For anyone who is planning or has planned to hike the PCT you’ll know what it’s like to scour the internet for related information. Like me, you may fantasise about what you’ll see, where you’ll camp and what it will feel like.
Now that I am living in a reality in which I am actually hiking the PCT I’m struggling to believe I am here and not watching it through a screen. But slowly, a week into my hike the reality is beginning to sink in, materialising slowly into solid form.
Day 1
The hiker shelter at CLEEF campground was buzzing with anticipation. We joined a bench of hikers chomping on pancakes and swigging coffee. Today was the day and we all felt the thrill of it.
We appeared to have brought the English weather with us. Grey and drizzly was not how I envisioned the desert! After another cup of coffee we departed for the Mexico border.
Just like that, there was the wall: rusty red, falling and rising with the hills, flashes of green between each pole. In front of it, standing ever so tall was the southern terminus: the official start of the PCT and the marker for mile 0.
Here we were in the flesh, with nothing but 2650 miles ahead of us to Canada.
The desert was not what I had imagined. Until today, I did not know the desert could bloom. The path rolled through hills splattered with pale smooth rocks. The vegetation was thick with shades of faded green. Flowers provided pops of colour: the most spectacular of which was the California Lilac which made patches of the landscape solid blue and was an absolute pleasure to pass through as they smelled delightful.
Amongst the Californian lilacs (this photo does not do their colour or their smell justice!)
We took many breaks, felt every gram of our overpacked bags and enjoyed the views. We had many firsts: first mile marker, first time finding a water source and filtering it, and first time wild camping. We set up tent by Hauser Creek where most of the hikers also decided to camp making it a congested tent spot. So much so a friend had to camp in the road and was disturbed at 3am by a hunter trying to drive past him!
None of today felt real: adjusting from a dream to a reality. All those years of thorough and active planning and here we were, still feeling distant from the trail despite now having covered 15 miles of it. I suspect it’ll slowly sink in over the next few days as we get into a routine. But for now, the priority is sleep and the toads are doing a great job at singing a lullaby.
Day 2
It rained last night, and the tent had been poorly pictched on a slope meaning our sleeping bags and mats got wet. It wasn’t the best start to the day but things quickly improved with some breakfast, coffee and company.
Again I find myself thinking how I’ve underestimated the beauty of the desert. We ascended up through the canyon, the rocks became red, contrasting with thick forest green vegetation surrounding the path.
On reaching Lake Morena we stumbled upon our first lot of trail magic. Patty stood in front of her RV having set up chairs spaced around a fire, a table full of snacks, and a coffee and soup station. I helped myself to coffee and a packet of crisps overwhelmed by her generosity. It was her first time offering trail magic and she and her cat, Honey, absolutely nailed it. Trail magic was something I knew would happen, but happening so soon on our trek came as a surprise and I felt so well cared for by a stranger.
No words for the generosity of the trail angels
We spent far longer here than intended. We walked to The Malt Shop for some lunch sitting in a leather bound booth enjoying easy conversation and a tuna melt before leaving Lake Morena. As we left the grey skies finally let loose and continued their weeping way into the evening.
The walk from here to Boulder Oaks passed relatively quickly. We got into a flow and soon found ourselves at camp; cold and wet, but feeling well in our bodies. We decided to camp here as there was piped water, compost toilets and designated fire pits. What more could you want? As other hikers trickled in they too joined us. Using a Cool Ranch Dorito as a fire starter, Last Strap was able to get a fire going despite the continued drizzle.
It was going to be a cold night, hitting below freezing and we hadn’t been able to dry out our sleeping bags due to the continuous rain. But at around 7:30pm it stopped and we held up our bags to the fire to finally dry them. We feel very lucky to be staying somewhere with a fire pit to have dried our sleeping bags, otherwise we could have been at risk of hypothermia. There’s a popular saying among hikers that “the trail provides”. But I wonder if it’s more like the trail forces a person seek opportunities available.
Yep, that’s homemade Bourbon being passed around in a Jar. Big effort from Heavyweight for lugging that around.
