The days following my first day on trail were challenging and fun. My first week was an eye-opener. A test of strength and mental endurance. A taste of what was yet to come. Every day I gave it my best, taking on obstacles as they came, learning to walk from water source to water source. I didn’t dare look at the grand out-stretched map of the PCT, no, that would be far too daunting and discouraging. Instead, I narrowed my focus on every 10 miles, now that, I could do.
Day 2
The trail meandered up, down, and around hills. Then it reached the infamous Hauser Creek at mile 15.4, an important and usually reliable water source in the first few miles of the PCT. But I didn’t stop to fill up on water because I had previously filled up a mile back. Instead, I kept going, wanting to get as far as I could before it became too hot to hike.
The trail went up, up, up. Two miles of shadeless, incessant uphill on sun-exposed switchbacks. I stopped to sit on rocks along the way, mindful to look out for potential hidden snakes. Flies and bees were a collective hum in the dry air.
By 11:30am, I made it to mile 17. I was going pretty slow, so I decided to take a break. There was a nice big patch of granite rock with a beautiful view and a wonderfully cool breeze. It felt so good to take my shoes off and let my feet breathe. I was already getting some pretty significant blisters on the sides of my big toes. Thankfully it didn’t hurt too bad to walk, but their increasing size was a cause for concern.
After an hour of resting my feet and sipping on water, I decided to forge ahead. It was 12:30pm. The mid-day sun shone brightly, but the heat was moderated by a delightfully cool breeze sweeping up over the rock I’d been sitting on. I wanted to keep going even though I knew the heat could become a problem. It was only another 3 miles to Lake Morena – the first official campground along the PCT. Like a dangling carrot within reach, I enticed myself with the notion of a shower upon arrival. Three miles? That’s nothing!
As it turns out, 3 miles can really be something… As soon as I departed from the exposed slab of granite rock, the air became stifling. The trail meandered away from the exposed, breezy sections, and instead, went inland, becoming walled by thick clusters of shrubs which prevented any lick of a breeze from reaching me.
The air was hot, stagnant, and sweltering – all made worse by the white sand at my feet reflecting the sun’s heat. My feet were burning from the hot sand. I had to keep going though, because the surrounding shrubs didn’t provide adequate shade, and I was starting to run low on water. I had no choice but to keep going.
As I kept putting one foot in front of the other, knowing every step was bringing me closer to Lake Morena, flies buzzed around my head. In a moment of distraction, I lost my footing, not having seen a small piece of exposed rock that jutted out from the white sand. I lost my balance and came crashing down to the ground. A solid thud, as I fell to my hands and knees. Please don’t let me have a twisted ankle! It’s only Day 2…
I slowly stood up and assessed me legs and feet. Everything seemed to be in order, no sharp pains as I rolled my ankles one by one to assess their movement. But there was a large gash on my left knee that was bleeding. I got lucky, no injuries beyond a scraped knee and a few scratches. Phew!
When I finally made it to Lake Morena, I was so relieved. I took off my heavy pack and set up camp. I also threw a few items into the hiker box, an attempt to remove some of the weight from my pack. I discovered the showers really did exist and weren’t just a mere rumour. Thank goodness! Beyond cleansing the dust from my arms and legs, I desperately needed to clean up my bleeding knee before it got infected.
At the designated PCT section of the campground I met Dustbunny – a hiker from Indiana with a strong build and cropped brown-ginger hair which was rarely seen under the cap he always wore. I soon discovered he was very kind and quite funny!
Another hiker joined as well, Rod from the UK. He was an older gentleman I’d met a couple days ago and we’d seen each other in passing since. He was factual, as having been an investment analyst in his early days, but fun to talk to and get intel from, as he’d done thorough research on the hike.
Brightside made it to the campground as well, relieved to have also made it here. She whipped her green backpack off and joined us, after having spent some time cooling off in the welcoming shade of the trees.
Two other hikers also joined the campsite after I’d already retreated to my tent.
Day 3
I started hiking at 5am. The two hikers that joined last night weren’t far behind.
The hike started out in a foggy sage brush valley. The air was wonderfully cool and smelled so good. I saw several bunnies hopping among the shrubs. I crested over the first mountain just in time to catch the sunrise. The youthful morning light gently kissed my cheeks, a reassuring nudge to validate my journey.
After coming down from the mountain, the trail led me through a long stretch of grass-covered land. The path was barely visible under the encroaching grass. I constantly tapped my trekking pole in front of me to ward off any potential snakes that may be camouflaged under the blades of grass. There were also spider webs everywhere. Their intricately spun webs glistened in the dewy morning air.
A down-side to being the first hiker out and about is the plethora of webs you need to march through in the morning. The ones that glistened in the morning light, I caught in time and swept away using one of my trekking poles. But other thin, and indistinguishable webs, I would end up walking straight through, getting a face full of sticky cobwebs – an unwelcome surprise I could never get used to.
