with laughter and a great time. This night is when Ash received her trail name, Zippy, since she caught her hair in the zipper of the tent and we nearly had to cut her hair out of it. Reading my journal about this event is like time traveling back to this very moment.

Around a little after 9 pm, while laying in my tent, the distant rumble of a truck on the dirt road caught my attention. I couldn’t shake the bad feeling it was headed towards the house, and for a moment, I entertained the thought that it might be Mike. I had intrusive thoughts that it was Mike himself, heavily intoxicated while driving an old beater pickup truck with rust all over the paint and blown out tires on rims that he didn’t even notice while he hung out the window drinking a bottle of whiskey. He is dropping of his other 8 washing machines and some microwaves to add to his piles of junk in the yard. It was an eerie feeling while my mind ran wild with these kinds of thoughts. Lying in my sleeping bag, I armed myself, half-expecting some lunatic to appear. However, the truck never reached us, and I eventually drifted off into sleep.

Day 12 – Possessed by Hunger

May 1st, 2023: Mike’s Place to Tule Springs (Mile 137)

I woke up before the others around 5:45 am. It was cold last night, but in the morning, there was a dense fog that made the landscape appear paranormal. The day proved to be unusually cold compared to the relentless sun we’ve been accustomed to. I found myself wearing almost full layers for the first time, and even had to wear gloves due to the drastic change in temperature.

As I sit here with most of my morning chores complete, I am enjoying my own breakfast of instant oatmeal with granola and a cup of coffee watching the sunrise. It is still surreal that I have spent 11 nights out here traveling over 120 miles. I looked around Mikes Place in the morning, packed up, and refilled my water. This was the first day it truly felt like I was living as a homeless person, squatting in Mike’s yard for the night. Despite being accustomed to living out of my backpack and sleeping in a tent in various places each night, staying in this person’s eerie house in the hills somehow intensified the feeling of homelessness. After preparing our belongings, most of us gathered at the water tanks near the trail leading back to the PCT. As the temperature dropped, I decided to hike alone for a while. I left the group and set off.

Today is my daughter’s birthday. As I reached a hilltop with spotty service, I took a moment to send her a birthday message, hoping it would go through. I vividly remember discussing this journey with her, explaining the plans and the time it would take, knowing I would miss her birthday this year. While she isn’t into hiking, I’ve attempted to spark her interest on numerous occasions, hoping a mountain or a river would ignite her passion for hiking, but it never happened. Despite this, she was supportive of my journey, and for that, I’m grateful.

Hiking once again, I caught my first real glimpse of San Jacinto Mountain, its peaks adorned with plenty of snow. It marked the next major challenge in this journey. The weather was cloudy and foggy, the sun obscured for the day, resulting in a cool atmosphere that made the snow-capped mountain seem even more imposing. Eventually, I found myself less than a mile from Tule Springs when Andrew caught up to me. Together, we made our way down to Tule Springs in search of Steph and Ash.

We lingered at the spring for a while, enjoying the rest and replenishing our water supplies. Eventually, Ash and Steph departed first, embarking on a three-mile hike so they could reach Paradise Valley Café by tomorrow, our next stop before heading into the mountain town of Idyllwild. Meanwhile, the rest of the group discussed our plans for the evening. Andrew mentioned a wind advisory for tonight, prompting us to search for a sheltered spot. After climbing to the top of a nearby hill, we found that all the available spots were taken by other PCT hikers. Continuing on, we encountered another hiker named Terry, accompanied by his dog Dakota, at a campsite to our right. As we passed Terry, I noticed a small trail leading between large bushes with rock piles to our left. I stopped the group, and we investigated further. It turned out to be the spot for us to camp for the night.

Jakob, Angry Dane, and I opted for cowboy camping in a small sandy spot. They lay vertically next to each other, while I positioned myself horizontally above them near a bush. We joked about the possibility of Angry Dane getting kicked in the head, humorously dubbing her ‘Angry Busted Face.’ Our laughter filled the air as we reflected on the day’s struggles and victories, grateful that the hard day was finally over.

