Here goes again
I haven’t done this for a long time. I don’t mean blogging—as someone born middle-aged, I’ve never done that even though I’m of a generation that apparently flocks to a toxic ash dump in Siberia because the extreme pH means the lakewater is blue, free of algae, and perfect for a selfie.
No, I mean preparing for a long hike. I haven’t done that for 15 years, not since the winter I dropped out of high school.
On March 8th, 2006, I set out from Springer Mountain, Georgia with the intention of hiking to Maine along the Appalachian Trail (more to follow about that adventure). I was a Thru-hiker—which made the grammarian in me cringe—and had the gear I’d need and then some for ~6 months on the trail. My pack weighed more than a small dinosaur, and I remember feeling a bit like a dinosaur dad giving his kid a piggyback ride as I plodded along, each overloaded footstep practically shaking the earth. I knew enough about backpacking to be safe, but I knew little about long-distance hiking, where gear weights are often measured in ounces, or even grams, rather than pounds. My backpack itself was nearly bomb-proof but weighed a full five pounds! Now, as I prepare for my second long hike, my backpack, sleeping bag, tent/shelter, and sleeping pad combined weigh less.
Last time around. Mars the Cat (sadly no longer with us) wondering why the hooman only wanted to bring the contents of the paper bags (February, 2006).
A lighter pack is a huge relief because where I’m heading this time has some challenges the Appalachian Trail (AT in hiker-talk) doesn’t. Water—or more accurately, the lack of it—is one of the main ones. This time, I’m hiking the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT), which runs ~2600 miles from Mexico to Canada, passing through California, Oregon, and Washington. Since I used to live in San Diego, I’ve hiked a few of the sections of the PCT near the Mexican border, and as the name of the starkly beautiful Anza Borrego Desert State Park implies, the sun tends to be hot, and the land dry. That means I’ll need to be able to carry lots of water at times, which in large part dictated my choice in backpack (more on gear and such to come later). I’ll have the capacity to carry 8 liters (a bit more than 2 gallons), which should see me through the few stretches of trail where water sources may be more than 40 miles apart.
California, Oregon, and Washington? Confirmed. Must be the PCT (the map scale isn’t 1:1).
My start date this time is May 19th (2021), which puts me towards the end of the season, meaning I’ll be hiking in hotter and (even) drier weather in the desert. I also might have to race winter through Washington, but unfortunately the 19th was the earliest I could manage. Naïve me didn’t realize that in the time since I debated which trail to hike in 2006, the PCT instituted a permit system to prevent the trail termini from becoming overcrowded with that particular brand of silly person who wants to walk for months on end. Now, only 50 people are allowed to start a through-hike (take that, drive-thru’s that serve lite food) at the Mexican border each day during the hiking season. By the time I realized I needed a permit, May 19th was the earliest start date still available, so I’ll give the hike a shot and see how far I manage to get.
And in a concession to the electronic age that we’ve apparently entered, I’ll be keeping a blog as I go, though I still marvel that anyone might want to read it. I’m preparing to walk about 2600 miles, but I’m still not sure I’m ready for the internet.
Plenty more to follow, so don’t touch that dial (or high-definition touch-screen infotainment unit).
-Brian