I had my lists, gear, and apps all ready to go. What I didn’t prepare for was entering the PCT community. I have been hiking forever, but these four stories are unique and happened in my first 48 hours on the trail.
The first happened when I was devouring a malt after my first day. A woman approached and talked for 10 minutes alternating between sharing stories about a PCT death last year, name-dropping trail angels (Bad Santa is the only one I can remember), and asking for my name and contact info. I had no idea how to respond. Later I realized the locals take ownership of the migrating flock of hikers from around the world who pass through these remote outposts.
Then I was hiking along, and I saw this cairn labyrinth. It was about 1/5 size for humans, but it was so intricate with small symbols to the thru-hikers. Someone in this tiny community came out and spent time making an offering.
Nearly everybody you pass on the trail offers encouragement. I met a six-year-old kid, and he stopped right in front of me and said, “mister, are you going to Canada?” I said, “I hope so,” and he gave me an approving nod. The kicker is when I came around a corner, and previous PCT hikers (“Raven” and “The 9th guy”) had set up a trail magic station full of fruit, snacks, and drinks. It was better than most aid stations on ultra-marathons I have run. They drove out from San Diego to pay it forward.
Last but not least, in terms of long-term impact, I was climbing Mt. Laguna, and I looked up to see a totally naked man hiking down. He greeted me with the same question as the six-year-old kid. I wish the picture in my mind could be deleted.