Today is my last day in Canada. Early tomorrow morning, I will board a flight to San Diego, and the following morning I will take my first steps on the Pacific Crest Trail. After over a year of preparation, I woke up a couple of days ago and it all suddenly seemed so real. When I first learned about the PCT and thru-hiking, and thought “I’d like to do that some day,” it all seemed like some kind of distant dream. And now it’s here.
Every time I think about what I’m about to do, a jolt of excitement runs through my body. But there’s also an undercurrent of pure terror. As much as I like to envision myself as a spontaneous, carefree adventurer, I’ve always been a bit of a worrier. What if I injure myself and can’t finish? What if I don’t make any friends? What if I can’t handle the snow in the mountains? What if I don’t have the right gear? What if I haven’t prepared well enough? What am I doing?
On this journey, I am challenging myself to go with the flow. I’ll rest when my body wants to rest, I’ll eat when I’m hungry, I’ll cross bridges when I come to them. One foot in front of the other. One day at a time.
Last few Canadian hiking excursions. With friends both human and furred.