Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) Archives

Post PCT and the Covid Blues

In a post covid world the PCT dream is shattered. I take solice on the Sunshine Coast Great Walk

How’s everyone doing? It’s been a hell of a ride, hasn’t it…

I must say, I’ve been struggling a bit. It’s all a little…overwhelming. I’ve found it terribly hard to step back from the dream of the PCT. The planning, the prep, the all consuming thoughts, the training, the adventure. Though on the other hand, I’ve watched in horrid fascination from the beautiful safety of Norfolk Island and said to myself over and over….”Thank God I’m not there. Thank God I’m not there….”.

It’s all left me a bit down. I see you nodding. “Join the club Mel”. I know, I know. But this is MY story.

You may recall that I free-wheeled after realising the PCT was a no go. I had plans to go to Western Australia and try the Bibbulman Track. Followed by walking the length of New Zealand on the Te Araroa. Neither of those things are happening. Borders closed. Instead, I’ve snuck (hey, hey…not literally…I’ve followed all the rules!) into QLD. I’ve grabbed all my brand new gear that’s been anxiously waiting for me since March, and I’m going to hit a few walking tracks.

So, adorned in my mask, I’ve left the safety of Norfolk and flown into Brisbane. Selfish?? I don’t know. It’s an argument that’s been circling in my head since I made the decision. In my mind, it’s a calculated risk. Others may not agree. All I can do, is my best.

The International Terminal was terribly creepy in it’s loneliness. No buzz and bustle. Just sombre silence. A stark reminder of the state of the world at the moment. Perhaps the only positive, free booze on the plane. However, even I – lover of red wine, am able to say with certainty – I wish things were normal. And that I wish I had had to pay.

I saw my family! Well, the majority of them. Mum, Dad, sister, husband, niece, nephew. It was wonderful! Because you worry. And you stress. When you’re at a distance. But this was all so…normal. We picniced and played cards and danced and checked out all the new kid’s stuff. Just what the doctor ordered. The only down side…. My brother and my fella missing from the party. However, they are fulfilling the most important function of all – the care of Bronte the wonder dog. Respect men!

Little freedoms…so unbeliveably good to see the family!

This morning I set off on the train to get started on my walking holiday. The Sunshine Coast Great Walk is the first cab off the rank.

My family often say that I always seem to attract “interesting” people to me…Case in point….First off, a fellow directly behind me who was singing “swing lo! sweet chariot” over and over again. Not the whole thing. Just that line. And in a voice which really didn’t have much of a timbre to it. He got off the train after about 15 excrutiating minutes.

Next up, a young “metrosexual” type who seemed to be crackling with energy. He sat across the isle from me. At one point he said to me “Look I’m just going to be filming something over here…be assured the camera is pointed at me though”. Oh, just a bit of scenery filming I thought. “No worries. Go ahead”. Turns out this guy was making a half hour video for his “millions” of YouTube followers. An expert in “supreme confidence”, this guy was an officianado in religion, the vortex method, and…confidence. There were mantras galore – he unexpectedly received 65 thousand dollars over the course of three days! And miracle after miracle! And all you have to do is pay 10% of your income! He’ll accept the money. He’s a priest. And will invest it wisely in others. His video was halted when another passenger exclaimed “Did God let you know that you’re annoying all the other passengers!” End of You Tube video. Sad for his millions of followers.

So, now I am in Montville. A little village high on the hill with vast views out to the coast. It’s cold and delicious. I’m packed and ready. 58km and around 5km to get to the start point. 3 nights and 4 days.

I absolutely CANNOT wait! This has been like an itch that I just can’t scratch. I need to get something out of my system. Have an opportunity to rethink. Come up with some new goals. The PCT feels like a lost dream I’m afraid. Time to scratch the itch!

Pacific Crest Trail…..

KA BOOM!! And she was done.

Very hard post to write. I thought some of the other stuff I have done was hard. But no. This feels like torture. I’ve been sitting here tapping my fingers on the table for at least 5 minutes, trying to work out how to start this. How to put all the complicated mess down on paper. But I realise that I don’t have to. Everyone is living it. Everyone knows. I actually don’t have to explain it. It just is.

