So long and thank you

October 25, 2011 § Leave a comment

One morning you’re camping in the mountains and the evening of the next day you’re in downtown Seattle. One day you’re in the US and the next you’re back home in Switzerland. It’s sad and scary how fast and easily you are off the trail. A sense of unreality has gripped us. Did it really happen? It’s good there’s the new silhouette, a few more scars, still sore legs and feet, about a thousand pictures and a dozen or so new Facebook friends that tell us, yes, it really existed.

I had read that hikers usually get Post-Hiking Depression once they go back to “normal” life. I had jokingly said that I might still get a PHD then 😉 But so far our spirits have been good. We stayed at Lucy and Larry’s home in Seattle, they have also spent the last 5 months hiking the PCT. Their hospitality and generosity were incredible. Tiny Dancer and Anchor, other PCT hikers, showed us around Seattle. Spending time with other hikers helped us to smoothly transition from the trail to “normal” life. We weren’t hiking anymore but we could talk at length about the trail with people that truly understand what we have lived and why the trail means so much to us. They have been to the same places, they have met the same people, we could share memories of the trail. Back home, we are still carried by the excitement of our return. We are going through pictures, we are telling stories to friends and family. We haven’t landed yet, we are still out there somehow. PHD might still catch up in a few days, weeks, months. We’ll see, it’s part of the experience.

We are hungry all the time. For a week we had cramps in our calves at night. We haven’t recovered fully normal sensations in our feet. Our knees are still giving us a hard time. We probably have an iron deficiency. Back to civilization life seems so complicated. We’re having trouble following schedules and being on time, we aren’t used anymore to keep track of the hours passing by. There are too many stimuli around, we can’t focus and think straight. We don’t know how to deal with stress anymore. A slight need to rush takes huge proportions, we’re almost on the verge of panic. Isabelle said the other day: “I can’t cope with the stress of daily life here. Can I just walk 20 miles please?”. Not to mention that jetlag has kicked in. We’re completely out of phase with society, we need to readapt.

I am stunned by how gorgeous Switzerland is. The vineyards and their autumnal colours, the Leman lake and the snowy mountains across the water… I had forgotten there was so much beauty right on my doorstep. I missed it. I missed Lausanne and its numerous possibilities for activities. I’m glad I’m gonna stick around for a while.

And now it’s time for thank yous.

Thank you, Mum and Dad, for the love of the outdoors and the mountains. We’re proud to be as crazy as you, Dad.

Thank you, John, for accepting to send our resupply boxes and doing a great job as a mailman.

Thank you, Anchor, for letting us store our extra gear at your place and not minding us flooding your mail box with packages.

Thanks to everybody who helped us on our way, should it be by giving us a ride, offering us hospitality and food or simply by encouraging us, should you be yearly trail angel or trail angel for a day. Thank you, Avner and his friends, the Saufley’s, the Anderson’s, Thomas, Joe, Tom, Kevin and Micheal, Doug, Bill and Margaret at the Red Moose, Marie, the couple that paid for our breakfast in Ashland, Anthony, Robin and Brion, Roger and Sharon at the Bridge of the Gods motel, Beverly at the Trout Lake grocery store, Nick and Rachel, Lucy and Larry, and the numerous people that we haven’t met but who made sure there was water at the caches and left trail magic on our path. Our Karma debt is huge, we can’t wait to pay forward all that was given to us. One of the best thing we learnt on the trail is that there are amazing people out there who are incredibly generous and who are ready to go to great lengths to give you a hand on your journey. Humankind is not just about greed, destruction and violence. Thank you.

