PCT 2014 Memoir

Hey friends! If you're interested in reading the epic blog series chronicling our PCT hike, here are the links on one page. Enjoy!

What I Learned on my Summer Vacation (or, Life Lessons from the PCT)

Encourage other people instead of judging them.

Keep yourself well fed. Always.

Never let yourself feel like your accomplishments are worth nothing just because someone’s better or more experienced than you.

Also, Stehekin's bakery has the best cinnamon rolls that have ever existed.

Going into debt is bad. But being malnourished and incredibly stressed about spending two bucks on a bag of Fritos is much worse. When you’re literally starving, buy the Fritos. 

Ask people to help you. Seriously.

Some days, you have to take things one step at a time.

Don’t complain.

Huckleberries are one the best foods ever.

How hard or easy something is is almost purely mental.

The world is full of incredibly generous people.

Throwing fits is not cool. Neither is screaming at your husband. Try to avoid these situations.

Forgive always. Forgive yourself.

People are most important.

When in doubt, spend the money, take the time off, stick around for the trail magic, hike the fewer miles.

Bears are amazing. 

Climate control, fresh vegetables, indoor plumbing, and cotton are incredible luxuries, and you should never take them for granted.

Eating three candy bars, mashed potatoes, pasta and oatmeal every day is not in fact a balanced diet.

California, Oregon and Washington are states that everyone should visit at least once.

The world’s natural resources are limited and precious. Guard them, and you guard yourself.

Forest fires are scary but necessary to the ecosystem. Also, the national forest service can be trusted to shut down any trail that’s really dangerous.

Trust people.

Emotional maturity requires discipline.

I am not easily bored, but I am easily jaded.

If you decide that you’re going to stick with something, and believe it to your core, you will see it to its end.

Nostalgia cures all wounds.