It’s heartbreaking. The end of a dream. And with no real say. But it’s also not. After all – this might have been a crazy, potentially once in a lifetime plan that I had put my heart and soul into for more than year now – but it is still just recreation. Just fun. Just a walk. If this is the worst that comes to me with all that is happening, then I can think myself lucky. There are thousands of people out there suffering in this shit storm, whom have every right to laugh at my struggles. It’s about perspective I suppose.

I’m trying not to lose all my momentum and planning. When things calm down (as I’m assuming they will) I have in mind the Bibbulmun track as well as the Te Aroroa in New Zealand. The Bibbulmun winds 1000km through Western Australia from Perth to Albany,and was recommended to me more than 15 years ago by Edie and Wolf- part of my “tramily” (trail family) from my first solo thru-hike, which happened to be on the Overland Track.

I remember them so vividly. They were so experienced compared to me, and they really kept an eye on me every day. I tried “smoked sausage” for the first time when they offered me some, and shared laughs every night with them. They were much older than me, and treated me almost like a daughter. I’ll never forget it. And so, it will be with much excitement that I hit the Bib, and experience it for myself all these years later.

The Te Aroroa is a different kettle of fish, and will take a lot more planning. I’m determined. But first things first. Let you know when I know more!

So that’s it. I’m disappointed, but I’ll recover. I have already recovered. And I’m excited for what’s to come. In the meantime, I just hope that we humans can be resilient enough, clever enough, thoughtful enough, determined enough and compassionate enough to beat this thing.

Stay safe all yorlye. xx

PS. I’ve thanked all my other supporters, but I haven’t yet thanked my most avid supporter; greatest training partner in the world; and giver of supreme comfort and cuddles, Bronte the dog. She is an absolute legend. No word of a lie. And it suits her just fine for me to continue my training walks!

Pacific Crest Trail….

Where am I at with it all?

“Shitting myself. That’s what.”

I sit staring at the countdown on my phone. The seconds tick on, but the number of days to go remains the same. 22 days. Just 22 days until I am supposed to take my first steps out on trail. Until I take a photo of me sitting on the monument. Until I attempt to walk over 4200 km up the length of America. But will I make it? Not to the end…But to the start point?

When I started writing this blog and revealing my dreams, did anyone suspect that a mutated animal virus might be the cause of my failure to make the trail? I didn’t. And as I sit here with the time counting down I can’t work out whether I wish things would just move quicker, so I can get through the airports and get to that start point before more airports and more borders close. Or do I wish things were moving slower? Would more time help sort out some of this mess and could the world revert back to it’s “normal” self?

I can’t change the timing, but I can make decisions. And I have decided that if I can go I will. Despite this walk being my dream for a year now, this hasn’t been an easy decision to come to. Travel insurance – problematic. Reliance on trail angels, town shuttles and hitchhiking – potentially problematic. Ability to buy hiker food – almost certainly an issue. Could things get worse? Could I somehow get stuck in no mans land somewhere between Mexico and Canada with no way of returning home? It’s possible.

Still. My personal risk of death from COVID-19 is low. I have some money behind me if things go wrong. And I have a strange faith in the ability of humans to exceed expectations in times of crisis. So, I am going to go. If I can.

It will be a different hike. That’s for sure. No Europeans allowed in for 30 days. That’s going to change things. I could almost cry in frustration for all those people whose dreams are in tatters. And no doubt there will be more border closures within the 22 days that I must wait to begin my hike. Instead of the snow in the sierras or the lack of water in the desert, will all the hikers instead be talking about the lack of human diversity on the trail – something that I was particularly looking forward to? Or, the health status of the town ahead? Are shuttle buses running? Will we be able to get food?

I am not somebody who scares easily at these sorts of things. And I am not particularly scared of contracting the virus itself. But I am scared that twelve months of meticulous planning could go down the tubes. That what I have been visualising and thinking about every day, is just not going to be attainable. And that even if I do get over there, extraneous factors are going to turn this once in a lifetime experience into something….different. It would be incredibly difficult for me to accept that the dream was over, before it even began.

