It is feeling more real: Permits and Bear canisters

Huh. So I can't just go out there and roam freely in the wilderness. There are some official logistics that need to be completed, so that someone knows that I am out on my own accord hiking like a maniac. First things first: applying for the Pacific Crest Trail Thru-Permit Request. For $5 I COULD walk the whole way from Mexico to Canada AND summit Mt. Whitney. I will stick with 1000 miles and thrown in Whitney for kicks. For mere mortals only seeking to summit the highest peak in the contiguous United States, the application process is rather competitive. I can apply for it all at once, and I get to do Whitney for "free." Lucky me.

Second thought of the day: Bears. I have seen bears while hiking before, once on the PCT in Washington, the other on the Colorado Trail in Lake City, CO as it raided a town trash can. In the starlit sky, I peeped out the motel window and thought it was a burgler. Guess you can tell that I am a city girl. So, back to bears. I have never carried a bear canister. This past fall at the ALDHA West (American Long Distance Hiking Association West) conference, I watched in a stunned stupor as fellow hikers competed in a bear-canister stuffing contest: How much food can you stuff into a bear canister in one minute? They looked large and bulky, like you are schlepping around a mini-keg on your back. I know that it is the rules, so I'll have to do it...but 11 days of food all in that canister? Not sure its gonna happen.

Tech Gear: communicating on the trail

In the beginning, there was the pay phone, and I carried a toll-free number to call home. Then I got a cell phone and we carried it, left it off, and buried it in the deepest pocket of my backpack never to be used until my return to civilization. Emergencies only--we were being ridiculously purist about the whole wilderness experience. Eventually we realized that using the phone sporadically, but tactically, to, say, make reservations for a hotel room two days away would kick my walking into high gear. (Case in point: walking my first 30-mile day, followed by a 25-mile day with 1500-ft climb to get to Timberline Lodge so that I could relax and bask in the hotel's 1930s-era wrought iron detailing. For those that don't know, I am a metallurgist geek who will pull out all the stops for a good patina, or a glimpse of some 18th-century slag.) I will carry a phone this time, but I want to use it to call people, type my journal, dictate my thoughts and upload these to the web. Of course, in civilization we have addicts of the crackberry, in relentless pursuit of 24/7 connectivity, but a) I don't want or need to be in constant contact, and b) I don't even know if and when I will have a signal.

Cupcake/Keystone (www.cupcakewalk.com) is tech savvy, and used a variety of gadgets for his PCT (Pacific Crest Trail) and CDT (Continental Divide Trail) hikes. We talked about what might work best for me - large enough keyboard for typing, but not too heavy, good battery lifetime, camera, bluetooth capable (which is where my understanding begins to diminish), microphone for dictation, etc., etc. I think that the Samsung Alias II will work b/c it looks like a hinged cell phone (making me feel comfortable) but swivels into a QWERTY keyboard for typing. Battery life good. Normal size. Not too expensive. I plan to buy one and give it a 30-day test drive.

I aim to update my blog every few days, and I will certainly do my best to journal at night, although many times the exhaustion of the day sets in and after dinner, I fall fast asleep.

Now to begin preparation of my food boxes and to purchase my tent (Six Moon Designs Lunar Solo E).

70 days until the Mexican border.

"Sticky"

So I decided to walk 1000 miles on the Pacific Crest Trail

At some point this past summer, while suffering through 325 miles of the Pacific Crest Trail in Oregon, covering my first 30-mile day, meeting amazing thru-hikers, sharing stories, skinny-dipping when I felt like it, I sensed an incomprehensible feeling of freedom and I knew that I wanted to do my own hike. Strangely, nine years ago when I met Happy ‘JO’ I had never hiked in my life. I claimed that 98% of my hikes were for love, but I slowly found myself craving the wilderness, the simple necessities of life on the trail, and the incredible companionship that only comes from letting go of all of your worldly belongings and walking with other crazy masochists in one direction for days on end.

I knew that I wanted to hike my own hike--and sometimes I justify it by saying that I am having an early mid-life crisis. I don’t know what I will uncover about myself, but I know that it will be hard, the desert will be hot, and that I will get the biggest blisters of my life. I also know that when I meet others on the trail, we will have an affinity that transcends the commonalities of everyday life. We will instantly understand the need for walking for weeks on end, the craving for clean water, dry weather, and a cheeseburger.

I knew that I needed to do another fundraiser, though, for something or someone that was meaningful to me and would motivate me in my darkest moments, when I wondered how I could have put myself in a 25-mile waterless stretch of 110 degree heat. Through my friend Anna, I met Jake French, and I can’t say enough about how much he motivates me to want to WALK. Every time that I feel like I can’t do it, I can think about Jake, and the motivation that he must conjure up every day during the rehabilitation process to move through every day activities.

So now I am preparing my schedule, my gear, and my food drops. I don’t know who I will start with, and I don’t really care. I won’t go to the annual day-zero kick off party (ADZPCTKO) simply because it is too early in the year, and I don’t want to get siked out. I plan to hook up with hikers along the way. And to all of you trail angels in LA (O’dark, Shadow, the Kenderians), I can’t wait to reunite with you.