Despite the unexpected weather we’re loving it out here, caught up in the challenges and the people we’re meeting. Today we camp at mile 26.2. What a beautiful thing; we are 1% of our way through the PCT and that is both significant and insignificant in equal measure.
Day 3
We woke to condensation again. Little puddles had formed on our tent floor, the sleeping bags were wet and water dropped onto my forehead from the tent ceiling. It wasn’t just us, the rest of the group found themselves in a similar position. When can we begin cowboy camping?
Our spirits changed as the sun rose and we bore witness to our first cloudless morning in the desert. A pinkish hue outlined Dalmatian like hills: red stone spotted by green vegetation.
We spent the day ascending, climbing ever upwards through the hills. As I climbed I noted the grubby sun hoodie, the walking poles being carried horizontally while on an easy section, and the recently used water filter. Was I finally a thru-hiker? The notion of imposter syndrome I’ve been feeling for the last few months had been silenced. Slowly, with every step, this reality of the PCT was materialising.
We stopped at Long Canyon Creek where we let the sun dry our damp sleeping gear while having lunch. We sat with a French man who had taken his violin with him (‘his one luxury item’ he said) and he played and amazing Irish jig. It was so unexpected and unique. Something I would have never have thought of in my expectation of the trail.
Once the rest of the group caught up we dipped our feet into the creek, set up shelter and relaxed for a few hours during the hottest point of the day. At 4pm we continued to climb and at the top I looked back and was greeted with layers of silhouetted hills. The nearest in focus, becoming more faded the further they were.
Layers upon layers upon layers of hills
We stopped at Lower Morris Meadows where the landscape suddenly changed to woodlands and with it the comforting damp smell of pine. Half of our group left to get a hostel bed in Mount Laguna while the rest of us set up camp here. As the sun went down it mirrored this mornings sun rise, creating a pink hue across the valley.
Day 4
Slowly the reality of the PCT is setting in, and it far exceeds my expectations. We woke to a sunrise we could see from our tent, casting virgin light into the woodland.
The group packed up and headed to Mount Laguna. Without any plans to do so we found the hostel room the rest of the group stayed at last night. They greeted us in with coffee and we took turns using their shower.
The majority of us stopped at Pine House Cafe for breakfast where I chomped down on omelette with toast and breakfast potatoes accompanied by yet more coffee. A moment of calm and a welcomed intake of calories.
What a contrast to breakfast on trail
A quick stop at the store for snacks (hello Jolly Rancher!) and we were on our way. There was a dramatic jump up in temperature, the sky burnt blue and the views kept delivering. The most magnificent of which was Anza-Borrego Desert State Park, a barren beauty of red, yellow and white jagged hills. This was the predominant view of the day as we walked the edge of it high up in the hills.
We came across a local couple, and their happy poodles. They handed us a bar of Dairy Milk Fruit and Nut, the king of chocolates and the perfect supplement for the lack of chocolate Easter eggs! Again, another act of kindness from strangers.
As we reached mile 56 we saw a friend who we split up with this morning at breakfast. He was standing in the most incredible and secluded camping spot covered with green vegetation and pale grey smooth stone with a 300° view of the valley which would prove to host views of both the sunset and sunrise.
Magic!
We sat on boulders watching the silhouetted hills fade to a dusky purples as the sky formed a pink hue. The last of the whiskey was passed round and enjoyed as a sundowner. It was a clear still night and we jumped at the opportunity to cowboy camp for the first time. The artwork of stars above was the last thing we saw as we drifted off to sleep below an endless night sky.
Day 5
When we woke we were treated with views of the sun rising. We enjoyed overnight oats and coffee in the chilly breeze watching the valley come alive.
Best start to the day
Our first water source, three miles on from camp, was dry. It was the first time we had failed to get water at an expected source. When we did reach a water source everyone collapsed in the shade dumping their bags unceremoniously before filling their bottles. We waited out the mid afternoon heat, some of us enjoying a siesta while others rolled out their legs using hiking poles.
Life at the watering hole
At 4pm we set off again and the trail cut through the hillside all the way down to camp. There is a noticeable lack of the green vegetation compared to what we saw earlier in the trail. Now the path is lined with pink flowering cacti and thorny bushes.
