Returning to civilization has been more of a struggle than I expected. While thru-hiking I can only remember a few mornings when it was exceptionally difficult to get out of my sleeping bag and continue hiking. Most days that simple, focused, and uncompromising purpose of continuing North was sufficient motivation. That drive forward on the trail is so powerful that even serious injuries that should have been given a week off rarely got more than a single day. When I took two full days off, it was obvious to every single thru-hiker that I was in serious pain.
Back here in the Real World, it all feels so ridiculously complicated. There are so many considerations that need to be carefully Tetris'ed into my life: employment, money, living situation, bills, driving, socializing, rehabilitation of injured parts, and even what to eat. Over six weeks of being off trail and I am still experiencing a low level of anxiety every single day. It is not a pleasant experience. So bad that most times when I visit the grocery store, I only grab fresh produce and chocolate. Circulating among the other aisles stresses me out.
Not exactly fantasizing about being back on the trail either. That trip is over. But, I am definitely thinking about the next trip; the next time that I can get be out there. For me, "Why am I here?" is a constant refrain in my mind. Why should I not be out there in the forests, deserts, and mountains of the world? Isn't that where I belong? Staring out a coffee shop window at the gorgeous autumn weather when I should be examining spreadsheets for the new job is definitely reinforcing this feeling.
Still, I must bend my will to spending time here; refilling the coffers and reconnecting with people, relearning to labor and wait. Just for a while longer.
According to the PCTA, the Pacific Crest Trail travels through three national monuments, five state parks, seven national parks, 24 national forests and 47 wilderness areas. It traverses deserts, forests, mountains, and snow. You reach an elevation of 13,153 feet at Forester Pass and go nearly to sea level at Cascade Locks. Temperatures on the trip will range from 0°-110° Fahrenheit and include everything from scalding heat to downpours to a couple feet of snow. And, lest we forget, swarms of mosquitos and wind storms make regular appearances. One's clothing is, thus, incredibly important. Here's what I had for the duration of the trail.
Everything here is highly recommended. The Hiking Shirts and Pants are designed to be lightweight, dry quickly, protect you from the sun and mosquitos, and provide airflow in the desert. By Oregon the pants had worn out in the bottom, so it was replaced with just the shorts portion of an old pair of REI convertible pants. Been using the ExOfficio boxers for years both in the outdoors and when I travel, they are perfect.
Socks
I started out with SmartWool lightweight running socks and then switched to the KEEN socks when they arrived. Neither survived more than a couple weeks. Seemed like every other town stop I was trying a different brand of socks and none of them were surviving the sweat, grime, and dirt of the desert. Finally, I caved and bought two pairs of Darn Toughs. Do it. They are thicker and warmer than the lightweight socks, but they will last. I only had a single pair develop a hole and the company replaces their socks with no questions asked. Because they are thicker, they do take a while to dry, so I had four pairs through Washington (rain, rain, rain) opposed to my usual two pairs.
Again, everything here is highly recommended. In parts of California it was too warm for my sleeping bag, so many nights I just put on my underwear and slept that way (after a Wet Wipes bath). The long underwear became my nightly wear in Oregon and Washington thanks to the colder and wetter than average conditions. Nothing like getting out of your wet hiking clothes and sliding into dry wool before bed.
The gloves were probably used only two or three times in California, so I tossed the old pair I had into a hiker box early on. However, I bought a new pair in Oregon and was grateful for them in Washington with all of the cold mornings and snow towards the end.
I started the hike with just a poncho, but thanks to our first rain storm being rather windy, I decided to get a lightweight jacket in Big Bear Lake. For Washington though, I was really grateful for my Arc'teryx jacket. I have owned (and abused) it for years and it is an excellent piece of gear. The rain pants did not join me until Washington either. Would have been nice to have them for parts of Oregon when we got drenched for a couple days, but I survived without it.
