PCT 2014 Reflection

Post-PCT Reflection

Alas, I come to share my reflection after an entire year from my start date on the PCT 4/27/2014. For all of you loyal friends and family who have followed me on my journey, thank you for your support and divine patience. I apologize for the incredibly long cliffhanger!

Excuses, excuses…

What was I waiting for? I was waiting for a perfect synthesis of my experience to materialize through mixed media; poetry that I wrote, videos and photos I took, quotes by John Muir I could relate to, and stories of the people I met along the way. I was avoiding so much by waiting. I was avoiding putting a period to the end of my experience. I was dreading sitting inside, on a computer, looking at and editing hundreds of photos of where I had walked. And I was avoiding expressing my own words about my inspiring experience, while I was not anymore within the experience that inspired me. It was daunting and depressing for me to bring myself out of this. But I realized I needed to stop avoiding, stop waiting, stop making excuses. The trail would have no tolerance for that! Since there is far too much data for me to parse through and none of these individual aspects could amount to the whole of my experience, I am ready to give up my expectations of what I think I want to portray, and just get it out on whitespace. I was resistant to writing also because, for as simple as it was for me to hike north everyday on the trail, it is much more complicated to write about it… I was reluctant to put pen to paper in fears I would sound disorganized, cliche or jaded, too vague or too vulnerable. But at this point, it is time to look closely at who I was before, during and after the trail.

I have been allowing myself to realize that this is not a period. Being off the trail doesn’t mean I have lost that part of me. I have been changed from my experience and can only use it to better me. I shant not look back with mourning that it’s over, I can only smile because it happened. Or see this period of my life as an elipse, a continuation of my trailself into this front country world. I must admit, going from taking care of your basic needs, having dialy goals and milestones, coexisting with your body as your mode of transportation and source of energy, to being home and not having the same aim or direction, it was really hard to transition. If you want to know more about this… just ask me. I’ll tell you personally what was really difficult.

Reflection

Why did I set out to hike the entire Pacific Crest Trail…

I had this subtle desire before I even knew what the PCT was. I have always wanted to explore all of the diverse land of California and make my way eventually to the Northwest. I also had this desire to somehow do a long distance backpack before I knew that “thru-hiking” was a thing. I had known about the Appalachian trail since I was a kid, but for some reason didn’t know it was a trail people walked from end to end. When I found out about the PCT and thru-hiking, I had a moment of epiphany. My world expanded with possibility, my heart exploded with pure desire. Out of nowhere, or right at the perfect time I was ripe and ready for the challenge, my desires made sense, my dream came true, there was alas an outlet for my absurd idea (that I never  was able to verbalize before.) At this moment, there was no turning back. I did everything in my power to prepare for this trek in just 3 months. I became obsessed, but I really had no choice if I was going to make it happen. The PCT is a one foot wide, 2,265 mile long path that winds through the most rugged mountains of the West. The thought of making this pilgrimage by myself, for myself, with myself excited me so.  

What did I learn…

From others, myself, nature and good old experience about everything from logistics and “planning” to personal philosophy and ways of being.

While doing research by talking to the only folks I knew who hiked the PCT, they gave me some great advice.

Outburst:

“In retrospect, you could get by with little to no planning.”

“You won't be "fit" to walk 20 miles a day until you're walking 20 miles a day.”

“The Desert is beautiful. It is the time on trail where you will see the most people and bond. But the heat, the exposure, the lack of water and getting used to all the walking is a BITCH… I know lot's of people who really struggled with the desert. But EMBRACE it!”

Food… “I would really recommend buying as you go. Everyone I know who did resupply packages often (including myself) hated everything they sent themselves after a few months… Do a few boxes here and there of novelty items you don’t think you can get at any grocery, then buy on the way.”

Otter:

You have a smart phone… use it for maps, camera, and GPS. Download Halfmile App to show your your coordinates and exactly what decimal of mile you are at on the trail. It will tell you if you are 1 foot off the trail if you diverge. Download PCTHYOH app as well. It will be where you download and cache all of your actual maps. It’s nice to have it on hand without dealing with all the paper, and sending yourself maps along the way… Maps are not essential, however. You’re on a trail either going one way or another.”

“You’ll never be alone… and there are trail angels.”

30 Pack:

“Have no expectations.”

