When you tell people you plan to hike from Mexico to Canada, they generally respond in two ways:
- They think you are extremely adventurous.
- They think you’ve finally gone crazy. (Or maybe a little of both)
Either way, once you commit to hiking the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT), you quickly realize that it’s not just a walk in the woods. In other words, it’s not just a walk, it’s a lifestyle adjustment. At some point, you consider hiking to be a mere hobby. The next, it becomes a slightly worrying obsession and a full-time job involving backpacks, spreadsheets and Googling “how to pee in strong winds” at 2am.
Here are five very real, somewhat questionable, and sometimes hilarious ways I’m preparing to move forward on the PCT.
1. Train my body… and hope I don’t die in the process.
The PCT is basically: Go up a mountain → Go back down → Repeat until Canada. To say that walking 2,650 miles is physically demanding would be an understatement. Sometimes it will be hell. To be successful, I must prepare in every way possible. This includes my ability to do more than simply conquer the trail. I must also learn to overcome myself through endurance and great patience.
To achieve this, I’ve been «training», which currently looks like this:
- Walking long distances as if you were late for everything.
- Walking with a weighted backpack and pretending to enjoy every moment.
- Stairs… so many stairs.
- And I can’t forget to stretch before and after each walk. Not because I’m some kind of yogi (a master at placing my body in the most unnatural postures), but because I don’t want to end each day feeling like a twisted pretzel.
My legs little by little begin to understand what is about to happen. My feet are suspicious. My knees are about to present an emotional grievance. But the truth is that we are all in this together. At least, for now.
2. Becoming a kind of equipment guru.
Normal people buy normal things. Now I buy a titanium spoon, merino wool socks, and a tent that weighs less than my water bottle.
“Every gram counts,” they say. So, I started weighing everything.
- My ultralight backpack? Heavy.
- My 20 degree down camping quilt? Heavy.
- My bamboo toothbrush with the handle cut off? Heavy.
- My soul? Surprisingly heavy.
I tested the equipment, adjusted it, argued with the team, and looked at my bank account whispering, «You’ll recover…probably.» But in the end, my computer will be my house, my kitchen, my bed, and occasionally a pain in the butt when things start to fail me. I’m sure they will.
So yes, we are coming together.
3. Mentally prepare for the “Why am I doing this?” moments.
The PCT is not only physically demanding. It is mentally demanding in the “arguing with yourself in the middle of a storm” kind of way.
I am preparing for:
- Days when I feel like a hiking superhero.
- Moments where I question every life decision since kindergarten.
- Times when my only motivation is «gummy bears and mountaintop views.»
I’m working on patience, positivity, and the ability to laugh when things go wrong… Even in the face of my self-induced setbacks. And when things get chaotic, at least I’ll be able to say, «Wow, what fantastic blog material.»
4. Investigate… while accepting the fact that I will NOT always be in control.
Currently, I’m studying resupply cities, average snow conditions, water sources, weather patterns, and how not to get eaten by a mountain lion.
Soon I hope to have spreadsheets. Grades. Maps. Backup plans. Backup plans for backup plans. However, I’m sure I won’t have all my bases covered.
No matter how prepared I feel at the beginning of my hike, I know the trail will remain like this:
«Oh, you planned this? Cute. Here’s a snowstorm, three landslides, and a 5-mile uphill stretch that will destroy you emotionally.»
However, I’m okay with these kinds of unpredictable moments along the way. I understand that sometimes the road can bring unforeseen obstacles. So, I’ll just expect the unexpected and take the PCT as it comes, one day at a time.
Whatever the case, I must plan responsibly…and then surrender to the chaos like a leaf floating in a raging current, becoming one with the flow of the current (not literally, that would be crazy).
5. Preparing my heart (And my tear ducts).
The truth is that this PCT advancement is bigger than just a backpacking trip. It’s a new chapter in my life waiting to be written. It’s an opportunity to laugh, cry, sweat, doubt, hope, and sometimes smell like a mountain goat.
I am preparing for:
- Miss the amenities.
- Appreciate simplicity.
- Trust strangers.
- Embrace the magic of the trails.
- Let the experience change me (physically, mentally, and even spiritually).
I know I will enjoy all the spectacular moments along the way. I know that sometimes I will have difficulties, which will force me to accept them and keep moving forward. I know I will smell terrible most days. And somewhere between Mexico and Canada, I’ll probably meet a braver, lighter, slightly dirtier version of myself.
Final thought
Will I be fully prepared when I take my first step onto the PCT near Campo, California?
At all. But that’s the point. The adventure of a hike is not about having it all figured out, but about walking forward anyway…
…with humor, courage, humility and some delicious sandwiches. Especially gummy bear.
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