As the night progressed, Jakob and I started feeling the first signs of hiker hunger, unable to stop talking about food. Lying down, we shared snacks, but with each one we consumed, our hunger only seemed to grow deeper. Despite having our rations for the day, we couldn’t believe how intense the hiker hunger was becoming. Angry Dane gave us 2 snack-sized Reese’s peanut butter cups. It was sensational yet it only made the hunger grow stronger. We began discussing all the different types of foods we were craving. It was getting out of control. I decided to make some extra Ramen I had and prepared a bowl for both Jakob and myself. We ate again and it satisfied the hunger, for now. After our laughter died down, we eventually drifted off to sleep.

Day 13 – No More Inflatable Pillow

May 2nd, 2023: Tule Springs to Paradise Valley Café (Mile 151.8)

I woke up early and made a decision to capture the sunrise on film. I’m incredibly grateful for the chance to spend this time hiking the PCT. Feeling fortunate to be surrounded by such wonderful people, I absorbed every moment this morning. Making my way through some brush, I reached a pile of rocks I could climb. There, I witnessed the sunrise while savoring a cup of cold, black coffee. It was truly magnificent.

We opted for a relaxed morning. We lounged around, sharing laughter and stories of our trail experiences thus far since it still felt so new and surreal. During our leisurely morning, Terry, a fellow hiker from the nearby campsite, approached us. He explained that he had run out of butane fuel and asked if we could boil some water for his coffee. Despite being low on fuel myself, I gladly offered what I had to help Terry, a 73-year-old section hiker accompanied by his dog, Dakota. As I boiled water for him, Dakota darted around excitedly, reminding me of my own dog, Zeus. After handing Terry his hot water, he expressed his gratitude. Meanwhile, Dakota inadvertently urinated on a bush above my pillow, rendering it unusable. Nevertheless, I reassured Terry that it was not a problem as I humorously mourned the demise of my inflatable pillow. Time to upgrade.

We packed up and departed at 10 a.m., the latest we had ever left camp. Our destination for water was Angel Mary’s Place. Starting with 2 liters from camp, the only other option for water was a concrete cistern, which, upon inspection, was disgustingly uninviting. Who knows if a rodent fell in, drowned, and is currently floating around in this water. I wasn’t going to drink from it if I had another option, which I did: Angel Mary’s. But rumors started to circulate that Angel Mary’s might be dry. I decided I would risk dehydration for the day rather than drink from this cistern or rely on a rumored dried-up water source. I believed I could still make it to PVC without a water supply if necessary.

However, upon reaching Angel Mary’s, I found water in a plastic cylindrical tank. I cannot describe to you how relieved I felt in this moment seeing water on a hot, sunny day in the desert. I spotted Terry seated on a bench with Dakota, but there were no signs of Angry Dane. I wondered if she continued ahead without stopping, possibly missing the water resupply since we agreed to stop at this water source. So I refilled my water supply and also grabbed an extra liter for Angry Dane, just in case. As I hiked on, I ran right into Angry Dane, who was heading back to the water supply because she indeed passed Angel Mary’s without realizing it. Luckily, I had anticipated this scenario, so I handed her the 1 liter I brought for her.

Now, all I could think about was a fresh orange. I imagined peeling the rind with my dirty fingernails, juice splashing and making my fingers sticky. I craved the bright orange flesh inside. Eventually, I arrived at PVC with Angry Dane, where four other PCT hikers were sitting at a closed café. To my surprise, they had oranges! Someone had left them as trail magic. I eagerly grabbed five and tried juggling three but dropped them all. As it got cold, we decided to camp in the field next to the café.

Day 14 – Do Not Manifest It Upon Yourself.

May 3rd, 2023: Hitchhike from Paradise Valley Café to Idyllwild (Mile 151.8)

When I woke up, condensation had blanketed everything. After trying to dry out my gear, I headed to Paradise Valley Café, a notable landmark along the trail, where I met up with Angry Dane for breakfast. There, I indulged in a breakfast burrito and enjoyed endless coffee refills. Even after four cups, my caffeine craving remained unsatisfied.

