Reflections of the PCT as I gear up for the AT

I remember my first hike as a young nipper. I would have been about 10. Dad took my sister, friend, and I on a two-night three-day hike called the Rakiura Track in Stewart Island New Zealand. I specifically remember lots of mud, meeting cool international people, having an ultralight pack (dad carried almost everything) and eating Moro-bars for lunch and spaghetti from a can for dinner. Hook, line, and sinker – hiking had me. No pun intended as I grew up on a salmon hatchery.

Me as a groovy little nipper!

From there on out I continued to do the odd hike throughout New Zealand. NZ has a great hut system meaning the first tent I ever bought was for the PCT in 2019. The dream became a reality when work let me take four and a half months off. I started buying gear, getting my visa sorted and making travel arrangements. I flew into LAX and took the world-famous Greyhound Bus all the way down to San Diego to stay at the infamous Scout and Frodo’s place.

The nerves were mixed with overwhelming excitement to get started. The first 700 miles of the trail up until Kennedy Meadows South I predominantly hiked by myself. As I edged closer to Kennedy Meadows South the fear mongering grew substantially as it was a heavy snow year. Luckily for me I met the first two members of my Sierra trail family at the base of Mt Whitney. We grew, collecting other hikers along the way and we later called ourselves the HB’s; which of course stands for hard bitches.

Little did I know this would be a trip of a lifetime, reflecting on the journey brings back those almost psychedelic feelings, like I was tripping. Tripping on stones, tree roots, ice, down snowy tree wells and of course over my own two left feet. The trail, the people, the sights, and the colours all seemed to morph and blend into one another.

Several days in I got my trail name “Bubblewrap” from some trail angel that picked me up. He saw my heavily bruised legs and told me that I should be wrapped in Bubblewrap. I don’t disagree. If the following photos tell you anything I’m a walking masterpiece, correction disaster piece.

Bum McScuffin my way thru the PCT

Photoshoot ready!

The Pacific Crest Trail changed me in a way I can’t really explain. If you’ve hiked a long trail, you probably know. It’s the magic of the trail, the people, the community. It’s pushing your mind and body to achieve things you once thought were crazy and near impossible. The trail made me realise I’m stronger than I ever thought I was, and I should take life a little less seriously. Seriously, be free, dig a cat hole and shit in it.

I loved the freedom of carrying my home on my back for 4 months, it was grounding, literally. Getting to camp with your trail family, talking about the highs and lows of the day and dreaming about that juicy burger you are going to eat when you hit town were all magical moments

I started the PCT NOBO on April 28th, 2019, and finished on August 28th, 2019.

After completing two thru hikes (second being the CDT) and returning home after each, I realised it doesn’t take long for me to want to be back out there. It changed something in my already eccentric brain. I had now conformed easily into an A-typical thru hiker, AKA Hiker trash. What does this involve, nothing less than:

• Not showering for over a week
• Surviving almost on Clif bars and Snickers
• Finding a piece of food on the trail/dirt and picking up and eating it (technically trail magic)
• Digging several cat holes a day as the thru hiker diet is made to test your bowel
• Going to a diner/restaurant in town and seeing someone leave food on their plate… “excuse me are you going to finish that?”
• Main topics of discussion with the trail family all revolving around hiking, cat holes, food and getting to town
• Random debates and topics of discussion with the trail family ranging from strange to absurd… “if you could have any animals tail what would it be and why?” “If we absolutely had to and were stranded/starving about to die, which family member would be sacrificed?” and so on…

The thing that warms my cheesy little ramen MSG covered heart is knowing that I get to experience this all over again from the 28th of March 2025. Can’t wait to meet some other filthy animals AKA you beautiful specimens of hiker trash.

Looking pretty fly for a stinky bitch!

B*wrap.