Overall
I did quite a bit of research into gear in the months before my trip and have had decades of experience in the outdoors before then. I know how my body responds to sun, heat, cold, wind, and wet quite well. Everyone is a bit different though. Amelia is so pale that she burns in no time in direct sun. I can survive in dry, cold, and wet just fine but if you combine heat and humidity you will see me wither. Do a bit of research about outdoor clothing (desert/winter, synthetics/cotton, layering) and experiment with what works for you beforehand.
When I was
building my first-aid kit for the Pacific Crest Trail, oh so many months ago, I was aiming for a balance between weight and what my training would realistically let me handle in the wilderness. Naturally, there is a great deal of disagreement and debate on what should be taken for first aid in the outdoor community–both on solo and guided trips. On one side is this perfectly valid point from Andrew Skurka:
Even if I carried 50 pounds of medical equipment and was a certified EMT, I’m still not equipped to treat serious medical problems in the field over the long-term.
Based on this, he goes to one extreme and carries only what he considers the barest essentials. If something more serious goes wrong, he pulls out the satellite phone and calls for help. On the other end of the spectrum, there are organizations like Reed College that have a legal obligation to send their guides out with both a satellite phone and a substantial first aid kit–one with enough supplies to treat the majority of wilderness medical issues, perhaps for days on end.
As a certified Wilderness EMT, who is trained to handle a serious emergency in the field for days, even with minimal resources, the severe minimalistic approach to first aid that most thru-hikers subscribe to is foolhardy. Quite a few head out with no more than duct tape and ibuprofen. Essentially, they are operating under the assumption that nothing bad will happen or if it does, someone else will rescue them. This thin margin of safety would often extend to their food and water. A number of thru-hikers would be out of food the night before their next resupply or would show up at water sources having been empty for miles. While the PCT is reasonably well traveled and usually less than a day away from civilization, there are 5-7 day sections without a single road and no reliable cell service. Further, even if someone does show up within a short amount of time (not always the best assumption itself), it does not mean they will have the materials or skills to help you out. Nature is unreliable and relying on luck is no way to head into the wilderness. The Boy Scount motto rings true: Be Prepared.
Please think clearly about what your skills are and how much you are willing to risk. Humans–and thru-hikers especially–are a hardy and resilient lot. Things do go wrong though and if you are not prepared, it can cost you dearly. Shortly after I finished the PCT this year, a series of snowstorms hit the Cascades. Hikers continued heading out even though they had not adequately prepared for the winter conditions (snowshoes, extra clothes and food). Multiple people had to be rescued, a few by helicopter because Search & Rescue could not safely reach them by foot. They were unprepared for those winter conditions and risked their own lives and the lives of others by their foolishness. Whether you head into the wilderness for a day hike or an expedition, it is grossly irresponsible to be ill-prepared for the conditions and challenges of being out there.
So. The most important part of any first aid kit is your mind: education and knowing what to bring and how to use it. One of the things that bugs me about Skurka's opinion is it seems to gloss over the educational aspect of first aid. You can do more with bare minimal supplies and training than just minimal supplies. I highly suggest that if you are doing any kind of backpacking or hiking, you find a Wilderness First Responder course nearby and take it. You will not regret it and it is often a requirement for any sort of guiding. If you want to get really serious about wilderness first aid and have a free month, look at becoming a Wilderness EMT. I do not recommend taking a Wilderness First Aid course. It is too short and the friends who have taken it did not have a high retention of the material.
PCT First Aid Kit Supplies
One of the critiques that Amelia brought against my original PCT first aid kit was that I designed it not for myself but for everyone else. This is a mindset that I gradually moved away from in the first few weeks. My final first aid kit was designed solely for thru-hiking.
Safety pins - Also useful for hanging socks on the back of the pack.
Mini-Scissors - Far better than a knife for cutting moleskin and gauze. Perfect for trimming dead skin too.
Ace bandage - Never used. Given the number of joint injuries out there, still seems like a good idea.
Ibuprofen
Benadryl
Loperamide - Trail food has been known to cause intestinal issues.
Neosporin w/pain reliever - Also useful as a minor lubricant underneath tape to prevent it from sticking to loose skin.
