19th April 2025

We woke to condensation again. Little puddles had formed on our tent floor, the sleeping bags were wet and water dropped onto my forehead from the tent ceiling. It wasn’t just us, the rest of the group found themselves in the same position. When can we begin cowboy camping?

Our spirits changed as the sun rose and we bore witness to our first cloudless morning in the desert. A pinkish hue outlined Dalmatian like hills: red stone spotted by green vegetation. We spent the day ascending, climbing ever upwards through the hills. As I climbed I noted the grubby sun hoodie, the walking poles being carried horizontally while on an easy section, and the recently used water filter. Was I finally a thru-hiker? The notion of imposter syndrome I’ve been feeling for the last few months had been silenced. Slowly, with every step, this reality of the PCT was materialising.

We stopped at Long Canyon Creek where we let the sun dry our damp sleeping gear while having lunch. We sat with a French man who had taken his violin with him (‘his one luxury item’ he said) and he played and amazing Irish jig. It was so unexpected and unique, something I would have never have thought of in my expectation of the trail. 

Once the rest of the group caught up we dipped our feet into the creek, set up shelter and relaxed for a few hours during the hottest point of the day. At 4pm we continued to climb and at the top I looked back and was greeted with layers of silhouetted hills. The nearest in focus, becoming more faded the further they were.

We stopped at Lower Morris Meadows where the landscape suddenly changed to woodlands and with it the comforting damp smell of pine. Half of our group left to get a hostel bed in Mount Laguna while the rest of us set up camp here. As the sun went down it created a pink hue similar to that we saw this morning.