Thanks to every hiker for the trail moments we shared. We weren’t expecting the PCT to be such a social experience but we’re glad it was. It wouldn’t have been the same without you, you made it so much more worthwhile. Thank you, Brandon, Kolby, Ryan, Little Bug and Squirrel, Marmot and Gabriel, Krista, Wolfpack, Wild Bill, Moses, Joe Dirt, Good Karma, Boy Scout, Doug aka Bonbon Halls, Space Cowboy, Mufasa, Scarecrow, Dave, Low Card, Donatello, Clammy, Henry, Andrew, Magellan, Pepper and Mace, Tiny Dancer and Anchor, Aquaman, Corduroy, Busted Magic, Leader, Adam, Luke, The Dusty Camel, Noelle, Jake, Number One, Plant, Forever and Ever, Huffa Puffa and Map Man, Java, Mike and Jeannie, Sourdough, Sprinkles and Toby, the famous Scott Garner, Slip and Slide, Hans, The Bum, Rawhide, Flying Fish, Snager Tooth…

A special thank you to the Booze Crew for the great times in the Sierras and for making us a little bit more American. It’s sad we never got to say good-bye to you all. And a special thank you to Busted Magic for all the fun, camping on pavement and everything ridonculous!

Thank you, Ryan, for making us more than sisters, you made us Swisters for life!

Thanks to our friends and family for following our progress, encouraging us and welcoming us back so warmly. We missed you!

Thanks to you, reader, for following our adventures on the blog. It was a pleasure to write those posts and I’m happy so many of you enjoyed them. I have to give Isabelle credit for providing me with some ideas, suggesting corrections for better posts, starting the ode to Tatonka and coming up with so many rhymes.

Thanks to Carrousel for their song “On y arrivera” [We will make it]. It got us through many a long day.

Thanks to Gorilla tape. It’s strong, it can repair anything. Because, as everybody knows, gorillas can take down helicopters! 😉

Keep this blog among your bookmarks. We still have 500 miles to go. And our hiking days are far from over. We couldn’t help already checking the few long distance hikes we heard about on the trail. Te Araroa, 3000kms through New Zealand. The Israel National Trail, 1000kms through Isreal. The Colorado Trail, 500 miles in Colorado. Via Alpina, 5000kms in Europe. The Great Himalaya Trail, 1700kms through Nepal. And that’s just the beginning… 😉


The End… for now

October 13, 2011 § 5 Comments

Cascade Locks to Trout Lake – 68 miles 4 days Total: 2223 miles 181 days + 22 zero days

And the rain fell upon the earth for forty days and forty nights. Oh, sorry, that’s another story 😉 The day we stepped into Washington it rained the whole day and the whole night. The next morning it was still raining. We packed a completely drenched tent, resisted the temptation to head back to Cascade Locks and pushed on north. After the lunch break we were that close to quitting. My throat was tight with tears at the thought that it was over. We were cold. Our shoes were soaked. Despite the raincover, the backpacks were getting wet, all we could do was hope the waterproof bags inside were holding better. There was no way the tent was going to dry during the day.

“Just walk and it’s gonna be ok.” It started as a joke many miles ago, we would say this whenever there was an issue on the trail but it became true along the way. So we walked and it got better. We warmed up, the rain eventually stopped (for that day at least…) and it wasn’t so bad to set up a wet tent at camp that night. It wasn’t over yet.

But then we learnt that several hikers had gotten caught in a snow storm in the Goat Rocks Wilderness a few days ago. We had already heard that another hiker had gotten lost in a whiteout in the same area a week ago. We were heading that way, it was at higher altitude so it was probably snowing up there and more snow storms were predicted. Snow on the ground is one thing, we can deal with that, we did in the Sierras, but a snow storm is different. It seemed unsafe to still be out there. There is crazy and there is stupid. We do crazy (obviously!) but we don’t do stupid. Our dad taught us better about the mountains than to run head first in a snow storm so we could hike about 450 more miles and reach the arbitrary number of 2650 miles. We were told Washington was a succession of amazing views, the next scenery more beautiful than the previous one. What was the point of hiking it in a white mist?

We struggled to take a decision. It was hard, there were tears. We really wanted to get to Canada. It was tough to let go and come to terms with the fact that we were not gonna make it. But we made the wise choice, we left the trail at the next road. I think we grew up more by having to take that decision than during 5 months on the trail.

