At 2:00 in the morning there’s a loud authoritative knock at the door. It’s the police. They are investigating an international crime ring, and all indications are that I am at the heart. Or at least near the liver, or the kidney.
It all started about a year ago, when I decided to thru-hike the Pacific Crest Trail. A few months later my son Brian caught the fever and asked: What if I quit my job and join you? Like all parents concerned about a child giving up a stable and well paying job for some hare-brained idea, I say: Cool!
Not much later, Brian’s girlfriend Brianna also contracts PCT. The CDC quickly gets involved and quarantines us. In an act of un-civil disobedience, I dress as a nurse and ride my bike through highly populated areas. Chaos ensues. A trail which normally supports 300 or so starts a year, is inundated with thousands of requests. For the first time ever, the PCTA is forced to put in place a Mexican border trailhead quote of 50 starts a day! Oh sure, some will say the increase is due to the book Wild, or more recently the Reese Witherspoon movie. But trust me. It’s the bike ride.
PCT Bracket
My close circle of family and friends (or as some people describe it: my dot) quickly snaps into action. They create an illegal betting pool for how long each of us will last on the trail. The interest is overwhelming and catches the attention of the police, who are now standing at my front door.
Although there are only three of us in the competition, most completed brackets do not have us making the final four. Of the few that do, only the blank spot is picked to make it all the way. Barack Obama completes a bracket, but Hillary hacks into the government website and deletes it, claiming it is actually a personal email.
When I start to fill out my own bracket, Pete Rose pulls me aside to say it is not a good idea. He is not actually against me betting on my own sport, he just thinks hiking the PCT in 2015, with the expected throng of essentially homeless people, is a bad idea.
He may be right, but on April 3rd, 2015, we start walking. Please do not send any messages saying: See you on the 4th. Unless, of course, you mean the 4th of September, in Manning Park, Canada.
Thinking about taking my first steps on the PCT on April 3rd with my son reminded me of watching him take his very first baby steps. I am so grateful to witness both.
My son recently flew from his home in San Diego to Vancouver Canada, to catch a cruise ship to Alaska. After landing, he commented: Do you realize I just flew the entire PCT in one day? I started thinking – what if you could experience the PCT in a single day? What might the trail journal look like? Below is my fantasy version of that journal.
PCT Trail Route
Post 1: The Decision
Dissatisfied with my job’s lack of meaningful purpose, I quit my fellowship at the Children’s Cancer Research Center and join the PCTA. I figure it is about time I start supporting our local schools.
Post 2: Planning
I begin researching the Pacific Crest Trail. I quickly read Yogi’s Handbook, I Promise Not To Suffer, Blistered Kind of Love, The Cactus Eaters and of course Wild. I don’t actually read these books, just the titles. They came back as part of a Google search, which frankly now seems overwhelming.
Post 3 : Picking My Gear
I fully embrace the ultra-light Ray-way of bringing only what I need. This contradicts everything else I read about the PCT. Struggling, suffering, learning and abandoning are the main themes in every book. With all the great gear list available, I wonder why I can’t simply start out with the right gear. I mention this to my publisher, who says I am a complete idiot and that I am going to ruin everything. Resigned, I locate my ULA Circuit backpack and strap on a cot, a lawn chair and a chest of drawers.
Post 3 : My Resupply Strategy
I cannot decide if I should ship supplies ahead, or shop along the way. I decide to combine strategies, so I ship ahead my shopping lists.
Post 4: Cooking Challenge
I struggle with my soda-can alcohol stove. Despite its name, I cannot light the light beer, but ironically the hard cider lights easily.
Post 5: The Monotony
Over time, I begin to tire of my food selection. Bite after bite after bite, the monotony is killing me. Did I mention the monotony? What am I thinking when I cook an entire packet of oatmeal?
Post 6: Water
I totally obsess with water rationing until I remember that, in the scorching desert heat, it is better to use your water than to carry it. In retrospect, I probably should not use it to rinse out my ExOfficio sports briefs, but I really want to see their amazing quick drying action.
