I had never hiked, I am not a big athlete. On the other hand, I always agree to pack my bag and go look elsewhere. During an evening in Paris, I meet Yann. He tells me about the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT), that 4,240 km long hiking trail that connects the Mexican border to the Canadian border about 100 km off the Pacific coast. This route is far from being compared to a Sunday walk, it crosses the Sierra Nevada and the Cascades chain with passages at an altitude of 4000 meters. It is one of the three longest routes in the United States with the Appalachian Trail in the east of the country and the Continental Divide Trail, which follows the ridge of the Rocky Mountains in the center. The three form the Triple Crown.
15 kilos on the back!
I said to myself: “And why not me? “I hasten to watch the film” Wild “, which traces the (real) journey of a woman on this path. My life has always been dictated by meetings and opportunities and not by a career plan. I let myself be guided by my instincts. I still have to find 6,000 euros to cover the costs. By doubling my overtime and saving, I manage to raise the sum. While I didn’t spend a lot of time getting physically ready for this trip, I focused on my backpack, and more specifically on food. I didn’t want to eat just granola bars and freeze-dried noodle bowls. I invested in a small stove so that I could prepare at least one hot meal a day. When things are bad, food usually gives me hope. For clothes, I took the minimum: five T-shirts, two shorts, pants, a long-sleeved shirt to protect me from the sun, a K-Way and a super light puffer jacket. Without food, my bag weighs 15 kilos. With, that’s another story. At the heaviest, it will weigh up to 23 kilos! A return to the simple life tempts me: to walk, to drink, to eat and to sleep and to start again like this every day for months. Will I manage to do without what makes our day in developed countries? Can I put aside this glut of goods made available at any time of the day or night? I embark Jo, my best friend, in the adventure thinking that we were linked to life, to death. I will soon regret it. A week after departure, the Covid-19 made its sensational entry into California. The whole world is locked. The website of the trail advises us to leave the course and go to confine ourselves. We will take refuge in a farm to reflect on the rest of the adventure. The lack of a network has kept us away from the flood of bad news arriving from around the world. My very pragmatic side won. I had already committed half of my budget in plane tickets and equipment, there was no question of giving up so quickly. We must leave before the chaos. Two days later, we go back down to the village to stock up on food, go to the post office to send us a food parcel to be picked up at the next stopover town and hit the road again.
Leave everything
Very quickly, I realize that with Jo we are not on the same wavelength. She walks slowly. When I am able to swallow 25 to 30 km in a day, she loops 20 maximum in pain. Her hip is making her suffer more and more. I help her by carrying her food which is added to the 15 kilos in my bag. The more the days go by, the more its slowness obsesses me and undermines my morale. But guilt came over me and a small voice told me not to let it go. I still have two weeks before making a radical decision. If I keep doing this, I will eventually give up. By mutual agreement, we go our separate ways. Very quickly, I meet on my way a group of hikers with whom I sympathize. We walk in groups of two or three maximum and we meet in the evening at the camp. It’s reassuring to know that people are watching over you.
But, one night, while I am camping alone, all of a sudden, a large animal comes rummaging around my tent. I immediately think of a bear. Terrorized, I dare not move, nor turn on my flashlight. I curl up in a ball in my sleeping bag, holding my breath and imagining the worst. Does a bear kill you before eating you, or does it attack one part of your body first before reveling in the rest? The minutes go on for hours, I see my life go by in my head. I think about my family, I want to burst into tears, but I can’t for fear of disturbing the beast. I must hold on. Then, the animal ends up moving away. I breathe a huge sigh of relief. In fact, I will learn the next day that deer have come to graze on the grass, salted by the urine of the campers. More fear than harm. These little details allow us to learn a lot about the nature that surrounds us. My biggest fear will actually come from a wasp sting. I have a huge reaction, my body swells, becomes covered in red patches and itches excruciatingly. I only have ibuprofen in my bag, not the best allergy medicine. I take it anyway, but I keep bloating. I’m afraid of dying. At the start of the trail, a hiker gave me a bit of grass and told me: “The day you’re at your end of the line, take this. I am not a fan of this substance, but I remember reading an article on the pain relieving effects of cannabis. I’m so in pain I’m ready to try anything. Miraculously, the itching will stop quickly and my body will return to normal proportions. I was not at the end of my troubles. In the middle of the desert, when the temperature is supposed to be milder, a snowstorm surprises us. 80 cm of fresh snow covers everything in its path. No more trail, no more tracks, snow to the navel. I feel like I’m tackling Annapurna. Each step represents an insurmountable effort and yet it is necessary to move forward, not to deviate from the course, not to get lost. I move forward with great difficulty. My trekking poles help keep my balance. My speed slows down: barely 2 km traveled during the day. Admittedly, the landscapes are magnificent but when you are in pain, sometimes psychic but above all physical, it doesn’t matter the instragrammable sight which stands in front of you.
Dave to the rescue!
Why haven’t I given up? Very quickly, I put myself in the shoes of a good little soldier who must do his job to be able to return home at night. For me, it was the same, I had to go to the end of my goal for the day. Of course, I had moments of doubt where I wondered why I was walking so much. Then one day Dave came into my life and turned my adventure upside down. Dave is a kitten that I adopted from the trail. Suddenly, my journey took on new meaning. Dave has become my raison d’être, like a child to be looked after. I had to take care of his comfort and his basic needs. It occupied my mind from morning to night and kept me from thinking about my suffering. He has become a social media mascot. It’s crazy what an animal empathizes with in people.
Among the good memories, there are the rare moments when I met locals on my way. Their generosity towards hikers is unique. I can no longer count the people who helped me, offered a soda, a meal, a place in their car to get supplies in town or even a hug. Being hugged, even by a stranger, can bring so much comfort. Five months of quasi-monastic life is a long time. I discovered that I loved animals. I kept Dave with me. I can sleep in a tent and wear the same shirt for months without it bothering me. Surprisingly, my job is the thing that I missed the most. This trip allowed me to understand that I was not made to live on the margins of society but that I had resources and that I was able to adapt to the most hostile conditions. Now I know I can overcome the insurmountable.
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