Pacific Crest Trail: My First Solo Backpacking Experience

As I mentioned in my last two posts, I went on my first solo backpacking trip over 4th of July weekend. It's something that I've thought about doing for years now, and I finally got up the nerve to go for it. Part of the motivation came from finding out that Anette, the woman I did WWOOFing with in Norway when I traveled in Europe a few years ago, was starting to hike the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) that week in Ashland, OR. For those of you who may not know, the PCT is a long-distance hiking trail that runs from the Mexican border to the Canadian border through California, Oregon and Washington, and it just so happens to go right through Crater Lake National Park. It was perfect for me because I don't have a car so I didn't have to worry about getting to some far away trailhead, so I decided I would hike south for a day (my plan was about 10 miles), camp for one night, and retrace my steps the next day. I was hoping the timing might work out for me to meet up with Anette on the trail and we could hike back to the park together, but I also knew that might not happen, so I was equally prepared to do the whole trip alone.

There were a few issues to figure out before setting off, the first of which was water. Water is the heaviest thing to carry while backpacking, but obviously it is also the most important. Little did I realize when choosing this section of trail that there is about a 16-mile stretch in that area with no water sources to refill from, and the next one along the way was listed as unreliable. I borrowed a water filter from a coworker just in case I needed it, but I figured I should just carry enough water to last me two days. And since I was doing an out and back hike, my back-up plan was just that I would turn around if I used up half my water. 

The second obstacle was snow. It was a heavy snow year here, so there were still some sections of the PCT that were covered, but when I checked the snow coverage map I found online, it didn't look like it would be too bad, probably just patches here and there. 

So with my planning done, all I had to do was wait for the chosen day. I was surprisingly not as nervous about it as I thought I would be, except for one moment the night before when I panicked a tiny bit. I wasn't worried about wildlife or the physical dangers of the trail, but about being completely alone. That is not something most people are used to, even when we are "alone" in our daily lives usually we know there are other people not too far away. But while backpacking, you can end up in the middle of the woods by yourself with no one else around for miles. So that got me freaked out for a few minutes, but it quickly passed, and I was mostly excited to test myself and to enjoy some solitude on the trail. 

So the day finally arrived, and I was very excited to begin. Of course I had to document the moment:

PCT trailhead

Ready for my hike!

As you can see from the first two pictures, the snow levels weren't bad at all at the beginning. However, once I got about half a mile from the trailhead, the patches of snow got bigger and bigger, until I was walking on nothing but snow and the trail looked more like this:

Walking on snow is similar to walking on sand and can be very difficult, and there were many times that it was hard to keep track of where the trail went. Luckily this part of the trail is also a cross-country ski trail, so I was able to follow blue diamond-shaped blazes on the trees. Even with those to guide me it was difficult, and I often had to double back to the previous blaze to scan the trees to find the next one. The above picture was right before I spent about half an hour wandering through a clearing until at long last I found my bearings again. It was exhausting and frustrating, and the times that I felt the most alone were when I was standing in the middle of the woods looking around desperately trying to find the next blaze, and wondering if I would just end up having to turn around because I couldn't find my way. (I had a GPS that I borrowed from work but realized too late that I had neglected to check the batteries: there were none. So note to self, always check batteries in all electronics, not just the headlamp.)

So after about 5 miles of this, I finally got some relief and the trail started to look more like this:

Only patches of snow to climb over now!

This was also about the time I ran into two of only three people I saw my entire hike (the first was at the very beginning when I passed a day-hiker coming back the other way). These two people were thru-hikers, meaning they had started the trail at the Mexican border, and they told me there was more snow coming up. But luckily this time I had their footprints to follow, so when I reached the snowy patches I had a clear indication of where to go. This part of the trail was even more tricky in places because there were bent-over trees that I had to climb over and through, and there were a few desperate moments when I lost the other hikers' footprints and thought I would be lost, but I always eventually found them again. Once I got through all the snow the trail got much more enjoyable and the views got better (the only downside was that once the snow was gone, the mosquitoes became more plentiful). Here are some pictures of the scenery:

Bald Top

Goose Egg

This is a nice outcropping of rock at a high point in the trail where I stopped around mile 7. It was a great place for a snack break with great panoramic views (from the previous two pictures).