I’m trying not to dwell on it. I continue to pack and repack my bag. Make decisions about what to bring or what to leave behind. Send trip plans to family and friends. And prepare to shut my regular life down for 6 months. And I look at my countdown. And I hope.

Great North Walk – Day 6

Archers Campsite to The Basin Camping Area

Distance – 34km!

“WTF! Track closure?!”

Another day. Another potential cooked breakfast. I downed my in tent coffee and dreamed of a breakfast stop in Yarramalong. 13km. I could do that. Like greased lightning I was packed up and on my way by 7am. The morning walk was really pleasant. Nice green valleys and moist creeks. I continued to listen to my tunes. The pace of my music dictated how fast I walked. That is, until the batteries on my headphones ran out. The disappointment was tangible, and a reminder that I was now into my fifth day without a power source. Sadly my headphones didn’t cut it as the number one priority to power up. Oh well.

The demise of my headphones occurred round about here.

I tip tapped my way down the road and into the Yarramalong servo by around 11am. Now let me ask you something…When you dream of an egg and lettuce sandwich, do you dream of mashed up egg, creamy mayo and crisp lettuce all on beautiful, fresh white bread? I did. So I was somewhat surprised, and quite frankly, inordinately disappointed by my fried egg, soggy lettuce and stale bread sandwich. Chips were good though. And I upped my drinks quota to four sparkling, cold beverages.

I sat outside taking a break for about an hour and wondered just how many people I was offending. There comes a point, where no matter how diligent you are with your “daily washing”, you realise that you do, in fact, stink. Sitting outside that shop, shoes and unwashed socks off, and in the same clothing I had worn for the past 6 days through sickness, floods and scorching heat, I came to that realisation. It’s something you have to wear like a badge – even though you feel mildly embarrassed by it. Hey, you’ve worked damn hard to smell this bad!

Still, there were those brave enough to approach. “Where ya headed?”. “The Great North Walk….from here and up the road to Cedar Brush”. “Oh. I’ve done that. And boy oh boy it was tough. Bloody tough! And that was without a great big overnight bag like you’ve got! It’s tricky too! Could be dangerous with a big bag like that! Good luck!”. Yep. Thanks for the chat mate.

Time to hit the road again. Quite literally. With a long road walk of around 8km until the turn off to the Cedar Brush campsite. Weighed down with a tonne of water, I set off.

I would eventually climb that mountain over yonder

I hummed along pretty well. There were some amazing properties, but it was boiling hot. Road walking is both a blessing and a curse. You can cruise along quite quickly, but you pay the price in terms of foot distress and reflective heat from the road. I sure was looking forward to getting to that turn off! From there, just a 2km walk to camp. I’d be there by 2pm!! Sweet!! A nice long afternoon under the shelter of the trees to rest up, relax, and get off my feet for a bit.

And just like that, my dreams of an early finish were scattered to the wind

Arrrrggggggg! What the hell! Surely this is fake news! I try the number, but I have no reception. The devil is sitting on my shoulder…”Just take it. Whose going to know? What’s the worst that could happen? Goddamn it – this is your rest day!!” I sit down and look at the map. The “alternate” route is a road walk, 9km long. At the end of all this decision making, there is nothing to do except keep walking. Up and up and up and up, a dusty, dirty road. No nice views. No nice scenery. No nice seats. Not nice.

Eventually I hobbled into camp around 6pm. It’s just going on dark. The campsite is impressive. Huge. It has picnic tables, a watertank, and, in a minor miracle, a pit toilet. I, of course, am the only one there. I strip off fully and use some of the available water to douse myself in liquid gold. It feels amazing, refreshing, and cold. I sit at one of the tables and boil up some water so I can make my dinner. It dawns on me that if I want to complete the Pacific Crest Trail next year, this is the sort of kilometers I will have to walk every single day. It’s confronting. But I’m proud of myself. This is the furthest I have walked on a single day. Ever. And if I’ve done it once, I can do it again. Can’t I?

“I can’t believe I’m starting out…like this!”

