Riding the Pacific crest trail - my way
Where It Came From
When I was a child I use to spend long car rides gazing out the window, imagining myself walking through every wooded hillside, every wild ravine and hidden copse of trees we passed. I wanted to see the wild places - touch that ground and feel that air against my skin. The desire to be out there where no roads ran, where no buildings cut the sky, was so strong it hurt.
As I got older, I heard about the Appalachian trail. I imagined years spent exploring that part of the country. I wanted not only to walk those mountain trails, but to know them. I become intimately acquainted with the land, the people, the towns along the way and most of all the wild places. But then I discovered horses and I knew that any such adventure must include them. Partnered with my dog and my horse, alone in the wilderness, alone in the world, traveling as far as we desired with no need to return - this was my dream. But the Appalachian trail isn't fully accessible to horses. And then I discovered the Pacific Crest Trail and all my desires focused west.
I'm 48 years old. I have dreamed of riding the Pacific Crest Trail since I was twenty years old. And I am finally going to do it. Not in any way you've ever heard of. But my own way.
When I was a child I use to spend long car rides gazing out the window, imagining myself walking through every wooded hillside, every wild ravine and hidden copse of trees we passed. I wanted to see the wild places - touch that ground and feel that air against my skin. The desire to be out there where no roads ran, where no buildings cut the sky, was so strong it hurt.
As I got older, I heard about the Appalachian trail. I imagined years spent exploring that part of the country. I wanted not only to walk those mountain trails, but to know them. I become intimately acquainted with the land, the people, the towns along the way and most of all the wild places. But then I discovered horses and I knew that any such adventure must include them. Partnered with my dog and my horse, alone in the wilderness, alone in the world, traveling as far as we desired with no need to return - this was my dream. But the Appalachian trail isn't fully accessible to horses. And then I discovered the Pacific Crest Trail and all my desires focused west.
I'm 48 years old. I have dreamed of riding the Pacific Crest Trail since I was twenty years old. And I am finally going to do it. Not in any way you've ever heard of. But my own way.
I've spent most of my life living with a serious illness. I become exhausted easily and my muscles and nervous system don't always work well. For years I put off my dream and waited. I waited for The Right Time. I waited for My Health To Improve. I waited till it was Possible.
I'm not waiting anymore.
I have no interest in hurting my struggling body further. I have no interest in dying out there or requiring others to drop their lives and come pull me out of a crisis situation. I've spent my life learning what my body needs - what strengthens it and what weakens it. I've spent my life learning to do the things I love differently than others do them so that they work for me and this body of mine. It's time to take all that learning and use it to do this thing. No more waiting. Its time to go.
What It Will Look Like
I won't be riding this trail all at once or in a straight line. My goal won't be to ride every mile. I don't care if I ever get to the end. It took me eleven years to finish college, taking one class at a time and then taking every other semester off to recover. I attended many classes laying flat on the floor against a back wall because I was too weak to hold myself up in a chair.
What do I care if this endeavor takes me the rest of my life? What do I care if I start and I stop, go back and forth? My body is different. That means my ride will be different. But then, so is everything else in my life - that's nothing new.
First comes the planning. Anyone attempting the PCT needs months of intensive study and planning. But I will need even more. Planning my camping spots. Planning my resting days. Planning everything so that it is as safe and predictable as I can make it. I owe it to my husband to do that. He is going to hate this. He worries about me when I am out on the horses around our ranch. 1000 miles away is going to suck for him.
Many hikers break the PCT up into smaller sections, hiking one section a year until they finish. I will break the sections up into even smaller sections. Right now I can't ride more than 6 miles per day - 4 or 5 if I am alone and need to take care of my horses at the end of the day. So I'll take it in 20 mile chunks. I'll start at a base camp where there is easy water, and I can safely leave my trailer. Then I will go out 10 miles and come back. Then I will go out 10 miles again, this time with every part of that stretch mapped and knowing what to expect, and I will go 10 miles more. Back and forth I will go, with rest in between. I'll take side trips. I'll get to know the land. I'll have rest days. I'll give myself about 2 months to explore the first 40 miles. Then I will go home.
I'll rest. I'll plan. The next year I'll head out again. The next 40 miles. And the next. I'll get there eventually. Or I won't. Either way. It doesn't really matter if I finish. But it is time for me to start.
I'm not waiting anymore.
I have no interest in hurting my struggling body further. I have no interest in dying out there or requiring others to drop their lives and come pull me out of a crisis situation. I've spent my life learning what my body needs - what strengthens it and what weakens it. I've spent my life learning to do the things I love differently than others do them so that they work for me and this body of mine. It's time to take all that learning and use it to do this thing. No more waiting. Its time to go.
What It Will Look Like
I won't be riding this trail all at once or in a straight line. My goal won't be to ride every mile. I don't care if I ever get to the end. It took me eleven years to finish college, taking one class at a time and then taking every other semester off to recover. I attended many classes laying flat on the floor against a back wall because I was too weak to hold myself up in a chair.
What do I care if this endeavor takes me the rest of my life? What do I care if I start and I stop, go back and forth? My body is different. That means my ride will be different. But then, so is everything else in my life - that's nothing new.
First comes the planning. Anyone attempting the PCT needs months of intensive study and planning. But I will need even more. Planning my camping spots. Planning my resting days. Planning everything so that it is as safe and predictable as I can make it. I owe it to my husband to do that. He is going to hate this. He worries about me when I am out on the horses around our ranch. 1000 miles away is going to suck for him.
Many hikers break the PCT up into smaller sections, hiking one section a year until they finish. I will break the sections up into even smaller sections. Right now I can't ride more than 6 miles per day - 4 or 5 if I am alone and need to take care of my horses at the end of the day. So I'll take it in 20 mile chunks. I'll start at a base camp where there is easy water, and I can safely leave my trailer. Then I will go out 10 miles and come back. Then I will go out 10 miles again, this time with every part of that stretch mapped and knowing what to expect, and I will go 10 miles more. Back and forth I will go, with rest in between. I'll take side trips. I'll get to know the land. I'll have rest days. I'll give myself about 2 months to explore the first 40 miles. Then I will go home.
I'll rest. I'll plan. The next year I'll head out again. The next 40 miles. And the next. I'll get there eventually. Or I won't. Either way. It doesn't really matter if I finish. But it is time for me to start.