View back toward Crater Lake

With all of the delays and slow progress due to snow, I didn't make very good time for the first 5 miles or so, and I was very tired. I knew by about mile 7 that I was not going to make it 10 miles like I had planned, so I decided I would just hike until I found a good spot to camp. The last half mile was quite a struggle, all of my muscles were sore, my legs were weak and my hips and shoulders ached from carrying a pack that was way too heavy (I don't have the special lightweight gear that the serious backpackers have). But the last bit of trudging paid off and I found a great camping spot with amazing views. 

It was about 6pm when I got there, so I set my tent up and ate some dinner. I had gone 8 miles and it had taken me 6 hours when my normal hiking pace it should have only taken 4. I was very tired but it was still bright daylight so I spent the next couple hours taking in the scenery, stretching, doing a bit of meditation, and just enjoying the complete solitude. This is the part I had been a bit nervous about, being alone in the my campsite once I didn't have the hike itself to focus on anymore. But it was actually the best part of the whole experience. I loved knowing that I was completely alone without anyone to distract me from the sights and sounds of nature. It was so peaceful and serene, and I felt more calm than I had in quite while. 

Before too long, my exhaustion caught up to me and I got into my tent around 8pm, even though the sun was still up. I ended up falling asleep around 9 and sleeping soundly through the night until about 4:30am. Since I was awake, I got out of my tent to watch the sunrise, but then went back to sleep for a few more hours since I hadn't quite recovered from all of my exertion the day before. At about 7, I got up and ate a leisurely breakfast and enjoyed the views again. 

View from my campsite when I arrived.

Tail end of the sunset

My tent in the early morning light with Bald Top in the background

Sunrise through the trees

My cozy little campsite

Same view as before seen in the morning

Gorgeous. I can't get enough of the beautiful conifer forests in Oregon.

Once I had taken in my fill of the views, the trail called to me again, so I packed up my tent and headed out. This time the pack was a bit lighter because of the food and water I had eaten and drank, but my back hurt in all the places where the pack had bruised the day before, so it was tough going. I made good time back to where the snowy patches began, and quickly realized I did not want to go through that ordeal again. Not only was I more tired, but this time if I lost the trail, turning around wouldn't be an option, so getting lost was a much bigger concern. So I decided to backtrack about 10 minutes to a junction that I'd passed and take a side trail that lead to the road a little farther south, and then I would walk along the road to the park entrance. Along the way I filled up my empty water pouch with snow, just in case I ran out of water (although I didn't end up needing it). My plan B worked, and this trail had much less snow on it and was much easier to follow. I made much better time, and although ending my hike along a road instead of a trail wasn't ideal, it was definitely the right choice. 

I made it to the store at the park entrance station in the early afternoon, and faced the next challenge of how to get back to my house, which was 4 miles up the road. I knew I didn't want to walk that far after having hiked about 17 miles in two days, but I didn't have cell service and couldn't get the wifi password to contact anyone to pick me up. So while I was trying to figure out what to do, I got talking to two guys who were sitting there, Butch and Steve, and they offered to help me out. So after figuring out how to attach my backpack and borrowing Butch's helmet, Steve gave me a ride back to my house on his motorcycle! I'd never ridden one before (only smaller motorbikes and mopeds), so it was quite an exciting way to end my exciting trip. 

I got home sweaty, dirty and exhausted, but also with a continued feeling of calm that I'd gained from the trail. While I was hiking, all of my thoughts were focused on water, food, the weight of my pack, and just putting one foot in front of the other. There was no room for everyday worries that seem to be such a big deal in normal life, and that was a great feeling to be free of that constant stress, despite the physical challenges of the trail. The rest of that day I spent in that state of calm, not doing much but not feeling the need to do anything particular. Of course the next day was a gradual return to those everyday worries, but it's nice to know that anytime I need another break from it, I can go out alone in nature and get that sense of peacefulness back. 

I didn't end up meeting my friend Anette on the trail, but she arrived at the park the next day and spent the night at my house. It was so great to see her again and we spent hours catching up on each others' lives and talking about the trail. I was especially glad I had done the hike when I was talking to her, because I felt like I could understand her experiences better because I'd had a taste of it as well. I've been keeping up with her blog of her trip (she's almost done with Oregon now and onto Washington), and she's having an amazing time. It's making me think about potentially doing a long-distance backpacking trip in the future, and now that I know I'm capable of backpacking alone, the possibility doesn't seem quite so daunting.