We had been telling section hikers we met that they were doing it the smart way. Well, we have become section hikers. And man, what a section! 2223 miles. But we really lived it as a thru-hike and that’s the good thing, we’ll get the best of both worlds, because when we’ll be back to hike those last 500 miles, it’ll really be as smart section hikers, we’ll be able to take the time.

Because we’ll be back. This is the end for now. We are not done yet. We’ll hike to Canada some day. A song from the band Carrousel has been the hymn of our PCT since our first steps on the trail. We would sing it when we felt good and when it was hard, to give us courage. It fits now maybe more than ever. The lyrics say: “On y arrivera quand même. Demain, une autre fois.” [We will make it anyway. Tomorrow, another time]. And more importantly: “Peu importe où ça nous mène…” [No matter where it leads us…]

We are happy. It has been an amazing experience. We have met extraordinary people, shared incredible moments and seen the most beautiful things. It’s the end but it’s also the beginning of the next adventure. We are looking forward to going home and hugging family and friends. We are not walking any more miles, at last we can rest.

We are proud. We have walked a hell of a long way! There has been more good times than bad times, but it has been hard work. We usually woke up between 6-7am and didn’t set up camp before 6-7pm. We have dedicated most of our time to the trail; in 5 months we have only read a single book! Leaving the mexican border we never thought that we would be able to walk 27 miles in a day (a marathon is 26.2 miles…). For the last 5 months we have woken up with swollen feet and have hurt every day. We have dealt with and overcome the many challenges of the trail: the heat, the lack of water, the boringness of the desert, the snow, the river crossings, the logistics of resupply, the occasional tension between sisters, the pain… Modesty is a quality but knowing your true worth is as well and I think we have earned the right to say, without sounding too boastful: THE SWISTERS ROCK!!!!!

We are wiser. We haven’t found God and the meaning of life hasn’t been revealed to us. No, it’s the little things of life that everybody knows deep down but tends to forget that the trail reminded us. Take the time. You are great. Look beyond first impressions. Listen to yourself. If I quit does it mean I failed? Live the questions…

We are sad. We couldn’t make it to Canada. It’s the end. It’s time to say goodbye. When we could. We never got the chance to say goodbye to a lot of the amazing people we met. We would give anything to hike one more time in the golden glow of the evening light, to spend one more night around the fire with the guys, to get out of the tent one morning and stand face to face with a young buck, to hear a familiar voice hail: “Hey, Swisters!”, to stand on top of a pass in the Sierras and feel tall as we stand on top of the world and be humbled at the same time by the world’s immensity…

The trail has changed us. We have changed to adapt to the trail. Our eyes have been trained to spot the next trail marker or to identify the trail after its disappearance under a snow patch. We can set up and fold our tent with our eyes closed. We sleep like a baby in our tent but can’t seem to find sleep in a bed. The way our gear fits in our backpacks has been optimised over 5 months, every item has its place. After 5 days on the trail we start to think that maybe we need a shower. We think names like Good Karma, Wolfpack, Scarecrow, Mufasa and so on are perfectly valid names for people. We have become calories freak, checking the numbers on every food packaging looking for the best ratio: the most calories for the less weight. We have experimented and learnt by trial and error that not all food can be stored in a ziploc bag. We think the only proper instrument to eat with is the spork (What!?! You don’t know what it is?!?). We fantasize over SPAM for lunch and mashed potatoes with tuna is the supreme of gourmet cuisine. In our mouth “I’m ok.” means “It hurts, but I can walk so keep going.” Our feet are called Louis and Robert, and we talk to them. We refer to 9pm as hiker’s midnight. The smell of a male thru-hiker that hasn’t showered for a few days turns us on, we think calves are the sexiest part of a man’s body and men have got to have a beard. In towns we wear rainpants as a fashion statement (no, it’s the only clean clothes that’s left while we’re doing laundry…). We don’t look at coolers the same way anymore, they are forever full of magic.

