PCT 2024: The Desert (Finale)

April 19; Miles 47-59

Day 1

The sky was an azure blue streaked with thin, wispy clouds as I arrived at the viewpoint where I had hitched to Julian two years ago. I was wearing the exact same pair of shoes that had given me so much grief in the desert heat, perhaps as an emblem of my belief that the forces which had knocked me off trail in 2022 would not stop me this year. Or perhaps I wanted to give them a proper send-off after they’d served me well for hundreds of miles in Washington.

After months of training hikes with all my overnight gear, I felt as light as a bird. I strolled along the dirt track, drinking in the familiar smell of the desert: the dry dirt and sagebrush and pockets of lilacs warmed by the sun. I was back, at last.

The trail led away from the sweeping vista of Storm Canyon into rolling hills dotted with pale rocks. Before long I encountered my first thru-hikers: a pair of men wearing the standard uniform of sun hoodie, shorts, and layers of dirt. They passed me just before the 50-mile marker, and I was alone with my thoughts once more. I caught up to them once more a few miles later where they had stopped beside a water cistern; one of the men was soaking his feet in the stagnant water source and asked if I wanted to gather water from it. Gross.

Beyond the foot-infused water source, the trail led up into steep cliffs overlooking Cottonwood Canyon and a private airstrip. I passed day hikers headed up to Garnet Peak and then came across a stretch of trail speckled with memorial photos and messages for people in the armed forces.

As the miles slipped past, I reflected on how I had picked the perfect stretch of trail to miss – and subsequently return to. It had everything you’d want: sweeping vistas, easy terrain, a handmade mile marker, trailside attractions, other hikers, and – at the very end – a delicious meal waiting in town. It was easy to imagine myself continuing on as I paused for lunch atop a rocky perch overlooking the desert. I had missed the beautiful simplicity of trail life.

The trail continued through a garden of pale boulders, and I turned a corner and ran into Dov hiking in from the other trailhead. We fell into step down the gentle descent, passing a horde of hikers gathered around a stream choked with bright algae. I talked to a thru-hiker named Vibes who was nervous about hitch-hiking at the upcoming Scissors Crossing; I told her about my experiences hitching near the PCT and wished her good luck with her hike. I wondered if somehow our paths would cross again up north as I filled in more missing sections of trail.

A little over four hours after setting out, Dov and I reached the turn-off toward the Sunrise Trailhead. He surprised me with a birthday gift at the car, and then we were off toward Mt Laguna and a celebratory meal at the Pine House Cafe.

Five sections of trail stood between me and Canada, branded in my mind by the fires that had closed them: Dixie, McKinney, Windigo, Lionshead, Lightning Creek. But for today, I was just glad to be out in the sunshine, doing the thing I loved most.