Mile 2609.6 – 2638.7

This journey was always a series of days. The basic structure of each day was the same: wake up, eat, walk, eat, walk, eat, sleep. These things were certain. They were the anchor points of each day. Something you could count on.
It was important to have these anchor points because everything else was uncertain. Where will I sleep? Who will I meet? Will there be water? Can I keep going? These were all open questions that you couldn’t know the answer to until they actually happened. And that was the beauty of this journey. It was open ended and the ending was never certain. I simply faced myself north with my back to the Mexican border and started walking. I never knew what was around the next bend, over the next mountain or on the otherside of the next river. It was an exercise in adaptation and flexibility, perseverance and persistence, and mental and physical fortitude. It was an experiment in self-reliance. Of taking a step into the unknown and not looking back. This journey didn’t come without its costs, however. The casualties were my job and life in New York City, time with friends and family, not being there for my nephew’s birth and sister’s college graduation. But what journey of this magnitude is without costs? When we commit to do something, we are missing out on 99.99% of everything else, and that is why we must chose wisely. We must make sure that that 0.01% is worth missing out on that 99.99% of everything else.

There were many reasons why I wanted to walk the Pacific Crest Trail. I wanted to test myself and see what I was made of. I wanted to walk through beautiful landscapes and create beautiful pictures. I wanted to experience a silence and stillness that didn’t exist in New York City.
What I experienced out here is something that I will hold dear to my heart. The kindness of others, the community that surrounds the trail, and the bonds and friendships that formed in days not years. These unexpected experiences were just a few that left a mark on me.

Sleeping and living outside for almost five months reinforced my perspective that man is just passing through this world. The mountains and rivers are indifferent to our presence. Whether we live or die seeking their highest peaks and furthest banks, is none of their concern. We are just blips on their millennia spanning time lines. To think that we can control the forces of nature is but a short-sighted approach for a short lived people. We must live within the world not seek to dominate it.

Over this journey, I learned that I want to share my experiences with others. I have been doing this with pictures for sometime, but this blog turned out to be a happy accident. I want to take my mom camping, continue my yearly backpacking trips with my dad, introduce Bryce, Katie, and Ben to backpacking, and continue my outdoor adventures with Lucy. If everyone could experience what I have out here, I think the environmental issues we face would have such grassroots support that they couldn’t be ignored.

I also learned a little bit about misery. Wet feet, shoes, and socks for a month. Walking through freezing rivers swollen with snowmelt. Walking across sun cupped snow for 10 hours and only covering 10 miles. Gasping for air at elevation. Numb hands and toes. These things I faced by choice, but many people face them and worse as part of their daily lives. How lucky I am to be able to chose to do this or not. Many people don’t have that choice.
I have changed since the start of this journey, and I think I will be digesting those changes for some time to come.

Someone asked me before I left if I thought I could do it. If I thought I could hike the entire Pacific Crest Trail. I told him, “I don’t know, but I intend to find out.” Tomorrow, I will know the answer.