When the Red Line Ends

There is a reason I am writing this post a year and half after finishing the Pacific Crest Trail. Reflecting on this journey brings back so many emotions. It is hard to think back to the freedom and rawness of those months in the Summer of 2023, and know how to feel about it. What I have written below, truly digs into what the PCT means/meant to me, and how it continues to stay with me.

Journal Entry written September 12, 2023:

When I walked up to the Northern Terminus Monument, I expected to feel different, I expected to all of a sudden feel worthy and strong and confident, for I had hiked 2,650 miles through desert heat, snow, and wildfire smoke to get here. But I felt the same. A good same. Not the same that I felt 135 days prior at the Southern Terminus. A “same” that was built incrementally with every step.

Southern Terminus Rachel was a dreamer. I was armed with spreadsheets and years of daydreams. I felt present and ready to throw expectations out the window and begin writing my own story. Midpoint Moony was gritty, maybe even a little hardened. I was still fresh out of the Sierra and walking through days of burn zone areas. I felt raw and whole and determined. Northern Terminus Moony was grateful and proud and felt like anything was possible. I will forever be changed by this Summer that I walked from Mexico to Canada. I feel whole from experiencing such a simple life on trail, from the people I met, from the rugged beauty I saw, and from the power of perseverance.

The Northern Terminus

The monument stood there so quiet, so unassuming, as I walked toward it. I had dreamed about this monument for months. For years? Images of this monument danced in my head in the toughest moments of this trail – like a carrot, daring me to keep going. I dreamed about this exact feeling. What would it feel like to stand in front of this monument, with over 2,650 miles of stories behind me. Who would I be? Who would I be with?  

The Northern Terminus Monument!

It was like time stopped as I walked up to the monument, and I placed my hand on it (maybe to make sure it was real?). I thought about who I was when I touched the Southern Terminus Monument 135 days prior. I thought about the anxiety, the stress, the tears, the freedom, the pure joy, the people, the community that brought me here. 

Spud and I sat down and opened the log book. Our final log book. We flipped through the pages of notes and trails names of our fellow PCT Class of 2023 who reached Canada before us. We smiled, reading their thoughts and reflections. I took the pen. “We are capable of so much more than we give ourselves credit for.” I wrote. “But argue for your limitations, and they’re yours.” I thought of every excuse that could have prevented me from hiking the PCT this year. BUT my career… but it is a record snow year… but people tell me it isn’t safe… but I’ve never hiked this far before… but what if I fail? 

Maybe I needed to prove to myself, once and for all, that none of it mattered. That I could do anything I put my mind to. The scary thing is that once you believe that… what comes next? 

Victory Lap to Hart’s Pass

The hike from the Canadian border back to Hart’s Pass was 30 miles. The energy during that 30 mile stretch was special. I smiled as I passed hikers about to reach Canada themselves. I congratulated each of them, many made up of familiar faces that I had crossed paths with along our journeys.

When Spud and I reached the top of the climb, we had to be less than 1 hour away from Hart’s Pass and the end of our hike. We stopped, laid down on the side of the trail, and took a minute to enjoy our last day as thru hikers. I think in that moment, I knew how lucky I was. My mind was so clear, so free from worry or to-dos, or the trivial details of day to day life. If I could go back in time, I would have stayed there for hours, delaying the end of the trail. 

I took this photo while laying on the side of the trail, taking a full stop pause before continuing to Hart’s Pass

When we felt like we had delayed the inevitable long enough, we marched onward. Within 1 mile of the end, I saw Sonic running toward me, with Mackenzie close in toe. It was the end. We all walked together toward Mackenzie’s car in the Hart’s Pass parking area. I felt like I was being escorted to time out.

The End of the Red Line

I went to unclip my hip belt to take off my backpack. I couldn’t do it. I froze. “We couldn’t be done…” I thought to myself. What would come next? I spent so much time following the red line – it was the one thing that I knew I had to do. What was the next red line? I quickly realized that the days to come, as everything unfolded, would be my next big challenge. 

The last PCT Badge trail marker I would see (for now!)

I started sobbing and shaking my head, no, looking up at Mackenzie, at Spud. “I can’t get in the car. I don’t want it to be over.” Spud wrapped me in a hug, “We did it. We made it.” he smiled. “There’s no more trail left to hike, Moony.”  

That should have comforted me. I had spent the last 135 days obsessing over details that would get me to this very moment. There were no more obstacles, besides getting into this car and starting the journey home. I stood there crying for a few minutes, unable to process the end of my Pacific Crest Trail journey. I wanted to run back down the trail and continue onward, but Spud was right. Our journey ended here. We did it. I reluctantly collapsed my trekking poles and placed them in the car, then my backpack. I felt naked. I looked around Hart’s Pass, at the mountains, and mentally thanked this special place for the last 135 days.

What comes Next?

Life went on.

I showered. I saw Spud in different clothes for the first time in 4.5 months. I hiker hobbled around Seattle. I laid on the couch and binge watched TV. I had hard goodbyes. I organized photos from trail. I journaled. I wondered what the heck to do next.

I sought comfort on another trail. I hiked the Wonderland Trail with Mackenzie (and missed my hiker legs) and thought a lot about the last 5 months. I flew home to Denver. I drove my car across the country. I went to my Brother’s wedding. I reunited with friends and family. I started work again. 

While my life does not revolve around a red line any more, I continue to find myself bringing elements of “Moony” into my day to day life. Every day may not be a 30 mile hike through the most beautiful stretches of the west coast BUT I still find the joy and beauty in the little bitty moments every single day. I still dream big. I still feel “the same” but different in every way. 

Thank you PCT.

Love, Moony.

The End 🙂