So, We’re Hiking the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT)?

It was about 6:58 pm on January 19th when my phone chimed. It was an email. The subject line read “PCT permit confirmation”. I clicked and opened the email.

“Congratulations on planning a trip along the Pacific Crest Trail!” it began.

The only thing was… I hadn’t applied for a PCT permit.

I read through the email, and pondered the idea of hiking the PCT this year. It hadn’t been on my radar. Instead, I’d been focused on 1) Surviving the Covid Pandemic, 2) Growing my recently started nutrition practice 3) Buying a house.

The idea of hiking the PCT was off-radar, but exciting.

It wasn’t as if I’d never imagined hiking the PCT. Prior to the COVID pandemic, Rachel and I had made plans to work through 2020 and then take the summer of 2021 off to do a long thru-hike. But, we largely abandoned and forgot about those plans when COVID hit the country. All plans went out the window as the revolving question of 2020 had become “would life ever return to normal?”

“So, we’re hiking the PCT, huh?” I asked as Rachel entered the hotel room.

Her eyes got big, as they often do when I catch her in the motion of a big idea. Over the past several weeks, her wheels had been spinning. After a year in isolation and several months of intense work, her brain was searching for what was next. I could see her trying on different scenarios, to see how each one fit.

Self-consciously, she explained that she wasn’t sure about the PCT, but that it was just an idea. The PCT Association had just recently begun issuing permits, and there were still some left. So, she thought she would snag one, just in case. It’s good to have options, of course.

“I know I’m all over the place. I’m sorry for acting crazy” she said.

There are times I feel like the Bilbo Baggins of the relationship, content to hide in my hobbit hole, tinkering on projects. But, I didn’t think she was crazy. It made sense. I was already thinking what she was saying.

We didn’t have a mortgage. We had few responsibilities. I was done with school and had recently started my own nutrition practice, but it was still in its infancy. If there were a time when this was possible, it was now.

It’s easy to punt dreams down the road, waiting until a perfect moment. And this moment was about as perfect as they come.

I could hear my heart echoing in my rib cage “lub dub, lub dub, let’s do it”.

But shouldn’t I be more hesitant? This was supposed to sound crazy. We’re in a pandemic. I just left my job to start my own business. Rachel is about to get a promotion. And I’m about to turn 40. Hadn’t I heard, the best of my years was behind me?

We didn’t make a decision in that instant. After all, we weren’t guaranteed a permit yet. But we did make a plan forward. If we hike, we would be starting on March 18th. Between now and then we would walk forward, not saying no to anything. We would continue our hunt for a house. Rachel would continue working, but explore other opportunities. I would continue building my business. But we would also plan as if we would start hiking on March 18th. We would lay the groundwork for our departure. Then in a few weeks, we would decide.

Who do You Think You Are?

I’ve been told that excitement and fear are one and the same. So, it’s no surprise that when the door of opportunity cracked opened, fear quickly snuck in on the heals of excitement, attached like a shadow, a darkness dependent on the presence of light.

Lurking inside my head, the darkness said:

• “What about your business? If you don’t focus on this now, you never will succeed.”
• “You’re almost 40 you know. Time is running out to make something of yourself.”
• “Gee… must be nice. Must be nice to drop everything and hike for 5 months.”

I think my mind can be an asshole. Yet I listen to it still, even though I’d prefer not to. I cannot look away as it parades before me an endless array of possibilities:

• “Maybe you’re just running away.”
• “Are you allergic to work, like your father?”
• “You really don’t deserve this. You’re just lucky and irresponsible.”

At the bottom of this barrel was one simple fear. I am not good enough. And therefore, “what will people think?”

When Stars Align

I despise cliche. But, when stars align, you notice.

As Rachel and I moved forward, things fell into place. We polled our friends, and family. “It sounds like good timing” was the common response from most. People became excited. In turn, it made us excited too.

But, what about the dogs? Toby and Frieda are the joys of our life. We cook them their own food. They sleep in our bed. If we can’t find good care for them, then there’s no way the trip can happen. Within a week we had two wonderful options, both from close friends we trusted immensely.

As much as I hated to admit, the stars were aligning. And the more we walked the path, the decision was making itself clear. This window that had been opened, clearly could not be closed again.

Although, the decision had made itself known, it took us some time to speak it aloud, as if the commitment could implode the world.

“Bing!”

“Bing!”

Rachel’s phone, then mine, as if right on cue to announce the obvious, chimed as we hopped in our van one day, after walking in the park. Our permits had been approved.

There was no going back.

I immediately thought of my friend, I hadn’t seen in years. He had told us tales of his time on the trail, and I had been meaning to reconnect. I had to let him know.

With this it was official. We are hiking the PCT.

Nothing Special

As I’ve read other people’s accounts of why they are hiking the PCT, I’ve searched myself as well. I’ve read stories as if it were their destiny, a transcendence of life.

I’ve tried to find this in me. I don’t think that I’ve found it. There’s no heroine story that makes me special, or a reason for why I must do this. I am no Cheryl Strayed. I am nothing special.

I am a white man, who’s almost 40. I am privileged to have the freedom to walk for 5 months. I am nothing special. I am not destined.

I would like to believe I’m special. I think we all want to have that to hold onto. But, I know that I am not. I don’t mean to say this in some self-deprecating, woe is me way. I certainly have talents. I have skills, and I have value. But that’s different. I am not deserving, or destined. The world owes me nothing. There’s no god who has anointed me.

We are all alike this way.

Being Human

So why hike 2,650 miles for 5 months? Why hike from border to border, California to Canada, through desert and mountain passes?

Maybe because I can. I can choose to remove myself from the luxuries of civilization. And, that is something I crave. To walk as our ancestors did. To move on a daily basis. To leave the computer screens. To trade the backache of a desk chair, for sore feet and dirty skin. To unplug from what I think I am. To feel human again.

To eat. To think. To walk.

No distraction but those of nature.

I want to escape from the social cylinders, and synthetic life that we’ve been sold. I want to socially distance myself from the algorithms auctioning off my attention. I want to aim it where I please, let it off leash to wander free.

I just want to be human again. At least for a few months.