Mac Smack's Ultimate Fix - Great for cracked and problematic feet. Also useful for burns and minor cuts.
Johnson & Johnson Sports Tape - The best athletic tape out there. A far better choice than duct tape for hot spots as it sticks better and is also breathable.
Moleskin
2nd Skin Blister Pads - When things go bad, these can really keep you going as the hydrocolloid pad promotes healing and provides light padding. One problem is that thru-hiker miles causes the outside adhesive to fail in only a couple days while the inner part will continue sticking; athletic tape backup was necessary.
Bandaids - Only had a few, but there are some cuts that really need a bit of protection.
Gauze pads - I had a few blisters that went really bad. Gauze + athletic tape gives you absorbent, non-stick padding. Also handy for more significant bleeds.
KT Tape - Discovered this in Kennedy Meadows. It is designed to stick to sweaty skin and provides just a hint of padding. During the desert, I used this quite a bit on my heels.
A sleeping pad is critical to any sleeping system nowadays. Gone is the era when four hobbits would cuddle together underneath an outcropping with their wool cloaks wrapped tightly around them, a rock their only pillow. If you ask me, we have all lost a little of ourselves by letting that go. Anyhoo...
Pros: Lightweight, compact, excellent insulation, no slipping.
Cons: Can be punctured. I very foolishly put a bag with a sharp object underneath it in the Sierras while elevating my feet. Went right through both sides. Thankfully, the tenacious tape worked spectacularly and held the rest of the trip. Also, I admit it is a bit noisy at first. After the first week or two, I stopped noticing.
Bottom Line: Recommended? Yes, oh yes. I am not the best sleeper and never having to worry about rocks, roots, or cold ground was fantastic.
When you absolutely positively have to boil water quickly, the JetBoil cannot be beat. While most thru-hikers were still figuring out where to safely put their alcohol stoves, my water was already boiled. It is actually so fast that I spent less time boiling the water than finding the food I wanted to eat in my food bag. So, if all you are doing is rehydrating meals of potatoes, oatmeal, instant rice, noodles, et cetera and you are not fond of the wait or issues with alcohol, then this is the stove for you.
However, you cannot cook with it. Well, that is not entirely true, you can cook with it, but it is a pain in the ass. I used the ol' trusted method of cooking food inside of a freezer bag placed inside the boiling water to cook a few meals. Did not find it particularly enjoyable or easy. During the first week I tried, foolishly, to cook some noodles in the JetBoil, completely against the recommendations of the manufacturer. There are still burnt marks on the bottom of the pot.
The stove also sips fuel. One of the small 100g canisters typically lasted me 3 weeks when having one or two meals a day. A fellow hiker gave me a full canister of one of the larger sizes (230g, I think). It lasted me all the way from Echo Lake, CA to Timberline Lodge, OR. A distance of over a thousand miles. That is damn impressive. If you do choose a JetBoil, leave the stand at home. I never used it.
The Grease Pot was a great vessel for my meals. Lightweight and very resilient to the beatings of a thru-hike. And during the day I put all of my snacks inside it on the outside of my pack. Worked out great. As for the Titanium Spork: it survived the entire trip completely intact. I think the "fork" aspect is unnecessary though. I used it more for opening packages than I ever did for spearing my food.
Pros: Fast boiling, sips fuel, lightweight, and the envy of morning coffee drinkers with an alcohol stove.
Cons: Bit heavier than an alcohol stove. No simmering. Fork aspect of spork was not necessary.
Bottom Line: Recommended. Would probably choose a titanium spoon over the spork and insure it is of a size that it would fit in the pot.
In retrospect, starting with the Sawyer Squeeze Filter was a nice experiment but it should have never gone on the trip. Even during testing at home I became impatient with the amount of time it took to squeeze a couple litres into my Platypus Platy Bottles, especially since the bottles were flexible and did not stand up well when empty. Thru-hikers simply want their gear to work quickly and well, but once you leak water onto your pants for the tenth time, forget to bring the filter into to the tent on a freezing cold night, or have issues back flushing...the Sawyer filter has failed that test.
