One week to go.
Most times you tell someone you’re hiking the Pacific Crest Trail, you get the sense they’re very impressed. “Wow, 2,600 miles!” “You’re living out of a backpack for five months?” “You’re going how long between showers?” (OK, impressive might not be the word for that last one) Still, it’s a very uncomfortable feeling to be held in awe before you’ve taken a single step down the trail. All I’ve done so far is make myself unemployed and take up temporary residence in my parents’ house. Most of this praise is based on the assumption that I will finish the trail. When I’ve told friends about various concerns — the snowpack in the Sierras, a recurrence of shin splints, mental fatigue — the response has been affirmative but dismissive. “Ah, you’ll make it.” “I have no doubt you’ll find a way through.” Of course, “I believe in you” is better to hear than “I’ll be here for you when you inevitably drop out.” But knowing people expect me to finish has upped the ante on my own expectations. Even knowing that less than half of thru-hikers complete the trail, it’s hard to believe I won’t think of my hike as a failure if I don’t make it to Canada. I’ve spent more than a year planning this hike, and not insignificant amounts of time visualizing what it will be like to reach the end, knowing I’ve notched an accomplishment I can be proud of the rest of my life. More recently, I’ve been buoyed by growing hype from friends and family. I’ve had countless people tell me they’re jealous or proud of me or some combination of the two. Lately I’ve started wondering — am I turning the PCT from a grand adventure into a pass/fail test? Of course I want to finish the trail. But if each day is just something to be endured, a checkmark on the way to my goal, I’m likely to have a miserable five months. Plenty of hikers quit the PCT from mental burnout, just like any physical injury. Talking with Matt yesterday, we affirmed the importance of starting each day committed to more than just making our mileage. Motivation can’t come solely from the finish line hundreds of miles ahead. We’ll need to find it in daily moments, sights, conversations and new friendships. If I reach the end of the PCT, I want to do it propelled by five months of fulfilling experiences, great memories — and, yes, some moments of gritted-teeth let’s just get through this. And if I don’t finish, I still want my time on the trail to be as worthwhile as possible. I’ll be disappointed if my hike ends shy of Canada, but that doesn’t mean it will have been a waste of time if I give it my best shot and fall short. A week from tomorrow, I’ll catch a ride to the Mexican border and start walking north. After that, who knows? I’ll have plenty of time to figure it out along the way. And I plan to have a good time doing it. *photo credit to Ben Fulton