Ronan (Knife Thrower):

“If you’re trying to make a big decision on the trail for after the trail… you’ll still have to make that decision when you’re done, so just enjoy the ride.”...“I can’t tell you what it was like, you’ll just have to see for yourself.” “Be mindful of post-trail blues/depression, it’s real.”

My subconscious:

“Plan on NOT planning.”

What I knew before hiking the trail

I wanted to use my feet and my body to make my way, meander, and climb through California, Oregon and Washington. I wanted to carry everything needed to thrive and survive, on my back. Step by step, mile by mile, from desert to alpine to forest and every varying degree in between, I would be putting my body through more than I ever have, but also using it and appreciating it more than ever. I would meet dozens of inspired, like-minded, self-reliant, and silly people. I knew I would have a lot of personal time spent alone, pondering and wandering the corners of my mind and the depths of my being. I would get to know really what I am made of. This was my chance to be empowered, fully on my own and 100% independent and self-sufficient.

Starting my hike on the PCT I found myself exactly as I am, yet also started from scratch, like an infant new to the world. I allowed myself evolve organically as my environment demanded of me. I created myself from the start, as if this was a second chance to be who I really want to be, and find out who I am. I let myself believe in myself, in my courage, in my goals without others inhibitions or beliefs in my way. Without following anyone else’s rules or advice, I decided to step into the unknown, all alone. Alone, is a relative term. I was never alone. I became an expert at listening to my body, as if it were a temperamental machine. I learned to really pay attention to what it demanded, from a break, to shade, to shoes off, to electrolytes and fat, and an entire day of not hiking. I learned to push myself, but not ignore myself. I got rid of a lot of excess in my pack that was no longer serving me. I was named all over again, putting my name Hannah away, and now becoming Biscuit. I got rid of my hair, which was not serving me. I got rid of beliefs and thoughts and habits that were not serving me. Hiking was cathartic. My mind was purged of negative self talk that would sometimes repeat like a broken record, as I was purged of all the nutrients and electrolytes in my body.  Being in the wilderness creates a paradox: it makes one feel very small amidst the vastness, yet more powerful and alive as ever. Focusing on the basics, having no excessive possessions, listening to my body, walking, laughing and crying with myself out of pure ecstasy, I felt good, pure, and alive all of the time on the trail… even when I came into contact with big, coiled, hissing, rattling snakes.  

What I learned from people on the trail:

River:

“I love my life and who I am out here so much… And I love my life and who I am at home too… but these are two separate worlds in which we inhabit, they cannot be fused.” I’ve tried to cope with this concept. In my own reflection this is what I have come up with. Though these worlds cannot ever be fused, we can respect both when we are without. Out here, our primary concern is taking care of ourselves. We are simply being, focusing on the basics, which allows us to listen to ourselves more… In the front country we have SO many more things, people, issues, barricades in our way that we often forget to listen, take care of and honour ourselves, that we become irritable, stressed, impatient and not compassionate towards others. In the front country, we can’t live selfishly… we must compensate and put a lot of energy into coexisting with everything and everyone around us for a copacetic life. It is draining sometimes, where as out here, there is not that challenge to maintain your energy… it’s all here for us to have. My goal is to bring this serene, grounded, self“ish” fundamental into the front country- remember who I really am amidst all the distractions we face in the front country.

Living with the bare necessities, lightweight and all on my back made me want to purge every excess in my life. First, my extra first aid equipment, then my hair, This went to the extreme of wanting to get rid of my car. When I told my parents this… My dad reminded me how much I love my car and how it is so beneficial. My mom told me the same thing about my hair, how it “defines me and is such a staple of who you are.” I thought… yes… but NO! It’s just stuff, let it go.

At first I really took my body and my feet for granted. I pushed to become a better hiker. With every step I felt stronger. I became a slave to my desire to make miles. This didn’t really make me feel happy. But hiking the trail was a balance of pushing yourself and listening to your body. I pushed it to get so strong so fast, that by the time I got to the Sierras, around mile 700, I felt like a beast. The more I walked, the more humbled I was by my body, the more I appreciated how good it was to me. That mile marker 700 near Kennedy Meadows is when I had gotten a head cold… I felt awful. I really had to take care of myself, but I realized that maybe I got sick because I pushed myself so hard. I started listening to my body more… Praising my feet for holding up so perfectly without any blisters or any massages.