So, my backup water treatment was two wee bottles of Aquamira. Once I started using those I never looked back and bought more on Amazon and shipped them to myself as necessary. Towards the end even Amelia was using it. Many people complain online about the 5 minutes required for the two chemicals to react before being put into the water. Honestly, if you think about how long it takes to fill up the bottles, go pee, and grab a snack you are essentially at 5 minutes. I had two 1-litre bottles that I cycled through for drinking that were in one of my side pockets, so I added the Aquamira and kept on walking. 15 minutes later, I could drink the water. Pretty darn easy.
There are other
ways to treat water in the wilderness (such as bleach), but chlorine dioxide (aka Aquamira) is more effective against Cryptosporidium and Giardia while also improving the taste of the water and not creating any harmful byproducts.
Pros: Quick, easy, reliable, better than bleach or filters, reasonably cheap
When you have to carry more than 2 litres, say in most of California except for the Sierras, the Platy bottles are fantastic. Large capacity, lightweight, and collapse quite small. They only lasted me about 800 miles before developing a leak though. For everywhere else and for daily drinking, I used bottled water bottles put into a side pocket of my pack. Replaced them about every three weeks or so.
Best thing ever. Camera, GPS, navigation, email, browser, music, videos. Damn thing does it all (and extremely well) and is a phone too. While having a digital device is not
necessary for a thru-hike, I would say it is extremely worthwhile. When mine was stolen in Castella, it really knocked me down. Losing my photos and videos, connection to the outer world, and entertainment was a huge blow. Thanks to it happening after a really challenging stretch, it was probably the closest I came to quitting. Thank goodness for an automatic online backup in Burney the week before, otherwise I might have lost over 500 miles worth of photos and notes.
Since it is an electronic device and you are going backpacking for five months in all kinds of conditions, it makes sense that it needs a bit more protection than what is required in civilization. I put mine in an
Incipio case and then a Loksak bag to protect it from dust, sweat, and rain.
There are a few apps that I recommend you look at:
The
Halfmile app is based off Halfmile's notes and maps, which are the maps for the Pacific Crest Trail. Using your GPS coordinates, it can tell you where you are on the trail (or how to get back to it) and also the distance to the next Halfmile landmark. However, after the Sierras, Halfmiles notes are fewer in number and you will start becoming frustrated when you walk by additional water sources or campsites that are never mentioned. Guthook's apps fills in the blanks with far more water sources (springs!), campsites, and additional details + photos. When you are hiking 20-30 miles a day in all kinds of conditions and terrain, it is helpful to know if the next reliable water source or campsite is around that next bend or 6 miles beyond. The Guthook app was a bit buggy at times and does not give you any calculated distances to destinations, but it was regularly updated while on trail so hopefully it will continue improving.
The
PCTHYOH app is simply a nice way to cache PCT related information on your phone (ex: PDFs of Halfmile's maps). Found it handy a few times when I wanted to look at Halfmile's elevation profiles in my tent. Eventually I stopped using it as the other two covered 99% of what I needed.
Pros: Amazing digital multi-tool. Able to order stuff from Amazon while on trail. Replaces physical maps. Apps for everything!
Cons: Expensive when you consider contract. Can be stolen or broken, so you have to protect it. Requires power (see next review).
Bottom Line: Highly recommended. My favorite piece of gear.
With the iPhone being used every single day and there being 4-7 days in between towns, it was necessary to have some manner of way to recharge the phone on trail. The
Wandering the Wild blog highly praised the sCharger-5, so I gave it shot. It does not have a battery and the iPhone 5 requires a strong, steady stream of power, which requires that you use it primarily during breaks when there is full sun. Not a problem in most of California and Oregon. The only time I had to conserve power was when the charger stopped working (manufacturing defect, apparently) and was without it. Easily recharged my phone in 1-2 hours, perfect for lunch breaks.
