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Divorced man begins PCT at Kitchen Creek wrong time of year
He was too big, his backpack was too big
Looking for direction?
- A long-distance hiking trail running from Mexico to Canada that is closely aligned with the highest portion of the Cascade and Sierra Nevada mountain ranges. Elevation ranges from 110 feet to over 13,000 feet, and the hike usually takes between four and six months to complete.
- Distance from downtown San Diego: 60 miles
- Hike length: 2653 miles • Difficulty: Very Difficult • Season: Mid-April is best start date
I drove 45 minutes east into the scrub-covered mountains, headed for Boulder Oaks campground, where I would take a short hike on the Pacific Crest Trail. As I pulled into the campground, a thru-hiker was headed out. (That’s the term for a hiker who at least intends to walk the entire PCT.) I rolled down the passenger window, and we spoke for a few minutes.
He was from Dallas, he had just turned 50, he had begun the PCT at the wrong time of year, and he carried a too-large pack on his too-large frame. He apparently was new to backpacking. He was only 26 miles into the trail, and already he was on his second backpack, and this one also had fallen apart. The shoulder straps were ripping where they were sewn into the pack body, and he held everything together with yellow bungee straps. He said that when his original pack fell apart, he got a lift into town and bought this pack at Big 5 Sporting Goods. He said it cost $40. I wasn’t surprised it already was falling apart. You can’t get a decent thru-hiking pack for even triple that, and you need a really tough pack if you’re carrying twice the weight you ought to be carrying. He had more than 50 pounds on his back — and it looked like an extra 50 pounds on his abdomen.
He said he already was annoyed at the uselessness of Google Maps. That was the only app he was relying on for route finding, and I couldn’t blame him for his annoyance. Google Maps is fine for paved roads, but it truly is useless if you’re hiking trails. I recommended Gaia GPS to him, and he said he just now had learned about it, from someone else at the campground.
I wished him well and parked my Jeep. I saw him walk north on the PCT and disappear from sight. I gathered my gear and started to hike south. I didn’t intend to go far — just far enough to stretch my legs and to reach a particular large granite slab, where I soaked up sun for an hour. (The sky was clear, the temperature was around 75F. Oh, the delights of winter in Southern California.) As I began my hike to the slab, I spoke with the man with whom the hiker had spoken. He told me the hiker had come here from Texas to clear his mind, to get away from the aftereffects of a divorce. That kind of thing is not uncommon. Many people go on long hikes — some of which, like the full 2650-mile PCT, take months to complete — in order to work through problems.
Hiker Matt heads out into the wilderness to recover from his divorce.
While I soaked up rays, I thought about the hiker. I had told him what the trail was like over the next dozen miles or so. He obviously had no sense of what was coming. He obviously had done next to no research about the PCT and until very recently, he hadn’t been aware of the two apps that every other thru-hiker would have had on his phone: Gaia GPS and FarOut. And he obviously was carrying far too much gear, and not enough water. The other man had said the hiker was carrying only one bottle of water — happily, that turned out to be incorrect. But I knew the terrain ahead and the lack of options for getting water along the way. An overweight man carrying an overweight pack — and wearing all black on a warm, sunny day — would run out of water soon. Even if he rationed the water he had, he would end up severely dehydrated. I decided to head him off at the pass.
The pass, so to speak, was four miles from where we had talked. He had just finished six miles of level ground, but now he was heading uphill toward Kitchen Creek Road. The spot where the trail crosses the road is where I traditionally set up my “trail magic” station for one or two days in April — the month when most PCT hikers start. I give them cold Gatorades and small bags of potato chips (to compensate for the salt they lose in sweating).
I calculated that the hiker would take two hours to reach Kitchen Creek Road. Done with my own hike, I headed back to the Jeep and took the fastest (but still circuitous) way to the junction. I hiked down the trail for five minutes and saw his head bobbing along, alone. When he came around a bend, I called out, “Hello, Dallas!” He smiled.
Although he had taken a break not long before, I insisted he sit down and drink. I handed him a 24-ounce bottle of Propel. He emptied it quickly. I handed him another, and as he drank I explained exactly where, over the next 47 miles, water might be found. I suggested where he should camp. I recommended that at Scissors Crossing, at mile 77, he get a hitch into the mountain town of Julian. I noted that Julian had a gear shop that might carry “real” backpacks, and that there would be wi-fi through which he could download Gaia GPS and FarOut.
He asked for my phone number and said he would call me to let me know how he was doing. He said his name was Matt. I hope he calls. He seems determined to do as much of the PCT as his body (and the weather) will allow. My guess is that he will get at least as far as the approach to Mount San Jacinto, 145 miles from Kitchen Creek Road. That will take him maybe two weeks, and in that time, the first rains might fall on San Diego and the first thick snows on Mount San Jacinto. The white stuff would be a barrier he would not be able to get through. I hope, however long his hike ends up being, that he at least gets through whatever barriers may be in his mind and heart.
Here's something you might be interested in.
