PCT – 1 year later

One year ago today on April 8th, 2018 I set about to walk the 2650 miles of the Pacific Crest Trail. 18 days, 210 miles and 561731 steps later, I would be on my way into Palm Springs having ultimately failed due to injury in completing my journey. I’ve tried several times to write this final blog about my trip but it’s been a difficult thing for me to do.

I write this as I am spending 5 weeks exploring Southeast Asia. Traveling to this part of the world was my back up plan should for some reason I decided not to finish the trail. I didn’t follow through on that at the time but I’m here now and that’s what’s important.

Temple hoping in Angkor Wat a few days ago

I discovered the PCT one day while randomly searching the internet. I remember that night staying up way later than I should have reading all about it. I was intrigued and quickley became obsessed. I spent so many hour researching every aspect of the trail. Reading blogs, watching vlogs, maps, guides or any information I could feast myself upon. I told myself that I could find myself out in the wilderness alone for 6 months. I believed all my problems would magically disappear one forgotten step at a time. That I could forget the trauma, shed the depression and rebuild myself out of dust and tears into a better man. For a brief time it worked.

For the two months leading up to my start on the trail I was so completely stressed that I was giving myself stress induced anaphylactoid reactions. I was getting episodes of hives, short of breath and dizziness pretty much every night. I didn’t figure out the cause until I started my trek and all the symptoms simply stopped. Prior to that I had made several adjustments in my regular life in attempts to find the source of these reactions. It’s only looking back upon that time now that I see what a huge ball of stress I actually was.

Just some of the amazing views I saw while on the trail

The trail was everything I thought it would be and so many things I never could have envisioned. There were days, hours or sometimes even minutes where i would run the entire gambit of human emotion. I laughed, I cried and felt the highest highs and the absolute lowest lows. Every day was a battle, every day that trail kicked my ass and everyday I both loved and hated it for it. It was the most alive I think I’ve ever felt.

11 days into the trail near Idyllwild at 7000 ft it was snowing with the strongest winds I’d experience so far. The snow was sticking sideways onto the trees in what I can only describe as what hell would look like if it indeed froze over. On this day, April 19th I fell, nearly blown off a cliff twisting my right ankle in the process. It hurt and swelled but at the time I was in denial as I wouldn’t fully appreciate what this moment meant for another few days. Fortunately I was able to get myself safely into town that night. Mother Nature laid insult to injury pelting me with hail for the last 30 mins of hobbling that day (it appears I failed to move this photos somewhere I could access on my phone)

Town is Idyllwild

After spending 3 days in Idyllwild resting I felt foolishly optimistic about my physical ability to proceed. Leaving Idyllwild the trail takes you up Mount San Jacinto to 10800 ft. As I walked the pain in my right ankle worsened… I took breaks, I took Tylenol, I took ibuprofen but the pain only continued to worsen. Slowly I began feeling pain in my knee and hip likely because of the way I was compensating for my injured ankle. Somewhere between 8000 & 9000 ft I realized my hike was done… I broke and I cried harder than I had ever cried before. It was like some torrential damn broke right there and then. In this moment I knew I had failed. I had spent the last two years preparing and I knew this could happen but in this moment realizing it was happening, that it has already happened was devastating. By the grace of whatever power exists, at that moment I had decent cell service. I called my girlfriend and I confessed that I would soon be coming home… and I cried some more.

I finished the day at the peak of Mt San Jacinto at 10800 ft. I was determined that i would at least make this summit. From here I could see Desert Palm Springs California and the airport that I would fly out of a few days later. I watch emerged in solitude as the sky turned into a multitude of reds and yellows as the sun set over the valley below. It would take me two full grueling and painful long days to reach Interstate 5 where I would be able to hopefully hitch a ride to my final destination. I listened to podcasts and enjoyed the scenery below as I descended the 10400 feet. My last two days were spent primarily alone with the exception of three US military vets who were hiking the trail together whom I occasionally leap frogged. My last night was spent alone wishing to be anywhere but here but not wanting to leave. On my last day I passed the 200 mile marker and it made me sad.

200 Mile Marker and the view looking back up at Mt San Jacinto from the desert valley.

The last few miles after descending Mt San Jacinto are in the desert valley outside Palm Springs. There was no shade and it was hot with the noon sun in full force. These were the most painful and difficult miles I have ever walked in my life. I would have stopped to rest but there was absolutely no where’s to find any refuge from the sun so I carried on. I wished for hot dogs… of all things in the world I wanted a hotdog. The mind is a strange place. My journey ended with my last steps on the PCT underneath a bridge with interstate 5 above. A well known trail angle “Mama Bear” was there greeting hikers with a big hug as they arrived. I collapsed into this complete strangers arms and cried once again. She offered ice cold drinks and of all things hot dogs to any hiker trash that passed by. Of all the meals I’ve had in my life, this meal I will remember forever.

I gave my brand new water filter and my air mattress to hikers that were having issues with theirs and got a ride into Palm Springs with my hero “Mama Bear”. She dropped me off at the airport where I rented a car, found a hotel room for few nights so I could organize my life and return home.

I came home promising myself that life would be different but I lied. I returned home and within a few weeks had dove straight into my workaholic nature. Every promise I made to myself I broke… every change I desired forgotten. It was tough returning home back to the life I’d ran away from. As the reality of it all set in I found solace in my misery, I was tired all the time, depressed and was either at work trying to hold it all together or hiding alone in my office falling apart. I fell into a very dark lonely painful place and I’ll always be grateful to my friends who helped me realize just how far I’d gone. There has been a lot of tough changes in my personal and professional life over the past year. Not all of them have I fully embraced. But I’m putting in the effort and trying to learn what I need to do to be happy for me. Trying to learn how to be be more honest with myself.

In the end I successfully attempted to do this absolute crazy thing. Something I’m still shocked that I actually followed through on. The trail was never going to fix me… I know that truth honestly now. I was and still am a broken person who is just trying to find his way. I’ve just got a better map these days.

Thank you to everyone who have supported me over the past year. Both during this crazy adventure of mine and the turmoil that proceeded it. Your friendship, guidance, support and love mean the world to me.

PCT re-attempt in 2020? We’ll see? For now I’m planning as many vacations as money and work will allow 🙂

– Ben, Another Day In Paradise