“Of all the paths you take in life, make sure a few of them are dirt.”
John Muir
Modern society is built upon transactions. In our adherence to the social contract and expectations set up for us from a very young age, we learn to accept that, for most of our lives, we will trade our time and energy to someone else in exchange for the means to survive. This model presents obvious benefits: since everyone has a role to play in society, from farmers to plumbers to architects, people can focus on benefitting society in that role rather than constantly having to think about how they will find food, water, and shelter for them and their family. It also means that most people are allowed far more time to enjoy leisurely activities. Indeed, it is likely that the American wilderness conservation movement originating from such legendary activists as Henry David Thoreau, Ansel Adams, and John Muir would not have been so successful had society not begun to afford individuals the time and freedom to travel and explore the vast wildernesses around them. Certainly, everyone, least of all me, owe a great deal to the advent of modern society for enabling the preservation of our natural spaces and for allowing us the time to plan adventures to these natural areas over weekends or occasional vacations from work.
However, for all the benefits of modern society, I have found myself over the last few years dreaming of disconnecting from it – not for a few days or a couple of weeks, but for a long time. I wish for a change in pace. I crave something new and exciting. I want to go on a real adventure, one with adversity and challenge where not all the answers are known. And most importantly, I want to stop trading my time – which I value immensely – for monetary gains, if for but a while.
This is why, starting on May 13, 2022, just barely more than a month from now, I will be beginning my thru-hike of the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT). A 2,650-mile path that runs from the US-Mexico border in California to the US-Canada border in Washington, spanning the states of California, Oregon, and Washington while following the “crest” of the Sierra Nevada, the Cascades, and various desert mountain ranges, the Pacific Crest Trail is often hailed as America’s finest long-distance hiking trail. I plan to start at the southern terminus of the trail at Campo, CA – a small town about an hour east of San Diego – and start walking north, with nothing but my own two legs and what I can carry on my back. Ultimately, my goal is to reach the northern terminus at the Canadian border near Manning Provincial Park, British Columbia, a journey that typically takes 4 to 5 months.
I have been hiking and camping for as long as I can remember – most of my fond memories growing up are of hikes to awe-inspiring and beautiful places with friends and family. I consider myself a pretty advanced hiker, having summited 15 fourteeners (peaks above 14,000 feet) in Colorado, explored hundreds of miles of trail in 30 national parks across the Western United States and Canada, and spent dozens of nights camping and adventuring in the Colorado Rockies and Sierra Nevada.
However, most of this hiking experience is as day hiking, and I am still a bit of a neophyte in terms of backpacking. The longest overnight experience I have done thus far is a 5-day, 45-mile trip in the High Sierra of Sequoia National Park. In comparison to that, the prospect of hiking 2,650 miles in as much as 150 days is quite a daunting task. But then nothing that was easy was worth doing, and I embrace the challenge as a culmination of all my hiking experiences up to this point and a proving ground that I am capable of sacrificing the comforts of society to live a much simpler, visceral existence for a few months.
Going back to my wish to disconnect from society, as much as I would love to emulate the likes of John Muir who spent weeks at a time in the wilderness with nothing but bread, tea, and a tin pot, exploring undocumented lakes and mountains, this is realistically impossible these days, and I have no illusions that I will be completely isolated from society at any point in my journey. For one thing, wilderness areas in general and the PCT specifically have exploded in popularity in the last few decades, with over 3,000 people starting hiking from the southern terminus of the PCT each year between March and May. Few and far between will be the days on the trail where I can expect to not see anyone, though I am sure the company of fellow hikers will be welcome at times. For another, the act of getting food and equipment at towns, known as resupplying (contrary to popular belief, thru-hikers do not carry their food supply for the entire 5 months of their trek), is largely supported by hiker-friendly businesses and “trail angels”. Certain areas of the trail in southern California are also very dry with long distances between reliable water sources, leading to some amount of hiker reliance on manmade water caches that are supplied by local trail angels and community members on their own dime and time. And the PCTA (Pacific Crest Trail Association) spends a huge number of volunteer hours and resources to maintenance and re-route the trail to make sure it is safe, well-graded, and easy to follow.
While all these support structures and conveniences do somewhat diminish the wilderness aspect of the trail, they do improve the safety and accessibility of completing a thru-hike. No longer do hikers have to be complete badasses to hope to hike a long stretch of the trail; now hikers only really need to have the mental drive and fortitude to continue walking and enough money to buy gear, food, and transportation. I will admit that, with hundreds of people having completed the PCT in the last decade, there are ample resources available online that made the planning of my thru-hike very straightforward and stress-free, marking my role as a follower along this path rather than a trailblazer.
I’d be remiss to not acknowledge the importance of my current job in preparing me for this journey. I am fortunate to have a relatively high-income position for only being 5 years removed from college. Between the money from my job over the last 5 years, my frugality, and the lack of any major debt from college, I am in a better financial position than most to take on an adventure that necessitates quitting my job for 5 months. I hope not to take this unique opportunity for granted while on the trail.
So, this is it. The start of a new chapter in my life. As I make final preparations for my trek and begin the journey in May, I want to share my experiences, both the good times and the bad, the successes and the mistakes, and the images of breathtaking vistas, with anyone who is interested through this blog. The website will also have a link to a map of my progress as I make my way north. Note that I have about as much experience with blogging as I do with thru-hiking, which is to say, absolutely none. Despite that, hopefully I can provide an interesting perspective and some insight on what it is like to do the same thing every single day for 5 months straight. Equipped with my pack full of lightweight equipment and a list of overused Muir quotes, I feel ready to take on the world!
Speaking of overused Muir quotes, I think it is fitting to end the first post of this blog with one more:
“The mountains are calling and I must go.”
John Muir