We are at a loss. The trail has been our home for the last 5 months. We have slept, eaten, pooped, puked, laughed, cried, hurt and had fun on the trail. We have loved it and hated it. It has brought us pain and joy. This line on the ground has been our whole life, our sole purpose for the last 5 months. And now it’s over. We are not walking any more miles. What are we gonna do?

I thought the moment we reached the monument at the Canadian border would be the most powerful moment of my life and that it will answer all the questions. I was wrong. That moment was the last 5 months.

Tomorrow Washington

October 6, 2011 § 1 Comment

Bend to Cascade Locks – 148 miles 7 days Total: 2155 miles 137 days + 21 zero days

There are days when you are tired and you wish that for just one day your body wasn’t sore, there are cold and rainy days, there are days when you simply long for a “normal” life, there are days when you want to give the trail up and go home. And then there are days like when you are standing on a rise looking at the north face of Mt Jefferson and you’re glad you held on. As your gaze drops down, you can see Russell Lake, then as you follow the line of the earth, you take in the gorgeous meadow of Jefferson Park, dotted with pine trees, and then your eyes are forced to rise as they hit the massive shape of Mt Jefferson, topped by impressive glaciers. And once you get to the top of the rise and look ahead, you get the first glimpse of another lonely and distant giant, Mt Hood.

But that’s all we’ve seen of Mt Hood for the next few days as the weather turned bad, again.

We stopped at Timberline Lodge to dry out. As true hiker trash till the end, we raided the breakfast buffet there, we left with our pockets full of pieces of cake wrapped in napkins and we resupplied on snacks at the vending machines. The lodge is situated at the base of Mt Hood but you had to know it was there behind the white curtain of mist and clouds, we couldn’t see a thing.

But soon we walked through beautiful forests where there was plenty to see. Moss covering the ground, lichens growing on tree trunks and hanging from branches, fern leaves glistening in the rain, the water of Ramona Falls cascading down a mossy stone wall, vegetation of all sorts and shapes, everything so green.

And then, one morning, we had just folded the tent completely soaked and hiked only for a moment when there was a break through the trees. All white from perpetual glaciers and freshly fallen snow, its summit still wrapped in immaculate clouds, like a divine apparition in the bright white light filtering from the clouds, there it was, Mt Hood.

On our way down to Cascade Locks we passed a dozen waterfalls. The trail even went through a tunnel in the rock behind one of the waterfalls. As they say here, it was badass!

The seasons are definitely changing. Bushes and maple trees along the trail are staging autumn colors. We’re often wearing our hat and gloves. It’s still dark now when we wake up at 6am and the light is fading fast from 7pm. The challenge nowadays is to stay dry and warm. No matter how breathable Gore-Tex is, no matter that you’ve fully opened the pit zippers on your rain jacket and the sides on your rain pants, when you hike, you’re boiling in there. So your gear keeps you dry from the rain, but you’re wet from sweat. As long as you hike, you’re fine but as soon as you stop, you get cold. Same story with the tent. It holds the rain well, but with the humidity and cold at night condensation forms on the inside and it’s all wet. And backpacker designers thought hikers don’t use the many outside straps and the full volume of their packs, they devised the raincovers way to small!

After we got sick, we couldn’t stand much of the food we used to eat on the trail. That’s what happens when you eat more or less the same for 5 months! We had gotten fed up of some food before and we had just replaced the snack we couldn’t stand anymore by a new one but it had only been one item at a time. Here it’s been the whole strategy that we knew worked well that failed us and we had to figure out a whole new one, finding snacks we would like to eat on the trail and that would bring us enough calories.

Tomorrow we’ll leave Oregon. We’ll cross the Columbia River and step into Washington on the Bridge of the Gods. Just that name adds a touch of grandeur to our entrance into the final American state of our journey. We loved Oregon. As a waiter at the brewery in Bend put it, it’s a gem along the west coast. We would recommend this section of the PCT to anyone and we’ll probably be back ourselves some day.