You’re stronger than you think.

~~~

Tips and Advice for the PCT

I’ve been working on this miscellaneous list for a while, trying to make it more cohesive, but it’s still pretty random. Still, anyone interested in a PCT thru-hike (and, to some degree, any other long-distance hike) might find some useful info. Enjoy!

Gear— see my blogs about it, here and here.

Preparation

Tips for inexperienced backpackers

Save up as much money as humanly possible. You will need a lot of it. Even if you’re on a tight budget. Even if you never stay in a hotel and eat out of the hiker box. You need ever so much money.

Enlist the help of friends and family. Most people want to help you out, so think of ways to get them involved.

Get the necessary permits: a thru-hiking permit, a campfire permit (just to use your stove in California), and an entry into Canada permit (get these permits early, especially the entry into Canada one!).

Walk every day.

Hiking Theory

Hike your own hike. So much harder than it sounds.

Make a schedule, or don’t, as it fits with your personality.

The length of the PCT changes every year, due to trail closures, detours, and reroutes. If you get obsessive about hiking every mile, you’ll drive yourself crazy.

When there are a couple different options for getting somewhere (for example, around a trail closure), pick the one that makes the most sense with your hiking style. If you choose to walk on a road the whole way, some people will judge you for being too purist. If you choose to hitchhike past a burned area, some people will say you’re not a thru-hiker. You can’t please everyone, so don’t try! Decide for yourself what you want to do, and don’t worry about justifying yourself. Unless you are trying to set an official speed record, the specifics of your route don’t matter.

Some people will make you feel insecure, intentionally or unintentionally. Let these comments roll off your back.

Don’t complain to other hikers. Even if you’re feeling terrible. Even if you have a sinus infection in a waterless stretch of desert.

Let people help you, and help out other people when you can.

Always try to uplift people and allow them to be proud of their accomplishments. (This is something that was really hard for me, but as I met awesome people along the trail, it got easier.) Walking even a hundred miles of the trail is still a huge accomplishment!

Resupply

Helpful resupply resource

The typical resupply strategy is to pack yourself a bunch of boxes in advance and have someone at home send them to towns along the way. Zach and I did this the whole trail, giving my parents a timetable for when to send each package. We used a flat-rate large post office box for each town, which was big enough to pack our basic meals and a snack or two. 

However, unless you can make a bunch of meals for really cheap (like we did by using our one-time 20% off coupon at Walmart to buy all five months’ worth of staples which we then packaged into meals), it isn’t worth it to send yourself a resupply box to any location that has a grocery store. Instead, buy your food in town. 

Send yourself new shoes and new socks at least every thousand miles, probably less. (You can do this from home, or just buy shoes online and have them sent to a post office, although that seems like more hassle than it’s worth.)

If you have a choice to send your box to something that is not a post office (a hotel, a store, a trail angel’s house, etc.), DO IT. I don’t care how much extra it costs. It is always worth it to send your box to someplace with better hours.

Pack your boxes with eight gazillion strips of tape, especially if you’re using the post office— every box we got looked like it had been ravaged by wolverines.

Write your name and ETA on every side of your resupply box— it’ll make it easier to find in the massive jumble of boxes at every resupply stop.

Pack more snacks than meals.

The Desert Section

At every water source, drink a liter of water. This helps you carry less in between.

You may need more water receptacles during the huge dry stretches. Again, soda or Gatorade bottles work really well.

If you’re really thirsty and trying to conserve water, tie a bandana over your mouth to catch the vapor. This is helpful to keep your sinuses moist, too.

Never ever EVER plan on resupplying your water at a cache. This is very inconsiderate of your fellow hikers (especially with the volume of hikers now on trail), and is a dangerous strategy because caches run out quickly. Plan to get all your water from natural sources (springs, troughs, spigots, towns, etc.), and if you do come across a cache, take no more than a liter or two to top off your supply. Leave the water for the truly desperate.

Bring snacks and meals that don’t need water to hydrate them (Clif bars, packs of tuna, peanut butter, etc.)— water will be in short supply and it’s simply not worth it to carry enough water for every meal.

Don’t worry about packing a ton of food for each day. The real hiker hunger won’t have kicked in yet, and there are plenty of places to resupply.

Hike the LA aqueduct section at night. It’s pretty much the only part of the trail that’s really boring.

If you meet someone who looks out of it or sick, ask them if they have enough water. If they don’t, give them some of yours. No one should have to put their lives in danger because they’re too shy or disoriented to ask for a drink, so do your part to look out for each other. (Note: sometimes if people have been drinking water but not eating any food, they need electrolytes to balance their system. A salty snack might be just what they need too. On the other hand, if they’ve been drinking just straight electrolyte drinks, they need some pure water because too many electrolytes dehydrate you too.)

Crowds are par for the course on this part of the trail, so be prepared to have a lot of company, and enjoy the camaraderie! That’s part of the trail experience. Everyone will get a lot more spread out in the Sierra.

The High Sierra

You need a bear canister to pass through this section of the trail. Rangers will check you for it. There are usually bear boxes at campsites, but you can’t rely on those.

If you can’t fit everything in your bear canister, use the bear box for overflow, or pack the non-smelly stuff (like dried plain pasta) into your bag.

Bring more food than you ever think you could possibly eat. Especially if you’re doing a side trip to Mount Whitney.

Water is plentiful in this area, so foods that need to be rehydrated are a good option.

Food and everything else in towns is expensive, so budget according.

Focus on bringing calorie-dense food. Peanut butter, trail mix, seeds, chocolate, oil (olive oil, butter, coconut oil, lard), and dried refried beans are your friends.

The side trip to Mount Whitney is totally worth it. It’s a pretty easy hike for bragging rights to saying that you’ve hit the Lower 48’s high point!

Try to tackle the snowy passes at about 11 in the morning— it won’t be too icy, but you’ve avoid the scary late-day snowmelt. 

When crossing a snow field, watch out for “moats” (melted ice) around the edge of boulders sticking out. 

If you’ve never hiked on deep snow before, take a bit of time on the first snow field you come to to hike around. Test the snow, and feel what it’s like to put your full weight on it. You’ll get the hang of it and understand what it feels like when you’re about to post hole.

Spend a day or two at Vermillion Valley Resort. Not staying there is my biggest regret on trail.

The section after the High Sierra is one of the hardest on trail— not because it’s that hard, but because it’s rugged terrain after you’ve tackled some very difficult passes.

Northern California and Oregon

This part of the trail is often hot and humid, so plan accordingly. 

You’ll have a lot more chances to resupply in these sections, so don’t worry too much about bringing enough food.

You’ll be able to make huge mileage in this section, so if you want to give your best shot at a 30- or 40-mile day, this is the place to do it.

Be aware of your water— these sections are often very dry.

Washington

You’re almost done! Savor the scenery, as it is an immensely gorgeous state. Unless it rains all the time, which didn’t happen to us, but happens quite frequently in other years.

Learn how to identify huckleberries. They are the most delicious thing you’ll ever eat.

Miscellaneous 

You will meet someone, probably on the first day, who wants to give you a dumb trail name. Don’t let them. You are the final authority on what your trail name is.

The trail is the experience of a lifetime— keep a good journal, take lots of photos, and cherish these memories forever!

