14th May 2025

For the first time since starting the PCT I’ve been sad to leave town. I’ve loved our two nights here, the people we’ve stayed with and the access to home comforts. But alas, the trail awaits and with it the adventures pending.

After a coffee at the Village Grind we caught a ride back to trail. We began our slow ascent up the two mile rocky road back into the high desert pine forest and the PCT. During the climb I heard a rustling to my right and stopped to identify the source of the commotion. To my surprise the bush parted revealing a bear.

This is my first bear encounter as a hiker and, up until this point, had caused me tremendous anxiety. I had done lots of reading about bears to help prepare me. While all had said the same thing “bears don’t mean you any harm” it’s hard to fully believe that, considering a bear could obliterate me in the most gory sense of the word if it chose to.

However, when I saw the bear bounding in my direction I felt weirdly calm. I don’t claim to be an animal behaviourist but from my armature observations, this bears reaction to us could only be described as indifference. It cantered between me and Drizzle, its focus on the path ahead, looking neither hurried, anxious, nor paying us any attention. He was within two metres of me and I was surprised by how quietly he moved. The boys up ahead turned around in time to watch him enter the woods next to us. We all felt elated at the experience, and for Dan and I, much needed reassurance.

Once reconnected to the PCT we had a snack break with the intention to cut down pack weight. Since carrying Drizzles pack the other day I had become obsessed with how heavy my pack was – it was even heavier than Heavyweights, a guy named for how heavy his pack is! Up until this point I had been oblivious to my extra baggage, presuming we were all in the same boat. Now aware I wondered whether this knowledge caused my bag to feel heavier than before. Ignorance is bliss I guess.

We began the climb to summit Mount Baden-Powell, which stands at 2,867m (9,406ft). To pass the time and to take my mind off my pack, I counted the switchbacks up to the top: 46, plus or minus a few that I missed or counted twice! The last half a mile of this climb were challenging for me. The altitude got me bad, making me drowsy and woozy. My constricting backpack and all its weight was restricting my breaths and fuelling my discomfort.

At the top we stopped for lunch and I felt fine with the rest, but as soon as we moved I would become disorientated and a little confused. Keen to get back down, the group offloaded some of the weight from my pack and we moved on. While initially the path descended, it began climbing again and with it a desire to do nothing but close my eyes and sleep. I stumbled a lot, too tired to pick up my feet. But with several stops we were able to get through the high altitude section.

Once back below 2500m (8000ft) my feet became the problem as my head recalibrated now it had more oxygen. My shoes still rubbed my heels causing the old blisters to refill with fluid. The soles of my shoes are useless, sending pain throughout my feet when I step on stones and rocks, which in this rocky environment is unavoidable. Grumpy, fed up and annoyed we made it to camp to find Backtrack there, a fire ablaze in the fire pit and a beautiful pine forest to pitch the tents in. My spirits regained while huddled around the campfire as the darkness crept in. It would prove to be a cold night, our breaths visible by fire light.