There will certainly be more of those days when we want to give up. But we’ll remember Mt Jefferson and Mt Hood and we’ll hang on. Because there will certainly be more of those days too. And anyway there are 500 miles left, it’s gonna be hard to stop us now, we have lost all reason a while ago and have been hiking on a gut feeling ever since, we’re totally insane, out of control and damn too stubborn, we’re going to Canada!

Blueberry fields forever

September 28, 2011 § Leave a comment

Ashland to Bend – 253 miles 13 days Total: 1989 miles 130 days + 19 zero days

So it’s with a brand new pack that I left Ashland. I also took off with a new pair of hiking poles as well as a new pair of shoes. I bought sturdy boots this time as I wanted them to last the rest of the way and not a mere 600 miles like the last pair, but sturdy meant I had to break them. At 20 miles a day it only took a couple of days to break them but at 20 miles a day your feet have a long time to make it pretty clear that they hate your guts for what you’re putting them through. O boy, they hurt!

Oregon was a thermic shock. We had been warned, we knew Oregon and Washington would be wet and cold, especially as we’re late in the season, but we didn’t expect such a sudden change. Two days out of Ashland, we were hot and sweaty, cursing the weight of the extra warm clothes we now carried, for nothing it seemed. But on the 3rd day, the temperature dropped drastically. While hiking, we enjoyed it a lot, it was a relief from the heat and it was different, finally a taste of fall after the long summer of the last months. But the next morning it wasn’t so much fun as we woke up to frost on the tent and frozen Nutella in its jar! It turned out it was only a cold front and it hasn’t been so bad since. Nights do have become chilly though but days are still warm. Days are getting shorter too, it has become harder to fit all those miles during daylight hours.

The terrain has indeed been gently graded in Oregon but we haven’t quite reached the 25-30 miles days. First, there were my new boots. Then, there were the blueberries, yummy! Isabelle often waited for me as she couldn’t see me anymore down the trail and she was worried my feet were hurting in my new shoes. When I arrived, she would ask me how my feet were and I would answer that they were doing ok and flash her a blue smile. Yes, I had been picking wild berries along the way again.

And then I got sick 10 miles out of Crater Lake National Park. We were in the middle of a 20 miles dry stretch, we carried enough water to go all the way to Mazama Village that night so there was no choice but to keep going. So I hiked when all I felt like was to curl in a ball on the ground. I hiked 10 miles with an empty stomach, feeling like crap. In the last few miles I got so weak that Isabelle carried my backpack. I’m so grateful she was there, I don’t know what I would have done on my own out there. I don’t think neither of us would have made it that far if it wasn’t for the other one, helping you through the hard times, finding the strength for two, pulling you up when it takes all one’s energy to keep one’s own head at the surface. We make a hell of a team! The next morning it was Isabelle’s turn to be sick so we had no choice but to take a zero day and spend it in bed.

And then it rained and snowed, which means we didn’t get views of the volcanoes the Three Sisters. But the volcanic landscape we crossed with its jagged black rocks, red earth, volcanic cone powdered with fresh light snow under drifting clouds in the cold wind had an apocalyptic and savage beauty. We ended this section by sheltering from the rain and cold in the pit toilets on McKenzie Pass while waiting for a ride to come pick us up and get us down into the town of Bend!

We have to give it to Oregonians, they do have a beautiful state. The green and humid forests of Oregon are more enjoyable to walk through than the dry North Californian woods. And it’s been a succession of sweet spots. Crater Lake is gorgeous. Once we recovered from our sickness, we climbed the last miles up to the rim of the lake. You’re close to the top, you can’t see it yet, but you know it’s right there, you have the same feeling of anticipation as you get to the top of a mountain pass and you can’t wait to see what lies beyond and BAM! here it is, huge and magnificently blue. Knowing that you’ve walked about 1800 miles just for that view makes it even better. About 8000 years ago we wouldn’t have been standing next to the deepest lake in the US but at the base of the big volcano Mt Mazama. It blew up and left a giant crater that, once volcanic activity ceased, filled with snow melt and rain water. The colors of the spectrum get absorbed by water at different depths, blue is the last wavelength to go. Crater Lake is so deep that only blue gets reflected, which explains its incredible color. From the rim we got a last view of Mt Shasta (we first spotted it about 500 miles ago!), now tiny in the distance but still towering over its surroundings. Crescent Lake was another great spot. We camped close to the shore with views of Diamond Peak, a loon calling across the waters. An elk crossed our path without even glancing at us, a coyote watched us pass from a distant meadow, colorful skies have ended and started our days.