In Washington, I switched to the
Suntactics USB Battery and sent the charger home. That also worked extremely well and could recharge my phone at least 2 times, which is perfect for a 4-6 day stretch. Only complaint there is I think with a bit more engineering work (cost?) they might be able to make the entire device a bit smaller.
Pros: Simple, fast, and more reliable than other brands. Company was extremely responsive when charger stopped working and shipped me a new one via priority mail.
Cons: It did break at a rather inopportune time. Pricey.
Bottom Line: Recommended for California, especially if traveling with friends who want to use it too. I found their USB Battery so reliable though that I would recommend it as a lighter, cheaper alternative.
While reading another thru-hiker's blog, I discovered this collection of photos from 1977 from a Pacific Crest Trail thru-hiker. Mind blowing how much has changed in the past 35 years and yet still seeing familiar locations from the trail. I started backpacking almost two and a half decades ago, so while those packs look completely unreal from today's ultralight perspective I remember having one of my own way back when.
Taking a cue from Amelia's first post-hike
gear review, I am breaking my reviews up into slightly more manageable chunks. This first one will be about the big three of backpacking: the pack, the sleeping bag, and the tent. All totaled, these three items were 4.9 pounds of my base weight and cost $975.00. Definitely earning the name Big Three as that is a third of my base weight and about half of my gear cost.
I originally started out with a Tarptent Contrail, which Amelia greatly loved, but I found myself becoming more and more annoyed during the first couple weeks thanks to the wind storms and poor staking conditions; to the point that there were situations where I really should have put up my tent but I did not want to trouble myself. Not a good sign, so I ordered the Big Agnes Copper Spur UL 1 at the Big Bear Lake hostel and had it delivered to The Saufleys in Agua Dulce.
Chose the Copper Spur for a few reasons. It is a free standing tent, has a side vestibule (compared to the front vestibule on the Fly Creek), and is longer than the Fly Creek (I am 6'1"). The weight was around half a pound heavier than the Contrail, but I got a tent that would not collapse under wind or snow, had slightly more head room, and if it was a gorgeous night and I just wanted bug protection I could still see the moon, stars, and the occasional meteor shower. Was pleased with my choice.
Pros: Sturdy, free-standing, easy to stake, simple setup, great for buggy environments, dries super-quick, and tough.
Cons: Bit heavier than most UL options, comfortable but not roomy for a large guy, rather pricey if you do not have a famous REI 20% coupon.
Bottom Line: Recommended. I was happy with my choice. Might be tempted to try another ultralight option in the future though (ex: Hexamid), if I had spare cash, as the weight did bug me a bit.
Like many thru-hikers, I did my research and was intending to use a
Western Mountaineering Ultralite down sleeping bag. Right towards the end of the trip planning phase, while reading Yet Another Hiking Blog (YAHB), I discovered ZPacks. The Western Mountaineering Ultralite long was 31 oz, while the ZPacks Wide, X-Long was only 21.7 oz. And it was cheaper. The ZPacks bag is basically what happens when a down quilt and a down sleeping bag have a baby, with a couple genetic enhancements. It was fantastic.
The only real downside really had to do with the trail itself. Quite often a 20 degree bag was overkill in the desert. And yet, three days later that bag could be indispensable when a freezing cold night happened. Washington rained on us almost a third of the times, so I protected my sleeping bag by putting it inside a trash bag inside a cuben sack inside the trash compactor bag lined part of my pack. Even with that, a handful of times it got a bit damp while unstuffed in my tent.
Pros: Warm, lightweight, compressible, did not cover my head (I suffer from anti-mummy tendencies and prefer a hat), worked great as a blanket. When it was really cold, it was AMAZING!
Cons: Expensive. Bit too warm for about half of California. Constant vigilance required in Washington to keep it dry.
Bottom Line: Recommended. If I had to do it again, I might consider using a higher degree bag and then carrying a liner for the Sierras and Washington.
Sadly, I do not have a good shot of myself using this backpack in the wild. Typically I was carrying it on my back, so I suppose that is not completely unexpected. Stock photo to the rescue!