Moonshine: Trust in the universe. What you put out comes right back to you.

"Moonshine" and I organically became good hiking partners. I learned a lot from this wise 18 year old. He taught me how to fully trust in the universe and have no worries or fears, that everything will work out. Being with him and still having my own doubts or fears, I was so enthralled by how everything came to him. Like he called upon the universe and it responded quickly and with love. He was a big inspiration for me, teaching me to let go of worry and expectations.

Testament:

We’re all f***ing NUTS.

From myself?

“Hike your own hike”: don’t let anyone else dictate what is right for you, listen to your feet, your body, your heart, your intuition. And vice versa don’t let others attach to your hike, and cramp your style.

“Don’t believe anything from anyone.” People talk... a lot. We all are guilty of exaggerating realities to get others excited/scared or to revel in our positive/negative experience. It helps us connect to people that we may only cross paths with one time (if they are going S and you are going N/vice versa), or to vent about how ____ sometime was for you. I heard a few times from others on the trail “never trust a southbounder! bwahaha!” but I expanded that category to everyone. It sounds skeptical and cynical, but it comes from the underlying lesson of

“Have no expectations”; don’t let any idea from your own head or someone elses’ color your reality before you are even there. Walk up to it with your own feet and eyes and see for yourself! When someone tries to tell you how something was “so hard/shitty/fantastic/easy” hold your nose and say “smell ya later!” Wait, no, don’t say that… Just appreciate that they experienced a unique quality of a certain time and place, at their own particular time and in their particular space. And you too shall experience this, but with your own unique perception. Instead of obsessing about how something will be, let go of the ideas planted in your mind and step forward with confidence and unknowing curiosity. You will be the first YOU to be right here, ever in the entire history of all time! Tell me if I make no sense to anyone but myself… Also, don’t believe any of this that comes from my mouth! I could be totally exaggerating.

“I am where I am.”

From the second I set foot on the trail at the border of Mexico and California, I knew I had to move and push to make miles… walking to Canada essentially, every day a little bit closer. This mentality got in the way of a lot of pleasure and presence… It made me obsess sometimes about making bigger miles, have anxiety about not walking enough, or other friends being ahead and not being able to catch up or see them again... Basically not being content with where I am. This anxiety is essentially why I learned I was on the trail in the first place. To be fully where I am, every moment, and to accept it, live it, love it with compassion and confidence.

Hiking this trail showed me that self-reliance is empowering and beautiful. I gained a greater sense of confidence in my voice as a leader. As well as increased confidence within my own skin in its most natural form- untouched, unwashed, un-put together.

“I am where I am.

I also realized that I don’t experience much physical pain. I am tough, but lucky I have a high pain tolerance. It was only after hiking through Washington and feeling so tired and weak that I needed to take IBU or “Vitamin I” every morning to help my joints feel more smooth. And boy did it help!

The 18 inch diameter wide, 2,668 mile long trail has proven to be a metaphor for a life in every moment and over the course of a lifetime. Our being on the trail is a direct representation of the amount of power we contain in respect to the universe. I would find myself anxious about where I was… Wanting to catch up to friends who were ahead of me by 2 days, making sure I hiked enough miles to make it to my dad in time, or to the lodge in Oregon I needed to get to on a certain day at a certain time to get on a plane to MA for a weekend, imagining what a town would be like when I got there, what my next step in life was, where I will be in 5 years from now… All thought patterns that took me away from the present. This would make me space out and not fully enjoy what was around me, and how I was actually feeling. I started telling myself “I am where I am” and started accepting, appreciating and allowing myself to be exactly where and how I was.

I’ve always understood that “the universe provides,” call it the law of attraction, karma, murphy’s law, quantum mechanics, fate, God, synchronicity, magic, whathaveyou.

But I understood this only to a certain extent in my life in the modern world. When stepping into the wilderness, outside of the boundaries of things we define ourselves by, we are much more open to these universal experiences. On the trail, the lingo is such that “the trail provides.” I was hesitant to talk about this on air, but I can’t express the totality of my experience without the mention of my spiritual experience on the trail.