We spent 2 days in Bend getting the last gear required to survive the potential cold, rainy and snowy times ahead of us and getting around the loss of our bounce box with our maps and guidebook somewhere in the US postal service system. It’s already tough enough to hike all those miles, even more so now, the last thing you need is having to spend more energy and time handling the logistics of the trip. But well… Bend is a nice town and it has no less than 7 breweries… 😉 We stayed at a trail angel’s house. Robin is an amazing person. She let us stay at her place and use her car to get around town. Isabelle was happy to live the oh-so-American experience of using a bank’s drive-thru ATM!

Tomorrow we’ll be skipping 17 miles of trail and getting further than the 2000 miles marker as a small portion of the PCT is closed following a fire. We’ve past the high point of the Oregon-Washington segment of the PCT a few days ago so from now on we won’t go higher than 2300m. Keep your fingers crossed that we won’t run into too much bad and cold weather!

The fall of the bison and the rise of the bird

September 27, 2011 § Leave a comment

O mighty Tatonka,

You have seen the world all over

You have grazed the hills of Corsica

You have galloped the plains of the land Down Under

You have munched the tall grass of South America

O bison of glory,

When you started this adventure

You had had a full life already

Now you are headed for the final pasture

The hardships of the trail took you down without mercy

O fierce buffalo,

Nothing can soothe my grief

Rest in peace wherever you go

You shall not step with me into the land of the maple leaf

Forever through my soul sorrow for your loss will echo

But from your ashes, o mighty Tatonka,

Rose the majestic Osprey

North it flies away

Onward to Canada

For all of you none backpack nerds out there, which probably means everybody except Celine ;-), this is an ode to my old backpack – of the brand Tatonka, whose symbol is a buffalo – that I sadly had to get rid of as the metal frame broke and was poking me in the butt cheek, and another part was threatening to attack me in the kidney. So I bought a new pack – of the brand Osprey, whose symbol is the bird of the same name. We’ve been living with little possessions for the last 5 months, we should know better than to get attached to the material world but even so you love your gear so here’s a last tribute to my faithful Tatonka!

Bye bye California!

September 12, 2011 § Leave a comment

Seiad Valley to Ashland, OREGON!!! – 64 miles 3 days Total: 1726 miles 117 days + 16 zero days

Yessss! After about 1700 miles, 4 months and much longing for Oregon, we eventually crossed the state line on the 8th of September. California hasn’t been bad but it was just way too long and, especially with the recent hard times, we were in great need of a milestone to make us feel like we were going somewhere.

Oregonians love their state. If you believe them, their state is the best. But as we can’t take their word for it, we had to go check for ourselves. We haven’t been here for long but we love it already!

We hadn’t walked 20 miles from the border that we stumbled on trail magic. Ashland is lovely. It has parks and greenery, art galleries, great restaurants, theaters, street art, nice shops… It’s the most European town we’ve been to yet, all it’s missing is a pedestrian street. And locals have bought us breakfast the other day!

We have great hopes for Oregon. We’ve been told it’s flat and easy hiking, that you can easily do 25-30 miles a day. So let’s see if Oregon holds its promises. Less than 1000 miles to go!

Do you still choose to hike to Canada?