~~~

Backpacking Gear, Part 2: Packs, Tents, and Miscellany

Read Part 1 here.

Our Gear:

Backpacks— I used a Deuter, which I’m totally in love with. If you’re ultra-light then this pack will be too heavy, but if you’re in the 20-40-pound range it’s perfect. It fits snugly against my spine and distributes the weight evenly. It held up really well to the wear and tear of the trail, especially the zippers and buckle integrity. 

Zach started with an REI pack, which was too lightweight for what we were carrying, so it tore out within a hundred miles. He replaced it with a Mountain Hardware pack. It wasn’t designed for backpacking, but it held up well enough. And, well, it was free and we were broke. But if you’re not broke, don’t buy one for a thru-hike.

Tent— Kelty Salida 2. It was heavier than some tents, but comfortably fitted both of us and our gear under the rainfly. It was very easy to set up and tear down. In southern California, where we experienced winds upward of 60 mph, the tent held firm without any breaking free or snapping. The edges got wet when it rained, leaving us with a soggy-footed sleeping bag more than once, but worked well enough. Overall, it was a very good tent. We also used a footprint for it, although a lot of people just use old Tyvek sheeting instead.

Sleeping bag— Big Agnes double sleeping bag. It served us well, being fairly warm and lightweight, but I’m not sure we’d do it again— it was really bulky. It might’ve been better to get “mating” sleeping bags that would roll up to be smaller. Still, for our budget, we did pretty well. 

Sleeping pads— Big Agnes blow-up pads. I have tried really hard to regret bringing these monstrous air mattresses, but I just can’t bring myself to… we slept so comfortably every night! Still, I would never recommend them to someone going on a thru-hike. They are huge, cumbersome, hard to blow up, and prone to leaks. So go buy something more practical! (But I still have no regrets.)

Water filter— we used a Sawyer Water Filter. The squeeze bags are worthless, so use bottles instead (a soda bottle works fine). The filter was very effective at first, then ran a bit slowly later on and we had to backflush it a lot. However, I was pleased overall with it and would definitely use it again. Just be sure to sleep with it next to you at night so it doesn’t freeze and break. (People who had the Sawyer Mini complained that it was really slow. By the end of the trail, people were just using Aquamira to purify the water. We met some people who had Steri-Pens, but everyone we met who had one was having trouble with the batteries. We also brought chlorine tablets just in case our filter broke. You can even use bleach in a pinch.)

Water bottles— we used empty Gatorade bottles, soda bottles, and a three-liter Camelbak my brother had given us. Some people might say the Camelbak isn’t worth the weight penalty, but it was really nice to be able to sip water easily, especially in the desert. (Except when we ran out since we couldn’t keep track of it.)

Stove— we eventually got a canister stove (do not bring an alcohol stove!). It was heavy, but it was free. We would’ve really liked to have had a JetBoil.