Divorced man begins PCT at Kitchen Creek wrong time of year
He was too big, his backpack was too big
Divorced man begins PCT at Kitchen Creek wrong time of year
He was too big, his backpack was too big
Looking for direction?
- A long-distance hiking trail running from Mexico to Canada that is closely aligned with the highest portion of the Cascade and Sierra Nevada mountain ranges. Elevation ranges from 110 feet to over 13,000 feet, and the hike usually takes between four and six months to complete.
- Distance from downtown San Diego: 60 miles
- Hike length: 2653 miles • Difficulty: Very Difficult • Season: Mid-April is best start date
I drove 45 minutes east into the scrub-covered mountains, headed for Boulder Oaks campground, where I would take a short hike on the Pacific Crest Trail. As I pulled into the campground, a thru-hiker was headed out. (That’s the term for a hiker who at least intends to walk the entire PCT.) I rolled down the passenger window, and we spoke for a few minutes.
He was from Dallas, he had just turned 50, he had begun the PCT at the wrong time of year, and he carried a too-large pack on his too-large frame. He apparently was new to backpacking. He was only 26 miles into the trail, and already he was on his second backpack, and this one also had fallen apart. The shoulder straps were ripping where they were sewn into the pack body, and he held everything together with yellow bungee straps. He said that when his original pack fell apart, he got a lift into town and bought this pack at Big 5 Sporting Goods. He said it cost $40. I wasn’t surprised it already was falling apart. You can’t get a decent thru-hiking pack for even triple that, and you need a really tough pack if you’re carrying twice the weight you ought to be carrying. He had more than 50 pounds on his back — and it looked like an extra 50 pounds on his abdomen.
He said he already was annoyed at the uselessness of Google Maps. That was the only app he was relying on for route finding, and I couldn’t blame him for his annoyance. Google Maps is fine for paved roads, but it truly is useless if you’re hiking trails. I recommended Gaia GPS to him, and he said he just now had learned about it, from someone else at the campground.
I wished him well and parked my Jeep. I saw him walk north on the PCT and disappear from sight. I gathered my gear and started to hike south. I didn’t intend to go far — just far enough to stretch my legs and to reach a particular large granite slab, where I soaked up sun for an hour. (The sky was clear, the temperature was around 75F. Oh, the delights of winter in Southern California.) As I began my hike to the slab, I spoke with the man with whom the hiker had spoken. He told me the hiker had come here from Texas to clear his mind, to get away from the aftereffects of a divorce. That kind of thing is not uncommon. Many people go on long hikes — some of which, like the full 2650-mile PCT, take months to complete — in order to work through problems.
Hiker Matt heads out into the wilderness to recover from his divorce.
While I soaked up rays, I thought about the hiker. I had told him what the trail was like over the next dozen miles or so. He obviously had no sense of what was coming. He obviously had done next to no research about the PCT and until very recently, he hadn’t been aware of the two apps that every other thru-hiker would have had on his phone: Gaia GPS and FarOut. And he obviously was carrying far too much gear, and not enough water. The other man had said the hiker was carrying only one bottle of water — happily, that turned out to be incorrect. But I knew the terrain ahead and the lack of options for getting water along the way. An overweight man carrying an overweight pack — and wearing all black on a warm, sunny day — would run out of water soon. Even if he rationed the water he had, he would end up severely dehydrated. I decided to head him off at the pass.
The pass, so to speak, was four miles from where we had talked. He had just finished six miles of level ground, but now he was heading uphill toward Kitchen Creek Road. The spot where the trail crosses the road is where I traditionally set up my “trail magic” station for one or two days in April — the month when most PCT hikers start. I give them cold Gatorades and small bags of potato chips (to compensate for the salt they lose in sweating).
I calculated that the hiker would take two hours to reach Kitchen Creek Road. Done with my own hike, I headed back to the Jeep and took the fastest (but still circuitous) way to the junction. I hiked down the trail for five minutes and saw his head bobbing along, alone. When he came around a bend, I called out, “Hello, Dallas!” He smiled.
Although he had taken a break not long before, I insisted he sit down and drink. I handed him a 24-ounce bottle of Propel. He emptied it quickly. I handed him another, and as he drank I explained exactly where, over the next 47 miles, water might be found. I suggested where he should camp. I recommended that at Scissors Crossing, at mile 77, he get a hitch into the mountain town of Julian. I noted that Julian had a gear shop that might carry “real” backpacks, and that there would be wi-fi through which he could download Gaia GPS and FarOut.
He asked for my phone number and said he would call me to let me know how he was doing. He said his name was Matt. I hope he calls. He seems determined to do as much of the PCT as his body (and the weather) will allow. My guess is that he will get at least as far as the approach to Mount San Jacinto, 145 miles from Kitchen Creek Road. That will take him maybe two weeks, and in that time, the first rains might fall on San Diego and the first thick snows on Mount San Jacinto. The white stuff would be a barrier he would not be able to get through. I hope, however long his hike ends up being, that he at least gets through whatever barriers may be in his mind and heart.
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