Hiking the PCT, One Step at a Time

The PCT, the pathway generating adventures for intrepid hikers. From the border of Mexico to the border of Canada. Official mileage: 2,560. Many attempt the trek in one season, north bound (NOBO) from Mexico, or south bound (SOBO), from Canada. Some perform what is referred to as a YOYO. Mexico to Canada, then back in one season. Some attempt to accomplish speed records, fastest time to date: 60 days, 17 hours,12 minutes! Unlike the quickly moving through-hikers, I chose little steps at a time, and I chose the weather I hike in. A Section Hiker they call me, and the trail name "Tortoise".

Preparation: Packing is almost as stressful as the actual trip. "Do I have enough?". The pack is loaded: maps, gear, food, water (water at three point three pounds per liter, eight liters). I sort out daily food portions and put them in individual baggies. I take a bit extra, and end up with over a pound a day, and don't forget the sleeping bag, tarp, water filter, clothes, ten essentials, and presto, the pack weighs in at over forty pounds.

Day One: This journey began at the Water Drop at Cameron Road, mile 0558. My trail Angel, Claudia, deposited me with good luck kisses and words of encouragement at the trailhead. I signed the register. There were several recent entries. I mentally checked all I needed for a five day trip, but planned for three. This was a field test for my new gear. All had been set up on the patio, but – generally speaking – the conditions along the trail are different than the patio. No bears, snakes, bugs, rain, wind or snow on the patio. For clothing I choose Columbia Sportswear Co. Their slogan: "WARNING, This innovative product will make you want to go outdoors, and stay there." was appropriate for this hiker.

About a half mile along the trail, there was a beautiful campsite – shaded by huge ancient oaks, dappled with colorific wildflowers. The grassy smooth ground invited me to stay a bit, but (there is always a but) I was only a half mile in and had 19-1/2 miles to go. I pushed on – up and down, around the bends and curves. Blackened trees and wind turbines waved to me along the trail for about two miles when then I found a nice camp area in the middle of a wind turbine forest. While I stood there, a gentle breeze delivered delightful fragrances, and the turbine blades spun softly. Some turbines were in need of lubrication, but I call the squeaking the song of the turbines. I stood at the base and looked up the 90 foot tall structure – imagining it as one of many giants making up this forest of turbines. I then imagined it as a huge tree, or perhaps a dandelion with a long stem and flowering top, or perhaps a Popsicle. In reality, all I saw was a wind turbine.

At my campsite – as I removed my boots –, I observed a collection of yellow pollen painting boots and pant cuffs. The delightful fields of color I passed during the day came to mind. In the movie, "What Dreams May Come", actor Robin Williams played in a sequence that is among the most visually exciting I have ever seen. He occupied a landscape that was a painting – a kaleidoscope of colors –, and as he plucked a flower it turned to oil paint in his hand. The blossoms I picked did not turn to oil paint, but that memory provided me with smiles as I snuggled into my sleeping bag near a carpet of purple Baby Blue eyes. I reflected on the delightful landscapes during my day. As stars appeared in the blue-black sky, I arranged my tent opening to the east. I settled into my bag and the song of the turbines smoothed me into dream world.

Day Two: The warm morning sun felt precious as I rose from my down bag. As I sipped on hot chocolate, a nearby robin scratched for food – and other birds happily chirped among the greening shrubs and grasses. In the valley below, I saw a herd of a dozen stallions grazing on new spring growth clipping it short. How these creatures survive in the high desert landscape is beyond my imagination. Moments like this bring to mind words of John Muir, "Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul."

Camp Two: As I began boiling water and opened the pouch containing dehydrated Mountain House Beef Stroganoff. I then pondered: "There is a bit of pain involved. Is it worth it?"

I looked to the sky. The moon, brilliant in its fullness, sliped above the horizon in shades of orange as the sun slowly sliped into the west, broadcasting joy in magnificent colors. Venus arose, and in the darkening sky the universe of stars – pinpoints of light – brightened. The magic of the Milky Way glowed above. No wonder the early people thought the universe spins around "Turtle Island."

Water boiling, I poured a measured amount into the foil package with the Stroganoff. My 15-minute wait for dinner to cool began. While waiting, I set my tarp up and arranged camp. No tent needed on a night like this. The Stroganoff tasted wonderful, and my answer to the above question was: "Hell yes!".

Day Three: It's early morning, the sun brightening the brilliant colors on the hillside across the canyon. I paused and breathed, glimpsing a fluttering above the low growing flowers and shrubs. Moths? No, to many bright colors – oranges, blacks and whites. Hundreds, perhaps thousands passed by as I watched them flitter, east to west, floating on the breeze – a Monarch butterfly migration. It was a first time sighting for me. They travel a 1,000 miles in just a few days.

A little butterfly does this?

I was no longer in awe of the 30-mile day of the very fast PCT traveler.

More uphill than down (are not all trails this way?). My goal for the day was Tyler Horse Canyon, mile 0542. There, by the map anyway, is water, a space to camp, level, all the necessary things. I did not make it that far, a couple miles short. Too many distractions. On the trail the distractions are many, but have dissimilarities when compared to the multitude of distractions we face on a normal daily basis. We are overexposed and commercialized. The morning news, TV, internet, billboards aligning the highways, traffic, sirens, trains and signs: "Do Not Enter," "Stop," "One Way," "Right Turn Only," "No Left Turn", "Buy Me, Buy Me!" – these distractions shout.

Distractions are totally different on the trail. They also shout in a different way, – "Look at Me" and "Take a Moment" –, so I did. Leaning forward, with my trekking poles bracing my shoulders and relieving the weight of my pack. I waited.. breathing deeply at rest time. I stopped, gazing at the panorama before me, wildflowers and shrubs just beginning to flourish in their magnificent colors, stallions grazing in the canyon far below, mountains to the east, south, west, north; some were snow capped. This required taking a moment and allowing time and place to be registered in a special compartment of the box called the mind. Fragrance and clarity will also go into the same compartment.

Trail Magic: That moment along the trail when someone or something appears at just the right time. My "Magic" situation: I smoke! Not something that is in tune with backpacking. This trip was no cigs.

Day three. A smoke came to mind, almost enough to push me faster along the trail, as I knew that once returning to civilization I would find a smoke. I reached Gamble Spring Canyon. No water there at this time but it was a delightful place to take a rest. Mitchell, a NOBO, appeared along the trail. He was tall, tanned, muscular. Removing his heavy pack, he sat on a rock close by, reached into his shirt pocket and produced a pack of Marlboros. Removing one, he held the smokes toward me. "Like one?". Duh. Ends up his trail name is "Smokes". He told me, as far as he knows, he is the only PCT through hiker that smokes. What were the odds?

Day four: Up early, the soft warm breeze was pleasurable. Hot chocolate and cereal fueled my spirits. Only six miles to go and – for the most part – downhill. My Angel Claudia picked me up at the wind farm off of 170th St., so wonderful to see her with the easy mode of transportation she brought.

After writing this, I read it. Then thought about what else I saw, felt, sniffed but did not write about. I did not write of the clouds, the azure sky, the ravens, the deer, the geology, the water, the squirrels, the lizards, a horny toad, a rattlesnake, the fellow trekkers. All those will have to wait for future articles.