Kitchen utensils— we brought two camp bowls that nested inside each other, two sporks (one plastic, one titanium), one titanium butter knife, and a GSI Outdoors 1.4-liter pot with a lid. It would’ve been nice to have a slightly longer utensil (like a telescoping spork or something) for stirring stuff in the pot, but it worked out.

Stuff sacks— you need waaaaay less of these than you think you do. 

Toiletries— a little bottle of Castile soap (a little bar would’ve been better— and besides, we almost never used soap), toothpaste, a toothbrush, floss, nail clippers, my retainer, a little hairbrush (most people could get by with a comb, but Zach’s voluminous hair cannot be tamed by anything less), a little bottle of sunscreen, a little bottle of GermX, and a little bottle of bug spray (VERY important in the Sierra!).

First aid— salve for aching joints (almost never used), bandaids (we brought way too many— six or seven for each stretch of trail is more than enough), moleskin (buy the blister-sized pads), large bandaids (we got rid of those early on— if something’s big enough for a big bandaid, you might as well use a bandana), triple antibiotic, tweezers, tons of Ibuprofen (we didn’t use as much as we thought we would, but it was nice to have), and anti-itch cream (Zach used this a lot). I also bummed some antihistamine from another hiker when I got a mysterious rash in the desert. 

Reflective umbrella— Although it was useful to keep scorching heat off in the desert and rain off in Washington, it was pretty cumbersome, and I didn’t like hiking while holding it. We probably didn’t need to bring it.

Survival items— we brought a couple Bic lighters, some waterproof matches, a whistle/compass for me and a proper compass for Zachary, and a headlamp. We started with just one headlamp and realized that trying to hike in the dark with just one lamp was terrible, so we bought a second one. We also had a little multitool for cutting summer sausage, popping blisters, cutting rope, and so on. We also had a length of nylon cord, just in case— it was the only thing we took that we never used. Also: a bit of duct tape rolled up on a straw, and sleeping pad repair kit.

Maps— we had Halfmile’s GPS tracks loaded onto Zach’s phone, as well as a paper copy of each section tucked into a gallon ziplock bag for waterproof’s sake. We mailed ourselves a new section in each resupply box.

Bathroom— we carried a squashed roll of 1-ply toilet paper, a foldable plastic trowel, and a little bottle of GermX together in a ziplock.

Trekking poles— we bought a pair of Leki Makalu poles about a hundred miles in and carried one each. They were reasonably lightweight, and fairly sturdy, although we had to replace the tips twice over the course of the trip. Zach also managed to break his antishock spring, although mine still works. As a side note, trekking poles are awesome! Not only do they make it easier to climb hills, but they soften the impact of walking downhill, help you keep stable while crossing streams, and are useful for whacking vegetation and spider webs out of the way. Their most useful function, though, is giving you a “third leg” so that if you misstep, you can catch yourself. Whenever I hike with a trekking pole, I look at my feet less and the scenery more.

A phone— Zach’s Windows phone, which has a built-in GPS that helped us out a lot. We charged it with a little solar charger that we strapped to the top of Zach’s pack. We also charged it as much as possible whenever we were in town. 

Camera— we brought a little camera Zach already owned because it was water- and shock-proof. It didn’t take the greatest photos, but I was never worried about ruining it, so that was good.

Kindle— we were reading Lord of the Rings and the Bible when we set out for the trail, so we decided to carry a Kindle instead of the hard-copy books, for obvious reasons.

Other electronics— we carried a little solar panel, our charging cords, and a device that allowed you to charge two USB devices at the same time, which is handy in towns where everyone’s trying to charge their stuff at once.

Diary— I carried a 4x6 spiral-bound notebook and two mechanical pencils, and kept up my journal the whole time. I only used about 3/4 of the pages, even with being pretty detailed. I kept it in a ziplock bag to keep it dry. Some people like to use smaller notebooks and mail themselves a new section in each town, then mail home the section they’ve already written, but that seemed like way too much hassle for me.

Documents— in a ziplock bag, tucked against the frame of my backpack, we kept our passports, a spare ID, our thru-hiking permits, our campfire permits, our debit and credit cards, our insurance cards, and some cash.

