"You know... I'm tiptoeing through the tulips in the mornings and baton death marching in the afternoons." - Desert Steve on how he's doing
Welp, we cheated. Dayhike had three friends joining him for this section, and we all used them as an excuse not to hike the 4,000 foot climb out of Sierra City. Instead, we had Dayhike's brother and dad drop us most of the way up the climb, and in the morning we only needed to do about 800 feet. I'm pretty sure this is the first time Spearhead has skipped any part of the trail. We must be getting tired. When we hit the trail at the top of the climb, a few hikers passing by joked "you didn't get a hitch up here, did you?" "Uh yeah... we did."
I spent the whole day chattering away about my ideas for Catalyst feeling pumped on post-printing energy. That night, we stopped short in order to camp with Dayhike and his friends. This worked for me because I had a headache. I got in bed fairly early to read, but I had the darnedest time falling asleep because apparently our campground was also home to a pack of deer who spent the entire night knocking over pots, chewing loudly about four feet from our heads, and scampering about with each other making frighteningly loud crashing noises uncomfortably close to us. Several times, Boom awoke to find me sitting up with a flashlight scanning the surroundings. Around 3am, I gave in and put my earplugs in giving in to whatever might befall my hearing impaired body in the dark of night.
The next morning, we continued our hike in the ever-increasing heat. Once again, I couldn't shake the headache. Yesterday I was chatty, but today I had run out of topics to talk Adam's ear off about, so I put in my headphones and let my mind get lost in an audio book. We stopped for lunch with Hawkeye and Skippy. They are a British couple that we've been hiking on-and-off with for quite some time. Skippy got off trail and flew home shortly after Mt. Whitney due to intense foot pain, but she's feeling better and flew back to Reno to rejoin us.
After lunch, Boom asked me how I was doing, and I felt that old impulse to say something negative. Instead I gave a lackluster shrug. I could see the frustration cross his face and immediately felt bad that after a week off trail, I was already back to feeling somewhat impassive. After about thirty seconds of reflection on this, clarity struck me like a lightning bolt.
I wasn't in the right place anymore. After a few miles of trailing Adam with my mind made up, I asked him if we could break, and before I said anything I could see that he already knew exactly what I was going to say. I couldn't help tearing up, "I think my time on the trail has come to an end." He knew. His response surprised me. He was affirming, encouraging me to go to Virginia and dive into my business. I felt so much love for him and gratitude for knowing it was the right choice for me, but I also felt sad. Somehow the end had caught me by surprise.
That night we camped with Hawkeye, Skippy, and Spearhead. Adam encouraged me to share my news with them, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. The night passed like old times, all of us sitting in a circle making dinner, joking, and laughing. Hawkeye was making calculations that made the rest of the trail sound like a breeze.
In the morning I woke up feeling strong doubt about my decision. Maybe I had made a mistake. I spent several hours rethinking my original conclusion, eventually coming to the same decision, but not without great sadness. I felt acutely aware of what I was giving up: precious time with Adam without any distractions - no jobs, no screens, nothing. This had been an incredible four months for the two of us, and I felt deeply bonded to Adam, suddenly fearing the loss of this bond once we were back in the stress and bustle of society. I knew we would always look back on this as one of our greatest adventures and a highlight of our relationship. Did I really want to cut that time short? Not to mention, I'd never be able to say I had hiked the PCT without some clarifying remark or qualification. I hadn't hiked the PCT. I'd simply spent four months hiking part of the PCT. I wouldn't know what it felt like to finish. We have so few opportunities in life to confidently feel that we have finished or succeeded at something. In life, there is always more to achieve or another thing on the to-do list, but the PCT has a finish line. I wouldn't get to feel that sense of accomplishment. I wouldn't be able to prove to myself or anybody else that I could do it. I'd never know.
But simultaneously I felt the scale shift. I had come on the hike feeling like I didn't have a choice and also feeling like I wasn't capable. I was sure my own physical limitations would be the deciding factor for me end date. Now, I felt strong. I felt pretty sure that I was capable, that I could keep up. I also finally felt like I had a choice. When I started the hike I thought that if Catalyst died next year, I would have regretted not hiking. Now, if Catalyst died, I would regret not doing everything I could to save it.
And back in Virginia, I had gained something. Previously I was the only person working semi-full-time on Catalyst, but while I was hiking one of the co-owners, Jen, had decided to drop her full-time job to part-time in order to spend more time on Catalyst. I had gained a co-parent for this project I love so much.
And this is how the rest of the week proceeded: one moment I would feel gleeful about the prospect of going to Virginia to throw myself into Catalyst. The next moment I would well up with tears thinking of ending this great adventure. But I knew Adam would complete the hike and achieve his dream; meanwhile I would run toward mine.
On a lighter note, we saw three bears within just a few hours! One morning we were packing up camp, when Adam took note of a bear about 100 yards away. She was hopping back and forth over a log and rummaging around with vigor. I stood there observing, when I saw another figure walk towards her. "Oh, that's a cub." We made ourselves known and the two scampered away. It's been a good week for wildlife!
Here is an excerpt from my personal journal this week:
On quitting:
Immediately after conveying my decision to Adam the hiking seemed easier, the uphill less antagonizing... A new feeling of freedom wafted down upon me and I felt a wholly new enthusiasm for big mile days and the physical challenge of finishing. Naturally this gave me second doubts. I suddenly became aware that if I revised my decision it would be the first time I was choosing the PCT. It would be the first time that I claimed it as my own. But it was only by concluding the battle with myself and allowing my life to flow naturally by naming what it is that my heart desires that I could feel this freedom. And so I will enjoy the freedom for one week. I will take pride in the strength of my legs and the ease of my gate because finally I'm walking an honest path home to myself.
Things I won't miss:
- Swarms of mosquitoes
- Swarms of bees
- My hair feeling wet but it's actually just grease
- The smell of hikers
- Wearing sunscreen every day
- Swelling feet at night
Going forward:
- Not shaving legs or arms
- Blah social media
- Blah clothes
- Want a travel vehicle
- Want to make backpacking trips a regular part of traveling and experiencing new places
- Want to do more distance hikes, maybe finish PCT some day
- Stay Fey