September 12, 2011 § Leave a comment

Mt Shasta to Seiad Valley – 156 miles 9 days Total: 1662 miles 114 days + 16 zero days

I wasn’t quite right in my last post. We weren’t ready to keep on yet. We had checked out of the motel that morning, our town to-do list was fully ticked off, we were having an early dinner and the plan was to get back to the trail that evening. It was already 5pm and by the time we got a ride it would be too late to hike very far. Our reason was telling us to get back to the trail anyway so we could get an early start the next day and do most of the climb in the coolest hours but the idea of another movie night and of sleeping once more with one of those plump motel pillows was really tempting. We were debating what to do, hesitating, no one dared to take a final decision when, to help make a choice, so we wouldn’t be afraid to voice our opinion, Isabelle suggested we wrote on pieces of paper what we really wanted to do. And that was it! “You know what I REALLY want. I want to stay.” I said. So did Busted Magic. I turned to Isabelle: “And you, what do you REALLY want?” “I want to stay too!” So that’s what we did!

“Hang on past 1500 miles and it’ll get better.” a PCT thru-hiker friend of Busted Magic had told her. We hung on and indeed it got better! The last sections were beautiful. We hiked mainly along ridges and got great views of the rocks of Castle Crags, Mt Shasta, yet from another angle as the PCT skirts it, and we could even still distinguish Lassen Peak in the distance. The Trinity Alps, the Russian Wilderness and the Marble Mountains were gorgeous. We also had some encounters that comforted us and boosted our confidence. First, Marie, who helps hikers in Seattle and who was section hiking with her husband, reassured us that it’s possible to finish end of October, hikers have already done it. Another section hiker bowed down on one knee in front of us because we went through the Sierras with all the snow. And it wasn’t just anybody, that section hiker was no less than Strider, the head of kick-off! However, we couldn’t help noticing that him and his friend, who thru-hiked a couple of years ago, were both wearing knee braces. A thru-hike memory?

We got the fastest ride ever going into Etna. As soon as we arrived at the trailhead, we heard a car coming, we ran to the road (it’s a road known to have little traffic) and put our thumbs up. The car stopped and we got picked up by two gold miners. That’s one of the things I love about the trail. You get rides from the most random people and you get to places you would never go to otherwise – under freeways, in small towns like Sierra City, Belden, Etna… From Etna we rode back to the trail in the back of a pick-up truck. We swore never again. The three of us were sick and had to concentrate not to vomit.

“A thru-hiker is a slave to daily mileage.” a hiker wrote in the PCT register in Etna. Miles do become an obsession. You have a high number of miles to do in a limited number of days. If you choose to hike it all the way, there’s no escaping counting the miles. Which leads to the question I’ve been asking myself lately as there has been days when I have felt stressed to do the miles and there has been nice places we couldn’t stop in for a day as we’re running out of time: “Do you still choose to hike to Canada?”

Is this the Pacific Crest Trail you want? Wasn’t the reason you undertook this trip: to take the time? It’s not the destination but the journey that matters. It’s with a reasoning along these lines that you were able to take a decision about the PhD. What do you make of this saying now? You learn a lot from identifying your limits and pushing them further but how far is too far? When does it stop to be worth it?

A section hiker told us we were his heroes, another said we are royalties among hikers. You can often sense a feeling of superiority among thru-hikers. And I’ll admit I have sometimes thought that we were better because what we do is harder. But now I think we’re nuts and section hikers are clever, they do it the smart way. My next backpacking trip will be a 5-days hike that I’ll take 10 days to complete. There is truth in what our dad said: “Sometimes it takes more courage to stop than to keep going no matter what.”

But despite all this, yes, I still choose to hike to Canada. I can’t explain it, I don’t understand it myself but Canada is calling and I feel compelled to answer. It’s the goal we set ourselves. We’ve given too much already not to agree to the little sacrifice required to make it to Canada. We hurt and it’s tough – to give you an idea how tough I’ll quote Isabelle: “Once I’ll have thru-hiked the PCT, I think I’ll be ready to give birth.” – but overall we’re still having an amazing time. We get our kicks from days when we go for the sport, the speed, when we push our bodies as well as from days when we stroll leisurely. It’s just a matter of finding the balance between the two. But again it’s such madness, what pushes you to hike to Canada, whatever that is, feels so strong that you expect something big to explain it and all the reasons you find don’t seem enough. Once more let’s live the question!