Following breakfast, we went to Richards Place, a nearby trail angel, so Angry Dane could retrieve a package of ice axes. Then, we set out for the highway to hitchhike into Idyllwild. Spotting another group of three hikers also trying to hitch a ride, I let them go first and consulted the FarOut App for alternative transportation options. I discovered a trail angel offering rides for $40 per carload. Seeing fellow hikers preparing to hitchhike, I suggested splitting the ride with them. They agreed, so we contacted the ride and waited at PVC for our transportation.

As we waited, some other hikers in our crew arrived. I told them about the trail angel offering rides to Idyllwild, and they decided to arrange a ride back with her after eating. While waiting, I chatted with the other hikers, hoping the driver would be someone who drives slowly and makes you feel safe. The worst-case scenario would be if the driver was dealing with a crisis, like catching their spouse cheating with a sibling, and started opening up to us while losing focus on the road. That would be the worst hitchhike imaginable: someone losing it mentally while driving up a mountain road. Eventually, the trail angel showed up for our ride into Idyllwild.

We packed into the car with our packs on our laps, creating a fort-like scene. I tried to take a picture, barely catching a glimpse of Mountain Goat’s eyes over her pack. It was hilarious to be riding with a stranger like this. As we drove, the trail angel mentioned she wasn’t feeling great because a close friend had betrayed her. My heart sank. Was this the moment where we drive off a cliff? Thankfully, it wasn’t, but the coincidence was uncanny given my earlier joke with the group. Despite the tension, we made it safely to Idyllwild.

The group had booked a cabin with the Idyllwild Inn. We took the map that led us to the cabin, and you’d think a group of PCT hikers traveling for 14 days would know how to navigate a small mountain town, but we were all over the place until we found it. When we did find the cabin, we couldn’t believe this vacation rental cabin was ours. It was huge, with two stories, three bedrooms, and two baths.

After settling in, we went out to buy groceries. I was making dinner and planned to cook lasagna, but I had to modify my recipe to fit the group’s needs for no gluten and no meat. Angry Dane handled the meatless one while I made a pork and beef gluten-free baked ziti, which was really penne since it was the only gluten-free pasta available.

I baked dinner while others helped out. The place felt cozy, with everyone taking showers and washing clothes. I cleaned up a bit too, washing my bowl, cup, and spoon. As I cooked, I enjoyed a Fat Tire with Andrew and Angry Dane, feeling like we were part of an international expedition taking a few days off.

When the food was ready, we gathered at the table like one big family and enjoyed pasta, bread, and salad until there was nothing left. Afterwards, we all pitched in to clean the dishes and put them away, functioning like a well-oiled unit.

Afterwards, Stephanie was chatting away with me. Four members of our group decided to head out and meet some other hikers they had encountered previously. Idyllwild served as a meeting point on the trail before climbing San Jacinto. However, shortly after they left, only two returned. Stephanie had the mischievous idea to turn off the lights and give them a scare. So, we did just that, and one of them started searching the house, bewildered. The jump scare was a success, and we all erupted into laughter.

We continued back in the living room with myself and Steph drinking. Soon people started to go to bed and we continued to drink. It was well past hiker midnight, far past the usual 9pm bedtime. Around 1am, the other 2 hikers returned. They had saucy stories of their adventures out tonight. We had a blast laughing at what is happening during this trip. They soon went to bed and Steph stayed up drinking with me. Around 2am, Steph went to bed, and I made my bed on the couch before turning off the TV and calling it a night.

The first Expedition Team is forming

As I vividly relive these experiences through my journal, I find myself deeply missing that moment in time. Sharing this adventure with such a diverse group of people was truly special. We all worked towards the same goal, and there was a level of care not just for our own group, but for fellow hikers we encountered along the way. Yet, it was during this time that my core group began to form as we continued to stick together. Now, with the ability to pool our funds to access luxuries along the trail, I don’t mind being in good company with those who can relate to what I’m going through while indulging in a home-cooked meal.