Probably one of the pieces of ultralight gear I was most skeptical about. Currently, I have four other backpacks that I use for all variety of purposes: guiding, mountaineering, quick summit hops from basecamp, et cetera. For me a pack needs to hold the right amount of gear comfortably for days while making my gear easily accessible. Surely a pack that ways less than 2 pounds could not handle all of the trials of a thru-hike. I was wrong. Except for when it was overloaded with a bear canister and/or 6-7 days worth of food, it worked perfectly. It was meant to carry 35 pounds or less, and I think that is spot on. Go over that and your pack (and you) will suffer for it. The aluminum stays and padding is just not capable of handling more than that amount of weight or strain. You have been warned.
By the way, its removable pad for sitting is a great idea. I used it constantly during breaks and meals. So much in fact that I eventually had to replace it in Echo Lake. Hat tip to Gossamer Gear for that idea.
Pros: Lightweight, cheap, durable (2668+ miles and still usable), perfect volume for a thru-hiker.
Cons: Both grommets came out and had to be repaired with floss and needle. Not ideal for heavy loads in the Sierras. I am hard on my gear so I tried to be a bit more gentle with this pack to insure it survived the journey.
Bottom Line: Recommended. They informed me via email that they know about the grommet issue and are addressing it. For the Sierras, I think I would have mailed myself one of my heavier and more sturdier packs (Osprey Atmos?) to make the large loads more comfortable.
Below is my final PCT gear list. These are the items that I ended up carrying and wearing by the end of my thru-hike. In point of fact, this was pretty much what I was using from Agua Dulce on and would recommend for a future thru-hiker. A more detailed series of gear reviews will follow in future entries.
The first few days after a thru-hike seem to be a bit more organized and settled than the week after. When you first get off the trail, you still have a bit of a journey to get clean, fed, and back to some location, be it your own home or the home of friends and family. There are many hikers who continue exploring, this time in the cities, hoping to find the perfect place to settle.
After you get back to civilization and settled, then what? Reading various thru-hiker blogs and from my own personal experience, there is a frustrating and listless adjustment period back in civilization. You just spent the last five months with relatively simple and direct goals. Find the next water source, make it to the next resupply, continue hiking.
The frontcountry is not like that, at all. It is complicated, messy, noisy, indirect, and far less picturesque. Your activity level also just went from 10-12 hours a day to zero, so your endorphine levels tank. Frankly, part of me feels like post-trail life is a directionless, monotonous, tedious mess and that I would be far better off surviving out there on the trail than back in civilization.
Alas, that is not an option. One must rejoin society, at least for a time, and address all of those niggling little issues like money, job, and the nebulous "future plans".
My current plan is to work until I head back to school to finish my pre-medicine prerequisites. My intention was to take Organic Chemistry next summer, which would allow me to tackle Biochemistry, Physics, Genetics, and perhaps a bit of Physiology that next school year. Seems that most businesses or organizations do not really want to hear that you might only be with them for a year (or two if it is a really great job). That's frustrating. As if they have a guarantee from the rest of their employees that they will most assuredly be there for years to come. I am willing to commit fully to a really hard worked, challenging year of work. Given my skills and experience, I can only hope some organization realizes that that is a good deal.
In the meantime, I am trying to address all of the physical complications of the hike. Without a continuous source of moisture, my dog-esque foot pads have started cracking (lotion to the rescue!). The muscles have finally ceased to ache upon rising from a sitting position though and my heels are thinking about no longer being sore in the morning. Progress.
A new pair of running shoes just arrived from Amazon yesterday and I unpacked my duffel to find my running/biking clothing. Thinking my first trail run may be tomorrow. The constant rain and wind on the island makes me think biking will have to wait until a weather window opens up; do not feel mentally ready for biking in shitty conditions near traffic. I also need to stop eating so much junk food. Sure there are complex salads and healthy drinks back in my diet, but in less than 24 hours I have finished off a container of Trader Joe's Peanut Butter Cups. Boredom will do that to a former thru-hiker.