All the time I had with myself, with my breath, with the changing angle of the light, and the sounds of silence, the laughter I saw in the flowers, the seductive “danger/beauty” of cacti flower and watching massive swallowing forest fires billow, grow and glow, the humility and confident stability in joshua trees, the sound of gravity pulling water flowing down… All of these simple things bombarded me with the simplicity and complexity of creation, destruction, constant existence and continual change. It all resonated with me as, representing peace and love in my being, so my “conversations with God” occured quite often.

How did I keep myself motivated:

Walking from Mexico to Canada is a big task. It seems like it would be almost impossible to stay motivated to hike the whole thing.  And i’ve been told that thru-hiking is a form of insanity, walking all day, then going to sleep to wake up and walk all day again. The way I started to see it was that every day, from camp to camp, was mentally and metaphorically like going from “Mexico to Canada.” If I could make it today, I could make it the whole way. Everyday was just as challenging as doing the whole thing.  There were times every single day that  I didn’t want to be hiking, but the end in sight, having a hot meal and falling asleep under the stars motivated me to keep going when I was feeling low energy and unmotivated. It was the little comforts that made me feel like a real person, when I was so tired of walking. But the truth is, I really enjoy hiking, the constant changing of scenery, the fresh air, the heightened endorphins and the beauty of nature surrounding me. I also found so much gratitude being on the trail. Grateful for the trail itself, that fact that it exists and is placed perfectly in the most scenic and epic points in these three states. This love for the trail made it my home and made me excited to explore it all, every step of the way, to see how it evolves and changes and curious to find what is around the next bend. Grateful that it goes through small “hiker-friendly” towns about every 100 miles, that I could shower, launder, eat and drink, and be clean for a night. Grateful for the people I met and the friends I made, and with them or alone, the experiences I had every moment of every day. Grateful for this amazing hiker community, that acted much like a social slinky. You would read someones name in a register who was only a few days ahead of you and finally meet them in a town. Or you’ll meet someone behind you that you’ve heard of and who has seen your name in the register. It’s a family. And sometimes if there is a big crew of hikers sitting, eating, drinking at the general store and you walk up to it with your pack, relieved for the moment to put it down and relax, you’re greeted by a large round of applause, hoots and hollers and high fives. Lots of positive and supportive vibes. I was also grateful for my feet that held up without a single blister, my legs that kept getting stronger, and my mobile home that hugged and protected me like a turtle shell. After getting a new resupply, from my caring and supportive mother, Mindi, I would be burdened with a lot of weight, but excited to eat the food to make it lighter, and at the end of the week, I would be thrilled to have a very light pack and also be dreaming of what I was going to order at a diner in town. Mostly I was grateful that I had the desire, will, energy, health and means to hike this gorgeous trail from start to finish and to experience the adventure. Finishing what I started was a huge motivation. Good fuel and hot meals kept me moving. Gratitude kept me going.

What did I learn to appreciate?

I used aquamira In the desert to purify my water. Sometimes the water would have floaters in it, it would get hot, fast, or it tasted like the chlorine in aquamira. I really learned how to appreciate water that tastes like clean water.  

My moms packages would tickle my heart with her encouraging letters and thoughtful snacks.

I appreciated cell-phone service more than ever, sometimes.

I appreciated having no cell service, most of the time.

Shade in the desert.

What did I love...

Slowly but surely hiking up to big and famous landmarks, lakes, mountains, resorts and towns I’ve only heard of and getting closer and closer to them. And then being able to say “I walked here!... from Mexico!”

I loved sleep more than ever, if that’s even possible.

And hot dinners!

