I made it to the Southern Terminus.
Missed the Greyhound to San Diego; no refunds, no applying towards a new ticket. Lost money!
Went to the Amtrak station next door. Cheaper and nicer anyway. But the train from Fresno goes to Bakersfield first and then you have to take a bus to LA. There, you catch another train to San Diego. It’s a pain. But I did that.
Once in San Diego, you have to take a trolley to another bus transit center, and from there another bus to the old and frumpy border town of Campo.
They got a cool little old grocery store there, and the road to the trailhead is across the street.
I met a couple of hikers on the bus there. One, Carl, is super experienced and older than me. He is no doubt many miles ahead of me even one day later.
The other, who is not using any names and calls himself, “I Am,” had a very mellow dog and two suitcases full of stuff in addition to his pack. Total newbie.
We there went to a ranch in Campo that is a popular campsite for people starting the trail.
(As I write this, I am 7 miles in and camping. It is morning, and I am slow starting, happily, but I don’t remember the name of the camp.)
There, Carl and I both spent some energy schooling our new companion. We colluded, in fact. In the process, I met two other hikers, Emilio, from the Bay Area, and a fellow from Arkansas whose name I did not get.
The PCT is a social trail. There are many solo hikers, but there are lots of people, so one tends not to be alone for long.
But I am not in shape. It is painful. My legs gave out and I even took a fall. Blooded, I decided to make camp.
Now, moments before I fell, I greeted another fellow who was making camp to the side of the trail. Another older guy, dressed what looked like all white but was actually very pale colors. He saw my fall and kindly offered assistance. I bloodied a knuckle and tore a small hole in the knee of my pants.
We tend to have trail names, his was formerly, “Sasquatch,” but he said he’s going, “SSS” now, and people can make up there own meaning. He said Something Sandal Sasquatch. “Sandal Man,” I will call him.
So many people’s stories to tell!
All these souls wishing to remake themselves. I have come to understand that I have already done that. On the trail, I am I.