Three Days and Counting

Sometimes I wonder if the trail ahead is just a dream. I’m curious to see if I will simply be a character in a storybook, going away on a wild adventure to discover myself.

There was once a young barista who spontaneously asked her father to join him on a perilous journey through the wicked woods of the West. Together, they navigated the forest and encountered venomous snakes, monstrous bears, the mythical Sasquatch, and the most dangerous predators of all: evil humans lurking in their vehicles, waiting to collect their next backpacking victim.

Okay, okay. Back to reality.

My upcoming hike feels surreal. Even though I leave in just a couple of days, it still doesn’t seem like the PCT is my reality. If you’ve ever played Mario Cart, then you’ll be familiar with the speed track that takes you 1,000 miles an hour.

That’s been my life the past two weeks.

Am I nervous? People ask me this all the time. A restless energy bubbles inside of me like a fresh can of soda pop. Every time I check something off of my to-do list, I feel slightly less nervous as I prepare everything at home before I leave.

Finish work
Finish Crossfit
Oil change
New visor
Repack backpack
Print permits

The list goes on. My mornings are full of breakfast dates and my evenings even fuller with dinner dates to see all of my favorite people one last time before I leave. These are the ones who have had a profound impact on my life in this six-year season in which I’ve been wandering.

Within the past two weekends I’ve had two birthdays, a baby shower, a wedding, a funeral, and a last minute beach trip. Family has flooded my home, filling any quiet space with conversation and laughter. We’ve had Cousin Karolynne, who I just met last week for the first time, Auntie Joy and Uncle Vinnie from Chicago, and my big brother and his new lady — as he calls her — from California.

My cousin and his now-wife hosted a beautiful wedding that brought my wonderful family together in front of a sparkling lake and goofy-eyed goats just across the green pasture.

It was a windy and blue-skied cloudy day, the kind of weather fit for a cozy book in which a storm brews before dark clouds dump buckets of rain on the characters, lightning lights up the sky, and thunder cracks.

There was no storm, but I loved the weather that hinted it could have broken into a perfect storm. My thoughts have been wandering into the fantastical spaces of my mind more frequently as of late. The trail ahead of me is so big that I’m retreating into my right brain for comfort.

Between family engagements and coffee with friends, I’m still preparing all that will go in my backpack.

I had been reluctant to take the time and put up my tent in the backyard, but it needed to be done. With Dad on FaceTime, a beating sun blinded me as beads of sweat formed along my brow. The mosquitos were happy to have me as their guest while I struggled through the tent set up. I brushed off a crowd of tiny bugs from my tripod I’d been using to prop Dad up for the tent view. Every time I went to stand my tent up with my trekking pole, a tent stake would stubbornly pop out of the ground. Trekking pole down, stake back in, trekking pole up, a different stake would pop out.

The sun was HOT and had me second guessing the heat index for California. It’s supposed to be a hot and dry year, so I’m praying that we won’t run into wildfire problems. If we do, that means that we will have to skip hundreds of miles to avoid the fires.

That’s something I definitely don’t want to do. So if you’re a praying person, please pray that the wild fires will happen behind us. The miracle would be for them to not happen at all.

There are only a couple of things remaining on my to-do list, including decorating my hat using iron-on cat patches. I’ll need to get some food for my hike, purchase some Leuko-tape, do my laundry, and visit with a few more friends.

These next couple of days will fly by, but until the trail begins, I think I’ll just spend time with those who give me the greatest comfort:

My cats.