The last 2.2 miles to Fred Canyon were an absolute slog. It was 11am and the merciless sun was beating down on me. The trail hugged a ridgeline with full sun exposure. I walked as fast as I could, trying to get myself closer to the next water source at Fred Canyon which I desperately hoped had shade. There was an infrequent cool breeze that swept along the mountain side and provided short relief from the heat.
I finally made it to Fred Canyon. There were plenty of big trees and shade. Yay! I ripped my pack and shoes off and went to go stand in the refreshing creek.
Dustbunny and Rod soon joined. The two hikers I’d seen this morning also weren’t far behind; Speedgoat, a tall, brown haired and wide-eyed woman from North Carolina, and her friend Snow Angel, a short and athletic woman with an inviting smile from Florida. Both in their early 20’s.
Brightside and several other sun-kissed hikers stemming from Texas, Washington, New Zealand, and Israel also congregated. We enthusiastically recounted our days and previous hiking experiences, and excitedly talked about the path ahead.
Day 4
I woke up at 4am, packed up my things and forced myself to eat breakfast knowing I’d need the calories. As I started on my way, my headlamp dimmed and suddenly shut off. Danggit, it’s out of battery. I jostled my phone out of its pouch in the dark, and held it in front of me to use as a guiding light. It was far from ideal but better than nothing.
The whole morning was a constant walk uphill. My shoulders hurt, and my neck seared in pain, as my pack was still too heavy to properly sit on my hips, putting far too much strain on my shoulder muscles. I tried adjusting my straps all morning, but it only marginally relieved the pain for short periods of time.
After a long, arduous uphill trek, the trail delightfully flattened out at 5,948 feet and began winding between pine trees, the smell of sun-baked pine needles an invitation to continue. I was surprised to suddenly be immersed in a coniferous forest amidst the desert valleys below. It’s amazing how much of an impact a difference in altitude can have on the distribution of plant communities.
The pain in my feet and aching legs became unbearable, rendering my stride to a mere baby-stepping hobble. In the hiker community, this is known as the “hiker shuffle” – a common occurrence for thru-hikers, especially in their first few weeks.
I slowly walked into Mt. Laguna – a small mountain town, stopping every now and then to chat with curious by-standers. Everyone seemed really supportive and friendly out here.
We all gathered at the Pine Café and Tavern in Mt. Laguna. Rod, Dustbunny, Brightside, Speedgoat, Snow Angel, along with some of the other hikers from the night before in Fred Canyon. Fixit and Tiger Lilly, a hiking duo from Kansas and Oklahoma also joined our little reunion.
Later on, we set up camp. My legs and feet hurt so badly, I could hardly move. I was worried that I wouldn’t be able to continue on. I was exhausted, but I couldn’t sleep due to the painful throbbing sensation in my legs and feet which kept me lying awake for several hours.
Day 5
It was a cold, crisp morning. It took a lot of self-discipline to crawl out of my warm, cozy sleeping bag, and putting on my cold clothes was a teeth-chattering experience. I was pleasantly surprised that I could still move my legs and feet and they actually felt pretty good.
The mountain valleys were hazy with thick clouds of smoke. I trudged forward cautiously, worried that I was perhaps walking towards an active forest fire. I later discovered from another hiker that the smoke was attributed to an ongoing controlled burn. It put my mind at ease, but I was still a little stunned, I didn’t think I’d have to worry about forest fires until I reached northern California.
I hung out at the Pioneer Mail picnic area from 10am – 3pm. Our tramily (trail family) trickled in one by one; Rod, Dustbunny, Brightside, Speedgoat, and Snow Angel all joining as time passed.
As we hung out there in the shade, a trail angel came by and brought us snacks and candy! [A trail angel is someone who voluntarily supports hikers and usually offers them food, beverages, or a place to stay.] It was really heart-warming to have this kind of unsolicited hospitality bestowed upon us.
After the long, much-need break, I forged ahead. The views were spectacular, but the critters clinging to the trail’s encroaching shrubs were repulsive… there were millions of caterpillars EVERYWHERE. Whenever I stopped to take in the view or sip on water, I could hear them munching away at all the shrubs’ foliage. Eek. Those poor photosynthesizers, having to succumb to the predation of insatiable caterpillars. If you accidently brushed past any of the caterpillar-infested shrubs, you’d have caterpillars clinging down the length of your arm. It was also impossible to avoid them on the path, so as I walked, I tried to ignore the fact that I was smooshing caterpillars under my feet. Yikes.
Day 6
The wind was relentless last night! It swooped in, in aggressive gusts, pounding the walls of my tent. I thought my tent would be blown away or at least ripped to shreds. When I finally awoke after a fitful sleep, I was surprised to find everything still intact.
