My first night on the PCT.

For twenty years I dreamed about hiking the Pacific Crest Trail. I shopped for gear and read books about hiking the trail. The day I turned 40, I sat staring at the phone afraid and excited to make the call. I told myself that it could not be put off; it had to be done that day. I called my job and told them that I wouldn’t be back that spring because I was going to hike the PCT. To my surprise they said, “That sounds great! If you don’t have anywhere to hike next year give us a call.� And so, it was really going to happen; I was going to hike from Mexico to Canada, close to 2700 miles in one summer.

I got off the bus, down at the border, and walked to the beginning of the trail and back again to the little town of Campo. I slept on the rocks above the store to avoid possible run-ins with immigrants during the night. That night I was so happy. It felt unreal to finally be there after so many years of wanting to be there. I didn’t set up my tent; I just lay down my pad on the rock and got in my sleeping bag. That night I was woke up by a bird that touched me and then hovered above me.