Camel cccthru-hiker

For as long as I can remember I’ve enjoyed the thrill of endurance endeavours. From an early age I showed promise in cross country and long distance athletic events. For me it wasn’t just the satisfaction of taking on and sometimes beating my peers, it was also the burning of my lungs, the building tightness in my legs and the clarity of mind which all came with pushing my body’s limits. In more recent times I have used this intrinsic love of all things endurance to push myself in ultra and trail running as well as fast packing adventures throughout Australia, New Zealand and Sri Lanka. This love of pushing my limits has sometimes come at the cost of enjoying the outdoors with friends and family who have an different and possibly more wholesome way of enjoying nature. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy leisurely bushwalking trips with mum where there’s a chance to take everything in and actually stick to the recommended time frame. I do know, however, that I have a reputation amongst a lot of my friends for deliberately underestimating the difficultly and duration of certain hikes and that certainly isn’t everybody’s cup of tea. In more recent years I have developed a strong friendship with fellow Tasmanian, Hamish Lockett. He has a very similar mentality to me when it comes to outdoor adventures. I think we would both agree that our enjoyment of the outdoors is equal parts the scenery and wildlife as it is pushing yourself physically and mentally. As a result we have organised many fast packing trips to remote southwest Tasmania in recent times. I’ve loved every minute of these tests of physical endurance in the stunningly beautiful cool temperate environments of my island home.

The Pacific Crest Trail by design pushes your limits. 4200km is a long way by anybody’s standards and by just touching the dry dusty sand at the Mexican border, any individual is committing a huge undertaking of sustained endurance. For me though the mentality of going further and faster than anybody else could not simply be switched off. As I covered in my previous blog I started pretty late by desert standards from the Southern Terminus. 10am may not seem as if I’ve had a big sleep in, but you have to remember that we are talking about deep Southern California a week out from the start of Summer (although in the US it’s technically not until the summer solstice). Everybody else starting from the most southern point of the PCT that day had already left, some as early as 6:30 in the morning. Somewhat consciously my focus had been to track them all down as soon as possible. But why? This was day one of a trip that I have committed four months of my life to. They were my peers, not my competitors but I still found that burning desire from within to prove myself early. It’s a strange thing because in recent times I haven’t really competed in many events other than a few road marathons and smaller trail races, opting to build my own adventures in the mountains instead. Even racing in previous years I’ve only been competitive at a relatively low level, often struggling with injury. I think I have this innate need to prove what I can do, even in an environment as social and as unimportant as day one on a trail that spans an entire country.

When I caught up with James and Windward we then pushed forward, eventually passing everyone who had started earlier that morning. Mission complete right? Tomorrow I push on and leave everybody far behind. This last line of thought is something that I have been grappling with ever since. I have four months to complete my PCT journey. This isn’t in the realm of unusual. It’s on the faster side of what is commonly achieved and a goal for a lot of hikers out here. Did I want to get to Canada a month early just because I think I can and miss out on time on trail? That would mean an additional 4 weeks in Canada to the 3 weeks I already have booked. I don’t even have the budget for 7 weeks in Canada, not to mention the fact that this thru-hike is why I flew to the other side of the world. Justifying international air travel by the fact that I will be foot powered for the majority of my time here.

By day two on the Pacific Crest Trail I had met Footlooze at Lake Morena. Once again an existing trail name, suggesting some prior experience. Footlooze had done the Te Araroa the previous year, spanning the entire length of New Zealand. This experience and ability of hers shone through immediately. Windward and I had left James behind at this point (I can’t stress enough how fast James is now a few weeks later) as he was battling with the high desert temperatures. As we pushed forward we passed Footlooze, but never for long. All it took was a 10 minute siesta or a break to filter water from a creek and she flew back past us. I was starting to realise something that should have been pretty obvious. A lot of people out here have a lot of ability and know exactly how to implement it. No one other than Windward was chatting about doing the kind of mileage I was interested in implementing. Perhaps I was being naive wishing to drastically increase the distances I was covering within the first few days on trail but that hunger for the endurance thrill was building and Windwards experience and desire to push bigger days validated the way I was feeling. Footlooze, Windward and I camped together that night. Having now completed the entire 700 mile desert section this second night was one of only two times that I’ve been cold on trail (the other being San Jacinto summit, 3000m). We camped at 1600m and the wind was fierce. I had packed my Leki trail running Z poles instead of my telescopic poles which are adjustable but had been bent (wouldn’t pack down fully) on a previous Aotearoa trip. I love my trail running poles but I knew very well that they didn’t suit my tent. I have brought my Durston single man tent which uses your tracking poles as tent poles. My Z poles were too short when fully extended for my tent to be taught and that night with the high winds, I ended up sleeping with my tent just laying on top of me. Yet another mistake with my gear that would need to be rectified.

I had decided the next day that I would shoot off and leave Footlooze behind but after stopping for a coffee together mid morning I realised that her plans to our first town (Julian) were not too dissimilar to mine. At that moment I made a decision that I have repeated many times over my first month on trail. You can push miles and be social at the same time. So Footlooze and I stuck together for the next two and a half days before heading into Julian for our first NERO (a partial day off). Windward had pushed on ahead of Footlooze and I and I didn’t expect to see him again until Julian. Unfortunately however we came across Windward set up in his tent near a road at the 100km mark. He had experienced sudden knee pain which had gotten progressively worse throughout the day. He hitched to Julian and we caught up with him later the following day. I’d expected Windward to make a quick recovery as he was experiencing the pain after loading up his IT band and hadn’t twisted his knee at all. To my surprise Windward eventually had to end his Pacific Crest Trail journey just 100km in after spending several days in Julian with little improvement to his condition. Here was this young and already accomplished hiker out so early. It was eye opening and made me realise that there’s no guarantees out here. I have no doubt Windward will be back and better than ever in years to come.

After Julian, I decided it was time to lock in and have a big day. I said goodbye to Footlooze and charged up the climb from Scissor Crossing. I had my first big day on trail covering 52km in hot conditions, passing many thru-hikers along the way. Keep in mind that the southern Californian desert is far from flat. It is at constant elevation with nothing getting close to sea level with mountain range after mountain range as far as the eye can see. This was it, I was living my perfect version of the PCT. Or was I? As I set up my tent that night with a few cattle and energetic frogs for company having just been spooked by a Coyote, I thought to myself, “I miss my friends.” Am I going to spend the next 3-4 months making acquaintances as I quickly pass through and never develop a trail family? I was doing it wrong. The Pacific Crest Trail is about the people first. It’s a lifestyle, not a sprint.