Other personal items— we carried a few bandanas (there are limitless uses to these guys! They came in so handy so many times), a pair of sunglasses each (I don’t like sunglasses, but you need them when you’re crossing snow fields or else the light melts your retinas), head nets (sooo useful in the Sierra!), and a watch for Zachary (to check the time and to set alarms).

As far as I can remember, this is a list of everything we brought. If we did another trip I’m sure we’d pack more efficiently, but I think we did pretty well considering our budget constraints and lack of experience. Not all of this gear was great, and our packs were pretty heavy, but hey, it got us to Canada! So I’m going to call that a win.

~~~

Backpacking Gear, Part 1: Introduction and Clothing

When Zach and I were preparing for our thru-hike, we worried a lot about gear. I found it very useful to read people’s gear lists online and learn what actually worked over that much distance. What follows is a list of all the gear that I took on our PCT thru-hike, and my thoughts about it. Hope it helps!

General gear notes and advice: 

Decide what’s important to you: lightness, comfort, affordability, etc. Unless you devote a ton of cash to it, you won’t be able to buy exactly what you want, so prioritize. But, with that in mind, buy the best stuff you can afford.

Consider going stoveless until the Sierra due to the fire hazard in the desert. If not, be sure to use a gas stove. We started the trail with an alcohol stove, which didn’t work well at all, and we learned was not permitted, to boot.

Reuse a normal bottle (from soda, a sports drink, vitamin water, etc.) instead of buying a fancy (more expensive and heavier) water bottle.

A sleeping bag rated down to 15º will not actually keep you warm when it’s 15º. But it will keep you from dying of hypothermia.

For the love of everything sacred, do not wear hiking boots. They are heavy and hurt your ankles. Plus, 90% of the PCT is even ground.

Some people preferred slathering on sunscreen day after day, but I just wore more clothing. It saved my poor Caucasian skin from sunburns. This was only a problem in Northern California, where it was really humid.

My Gear: Clothing

One sun hat— Sun Day Afternoon brand. This hat was magical, I swear. 2014 was the only summer in my life that I didn’t get heat exhaustion from the sun beating down on my head.

One warm hat— I started off with a polyester blend, which was okay, but later swapped in a wool hat, which was sooo much better for the misty Washington section.

One polyester t-shirt— some random brand, bought at a thrift store. It still looks brand new.

One lightweight long-sleeved button-down shirt— Columbia brand. It was pretty big on me, which was good for keeping cool in the desert (I’d wear it without a t-shirt underneath), or keeping warm in the cold regions (I’d wear a t-shirt under and a jacket over). It held up fine.

One light polyester jacket— a hand-me-down; I swapped out a heavier fleece jacket in Washington. I was often too cold, so if I could’ve gone back and spent serious money splurging on a different clothing item, this would’ve been it. I’ve heard that those super-expensive puffy jackets are awesome!

One raincoat— Event brand. I got one without a hood, which was a terrible idea. Since it didn’t rain on us much, though, it wasn’t a huge deal.

One sports bra— Brooks brand. Held up very well.

One pair of lightweight pants with pockets— North Face brand. I always preferred wearing pants when hiking, although most people hiked in shorts. These pants held up amazingly well (the seams look good to this day). I tore out the knee on a rusty fence in southern California, but my slapdash mending job held up fine all the way to the present.

One pair of lightweight shorts— Nike brand, another hand-me-down. These were nice for swimming in. Also, whenever we did laundry and there were no loaner clothes to be had, I’d wear my shorts and raincoat.

One pair of silk long underwear— these were handy for cold nights, although they were never quite warm enough for me. Wool might’ve been better for me since I sleep cold.

Three pairs of underwear— ExOfficio brand. Best. Underwear. Ever.

Cloth pads (Domino brand) and a Divacup— for the tampon-free lady. 

Socks— silk liner socks from REI and cheap men’s dress socks from Walmart. (Also a pair of wool socks, mostly for sleeping.) We had about five pairs each, which was way too many. The liner socks got worn down a lot, but the outer socks never wore out. Ever. Seriously, I threw one away just last month because of a hole in the toe— and that was the first one! I now wear cheap men’s dress socks almost exclusively, both when hiking and in my normal life.

Gloves— they were useful for hiking on cold days, but if they got wet, they lost their insulating power, which kinda sucked. I would try to go for warmer gloves next time.

Flip-flops— cheap ones. We bought these about halfway through the trail for me to use for crossing streams and walking around camp. They were really nice to have, and helped me keep my feet aired out better. Great for midnight bathroom trips, too.

Trail runners— I love my Asics! I wear these shoes all the time, whether I’m on the trail or not.

Tomorrow I’ll post about the rest of our gear. Till then!