Day 6
We both slept through the night, the first time since leaving the comfort of a bed. We had a two mile stretch through thick cactus bushes to Scissor Crossing, where there’s a road to the town of Julian; our first resupply stop.
We got to the trail head and Ghost, a trail angel, kindly gave us a lift to Stagecoach Campground where we could do laundry and shower away the accumulated dirt and grime. He then kindly came back to pick us up and took us into Julian, a small mining town with western style stores lining the main street.
Julien is famously known on the PCT for fee pie served with ice cream and coffee from Mom’s Pie. I mean really, how could we resist?
We picked up our resupply from the post office and regrouped with the rest of the gang at the American Legion. Here we repacked our bags, only just able to close them with the additional food! We then headed to The Brewery for pizza, enjoying every calorie offered. Another good find was The Julian Cider Mill, which offers a free bag of sweets and a cup of cider to all PCT hikers.
From right to left: Chapstick, Dizzy, Twister, Last Strap, Gollum, Me, Drizzle, Dan, Spitter, Frodo & Sam, and Pharmacy
The plan was to head back to trail in the evening and to begin our climb through the San Felipe Hills. Sadly, this morning I experienced sharp pain in the outside of my right shin and across the front of my foot. Drizzle kindly taped it, but the pain worsened throughout the day despite rest. I’m frustrated and fearful of its prognosis. I spoke with two hikers today who are leaving trail completely due to pushing through injuries. This was enough to convince myself to stay in town to rest up.
A friend of ours was staying in town and let us sleep on the floor of his hotel room. We went back to The Brewery and watched baseball, cheering on his team, the Atlanta Braves. We then munched down on some food and played some cards. I also spotted the trail angel Patty, who we met on our second day, with her husband at the bar. I sat with them hearing their plans for their next lot of trail magic up in South Lake Tahoe at the end of June. Conscious of my burning leg, I hoped that this wasn’t a serious injury and that I’ld make it to Tahoe.
Day 7
I expected a rubbish day of sitting idly, worrying about my injury. My foot was on fire last night, any position causing it electric-like pain. But despite my trepidation, it turned out to be a wonderful day.
Looking as good as I was feeling
I emailed Blaze, an on-trail physio, for a telephone appointment. We packed our lives off of Heavyweights floor and headed out for a great breakfast of French toast and eggs at Julian Bakery. Coffee was served in huggable large enamel mugs with fresh cream. We parted ways with Heavyweight, feeling a pang of jealousy as he headed back out to trail, the last of our trail family to leave us.
Unsure on what to do next we sat on bench’s outside the grocery store and discussed our options. We were interrupted by two couples travelling together who asked us about the PCT. We spent about a hour chatting to them, and they laughed at our pathetic excuse of a knife and unexpectedly one of the men gave us his. As they left they also handed us a few $20 bills and told us that lunch was on them. Again another unexpected and kind gesture that we didn’t feel deserving of. Dan let out a sigh once they left and looked at me intently stating “we have so much to pay forward”. And five minutes later we had the opportunity to begin doing so.
On the first day we found a key ring with a picture of a man and a baby. I thought I recognised the man, someone who started with us at Campo but I hadn’t spoken to before. I pocketed it in the hope of seeing him again. Sat on the bench I saw him going into Mom’s Pie. We followed him in and I approached with the key ring. Without any words he brought me into an emotional embrace and so the item was reunited with owner. Magic, absolute magic.
I had my virtual appointment with Blaze. Diagnosis: a trapped nerve running across my foot and up my shin, causing a strain in the muscle. With some rehabilitation exercises and rest we should be good to go in a couple of days. As far as injuries go, this may be a good one.
Back at Stagecoach we set up camp, content to be back in our tent. We met three other hikers camping there, all of which had right leg injuries. Misery likes company I guess.
So there we have it: a week of firsts and unexpected events. I think for the most part I can finally believe I am on trail hiking the PCT. But even then I get ‘pinch me’ moments. This was quite common among those we’ve been hiking with: feelings of incomprehension.