The most important thing is patience and a sense of direction. Not everything will be resolved overnight or even over the next couple weeks. Taking a deep breath and learning to accept that is probably the best step to adjusting to being off trail.
Last Monday morning (September 23rd, 2013), I crossed the Canadian border and officially became a Pacific Crest Trail thru-hiker five months and one day after starting from the Mexican border. After a quick photo in the cold rain and a signing of the register hidden in Monument 78, I promptly continued on hiking an additional eight miles to the road nearing Manning Park where Goodall's parents whisked us away to a quick shower with clean clothes, a delicious meal, and a four hour ride back across the border (via roads this time) and home to Whidbey Island.
Not exactly the smooth cruise to the finish we were expecting. In fact, it was the most difficult and dangerous part of the entire trip. Started with a raging thunderstorm the first night out of Steven's Pass followed by three days of being constantly soaked in freezing rain and staying borderline hypothermic. The day we hiked into High Bridge for the bus into Stehekin, we had a surprisingly dry and warm day. After a night at the lodge, we headed out for a lovely autumn scented day and camped above Rainy Pass. Next morning, the freezing rain returned and for the next two days the weather cycled between cold, rain, and snow while we crossed multiple washouts on ridges; some of which were 15' deep and required climbing up and down loose, slick rock. Our last night on the trail, we got three inches of snow and tracked the last six miles to the monument through puddles of freezing water.
But we made it. And just in time. Here we are only about five days later and the Pacific Northwest is getting hammered with another winter storm. 1-2 feet of snow and high winds are forecasted for that last section. Most hikers still on the trail are quitting or buckling down for a few days. Winter is definitely here and hiking season is reaching a quick close.
Now that I am done, I am resting and recovering at the Lohrenz Shelter for Displaced Persons on Whidbey Island for a few weeks. All of the gear is clean, repaired, and stored. All photos are edited and captioned for one to view on Flickr. And I had a job interview for a job in Bellingham this past Thursday.
Still, I feel a bit adrift and am slightly frustrated that I really have nothing to do. After five months of hiking nearly every single day, it is difficult to simply stop and try to take it easy. My body definitely needs the rest though. The bottoms of my feet have yet to stop aching and the knees are still requesting more time off as well. Patience is becoming the word of the day. Things will come in time: healing, job, exercise, money, direction.
I am just ever so curious and ready to start. What's next?
Sitting in a hotel room in Skykomish, Washington waiting for the cafe downstairs to open to have my last, civilized breakfast before finishing the last 187 miles of the trail.
Yup, that is all that is left. A mere 187 miles. Granted, we are all pretty well burned out on hiking at this point, so these last eight days or so feel like quite the exhausting hurdle. Does not especially help that the distance as the crow flies is substantially less than the distance we are hiking thanks to copious amounts of up and down. I particularly enjoyed Hermes/Luke's description of it.
But, it just over a week I will be a true thru-hiker. All of my steps have connected and I can walk proud. Or pass out on a couch proud, which seems slightly more likely for that first week back.
While I would not say I am apprehensive or unsettled about returning to civilization and no longer hiking, I cannot say it fills me with joy or elation. Part of me is not ready to go back. The trail has a simplicity and authenticity about it. Your days are spent focusing on getting the miles done, feeding yourself, resting, recovering, and finding the will power to do it all again the next day. No doubt it is monotonous, even with the glorious terrain and immense ecosystems we have crossed. And yet, for these past five months, it was a purer life. Whenever the complications of the frontcountry (play on backcountry, you see) intruded it was often unpleasant and rude.
Return we must though. I have already had a phone interview for a job with the Appalachian Mountain Club in New Hampshire for this autumn/winter and I am intending to return to school next summer (Organic Chemistry! Woo!) with the goal of finishing my pre-medicine prerequisites. Part of me is going to be rather wistful these next few months. Looking out the window of some warm home or building, daydreaming about my time on the trail.