~~~

FAQ about the PCT (after all has been told)

(Check out other FAQ about the PCT here.)

I know, I know. It’s been another long silence. Every time I think about posting to my blog, I always feel like there needs to be an eloquent lead-in, some sort of transition. But if I keep waiting for that to happen, it never will.

So, without any more prelude, here are some answers to questions I’ve gotten since I finished posting my memoir.

Q: Did you ever figure out what Zach's persistent stomach issues were all about? 

A: We never figured it out for sure, so we’re just chalking it up to a stressed digestive system. And although my stomach held up fine on trail, about three months after we finished, my body had a complete system failure. Zach finally convinced me to go to the doctor, and after a horrible two-month sugar cleanse, I was restored to health. Zach and I did a shorter sugar cleanse recently, and his stomach appears to be doing better. But I still can’t fathom why Zach could eat two cups of mashed potatoes, topped with half a summer sausage and a literal half cup of olive oil, without any stomach issues, but get sick on a soda and half a bag of chips.

Q: What would you do differently?

A: How much time do you have? (I kid, I kid.) There are a ton of small things (there will be a whole entry on this later), but here are some general things:

The number one change I’d make, hands down, no contest: I would’ve spent more money. I have always been adamant that you should never go into debt for a trip, but our lives would’ve been soooo much easier if we had just been willing to spend more cash. We paid off what little debt we had in short order, with very little stress, and I’ve been kicking myself ever since.

On a similar note, I would’ve relaxed more about our mileage. Near the end of the trail, we told ourselves, “Morale is more important than mileage,” and it’s true. If you’re happy and well-fed, you’ll sail through the miles much more easily.

I would’ve carried more snacks and fewer meals. Meals are great, but they take a long time to prepare, and often require water. Snacks are golden. Especially peanut-butter-chocolate-honey tortilla wraps.

I would’ve asked friends and family for more help. In Washington, we finally wrote a group letter asking if anyone wanted to give us some cash, and the response was overwhelming. People were wanting to help, but we had to give them the chance. This was a once-in-a-lifetime trip, and I don’t think I fully realized how eager people were to help us out.

Q: How did the trip change you?

A: It seems odd to say this, but this is a difficult question to answer. You’d think that the hardest and most incredible trip of your life would affect you in some dramatic, singular way. But as far as I can tell, it didn’t.

Crazy, right?

I wish I could say that I appreciated nature more, or that I embraced minimalism, or that I felt more connected to my husband, or that I had learned not to sweat the small stuff. But if I did, it’s so subtle that it’s escaped my notice.

That’s not to say that the trip didn’t change me. It affected me in a million little ways.

It taught me to trust my husband’s judgement. 

I appreciate civilization and convenience and my possessions a lot more.

It gave me a small sense of just how much it would suck to be homeless; I’ve given a lot more money to panhandlers since my return.

It gave me a much more physical sense of the size of the world— I know how far a thousand miles is. I know what it takes to walk that distance. Twice. And whenever we sing a song in church about God being “higher than the mountains that we face,” or with us “in the desert” or with us “every step of the way,” I tear up, because I know, on a visceral, sensory level, what a mountain and a desert and a never-ending journey of steps feels like.