Post 7: Hunger and Emotion
I feel like I am surviving solely on Snickers bars. I must have eaten 3 fun-sized already. My emotional ups and downs are taking their toll. Clearly some of the fun-sized bars are more fun than others.
Post 8: Dirty Girls
My Dirty Girl Gaiters seem to be working out great. In fact, I have not gotten a single rock in my Slutty Girl Pumps.
Post 9: Desperation
I become so thirsty that I drink both the A and the B bottles of Aquamira. Before you judge, let me say I throughly mix them in my mouth before swallowing.
Post 10: Trail Magic
Today I experience my first trail magic. Actually, it is more like a magic trick. The cooler is full of nothing but off-brand sodas. Come on Angels, I’m thirsty, but I am not that thirsty.
Post 11: Trail Names
Today I meet another thru-hiker and we become lifelong friends. We give each other trail names. His is WaitUp. Mine is StopFollowingMe. We decide to try hiking solo.
Post 12: Leave No Trace
On this tortuous soul searching journey, I attempt to rationalize my existence in a way that leaves absolutely no trace of me. In an act of bold defiance, I declare my existence by throwing a fun-sized wrapper on the trail, which in a rush of guilt I quickly retrieve. In my second attempt, I focus on recalling words to TV theme songs from my childhood. Based on the results, I continue to doubt my existence.
Post 13: The Bounce Box
I drop my bounce box, but it doesn’t. My Skittles and Ibuprofen are now completely mixed. Rather than sort them, I place them in my titanium cup, add Nido and olive oil, then eat them for lunch.
Post 14: Crying Out Loud
While approaching the saddle of a brutal pass, I begin hearing uncontrollable sobbing in the distance. As I slow, I realize the crying is much closer than I thought. In fact, it is coming from me.
Post 15: Shoe’t
My foot gear strategy is working better than expected. I only have one hot spot – my feet. Along a ridge crest, I blow out the heel on one of my pumps. I sit cursing my luck. This pathetically unbelievable story is made even more so when I throw both pumps off a cliff. I continue on barefoot. Wild.
Post 16: Weather
Today it starts to gently rain. It feels cool on my face. Slowly the rain turns to sleet, then hail, then snow, and then back to pelting hail. The trail floods. Locusts appear, followed by frogs and then some type of rodent borne plague. The emerging misty rainbow, however, looks absolutely stunning.
Entry 17: Trail Journals
I pore over trail journals, lapping up the amazing adventures and bear sightings of other thru-hikers. I can’t help noticing that I am never mentioned in these journals. I continue to question my existence.
Entry 18: The Wedding
I can’t stop thinking about the wedding. Should I risk leaving the trail? Will they forgive me if I don’t? I obsess about the wedding cake and endless buffet. I finally decide to go. Now I just have to find someone to invite me to a wedding.
Post 19: The Monument
At last. The PCT Monument appears in the distance. My emotions take on a physical form. I am bawling. I see the metal fence. I begin bawling even more. Monument 78. The one at the Canadian border. It doesn’t have a metal fence. I am actually standing at the southern terminus in Campo.
Post 20: Reflection
My reemergence into society is harder than I thought. The friends that un-friended me during my journey seem unwilling to re-friend me. I hope it is not too late to ask for my job back. After all, I did quit only yesterday.
The first step is to admit you have a problem. Unfortunately, if the problem you have is the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT), then you have another 5,401,846 steps to go. At least that is my calculation of the average number of steps it takes to walk from the US/Mexico border near Campo to the US/Canadian border near Manning.
(2660 miles) x (5280 ft/mile) / (2.6 feet per step) = 5,401,846.154 steps.
This does not include the steps required to go on and off the trail for supplies. We are just talking pure PCT miles.
Of course, if you are feeling a tad above average, and you can extend your stride by just one(1) inch, you will save over 167,759 steps.
(2660 miles) x (5280 ft/mile) / (2.683 feet per step) = 5,234086.957 steps
