Happy Trails
By HENRY SHIRES '82
On April 21, 1999, I took my first step from the Mexican border on the Pacific Crest National Scenic Trail. My goal: Canada. Two years of planning had come to an end. Now it was up to me to walk 2,658 miles before winter snows ended the season.
The Pacific Crest National Scenic Trail, or PCT, is one of three long- distance trails in the United States. Connecting the Mexican border to the Canadian border, it joins three states and three countries. In length, it falls between the Appalachian Trail (about 2,200 miles) and the Continental Divide Trail (about 3,000 miles). It stands above the others, though, in terrain diversity. Passing from desert to mountain, from searing heat to summer snowstorms, from drought to deluge, the trail encompasses most of the life zones in the United States.
Officially completed in 1993, the trail has been "thru-hiked" since the early 1970s. This year, nearly 200 people attempted to hike the entire trail. More than half failed.
The Itch
I love the mountains. Other than the Block Plan, that's why I came to CC in 1978. As a student, I enjoyed Colorado's hiking and skiing trails. When I graduated, I continued to hike, especially in California's High Sierra. I took hiking trips to New Zealand and Nepal and enjoyed my annual pilgrimage to the Crags on the back of Pikes Peak.
Two summers ago, on a hike near Ashland, Ore., with Eric Cohen '82 and my wife, Cynthia Gilbert '82, my life changed forever. Returning from our day hike, we met five PCT hikers bound for Canada from the Mexican border. Their dream became mine. My work soon suffered. I no longer cared for the day-to-day trivialities of meetings about meetings, and reports about reports. The PCT became an obsession, an itch I would do anything to scratch. I studied maps, searched the Internet, scoured gear stores and learned how to sew. I read about nutrition and food preparation. I bought a food dehydrator and experimented with chili, marinated meats, fruit puree and steamed vegetables. I made a jacket, pack and tent in a relentless pursuit to save weight.
When Cynthia completed her Ph.D. at the University of Washington, I quit my job and we returned to the Bay Area to live and prepare for the hike. For nearly five months I did little except train, sew, and prepare food. On April 20, we flew to San Diego and the start of my odyssey.
People often ask why I gave up my career and left my wife for five months of hardship and danger. I suppose it's because I believe life is a gift, given to be opened, enjoyed, and shared. Every day is a new opportunity to learn, a new chance to grow. I think we grow stronger through challenge, risk and adversity, and we wither from inaction. Blessed with good health, savings and a supportive wife, I wanted to do something extraordinary while I was still able. I wanted to set the bar high and see if I could jump higher. I didn't want to get down life's trail and look back with regret at an opportunity I passed up for more temporal rewards.
The Hike
Everyday on the trail was a new challenge, every challenge a new solution. I wilted and blistered in the desert heat, slipped and froze in the Sierra snow, and mildewed in the Cascade drizzle. I was awed by the High Sierra, bored by the Oregon forests, angered by clearcutting, and left speechless by acts of kindness from people I'd never met.
I kept an online journal, writing everyday about my journey. And though the journal is only an outline of my experiences, I hope it provides a small window into life on the PCT. The following is a small sample. The rest can be found at the address http://members.aol.com/hshires/pcthike
July 5
14 miles. We (my trail friends, Shirt, Packrat and I) are back on the trail. I ran into these two on my way down to Donner Summit. We met as we headed over the 9,000-foot Tinker's Knob ridge. The wind was unbelievably strong and we leaned into it at impossible angles in an attempt to stay upright. We were very glad to get safely off that ridge.
It was the 4th of July weekend so we went to see the parade downtown. My favorite presentation was the Truckee Drill Team -- six guys in ski boots twirling American flags from portable electric drills.
We ate like elephants and gained back a few pounds. I've lost 10-15 pounds so far. Cynthia drove us back to Donner Summit after lunch. I probably won't see her again until Ashland, Ore. -- 575 miles away. I miss her already.
July 7
20 miles. I had a spectacular hike over the Sierra Buttes. I stopped, as I often do, for a late afternoon dinner before hiking on a few more miles. I chose my spot early in the day, based solely on the guidebook description. I was not disappointed. My meal on "a saddle with a diminutive pond" was lovely.
I'm camped tonight at 7,300 feet on a gorgeous point overlooking both Rock and Grass Lakes in Lakes Basin -- a sort of poor man's Desolation Wilderness. Far below I can see smoke rising from a lakeside campfire. With a favorable breeze I can just hear muffled voices -- their tones clear but their content lost.
July 8
27 miles. Aside from short stretches of morning snow, I walked snow-free trails all day. After looking at tomorrow's route, I'm quite sure the long stretch of consecutive trail days on snow will end at 31.
I entered the Sierra on May 27 when I left Tehachapi, about 550 miles into the walk. I will leave the Sierra on July 11 at about mile 1,290. As the crow flies, the range is about 400 miles. As the hiker hikes, it's nearly twice that long. Leaving the Sierra is bittersweet. I won't miss the snow, but I'll miss the lakes, the waterfalls, the meadows, and the unparalleled vistas. I'll miss the granite walls and the late afternoon light. Soon I'll head into the Southern Cascades at Lassen National Park. Except for a detour into the Siskyous I'll follow the Cascades all the way to Canada.
I saw hundreds of butterflies today, adorned with every color of the rainbow. They must have thought I was a giant walking flower. Every few feet another one flew up, circled my pack, and then flitted off to better-smelling fare.
July 9
25 miles. I detoured a few miles off the PCT this afternoon in search of food. Real food. Real beef. I found it at Bucks Lake Lodge. I ordered the prime rib because the waitress assured me the portion would be "generous." That was an understatement. It was the largest prime rib I have ever seen: at least 20 ounces of meat attached to a bone the size of my forearm. I washed it down with a beer, a salad, a cup of soup, a loaf of bread (actually two), a baked potato with sour cream, and a slice of melon. I was too full for dessert -- a first on this trip.
What happens now? I'm not sure. I know the person who left Mexico is not the same one who entered Canada. I am forever changed by this experience -- some ways apparent to others, other ways known only to me. Without question, the intensity of trail life has deepened my appreciation for the beauty of the Earth, for the love of family and friends, and for the great gift of life. In 1982, the title of the CC commencement address by Justice Sandra Day O'Connor was "One Step at a Time -- And Keep Walking." I intend to do that.
PCT FACTOIDS
Pairs of shoes worn out: 7
Pairs of socks worn out: 20
Longest resupply (days): 9
Longest day (miles): 34
Lowest temperature (degrees): 15
Highest temperature (degrees): 100
Days walked: 130
Calories consumed per day: 5,000
Lowest elevation (feet): 140 (Columbia River Gorge, OR/WA)
Highest elevation (feet): 13,200 (Forester Pass, CA)
Miles walked: 2,658
Elevation gained (feet): 315,000
Steps taken: 6,300,000Back to Index