The Pacific Crest Trail: What I Imagine

It’s a slight consolation that I may be getting used to walking in silence as I enjoyed the eight-minute walk home from my local coffee shop. The morning was adorned by singing birds, morning sunshine, and the slight breeze of yet another cold day teasing us after a week of 90-degree weather.

Thank you, North Carolina.

It seems an impossibility that in less than two weeks my days will consist of one thing only: walking. While the excitement is growing with each day that passes, there is also a small seed of anxiety. I’ve come to a new theory as to where my new found set of nerves may be sourced.

With a creative imagination, I’ve always been able to envision a potential future when there is a big change ahead. Whether it be going off to college, living abroad with a small family, or visiting a foreign country of which I did not even know existed before making plans for a vacation, I can always imagine what it might be like.

Of course, the reality of these endeavors was completely different than what I imagined, but I could still create a story in my head of how things might go.

But the Pacific Crest Trail?

My mind gives me one video clip: following my dad on a dusty trail in the desert under a beating sun.

That’s it.

Nothing else.

Over and over again, when I try to depict what the trail might entail, my mind brings me that short clip of a dusty walk.

It’s the silence, I think, that intimidates me. So my eight-minute walk free of any distraction that comes from my phone — music, texts, notifications, etc.— can either be under stimulating, or, as it was this morning, oddly peaceful. Quiet moments with birds and fresh air is so often… eerie.

Oh, how I do love the noise that distracts me from what is happening within.

This leads me to believe that maybe the reason for my single snapshot of a potential future for the PCT may have something to do with the internal work I expect will come with such a big mental challenge.

Being outside is something I love, but more so something I love within reaching distance of society. When people ask me if I’m ready physically, I say yes. Mentally? That’s the real challenge.

I’m about to venture into a world I’ve never known: the desert. Dad suspects this is why I cannot easily imagine the journey ahead. I’m going to another world of sorts, a land full of charred trees in burn zones and deadly rattle snakes slithering nearby.

Most intimidating for me is that it’s an immense playground of introspection. I don’t know who I’ll be when I return home. So I sort of feel like I’ll be an alien traveling on a different planet. I’m like a little caterpillar who’s spun my cocoon over the past few years. I’ll develop over the next several months. Only when I’m free of this transformative period, I’m not sure what will fly out of that chrysalis.

Each day passes quickly. With every task I complete, every one of my obligations to which I say “See you later,” I feel more and more at ease with the journey ahead.

Maybe it will just be a dusty walk with Dad for 600 miles then prettier territory thereafter. Maybe it will be solemn and quiet and uncomfortable. Maybe I will deep dive into my world of introspection. But I can guarantee one thing: I’m going to come out a much different person.

This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. And a plus? I get to go with one of the people who I love most in this world. So I’ll take the discomfort. I’ll take the intimidation. I’ll set aside all my current ambitions to go through this process. After all, I hear it’s supposed to be a lot of fun.