PCT Day 0: Back to Where it all Started

Holy smokes, I’m nervous. It’s not totally surprising, I guess. Even though I’m only hiking on the PCT for three weeks, it’s a trip worth getting excited for, and as I hurtle towards the start date, that excitement is taking a crap in my stomach.

Sigh. It is always this way, before a big trip. And I suppose that I’m lucky to appreciate my apprehension for what it is, a gift. I’m lucky to feel this way. It’s a privilege. This wisdom, if I can call it that, is sort of the reason I’m sitting in a shuttle van, surrounded by strange hikers, a warm burrito on my lap as we rush east on the interstate towards Camp, CA. Towards the southern terminus of the PCT. It’s raining outside. Not what I expected. But I guess that surprise is another reason that I’m heading back to the start, almost ten years to the day that I began my first long walk across the country.

We’re here now, at Camp CLEEF, or something like that. I’ve forgotten the meaning of the acronym twice already, and I don’t feel like doing it a third time. Already this is different than 2015. There was no campground near the border back then, and the weather was warm. The burrito was the same, however, from my favorite spot in San Diego. I was with old friends. Now, I’m aloof and isolated. I don’t want to be that old guy talking about how much he’s hiked already, but how can I have a conversation without it coming up? Hiding it is uncomfortable too, though, so I sit quietly as conversations whisper around me. I’m nervous. It’s raining outside. How cool is this?

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So what the heck is going on, right? Tomorrow morning, I start hiking north from the US-Mexico border on the PCT. Somehow, some way, it’s been a whole decade since I blew up my comfortable life in San Diego and hiked the PCT, and I’m back to revisit, reflect, recapture, and notice. I don’t know what will be different, or what will be the same, and that’s what I’m here to find out, to dredge the depths of my memory for the smells, sensations, and sights that have been painted over in the intervening years. To see how the trail, trail culture, and world have changed. To see how much I’ve changed. In many ways, hiking the PCT in 2015 was the beginning of my life as it is today, and on this anniversary, I’m circling back to that start. Without expectation, here I am, as I was.

So much is different, so much is the same. This exploration, this experiment, will be weird. It will be hard and sublime. I was tested back then and I’m looking for a challenge this time around, but will my feet sprout a multitude a blisters again? That would suck. I like to think that I’m a more capable thru-hiker these days, so everything should be easier, right? Maybe not, and hubris is a bitch.

Spring in the desert is magical. Taking a lap on the bottom stretch of the PCT wouldn’t be the first choice for a lot of folks, but it is for me. There will only ever be one first thru-hike for AtHome (that’s me!), and this is the place where it began. Those first days and weeks, the first 100 miles, wow, those were cool. The possibilities, excitement, and nerves, a potent brew that cured into the foundation of who I am today. Ten years haven’t padded their punch one bit, and I feel rooted to my past self through this nervous excitement that I’m feeling now. As was true back then, I hope that the worst of it fades with the first few steps. It’s just walking, after all, and I’m good at walking. Want to come along? Here we go.

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It may or may not interest you, but it has also been ten years since I started blogging about hiking. The PCT was my first swing at the daily format that I’ve kept ever since, for better and worse. I’ll be referring to those words and those from my written journal as I hike during the coming weeks. If you want to as well, you can find them on the now classic threeveweaver.wordpress.com. The start is a little rough, but they do get better. I promise.

Hold onto your butts.