The PCT is Like…
Hello from the other side (of the midway point)! A few days ago I crossed mile 1,325 and am now more than halfway done with the trail.
Honestly I was so exhausted when I finally hit the midpoint that it was a little anticlimactic. It wasn’t until a few miles later that I really started appreciating all the work (literally blood, sweat, and tears) it took to get to that point and all the miles that lay ahead.
Even though I’m over half way through and I’ve been on the trail for over 100 days, it’s still hard for me to fully describe this wild experience. Whenever I have phone service and talk to my loved ones back home, someone inevitably asks how it’s going and what it’s like. I’ll truthfully say how wonderful/terrible it is, but that never quite seems to fully capture what it’s really like.
So now that I’ve just told you how I can’t really describe what it’s like on the PCT, here are some imperfect metaphors about what it’s like hiking the PCT.
The PCT is like being a kid and ignoring all of your parents’ advice.
It’s playing outside all day and definitely not wearing enough sunscreen. It’s like a jungle gym and I’m climbing all over everything and I’m skinning my knees. I’m not eating my vegetables. I’m talking to, taking candy* from, and getting in cars with strangers. Sorry, mom.
The PCT is like eating at the airport.
The food is weird and ‘normal’ eating (whatever that is) goes right out the window. You eat what you must at weird times to avoid catastrophic caloric deficits. The need that drives you to buy a $9.00 fruit cup and scarf down an entire Qdoba burrito at 7:00am at your gate is the same need that drives me to eat two Ramen, three tortillas and a snickers bar for a snack. Neither of us can afford to be hungry for that flight/climb. Do you want to have an IPA and leftover pasta for breakfast? Go for it, sounds like a good way to get some carbs. You have an entire sleeve of Oreos in your bag? Me too. For lunch you just ate six cliff bars? Okie dokie. Today for lunch I had a smear of peanut butter, some almonds, smushed dates, and barbecue potato chips all wrapped in a tortilla. It was weird and I devoured it.
The PCT is like an unending to do list.
Item number one: walk to Canada. Items number two: breakdown the tent pack bag inhale coffee walk walk walk walk pick up package before the post office closes must buy more tortillas fix hole in fleece climb climb climb make dinner don’t forget protein send Garmin InReach message to mom so she doesn’t call the national guard pretend to stretch don’t actually stretch look at the sunset sleep wake up at 4:30am hit snooze. Repeat.
(I would guess) the PCT is like early motherhood.
It is the hardest and best thing I’ve ever done. It’s all consuming and takes 100% of my mental and physical energy. There’s more throw up than I expected.
The PCT is like being apathetic.
When not on the trail, I’m pretty tuned in to political and legal news. But on the trail, it’s impossible to keep up with the daily news cycle. We’ll catch some major updates (“hey guys, Mexico elected its first female president!” and “hey guys, SCOTUS held Trump won’t face criminal liability”), but those instances are few and far between. Being on the trail and disconnected during an election year is a blessing, but it also makes me feel irresponsible and ill informed. Be that as it may, I’ll take this brief moment to say VOTE, VOTE, VOTE.
The PCT is like a 1,000 person game of telephone played over hundreds of miles.
Did you hear Forrester Pass was gnarly two weeks ago? I heard from Whitney that he saw Kodiak three days ago but he was pushing 30 mile days so maybe we’ll see him at camp tonight? When we were in the town of Idyllwild, there was lots of fear mongering about gnarly snow patches on Apache Peak. We spent hours strategizing and plotting alternative routes and dissecting maps with other hikers. Here’s the patch in question:
The PCT is like being in middle school.
You’re holding your lunch tray and looking for a place to sit and hoping the other kids will be nice. Then it’s not like middle school at all, because all the other kids are actually nice and you can sit with everyone.
The PCT is like doing cardio during a therapy session.
Your personal baggage and idiosyncrasies don’t disappear on the trail. The trail doesn’t magically fix the shitty parts of you. And actually, you now have a lot of time alone with your thoughts and to work through your problems. This is the one and only time I’ll ever disagree with Florence Welsh; you don’t “leave all your love and your longing behind” you have to carry it with you and keep working through it. Often, while going uphill.
The PCT is like being Owen Wilson.
Especially in the Sierras. Oh wow, look at that tree. Wow, did you see that bug? Wow, groceries for five days cost how much? Oh wow, look at that peak.
The PCT is like Deja Vu.
I’m absolutely positive I’ve done this switchback before. Didn’t we already do that climb? I’m pretty sure I’ve had that same conversation with that same dude before. I’ve definitely crossed this stream like eight times today.
The PCT is like the subreddits for r/Ultralight and r/Backpacking in real life.
You are constantly thinking about and talking about your gear and your friends gear. Oh, you and I have the same tent? Let’s discuss its attributes over dinner. Let’s talk about Vibram soles too. Tell me everything you’ve ever felt about quilts vs. mummy bags. Is that carbon fiber?
The PCT is like being a Labrador Retriever.
Everyone is my friend until proven otherwise, I’ll do anything for some more food, and I could use a belly rub.
The PCT is like Saturday morning, everyday.
You wake up with nothing to do but play with your friends outside and fuck about. (Special thanks to Pickles who came up with this one).
The PCT is like Monday morning, everyday.
You wake up with lots of things to do and chores you’ve put off for too long and you’ve got to go to work.
Funny metaphors aside, I love this trail. It is magical and heartbreaking. I feel I’m my best self when I’m out here. The trail is indescribably everything everyone wants it to be.
And before I forget, books for Emma- the nature of the trail has changed; we’re usually hiking until 8:00pm-ish, and I have enough energy left to either brush my teeth or read my Kindle. Not both. It was a sad day when I mailed my Kindle home, but I’ll be damned if I’m carrying an extra ounce of weight. So it’s audiobooks from here on out. I just finished Lisa Jewell’s None of This is True and I LOVED it. I’m now listening to Guns, Germs, and Steel by Jared Diamond and The Last Devil to Die, which is the latest installment in Richard Osman’s Thursday Murder Club series.
Happy trails and lame metaphors, friends!
*among other things
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