The following is Part 1 in a four-part series about my recent experience on the PCT (Pacific Crest Trail). Each part has been adapted from journal entries written in the wild. The date and time listed are when the journal entry was originally written.
Prologue
29 May, 2018: Tuesday
9:36—San Jose, California
I have much to process from this last year—so far my most stressful, demanding experience of time. This last year has aged me, taken a holistic toll. Yet there have been blessings, lessons, and provision. God has strengthened me for each day, week, and month. Hallelujah.
Yet it is time to reflect in the beauty of solitude.
The PCT beckons me.
I am uncertain. I will hike it, certainly, but will it feel like running a gauntlet as in the past? I am taking great effort to pack as light as possible, to give my body a better chance. I will also be more mindful of pacing myself. Andrew will meet me at one or two points for re-supply, which will help disperse food weight during my seven to nine days on the trail. I am going to try my old neutral running shoes (New Balance RC1400s) in my ongoing quest to better preserve my feet; though their having already logged 700 running miles may make that statement ironic. I also may not bring cooking gear, but just eat cold food to save weight.
Possibilities.
I want to enjoy this hike. Perhaps a paradox, I pray that the hike is refreshing—of soul at least. The ease of my five-mile hike with Matthew on Saturday in Russian Ridge Open Space Preserve heartened me. More so, my time in the Word yesterday, Memorial Day, reminded me that God is near:
“I remember the days of old; I mediate on all that you have done; I ponder the work of your hands. I stretch out my hands to you; my soul thirsts for you like a parched land. . . . Let me hear in the morning of your steadfast love, for in you I trust. Make me know the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul. . . . Let your good Spirit lead me on level ground” (Psalm 143:5-6, 8, 10b).
“The Lord replied, ‘My Presence will go with you, and I will give you rest” (Exodus 33:14). “This gives us courage: We never have to walk alone” (Riekert Botha, An Anchor for the Soul).
God is my companion when no one else chooses to, dares to, or does not understand. Thus past, present, and future join—a mysterious temporality.
Amen.
Beginning
8 June, 2018: Wednesday
20:57—Fork Mission Creek [PCT Mile 231.4* (Mileage Today: c.23)]
*I started at PCT Mile 210
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| (Click Map to Enlarge) |
Aside from a clogged water filter—likely from calcium buildup, which with some research I learned could be cleaned by periodically soaking the filter in vinegar followed by backwashing—I have never felt more excited, confident, and ready to hike a PCT section. I want to enjoy this experience, this gift.
I am quite tired, and a bit hungry, but feel great lying on top of my down feather sleeping bag and air pad, having covered a lot of ground today. I am ready to sleep.
Side Note: a dinner of two tortillas, each with a slice of pepper jack cheese, spinach, and peppered beef jerky, followed by a Snicker’s Bar, is delicious.
This morning, I woke comfortably and casually at Andrew & Meghan’s house in Yucaipa at 6:50. Andrew and I left at 8:15. Having feasted heartily the last two nights on Mexican cuisine, and a breakfast of crepes this morning, I visited the restroom about four times before hiking today, including a brief gas station stop near Cabazon. (Taking advantage of plumbing and abundant toilet paper, in other words. #BackpackingLife)
Driving on deteriorating roads in what my PCT guidebook calls “West Palm Springs Village,” Andrew and I parked at the gate at the end of Boulder Drive. We backtracked on the PCT to find the trail register, but there was ultimately nothing to find. I figured that it had to do with being late in the PCT thru-hiking season. Most thru-hikers should be in the Sierras by now.
Andrew joined me for the first mile out on my journey. I welcomed his company and conversation, but had to say goodbye when he reached as far as he dared without water. He left me just before the trail reaches the Mesa Wind Farm.
I hiked alone, feeling strong at a relaxed pace, appreciating a few hours of gusty wind until I detoured a half mile to visit the Whitewater Preserve. The Preserve is an oasis in the desert. I met a ranger, signed the PCT registry, and then enjoyed the Preserve’s piped water and cool wading pool. Sitting in the shade, refreshed, I enjoyed lunch (two Cliff Bars) while reclining on the short stone wall of a bridge. Overall, a lovely place.
The remainder of the day, 13:30 until about 19:00, was quite warm (probably the mid 90s F). Most of it was invested crossing the Whitewater River region, ascending and descending ridges with views of Mount San Jacinto to the south and Mount San Gorgonio to the north. In some areas, the wind blew so hard that I had to work to keep my hat on. As the sun dipped below the canyon ridges, I welcomed the shade.
A highlight of the day was meeting some PCT thru-hikers, which I did not expect. I came across the first group at the Whitewater River crossing at Red Dome. They are three friends from high school in Philadelphia who just graduated college. A guy from Ohio was ultimately also hiking with them, though I did not learn this until further up the trail. I mainly talked with Christian, but unfortunately have forgotten the others’ names. We yo-yoed a few times this afternoon, including at the first Fork Mission Creek campsite where I took a first dinner break (second dinner was this evening at camp).
At that same site, a couple going at a slower pace also caught up with me as I was preparing to set forth again. I had passed them a few miles back during a ridge ascent. At that first trailside meeting, the young woman offered to share their shade, but I graciously declined. Reunited at the creek, lingering in the shade, I learned that the man has hiked the AT (Appalachian Trail). We had a pleasant conversation. They stayed back as I continued up the trail.
I had also caught a young hiker named Dan earlier on the ridge before descending to Fork Mission Creek while he slowed to text home. He passed me again shortly after as I took a brief break to air my feet and duct tape the hot spots on my heels (which worked well, I might add). I officially met him later, miles further upstream along Fork Mission Creek, when I conferred with him about our location on the map. I had become slightly confused about my exact location on the route, having hiked ahead about 400 meters to scout for a campsite before backtracking to Dan’s camp thinking he might be at Fork Springs. Scrutinizing the terrain in comparison to the contour map, we determined that such was not the case, so I pressed on. I bid Dan goodnight, and ultimately settled for this nice spot this evening. I passed the “Philadelphia Boys” (as I have come to call them) along the way while they were soaking in a pool. They passed me again after I had set up camp.
It has been a relaxing evening, trying to regain a sense of camp routine. It is always refreshing to wash the dust of the trail off with cold creek water (finishing with a wet wipe is quite satisfying). My feet are looking good. Alas, my air pillow may have a hole. Time to tend to it, stretch, massage some sore areas, and sleep.
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