Soon i’ll be shipping out to San Diego for the Pacific Crest Trail. It’s not my first rodeo, i did the Appalachian Trail back in 2014. Out there i heard chilling tales of how hardcore the PCT is, how grueling the desert is, how unforgiving the snowcapped mountains are, how much water you have to lug around with you. I was pretty content having only done the AT. The years have a strange effect on the mind though, and here i am finishing my prep for my next long distance hike.
I’m not too sure about what changed exactly. When i tell people about my upcoming thru hike i often get enthusiasm in return, which is great because i feed off of that shit. People don’t usually follow up with a “but why tho?” which is good because i’m not too sure myself. I don’t know why i did the AT either. Am i doing another long distance hike for the challenge? The scenery? These things definitely factor into it, but they’re not what i have the fondest memories of on the AT.
Music sounded amazing on the AT. When i put on the right album and started cranking out miles it felt transcendent. Those endorphins do magical things to music. I’m saving listening to the new JT and Decemberists albums until i’m out on the PCT so i can get the best first impression of them. I also hiked the AT with a little guitar, The Doctor. Sitting down with a new friend and listening to what they could play was always a special moment. I kind of played guitar too but i lack confidence in my abilities so i preferred to listen.
I love hiker trash culture. The hiker trash lives under the average standards of living of society. Sitting on the ground outside of a grocery store getting their food all situated, sitting in a laundromat in nothing but their rain gear, or going weeks without a proper shower. Orbiting modern society is delightful, it really reframes life these days. After a week in the woods carrying all your food, grocery stores are playgrounds. You see all these humans walk through them glassy eyed and completely desensitized to the magical shelves surrounding them that are packed to the brim with possibility.
I also adore all the humans i meet out on the trail. It’s fascinating to hear about all the different paths that people took that ended up in a thru hike. But no matter how different everyone is we all have the miles in common, so everybody is friends already. Sometimes i would get a hitch into town with someone i just met and the person driving would assume that we were best friends just off of our rapport, boy that was a lot of pronouns
Jeez and now it’s only 3 days until my flight to San Diego this thing took a long time for me to write. Get better at it please? Maybe it’ll go faster when i’m out doing things instead of introspecting.
December 2022 gadget here, looking at this pre-pct gadget and adding thoughts on all these old words. I sure am glad past Gadget set out on that west coast trail, way to set me up right. Music, hardship, and peace. Story, a metamorphosis? A change, certainly, this boy hadn’t become the flowery language yet.
Here at the dawning of this, my online void to be filled with my word, what to call it, eh? Even back in the Year of our Lord two thousand and eighteen i knew that i knew not. Sweet summer child, the times are still precedented, you don’t even know how deep you don’t even know you don’t know. Solid shot called tho, cheers for that too, lad.
O Appalachian Trail. Great reshaper, for the sodden swollen foot is molded by the boot much easier than the dried one. Seives flanking its emerald pastures. What a gloomy day for a summit pic. The tale should live here, it’s useful backstory.
The finale of tha AT NoBo experience: the aptly named hundred mile wilderness to Katahdin Peak. The longest stretch of town-free trail, folks from the trail town before it can arrange a food drop at the fifty mile mark to ease passage. A gentle elevation profile, a victory lap as the lone peak grows in the distance. I passed through late in the season, more leaves on the ground than on the tree. On October 13th in the early evening at around the 50 mile mark i made a bet that i would summit on the 15th. I spent the entirety of the 14th going going. The clock struck midnight as i crossed a wide river to a shelter and ate 4th meal. It must’ve been around 4am when i curled up on my sleeping pad on the side of the trail for a quick nap with less than ten miles to go. The sun wasn’t up yet when i ate shit on the final river ford in my Betty Boop Coca Cola fleece pants, soaked to the bone.
My power capris doffed, morale was low after the physical trials of the previous day. I arrived at the ranger station at the base of Katahdin to find a friendly face, Hermes. We had crossed paths around PA and i lagged behind. He later fell behind his hiker family and was dreading doing a solo summit like i was. Our party of two set out on the five mile ascent swapping stories from the two thousand miles that came before and the clouds muscled in. They knew to not try anything frisky and let us have our summit.
We returned to town after meeting up with my parents on the far side of the mountain. Our gear placed into deep garbage bag prison cells to control the scent crimes, we headed to mcdonalds to do gluttonous food crimes.
Leopard print snuggie, second hand. Not fully billowing in the wind, sorry, check the second hand.
–these humans glassy eyed desensitized–
man i dunno 