Today we start our adventure. Or, has it started already? The last week and weeks before have felt like a cascading list of todos, each one leading to the next, eventually arriving at:
Get dropped off in campo, Ca.
Car drives away.
Walk.
The last few weeks have been busy. Today feels like a dream, where you’re not sure if you’re awake. We awoke at 4 am, drove to Fresno with my mother from Turlock, CA. At 7:15 am we boarded a plane.
I mentally measure my distance from others. It appears less than six feet when we sit in our seats. After all this time of distancing, it’s like we’re now threading the needle. Eventually we will emerge in San Diego where my friend Ramon will pick us up and transport us to Campo. From there we stitch ourselves into the trail, tethering it into our memories. Hopefully we will touch Canada, some day distant from now.
For now I look out the window as we taxi to our takeoff. Airplanes sit parked on the tarmac. The sunrise is burning across the east. Rachels eyes are closed. Tired, now she’s sneaking sleep. She’s always been better at sleeping on planes than me. I’m happy she can rest.
I wait to feel the liftoff. Down the runway, building speed, my stomach is pulled toward my spine.. lightness ensues we lift into the air.
I see the mountains over the right wing, capped with snow. They look cold. We will be there someday. But not yet today. Hopefully the snow melts by the time we reach those heights.
We dissapear into the clouds, and then into the sunshine.
San Diego
My friend Ramon picks us up from the airport.
“What do you guys want to do? You want to get some food or anything?”
Yeah we say, some Mexican food would be great. We cruise eastward and stop at a Mexican hole in the wall. Ramon refuses to let us pay and we eat outside sipping jamaica. It feels good to be back in San Diego, the sun shining, and the cool ocean air refreshes the soul as it enters my lungs.
Ramon is stoked about our trip. He says he’s always wanted to do it and he’s been reading about the trail the last few weeks since finding out we were hiking it. He seems more knowledgeable than me about some aspects.
“Yeah I was looking at the map. It looks like it’s a bunch of switchbacks before Lake Morena” he says.
Lake Morena is the first piece of civilization we’ll hit on day 2, about 20 miles from our start.
We ride in Ramon’s hybrid for about an hour and a half, chatting, and winding our way closer to the Mexican border. Eventually the border wall comes into view. You can’t help but be reminded of president Trump’s promise to “build the wall”, even though this section was in place long before he ever had political aspirations. We spot two border patrol agents in the hills looking between some large boulders, nestled in the desert shrubs. Never seen that before.
A short while later we arrive in Campo, CA and we drive up a dirt road heading directly toward the border wall. The wall is composed of metal with spaces in between so you can see through into mexico. It almost appears as if it’s a reflection.
Ramon parks his van below the wall right below the PCT terminus monument. We have arrived. After all this preparation we have finally arrived at the beginning.
Ramon tosses out a plastic tarp in the dirt and we unpack and reorganize our bags. We top off our water bottles with the gallon jugs Ramon brought for us. The first two days will be dry, and the sun is warm today. We have about 20 miles to civilization and only 1-2 streams between to refill from. Rachel and I carry a gallon each, twice as much as we normally would.
After some pictures and chit chat, we bid Ramon farewell, and thank him for all of his help. Then we begin to walk. Ramon waves out his window. Now we must trust our feet.
After driving and flying and packing and preparing it finally feels good to walk. The air is warmer than we expected, given the storms and reports from the prior days. It’s a good day to start the PCT.
We can’t believe we’re here. Our mind are still busy from the prior days to get here. But now all we must do is walk.
At about 4 miles in we encounter a stream, and anothore couple hiking. We say hellos then settle next to the stream pulling snacks from our bags. Mango. Nuts. Water. We relax and enjoy the moment.
“This is our life now” I say to Rachel. She smiles and repeats the phrase. It’s a phrase we often joke about. Right now it’s like pinching ourselves. Yes this is real.
We pack up our bags and top off our water and continue hiking up. Around 4 pm we begin to look for a camp. We’re about 10 miles into our hike and low on sleep were keen to setup camp. We spot a place sitting behind a large stone, with a view overlooking the valley from where we came. If you try real hard you can still see the border wall. On the hillsides behind it, we spot wind turbines turning in mexico.
We eat a dinner of quinoa and chicken. As we’re eating we hear a howell. We assume it’s human but then don’t see anyone to accompany it.
Maybe that was actually a coyote I say. It was a pretty strong howl. “maybe” Rachel agrees, but then we hear someone singing, confirming our earlier suspicion. A short while later, a fit looking man bounces around the corner, greeting us in stride. He introduces himself as Shepherd, offering us each a fist bump, complimenting our campsite, then continues up the trail.
“I don’t have a trail name” I say to Rachel.
“I don’t know how that works” she says. “Can I give you a trail name and you give me a trail name?”
“I’m not sure” I say, and neither of us certain, give it further thought.
I think to myself, maybe I can be called “coyote”. I feel like I could be one. What must one do to earn the name coyote? Howell at the moon? Or is that just wolves? Who knows. I’m sure someone does, but not me at this moment.
We crawl into bed early. Its well before 6, and maybe close to 5. We drift off to sleep, nestled in our tent, hidden in the desert.
Every so often helicopters buzz by in different directions, waking me and I wonder what they’re doing. Is it border patrol? I do not know. I drift back to sleep.
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