A Lot Can Happen in 19 Miles - Day 18 on the PCT

One thing I’ve learned in my month on trail is that a lot can happen over just a few miles. About a week back on April 19th, I hit my record mileage (at the time) at 19 miles. Although much has happened since then, it’s sticking in my memory as a special (and challenging) day that perfectly illustrates how much can happen in a day!

After summiting Mount San Jacinto the day before, I woke up in the clouds at 7700 ft, to frozen water bottles and blistering winds blowing icy pellets onto my tent.

So far mornings have been the hardest for me, across the board. While I knew that the desert gets cold at night, I expected my sleeping bag and Canadian blood to keep me sufficiently comfortable. In reality I have been uncomfortably cold far more than I have been hot out here, and it’s especially bad in the morning when the temperature has ranged from -5 to 10 degrees Celsius, not including windchill. Most mornings I have woken up before light, cold and tired, and laid in my sleeping bag fantasising about leaving the trail and going to an all inclusive resort in Mexico, or returning home where I can wake up slowly, turn up the heat, and sip a cup of coffee on the couch, instead of wrapping myself tightly in my bag, willing myself to leave its warmth and put on my thin and already very smelly hiking clothes and go walk all day... usually uphill. 

This particular morning was no different, although the coldest so far. I finally managed to get out of my bag, put on all my layers of clothes, and ate a partially frozen breakfast bar while hopping up and down in order to warm up my body enough to attempt a couple pre-hike stretches.

My hiking buddies and I left as fast as possible, me practically hobbling on my cold, stiff limbs, while the relentless wind continued to chill me to the bone. It took a couple miles before I finally started to feel my toes and fingers, and then, as has been usual so far, it started to get warm. 

By the time we stopped for second breakfast, the sun was shining and I was starting to sweat. I figured it was only going to get hotter from there, so I took off my long johns and settled down in my shorts for some spoonfuls of peanut butter. A few minutes later it started snowing. :| 

To the amusement of my fellow hikers, I optimistically put on some sunscreen, hoping the errant flakes would burn off soon and the sun would continue shining. It didn’t. We proceeded to walk into a full blown desert snowstorm, at times the wind whipping icy pellets into my face and (now bare) legs with such power it threatened to bowl me over. I can’t describe how weird it was to see the desert plants I’ve been hiking by in the scorching heat now partially obscured by blowing snow flakes. 

The wind has been my most constant companion in the past month. Since leaving Campo (the Southern Terminus), there’s been some form of wind Every. Single. Day. Hot wind, cold wind, wet wind, dry wind, wind blowing my stuff all over the place, wind preventing me from lighting my stove, wind chapping my lips and legs, wind chilling me to the bone, wind literally pushing me off trail, and occasionally, blissfully, wind cooling me and drying my sweat while I hike in the sun (usually resulting in me being cold 5 minutes later). 

The wind and snow continued whipping around me for about an hour. I was starting to get concerned that we wouldn’t make it down the mountain fast enough to avoid getting soaked. Just when I thought I couldn’t bear it a second longer, I turned a corner, stepped out of a cloud, and was suddenly standing in clear air, under blue sky. I’ve never seen such a drastic weather change in my life - my first experience of how quickly weather shifts in the mountains. 

It was pure, utter relief. My spirits up, we continued hiking in the sun, which quickly became hot and dry. By the time we got to the bottom of the mountain, I was ready to stop hiking (after all we’d gone about 15 miles), but of course the wind was so aggressive in the area that we decided to keep hiking. We weren’t sure where we were going to camp... the trail was basically a flat, shrubbed beach (minus the water) with intense wind. Someone suggested heading to an upcoming highway underpass and camping there. I wasn’t too sure about that idea (sounded a bit sketchy to me) but decided to just keep trucking on anyway. 

I was tired, so tired, sore, and my shoes were full of sand as we walked up to the underpass. I felt defeated at the thought of ending this 19 mile day camping with the 3 of us alone under a highway in the middle of the desert. When we walked up, however, we came across one of the most memorable trail magic experiences – 20+ hikers settling in for a night together at the underpass, a beautiful cache of water, pop, beer, and snacks, and an incredible woman who spent hours driving hikers to and from the nearby In-and-Out Burger. 

The PCT has thus far not failed to give me exactly what I need, right when I need it. Sudden reprieve from a snowstorm, a beautiful view, a group of welcoming friends, a surge of energy, an incredibly generous stranger, and a hot burger for dinner after a long day. I ended the day laying side by side with some awesome people, in the weirdest place I’ve ever slept, alongside a little mouse friend who jumped on my sleeping bag in the night and left a couple tiny turds on my groundsheet as a souvenir. A win in my books!

 

For another great example of how the PCT keeps surprising me (and how I surprise myself), check out my recent Instagram post about my NEW record yesterday, 22.2 miles. 

Over and out for now, folks! I’ll check back when I can. Bye for now!