A week into the journey, I began re-shaping my plans. I didn't need to spend two and a half months on the trail. During several 24-hour solo stretches in the Glacier Peak Wilderness, about 10 days in, I told myself that I'd push through to Stevens Pass, my next town, and would hop off the trail then. Thinking that I was completing my final dozens of miles helped to propel me through that most difficult section of the PCT. Arriving in Stevens Pass, though, I sought an impressive capstone on the trip, or at least a natural endpoint.
Completing Washington was the goal that came to mind. After what had felt like the hardest ten days of my life, it seemed insane to double down and commit to hundreds more miles. But the goal felt right, and I gave myself permission to re-assess at any time.
Here are some reasons why I changed my goal:
- Solitude: there aren't that many people, maybe a hundred or so, hiking southbound this year. Once you start moving, you find yourself in a bubble and, other than five minute encounters a couple times a day, you're alone for the vast majority of the time. To me, the solitude doesn't make the lows feel worse, rather it muffles the highs. I don't have someone nearby to whom I can exclaim when I see a distant mountain, or a marmot, or a new flower. Over the course of a tough day, the muted highs and the full-force lows suck more energy out of me.
- Opportunity cost: I want to spend more time with Emily. I knew that all along but since I envisioned this trip as a lifelong goal, and this time as the only possible opportunity, I talked with Emily and we were prepared to sacrifice the time together for me to experience the PCT. Well, since the experience is not exactly as I imagined, the high opportunity cost looms. Setting up a solo camp at the end of a day hiking alone, I usually picture making dinner with Emily and cherishing free time together before I start an all-encompassing job, then I wonder: why can't I do some of both?
- Endurance sport, not weekend backpacking: I fell in love with backpacking by going on 3- or 4-day trips with close friends. We'd hike 8-15 miles per day through some beautiful landscape like the Three Sisters Wilderness in Central Oregon. We'd stop for lunch. We'd take side-trips. We'd cook meals together. We'd vlog. Thru-hiking the PCT is not a 3-day backpacking trip. Apparently, I'm the only one who had to actually try it out to come to this realization, given that most everyone who heard about my plans told me as much. Thru-hiking is about pushing your body to the limit, constantly managing your hydration and calorie intake, conducting re-supply logistics, and re-wiring your brain to become slightly more masochistic. Thru-hikers are deservedly proud of the title because it's not for everyone.
Here are some reasons why I'm glad that my original goal was "2.5 months on the trail":
- BHAG: some start-up founders and managers talk about BHAG's (big hairy audacious goals) as a key motivating force behind their accomplishments. The idea is that goals that make people say "what are you thinking??!?" help them to accomplish things that make people say "how did you do that?!??" For me, aiming to do this thing that was waaaaay outside of my comfort zone, even though I'm not going to get 100% of the way there, has still enabled me to do something waaay outside of my comfort zone (3 a's vs 5 a's). I still can't believe that, a week from now, I'll have hiked from Canada to Oregon.
- Planning was a huge part of the experience: I spent three years geeking out about the trail - gear, geography, trail culture, supplies... I researched, shopped, talked to people, read trail accounts, backpacked and tested gear. I learned about the PCT and developed into an experienced backpacker. At this point, I would feel totally comfortable planning and leading backpacking trips.
Here are some reasons why the trip has been incredible no matter the duration:
- Actually, it would do the trip a disservice to summarize the highlights here. I've written a couple dozens journal entries chock-full of the good stuff.
To conclude:
- @friends & fam: I want to go backpacking with you! You + nature = the perfect adventure. It's no e=mc^2, but it's a simple calculus that I refined over many days in solemn contemplation deep in the Cascades. I'd be happy to explain it, but first you'll need to pack 3-days of food and gear and follow me into the woods.
- @future me: keep setting BHAG's. If people tell you that you're crazy (and the goal isn't fatal), then you're probably doing it right. Once you dive in, play it by ear, take care of yourself, grow, say "yes" to new/weird experiences (like a hot springs alternate), and give yourself permission to re-assess. Also, write about it.
And now, I depart on the final 150 miles of my trip. There are maple bars the size of my head in Cascade Locks. I know it. I can smell them, and they smell big.