GREAT NORTH WALK – DAY 1 (Part A)

Traveller’s Obelisk (Macquarie Park, Sydney) to Lane Cove Tourist Park

Distance: 21.36km

I can’t believe it….I honestly can’t believe it! All the planning. All the anticipation. All the spending. And I’m starting out…like this…..

To backtrack… Earlier in the year I had made the exciting, but fraught decision that I was willing, ready and able to hike the Pacific Crest Trail – all 4200 km of it – and that this would occur in the immediate future. With this in mind I went on a frenzy of information gathering – the only way that counts these days – Youtube videos. Here, I was advised unequivocally, that 1. I must get my pack weight as low as possible; 2. I must do a “shakedown” hike in order to test and refine both my gear and attitude; and, 3. I must train and train and train.

I took this advice very seriously. Old gear was out the door, and a slew of spending ensued – a new tent, backpack, shoes, water filters, cook system…you name it, I bought it. A “shakedown hike” was planned. I had to go to Sydney anyway to apply for my US visa. I would take all my new gear, and hike the Great North Walk. “Australia’s most accessible long distance trail”. From Sydney to Newcastle, this 250km hike was bound to test out my new gear and fill me with confidence and inspiration for the long hike to come! And I trained. With my superstar training partner, Bronte the dog, I walked around and around and around tiny Norfolk Island…enough times to make myself dizzy…

And so it arrives. Morning of. D Day. Ground zero. This is it! All the preparation; all the training; all the anticipation, it’s all about to come together in one big, amazingly well executed walk!! Ummmmm. No. Nothing could be further from the truth!

I awoke in a fever induced haze. All night long, hot, cold, shivering, sweating. My voice! I couldn’t talk. What about the amazing vlog I was going to put together! With sick, tired eyes I examined my gear. My old gear. Delays in shipping to Norfolk Island had meant that none of my shiny, new, light, painstakingly selected gear had arrived! This included shoes. I glanced at the brand new pair sitting on the floor….same as my old ones, but without a single use. Straight out of the box. This was not how I imagined it would go! It was decision time…To go – sickness, old gear, new shoes and all. Or stay – Cozy up in the nice soft bed, and try and tame this flu.

I chose to go.

My plan is to go on the attack, so I’m going to head to the start point very soon. Busted out some new gaiters to go with my new shoes. #blistersforsure
Me…to a friend in a text message.

I pack up and get going. In hindsight, I wish beyond anything that I’d thrown some tissues in my bag. As I set out towards the starting point, the Travellers Obelisk, in Macquarie Park, I realise that although I’m sick, and things have gone wrong, I’m excited!! Time for the real challenge to begin.

You’re doing….what??!!

“You’ll be off on the adventure of a lifetime”. That’s what my Pacific Crest Trail permit tells me. When I try to explain this to others – friends, family, strangers – there is a different set of responses. Mouths aghast, eyes wide, more often than not with a confused, quizzical expression, people breathe “You’re doing…what?!” Invariably, this is followed by a quick…”Why?”.

The easy way to respond is to shrug my shoulders and coolly reply “Because I can”. This I do, because the real why, the why that’s driven me here, is still a buried secret which I’m not yet ready to fully articulate. “On the trail” I keep telling myself. “On the trail” I’ll be ready to explain it all…

Unsatisfying explanation in hand, people nod like they understand fully and proceed to give me their honest, if occasionally somewhat unjustified opinions….”That’s crazy!”, “That’s dangerous!”, “That’s so cool!”, “I can’t believe it…that’s amazing!”, “What a waste of a holiday!”, “That’s so inspiring!”, and time and time again “You’re going alone….Won’t you be scared?”.

Yes, I’ll be scared. Yes, I’ll be alone. Yes, it will be crazy. Yes, it could be dangerous. Yes, it will be cool. Yes, it will be amazing. And yes, I will feel inspiring. That’s how walking long distances makes me feel. Like the slowest roller-coaster in the world hurtling out of control. Like I can master destiny. Or destiny can master me. There’s nothing else in the world that makes me feel like thru-hiking does.

So, I have 3 and a half months before I begin. Mexico to Canada – 4200km of solid heartache, joy, boredom, freedom, pain and euphoria. I hope I can get to the start line….