Mile 2,555 to mile 2,533
Miles: 22
I woke up at 5:30AM to most of my fellow campers already in the final stages of readying their packs. Our current section is supposed to be the most difficult on the PCT, and everyone is taking it seriously.
I hadn't slept especially well in my cowboy camping site, and was ready for an entire additional night of sleep. I groggily packed my things, drank a vanilla instant breakfast out of my beef ramen-flavored food container, and charged my devices, all the while pacing to deter the bugs.
RANT ALERT: I'm frowning because these signs are on the south side of this tree, designed for northbound hikers and invisible to southbound hikers who don't turn around to look at the the opposite side of every friggin tree. I did not see these signs and took a .6 mile-long wrong turn.
I hit the trail at 6:15 AM and the trail hit back. The air was cold and the underbrush dewy. I was hiking directly up a ridge with no warm up. I had to go to the bathroom but had a drop off on one side and a cliff on the other. Most of all, I was sapped of energy. After my 15 mile afternoon push of the day before, I had only eaten ramen and some cheese for dinner. Amounting to maybe 600 calories, I had nothing in the tank.
Every issue on the trail has a physical component, and a morale component. In this case, physically, I was stopping every hundred feet or so to give my legs a chance to recover. In terms of morale, I hated the trail. I hated that I was alone. I hated that even my shorts were starting to leave friction marks on my body. I hated that my only reward for completing today would be an even more difficult day tomorrow. I hated that I hated this experience that has been a dream for so long.
For the first time, I thought seriously about leaving the trail. I kept wrestling the idea out of my mind, telling myself that this was just a hard moment, but every time my legs would give out, I'd find myself analyzing my quitting options. The quitting analysis looked something like this:
How many miles would it take to hike back out of this section? Do I have enough food?
Answer: 20, yes
What are some good reasons for leaving the trail?
Answer: injury, danger, dislike of the experience, but really none feel like good reasons.
What would my quitting journal post look like?
Answer: I could title it something serious and introspective: "Why I'm Ok with Leaving the PCT" (use "leaving" instead of "quitting" to soften the blow). I could use humor: "F*** This". I could externalize the issues: "Thru-Hiking Ain't Hiking."
I so publicly announced my intentions to spend several months on the trail, what would my friends and family think?
Answer: It probably wouldn't change much at all. I wouldn't get any "congrats on finishing" pats on the back, but they would either understand or not care.
After a few hours of this morale-spiral, I ate as many snacks of jerky/granola bars/protein bars as I could choke down, drank some water, told myself it was OK to rest a bit, and pulled out my MP3 player.
Emily had, as my birthday present and thru-hike sendoff, given me the most incredibly thoughtful gift. I was blown away when she presented it to me. As many of you know, it's a folder full of recordings from all of my friends, classmates, and family. All of the people who are so important in my life recorded anything from a 10-second good luck message, to a 14-minute narration of what's happening in a TV show, to a 8-minute essays that culminated in a rap.
Standing in the middle of a switchback, my feet throbbing and my knees aching, I navigated to the message folder on my MP3 player and hit play on a message from Em.
The tears hit immediately. The exertion of this trip has brought my emotions to the surface many times in the past week, but here was the full deluge. As had been my response to all issues on the trail, I automatically started hiking forward. I stumbled up the rocky switchback, bawling as the messages kept playing. The exhaustion and frustrations that had dogged me all morning took a backseat to each message's outpouring of love.
Writing this journal entry about the experience brings tears to my eyes.
I listened to twenty minutes of messages and they turned my morning around. As the food kicked in, I switched over to Creedence Clearwater Revival's Greatest Hits and ate up some miles.
A few hours later, hiking through the trees, I switched the messages back on and played through many more of them, several multiple times (Patrick, I played your 14-minute message three times in a row. The third time, I had it memorized well enough that I laughed at your jokes before you even made them. Sean and Annie, I meow bopped and trap queen'd with you, deep in the North Cascades). The messages put a pep in my step, or at least took a limp out of it.
Hiking today was primarily switchbacks up and down passes in the trees with no views. High work, low reward. The most interesting part of the day was the fighter jet that made several training runs through my valley. The jet was tremendously loud and did tricks like flying on its side and weaving its way between mountain peaks. I also saw a deer up close.
Tomorrow is supposed to be the most difficult day on the entire PCT, based upon elevation change (8,700 feet up, 8,600 feet down). I ate a tortilla, an entire two-serving rice side dish, a packet of tuna salad, and a Twix for dinner to prep; >1,000 calories. Let's hope tomorrow's morning is unlike today's. No matter what happens, I still have my pep-in-my-step messages.