Aug 14 – 16

Apparently the Pacific Crest Trail wasn’t quite finished with me yet.

My hike back to the car from the Northern Terminus was mostly uneventful, although navigating the seemingly endless blowdowns eventually got the better of me. While climbing around one of them, a branch snapped back and hit me directly in the eye.

It hurt, but at the time it didn’t seem like a particularly big deal. I still had miles to hike back to the car, so I did what I’d become pretty good at over the last four months—I kept walking.

That night I woke up with my eye incredibly painful, swollen and constantly tearing. Something was clearly wrong. Instead of getting a good night’s sleep before continuing my travels, I found myself making a middle-of-the-night trip to the emergency department in Hope, British Columbia.

Because apparently hiking 1,830 miles, quitting the PCT, travelling to another country and bushwhacking my way through hundreds of blowdowns just to reach the Northern Terminus wasn’t enough excitement for one week.

Thankfully, after getting my eye looked after and determining there was no serious damage, I was able to continue with the final item on my PCT itinerary.

PCT Days.

I’d crossed the Bridge of the Gods only a few days earlier knowing that my northbound hike was finished. Then I’d travelled all the way to British Columbia just so I could hike south and finally stand at the Northern Terminus I’d dreamed about for more than a decade.

Now I was heading back to Cascade Locks one last time.

PCT Days is an annual gathering of hikers, gear companies, trail organizations and pretty much anyone else connected to the Pacific Crest Trail. For a few days, the small town of Cascade Locks becomes completely overrun with exactly the kind of dirty, smelly hiker trash I’d spent the last four months surrounded by.

It felt strangely like coming home.

After so many lonely miles through Oregon, suddenly there were hikers everywhere. Some were people I’d met hundreds or even thousands of miles earlier. Others I’d passed briefly, shared a campsite with, seen around town or simply recognized from somewhere along the trail.

Best of all was seeing some of the people who had become such an important part of my journey. I was reunited with High Stakes, Sage, Pinecone and Alligator—my original trail family who I first met way back outside of Cedar Glen. It felt like another lifetime ago. We had all travelled so many miles and had so many different experiences since those early days, yet somehow here we were together again in Cascade Locks.

I also got to see Yukon and ReRoll, who High Stakes and I had hiked through much of the Sierra with. There was something pretty special about seeing familiar faces from those earlier chapters of the trail all gathered in one place again. These were people I’d shared miles, campsites, meals, difficult days and some incredible moments with. On a trail where people are constantly moving at different speeds, taking zeros, skipping sections or disappearing ahead of you, you never really know when a goodbye might be the last time you see someone.

Getting to see so many of the amazing people I had met on trail one more time made PCT Days feel like the perfect way to close this chapter.

There were stories about fires, injuries, skipped sections, trail closures and plans for getting through Washington. Everyone’s hike had unfolded differently, but we all understood something about each other’s experience that would probably be difficult to explain to anyone who hadn’t lived it.

For most of them, PCT Days was just a break. Soon they’d put their packs back on, return to the trail and continue their journey.

I wouldn’t.

I wondered if watching everyone else continue would make me question my decision. Maybe being surrounded by hikers still chasing Canada would make me wish I was going with them.

It didn’t.

If anything, being there made me more comfortable with the decision I’d made. To make the trail conditions worse a third closure in Washington due to the Miners fire occurred during the event. Now approximately 1/4 of the trail in Washington is closed due to wild fires.

I could have kept walking. I just didn’t want to anymore. And I’m finally okay with that.

PCT Days gave me an opportunity I didn’t realize I needed: the chance to say goodbye.

Not just to the trail, but to the strange little world I’d been living in since April. The trail names. The hitchhiking. Trail angels. Resupply boxes. Eating ridiculous amounts of food and my three chocolate bar a day diet. Sleeping in the dirt. Talking about water sources like they’re major tourist attractions. Meeting complete strangers and somehow becoming friends within a few miles.

For four months, that had simply been my life.

Now it wasn’t.

Four months ago, the Pacific Crest Trail was a line on a map that I’d dreamed about for more than a decade.

Now it’s Campo and Mount San Jacinto. The desert and the Sierra. Snow-covered passes and endless forests. Crater Lake and Mount Hood. Trail towns, hotel rooms, water caches and over a hundred nights beneath the stars.

It’s the people who walked beside me, the strangers who helped me, the people back home who encouraged me and the thousands of little moments that will probably come back to me unexpectedly for years.

It’s 125 days.

It’s 1,830 miles.

An epic side quest to Canada

And it’s one hell of a story.

I didn’t finish the Pacific Crest Trail.

But somewhere between Mexico, the Bridge of the Gods and a monument on the Canadian border, I finished my journey.

And now, finally, it’s time to go home.