A round of applause and a bow to Andrew Faigen

I applaud and appreciate my dad for coming with me to Kick off and meeting me to hike the whole John Muir Trail in the Sierras. I invited him so we could do something special together. I’ve always wanted to travel with just him. I’ve always wanted to backpack with him. I invited him not knowing what the trail was going to be like and how much stronger I would be at that time. He took my invitation seriously and plunged into the most difficult thing a person could do: Hike the John Muir Trail with a Thru-hiker. If I wasn’t thru-hiking, I would have taken the JMT slow, but I had a goal, a big goal. 2,665 miles. The JMT was just under 300 miles, and I wanted to keep going at the pace and rate I had been going at, in fears I would get behind the crowd I was in, or not make it to the end of the trail. I have a pretty brave father for stepping into this. The week leading up to the Sierras, I was so excited to see him. But I was warned that striving to have a family member or friend meet you on the trail is a huge task; logistically, physically, and emotionally. The timing of meeting at a certain place at a certain time is nearly logistacally impossible, without cellphone service. We did, however plan that we should meet right at the start of the John Muir Trail (the hardest part of the entire PCT) on fathers day! It just worked out so perfectly.  Physically it is hard because you have so many more miles under your belt, and are efficient at walking all day and having a system that supports you. Emotionally it is hard because you have to change your hiking style that you are just getting in the rythym of to be with your person who’s joining you. While my dad was just getting his hiking legs and lungs in shape, I was in the best shape i’ve ever been in. This may sound like an excuse, but I couldn’t slow down. This created a huge amount of anxiety and guilt for me on the trail. I would stop and wait, and after an hour of not seeing my dad, I would ask others if they had seen him, and sometimes leave my pack and run back to see if he was okay. Sometimes I would leave notes. For as beautiful of an experience as it sounds, hiking in the most gorgeous alpine trail with my father I love so dearly, it caused a lot of inner turmoil and tension between us. I couldn’t bear the idea of going on without him. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. He kept telling me “go on without me, Hannah,” and I would cry and refuse to leave him. Yet I also had a hard time going at his pace. I could have, I just wasn’t compassionate enough. And I feel really really awful for this. After the wear and tear my dad experienced on the trail I have a lot of regrets. I regret not waiting til a year I was not thru-hiking to backpack with my amazing father, so we could have gone slow together, bonded more and enjoyed more. I loved this experience being with my father, and the fact he was getting on my level. I had a hard time getting on his level and being patient with him, however. I was afraid I would get behind and not be able to make it to Canada. I did not treat him with patience. I pushed myself the whole time, and therefore broke my dad and his willing heart. For this I don’t know if I can ever fully forgive myself. I don’t think he can forgive me either. I hope that I can redeem myself, and help heal the new wounds I have created. Thank you Dad for being so strong and making my trail that much more of a learning experience. I am so happy you got to experience such an amazing place with me at such an amazing time.

Evolution

I watched myself change and grow along the way. I started as a bright eyed newbie, jumping into the world of trail Magic. I was open to it all, but I also wanted to maintain my boundaries and remain strong in who I was, not to get caught up in others dramas or stories. I was so lucky from the beginning to hike with an independent and supportive group of folks. Before I got on the trail I couldn't imagine having a trail name. What anyone would name me was hard to imagine. I actually made a vow to not talk about music because I knew the disco biscuits would come up and someone would want to call me biscuit. It turns out, music came up, and then Tinkerbell called me Biscuit! And it stuck. I resisted for a moment because I didn't want to be associated with a band (my favorite band) or seem like a "groupie." But I couldn't have imagined a more perfect name for me. The name Biscuit packs a punch, is cute, fun to say, and I loved the word. It felt right, so I went with it. I loved my name for the most part and loathed it at times. Biscuit sometimes felt childish, girly, or food related. Which sometimes bothered me.

What I MISS about the trail

Sleeping and rising with the sun, being in tune with the rotating clock of earth.

The freedom of using the “wilderpotty,” anytime, anywhere.

I have to be candid.

I don’t like talking about the trail so much. I feel proud, I remember the time and the light and the colors of the folks I traversed with. I don’t like talking about it because it sounds like a pasttime, something that I did once. The truth is, it wasn’t just some fantastical time I had for 5.5 months. I wish that I could always be on the trail. My grandma says maybe I was escaping something, maybe myself, maybe my potential, maybe the world… I think she is right. I also beg to differ. I think I really dropped into myself, my potential and the real world.

Looking back, I remember classic things about people and laugh out loud. Like my friend Testament, who lost his phone in the Sierra's and kept walking, not worried at all that he no longer had his cell phone. Or my friend Blister with his complimentary coffee and caramel break mid day. Or Switch and our moments of back and forth laughter at laughter.

I loved all the moments on the trail that myself alone and with my friends experienced moments of sheer and pure ecstasy. Pure gratitude for the trail, the people, the laughter, the planet, this life. I set out to do this crazy hike by myself, but it would have not been special if it weren't for the terrific people I shared my journey with.