Expectations versus Realities

It may come as little surprise to some that my research about the Pacific Crest Trail was somewhat limited, one sided and self serving. I read some books, YouTubed a lot about tents, the best type of shoe to buy for thru-hikes and joined a Facebook group and read the annual PCT gear survey. I mainly YouTubed about female hygiene and hiking as I love showers and I love moisturising my face and hands. 

Most of the information on the internet and in books is for people heading from the Mexican border to the Canadian border - North Bound (NOBO). Many of the apps/maps/navigation are designed for heading NOBO. To make things harder for ourselves we decided to head South Bound (SOBO). To be fair, it was (actually) more to do with timing and saving money as we could start in June rather than April if we went SOBO rather than NOBO. 

"They" say, when the snotel at Harts Pass gets to zero SOBO hikers are good to go. I just assumed this meant that once this magical date came around all the snow would be gone. Also, I didn't think there would be snow anyway as it would be Summer here in Washington, USA. It is fair to say that this was a mistake of Australian proportions!  Of the little information I had about SOBO specific hiking, all I knew to be imperative was that we had to be at Kennedy Meadows in California by early October to beat the snow in the Sierras. We* had done so much research on how to hike to the Canadian border without backtracking that we didn't do much research on the specifics of the actual PCT (you can't lawfully enter directly onto the PCT from Canada). It would be a well signed, well paved, two abreast hike. Right. 

* Neil. 

Fast forward from Day 1 to now... about 12 days ... we have hiked in snow every day. Some days for up to 12 hours. My feet look like what I imagine a white walker's feet would look like. 

What is hard? 

I thought the hike would be hard; hard in the sense of long and tiring and full of logistical, resupply, hitchhiking issues (that Neil would deal with and I would just say yay or nay as required). This is the easy part. The walking happens and the food happens (with some effort).

But I didn't expect the hike to be technically and emotionally difficult and lead to the most fearful and intense moments of my life. I didn't expect to ford rivers waist deep (Robinson Creek Trail), to cling to rock or tree roots so tight you would happily grind your fingers to bone to avoid falling down a snow cliff, to feel hypothermic and be delighted by the Michelin status of 6 noodle strands, warm water and a 'chicken' stock cube. 

The level of concentration required to not slip, to not trip, to not posthole through ice is something that never crossed my mind till this past fortnight. So many times I thought 'what could possibly be around this corner, I just don't want to feel scared or life-threatened. Please can I just walk'.The level of adrenaline and cortisol running through our bodies at Rocky Pass, Cutthroat Pass, Mica Lake and Fire Creek Pass must have been epic. For the three days after traversing these passes my body would send these weird surges of pinpricks to my entire back each time of nearly slipped or lost my footing. I don't know if it was because there was no more left in the fight/flight reponse system or my body politely saying 'please, stop, rest'. But when you are in the middle of nowhere in an icebowl and have no trail or footprints to follow the only way out is onwards (forward or backward); either way, you are walking yourself out. There's no car or phone call to make (but we do have the Garmin Inreach SE + for those playing at home).

Before this trip, the word 'arrest' meant to apprehend someone with reasonable suspicion of committing an offence. I had no idea that it meant to apprehend yourself with poles or spikes or hands or glacial undergrowth to prevent yourself from falling from a ledge. It seems obvious now. Walking up to Fire Creek Pass I got about 90% of the way with my spikes and poles but as the top approached I let my poles hang and clawed my way, like something out of the Princess Bride, on all fours hands, to the top, in a desperation to be on a flat surface. Somehow, that tactile connection, seemed right albeit probably less secure. 

Perhaps it is not as objectively difficult as my experience would feel. But for the snow-naive (and my general 'it will be fine' approach) it has taken me to a new limit. One I don't wish to replicate frequently. Having said that, I don't wish I knew more before I started as it may have changed my mind about heading SOBO. We are safe, working together and through the majority of the tricky stuff (and we got to bum-toboggan down some slopes, voluntarily).

Many, of the few, people we have met on the SOBO hike have not taken mirco spikes with them. I am not sure if they are simply more experienced in such conditions or if the 200 grams outweighs the benefits they offer! Either could be equally true. One of the boys I speak of had his stuff struck by lightning so his pack is lighter and smaller now! 

It sounds rough. But it has been an incredibly beautiful, raw and challenging experience so far. The sun has mostly shone and the majesty of the mountains provides a warm humility and calmness about the bigger, 'real' world. We learn more every day and I am grateful to all the kind strangers that have helped us in the past weeks (with warm beds and fresh cookies, hitching, hot potatoes, extra gas provisions, sandwiches, chats and friendly faces at the Squirrel Tree).

Observations:

1. The amount of hair that comes out after a week of not touching it is insane!

2. It was unrealistic to write a blog post each night. Its realistic to eat and put up a tent at best. 

3. American steaks are amazing. 

4. Toenails are optional.

We hitch to Stevens Pass today to continue. 

Stay safe.

J x