A wave of panic washed over me as I looked around my room at all of the gear strewn about. I would be leaving in less than 12 hours and I still hadn't packed it all up. My stomach twisted. I wish I had more time. Slowly, I put things, one by one, into my pack. There must be something I had forgotten, it seemed too easy. I took a deep breathe and felt like I had travelled back in time to two years ago. I'm packing my bag, praying I have all of the right things, nervous for one of the toughest journeys I would embark on, the PCT. But I had accomplished that hike, and many more since, so why was I so nervous? I put my things by the door and tucked myself in to bed and fell asleep, not before a last minute kiss on the forehead from my mom. I woke up the next morning, waiting to feel my stomach tighten and my chest become heavy, but I felt nothing. There were no more nerves. This was it, and I was ready.
Next thing I knew, I was in New Mexico waking up to catch my shuttle to the border. A few hikers gathered, some brand new, some very seasoned, all men. We packed into the car and started the incredibly bumpy drive. Four hours later we were standing at the southern monument, just on the other side of the Mexican border. I felt at home as I strapped on my pack and started walking north. The first day was very hot and my excitement outweighed my need for water and food. I made it to my first water cache and felt light-headed. I had forgotten what it was like to hike in a desert and that you can't falter for even a minute. I chugged a bunch of water and packed out more before moving on. About 18 miles in, I found a nice tree with some flat space and set up camp for the night. It was windy and I could have sworn a rattlesnake was going to try and cuddle with me as I slept, only waking up to bite me as I rolled over onto it. I woke up early, after little sleep, and got moving to beat the heat of the day. The trail markers were almost nonexistent and it took much longer than it should have to reach the first water cache of the day. My navigation needed some work. I hiked on and was trying to make it to a place with a bit of shade for lunch. There was no shade so I kept going until I felt woozy. I ran into another hiker who was on my shuttle and was startled to find that I was slurring my words. I sat down immediately and grabbed for my water and my umbrella. I took an early lunch there and felt much better. The water was still five miles away so we ventured on, hoping to camp by the next source. We got to the cow poop filled pond and met up with a few other hikers who had found some shade. Almost as soon as I sat down, a wind storm rolled through and made the spot almost unbearable, filling every orifice with sand. Reluctantly, I got up and started hiking again. There wasn't any water or camping for the next seven miles, so the four of us hiked 27 miles that day to the next cache. It was still windy, but we took refuge behind some large bushes and got ready for bed. It felt good to bust out a big day but my feet weren't used to the extra water we had to carry. I laid down, ready for a good night's sleep. A few hours later, I was suddenly awoken by a quick thud right to the center of my forehead. I sprang up, already shaking, trying to find my headlamp. When I did, there was nothing there. I searched everywhere for snakes, rabbits, and mice, but whatever it had been was long gone. I stayed awake for two more hours, still to panicked to sleep. As I lay there, headlamp at the ready, my eyes got heavy and I began to drift back to sleep. Not five minutes later, a drop of rain hit my hand and then another. I opened my eyes to a huge dark cloud, drowning out the stars directly above me. I sat up waiting to see if I was going to have to scramble to set my tent up in the dark. The wind was still blowing so I waited a few more sprinkles as the cloud passed and the stars reappeared. Utterly exhausted, I drifted off into a deep sleep that was only broken when the sun came out and shined in my eyes. I got up, packed, and headed north. It was a beautiful morning and I moved fast. The wind was blowing but it was a nice break from the relentless heat. A new challenge I faced that day, climbing through barbed wire fences. The first one took out a piece of my knee and the next did some serious damage to my foam pad. We had lunch at a water cache and fought the wind all afternoon. It seemed to be blowing straight at us, pushing us back, but we fought on. The afternoon only gave us dirty cow troughs to drink from and there was not one leaf of shade. The sun was sucking up all my energy, and a large blood blister had formed on one of my toes. After over 25 miles, I found a tree that blocked the wind and started making dinner. Before I knew it, I was dead asleep in my bag. I woke up in the middle of the night to the most spectacular starts. I laid there, appreciating the calmness of the night, and felt an overwhelming feeling that I was exactly where I needed to be. I drifted back into that deep sleep and didn't open my eyes again until I saw the sliver of the sun emerge on the horizon. It was still cold but I jumped out of my sleeping bag, grabbed my camera, and ran for the nearest high point. I slowed down significantly when I remembered that I was in rattlesnake country at prime hunting time. I sat perched on the rock and watched the beams spread out over the landscape until the entire sun had appeared. I ventured back to my things and shoved them in my pack. I was 15 miles from town and a milkshake was seriously calling my name. The morning was calm, not a single gust of wind came by, and the birds were still laying dormant from the night before. We walked by a large dead cow carcass, reminding us of how brutal the desert is and how easy it would be to meet the same fate. Although I hope someone would get my body before the bugs hollowed me out. I got to the last water cache before town and was surprised to find our first trail magic! Apple was there with sodas, pies, coffee, and water. From there, three of us ventured the rest of the way into town together. Mile 85
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