As I started my day, the wind was still blowing forcefully, sweeping low-lying clouds over distant mountain-tops. The morning sunrise was majestically beautiful once again. The mountains were disparately shaded, with their crests being accentuated by the soft morning light. It was a breath-taking scene, continually shifting and evolving.
I trekked on towards the next water source. The sun and flies increasingly making themselves known as I continued along the dirt path. I was careful to not trip over the intermittent rocks strewn across the trail, I didn’t want to risk falling again.
The last 2 miles to the water source were brutal. In these past few days I’ve discovered that for some reason it’s always the last 2 miles to a destination that require the greatest mental will-power. It’s a feeling of almost being there and yet still being so far away. And in my Canadian kilometer-oriented mind I kept thinking that 2 miles was like 2 kms, but it’s an additional 1.2 kms on top of that – which may not seem like a big difference, but when you’re in a state of mind that’s weighed heavily by the consequences of thirst and heat, the idea of an upcoming break is all you can focus on, and start to dread upon when it takes longer than you think it should to get there.
When I finally made it to the water source, Tiger Lilly and Fixit were there along with a few other hikers, sitting under the shade of a single shrub. I was happy to see them. They departed soon after I filtered the fresh well water.
Our tramily trickled in one by one, as became our routine. I tried to nap for a bit to pass the time, but it was almost too hot to even do that. I simply laid on my sleeping mat sweating, waiting for the heat of the day to pass.
Day 7
Everybody hitched a ride into the town of Julian today, with the alluring promise of free pie for thru-hikers. I decided to stay behind. I still had enough food so I didn’t need to re-supply, and I didn’t feel quite ready to go back to experiencing the dizzying speed of a car and to re-taste civilization. I continued on, hoping they would be able to catch up to me later that day.
I made it to the water cache under a highway overpass. It was the last water source for another 11.8 miles. I could’ve hung out there for my mid-day break, but decided to keep going since it was still relatively early in the morning. Turns out that was a big mistake.
As the trail departed from the shaded highway overpass, it started winding through a hilly landscape of sand and blooming cacti. They were beautiful, so many different kinds I hadn’t yet seen before. After admiring their beauty, I came to the realization that I’d be in trouble. A plethora of cacti like this only graces the hottest of landscapes. Waiting out the mid-day heat today would be unbearable, and it was.
I stopped at mile 79.4, in a canyon with only scraps of shade from a few small shrubs. Better than nothing I suppose. It was either this, or continue along the arid hillsides with zero shade.
The heat was brutal. I set up my tent for additional shade, but it was swelting hot, even with the mesh of both doors wide open. I was worried about getting heat exhaustion, or worse, heat stroke. I infrequently sipped water, using all my willpower to not gulp it all down in one go. Why didn’t I fill up on more water at the overpass? Why didn’t I STAY at the wonderfully shaded overpass?
All I could do was simply lay there in the shade of my tent which was being pounded by direct sunlight. I tried to move as little as possible, in hopes that my body retained its moisture. I felt like a baking hot potato.
I tried sitting under a bush outside with my umbrella to gain access to the slightest of breezes. It was okay for some time, until my butt caved into an animal’s underground tunnel. Whoops. I quickly moved after that, worried the animal would return to seek vengeance.
Time went by so slowly. Only the collective hum of flies kept me company, with the occasional fluttering butterfly passing by. I checked my watch periodically but only 20 mins would go by at a time. It was a small consolation to know that every passing minute was a minute closer to sun-down.
At about 3pm the wind suddenly picked up. Strong gusts funneled into the canyon, almost causing my tent to unpeg and fly away in the process! I scowered the canyon for decently sized rocks which I used to secure my tent. One can never win with nature. There will always be something to battle against.
I sat on a rock ledge as I watched the sun finally sink into the Earth. I was happy to see her go, to finally have a break from her cruel dominion. The cool night air was a welcoming relief. Stars began making an appearance, twinkling in the sky. Just as I was wondering whether my newly found friends would find me, I heard familiar voices rounding the canyon wall. I was so happy to see them!
Dustbunny, Speedgoat, Snow Angel, and Brightside returned from their day in Julian. They filled me in on their day, and then convinced me to join them in cowboy camping under the stars. It was a beautiful evening with a slight breeze and no bugs. The milky way was splattered across the sky, and the large round moon shone as bright as a blinding flashlight. We fell asleep wondering where Rod might’ve gone.
“Those poor photosynthesizers, having to succumb to the predation of insatiable caterpillars.” YES. This is the type of content I want from a biologist!
I really enjoyed your trip summary of Week #1 on the PCT! My daughter, also from Ontario (but now living in BC) hiked the trail in 2017 so it’s great fun reading your story!
Hey Marianne, thanks for reaching out, I’m glad to hear you enjoy reading about my journey! That’s awesome that your daughter hiked it!
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