It gave me memories and stories that seem to come up in every conversation, no matter how hard I try to avoid always bringing up, “When we were on trail…”

It gave me new perspective on patiently dealing with something. I used to say, “Life is a marathon, not a sprint.” Now I say, “Life is a thru-hike, not a marathon.”

It showed me I had more strength than I realized.

In the end, I think I’m still processing how the trip changed me. It was incredible. It was exhausting. It probably had more of an impact on me than I realize. But it was less like a trip and more like a very strange, very short, very intense phase of life, one that may take years to fully understand.

~~~

PCT 2014: Epilogue

Our medals! They have our names and trail names engraved on the back.

After our night at Manning Park, we drove with Aunt Rose and Jon back to Vancouver, where we stayed for a few days. We walked around in cultivated gardens and saw sites and went Canadian bowling and flew kites and ate lots of delicious vegan food. As much as we loved it, we were eager to get back to Portland to see Zach’s dad, sister, and grandma.

Aunt Rose and Zach

Vancouver skyline

Delicious vegetarian tacos

Canadian bowling! 

We hopped a bus to Portland. Zach’s sister Ivy picked us up from the bus stop and drove us to Grandma Diane’s house. Grandma Diane cried when she saw how emaciated we looked. Gary took us out to dinner. I wondered if I’d ever get used to sleeping in a bed, under a roof.

All our dreams came true: the pizza, the video game marathons, the time with family, but I remember it vaguely, like there’s a veil of fog over it. We ate every two hours, constantly fighting a survival instinct that urged us to chuck every edible thing in sight into our mouths. Grandma Diane fed us a lot of ice cream sundaes and lunchmeat sandwiches. We tried to stop eating so much, but it was hard. Zach, despite how much he ate, hated food. After five months of cramming calories down our throats, he was done. It was several months before he actually enjoyed eating again.

We didn’t walk at all for a long time. We felt heavy and strange and full of food. I had to re-learn all my social skills— the strange disjointed pattern of conversation on trail seemed odd in real life. For months I felt like my body was too big, that I took up too much space. I kept on running into things because I wasn’t used to being in a small space (indoors) for more than a few hours at a time.

Flowers in Vancouver

At the end of October, we ended up getting a van, and driving from Portland back to St. Louis, taking Ivy with us for a visit. We drove along breathtaking cliffs in Oregon and Washington, saw larch-covered mountains and massive plains in Montana, couch-surfed all the way home, got our tire slashed in Bozeman, didn’t visit Yellowstone because we wanted to see family more than we wanted to see nature things, drove through South Dakota’s beautiful barren hills, passed through my dad’s childhood haunts in Sioux City, Iowa, and at last found ourselves pulling up alongside my parents’ home in St. Charles, Missouri. This would be our home, too, for the next several months. 

We got medals sent to us in the mail, engraved with our names and trail names. They were completely worth it.

At this point, I began writing the memoir. I looked through my sparse journal entries, and cross-referenced them with our maps, my photos, and our memories. I pieced together the story, bit by bit.

We lived in my parents’ spare room, saving our money. We paid off our trail debt by Christmas, and had saved up enough to buy our own house in June. We bought a two-bedroom house in St. Charles and settled down, with a garden and a mortgage and steady jobs. 

Our house! Isn't it cute?

Hiking in Kentucky last March

And through all the life changes, I continued working on my memoir. I continued posting to my blog. Through some of the tough months I’ve had this year, battling sickness and discouragement, these entries have been my lifeline to sanity. They have been the only way I can process the enormity of the trail.

Back in October, on the last page of my PCT journal, I had written, “We tried to wrap our minds around things. It did not work. Maybe someday I’ll be able to process it…”

Now, a year after we finished the trail, I think I can say that, through the writing of my journal, I have. We thru-hiked the PCT. We started at Mexico and hiked to Canada, a feat that I had hardly dared to believe we could accomplish. We did it. We won.

From the moment we left the Mexican border, I kept waiting for myself to realize, all of a sudden, that we were really doing it, that we were really hiking the PCT. I kept waiting for it to hit me.

Seventeen months, 2,600 miles, and 220,000 words later, it finally did.

~~~