Words and Photos by Liz Kidder @lizkidder
I am going to thru hike the Pacific Crest Trail this year. A bold statement–as if I have full control over being able to hike all of its 2,650 miles. Unfortunately, these days, I think you've gotta have a little luck on your side to officially complete the entire fire-ridden PCT. On top of having a strong, unwavering desire to finish it and enough grit to push through the inevitable miserable days, you'll also need to pray for a low-snow year in the Sierras and subsequently, to get through early enough to hopefully dodge all said fires. So basically, if your timing is perfect and you're lucky enough to get the best-case circumstances, then it's totally doable.
So am I ready? At this point, two-ish months out, that's what everyone seems to keep asking me. "Are. You. Ready?" Even though the PCT is going to be very different from other thru hikes that I've completed in the past, I feel like I mostly know what to expect and how to prepare. In a tangible sense, being ready for a big thru hike like this consists of three components: physical fitness, dialed-in gear, and research/planning/logistics.
STEP ONE: GET FIT
I think most would agree that the only way to prepare your physical body for hiking big days, back-to back-to-back, is to get out and hike as much as possible beforehand. But of course that will look different for everyone, depending on your schedule, environment and lifestyle. Hiking "as much as possible" for me is pretty random, but maybe a few times a month. I'm lucky (#blessed) to have the New Hampshire White Mountains right in my backyard–well, if my backyard was two hours away, I guess. But it's close enough for a day hike and the White Mountains are pretty aggressive and fantastic for training. However, with a career and family, I can't always get up there as much as I'd like. I've found that the key is to truly make it a priority— think ahead and find a way to build it into your schedule. If you just wait around until you have extra time, you'll never go. When I'm unable to hike up in the Whites, I try to supplement with some runs in the woods behind my house. There's no real elevation gain, but it's better than nothing, and if you throw some weight on your back, it can still be really valuable.
Over the last year, my physical training has been a little sparse, but mostly consistent enough to help me maintain decent shape. Last summer, I finally finished up my NE67 (New England 67 four-thousand footers) list. I had to take quite a hike (in my car) up to Maine to bag North Brother, Hamlin, Redington, Sugarloaf, and Abraham. If you're unfamiliar with New England peak-bagging, it's kind of a big deal. Our mountains may be "small" compared to the Rockies and higher-elevation peaks out west, but they are RUGGED. I especially loved going back up to Baxter State Park, home of Mama Mount Katahdin (the northern terminus of the Appalachian Trail). I had some pretty lousy weather, which to most might have been a bummer, but honestly, for me, it just made Hamlin Ridge and Knife's Edge that much more intense and exciting. I'll take a little adrenaline rush over blue skies any day.
On top of finishing my NE67 and some other random peak-bagging, I also did a single-day Presidential Traverse last summer. Summiting eight peaks with 9,000+ ft of elevation gain over 20+ miles and tons of boulder scrambling is not for the weak–most hikers typically do this traverse over multiple days. I did it as a single-day hike once before in 2017, when I was fairly new to hiking, and have since always thought of it as "the hardest day I've ever hiked." This time, leading up to it, I was curious to see if it would feel as difficult now after hiking thousands of miles since the last time.
I am happy to report that it was still a hard day, but it was definitely easier this time around. I also noticed that beyond the physical aspect, I've grown a lot mentally since then. I think most people never really learn where their limits are because they don't ever actually push themselves to them. But I'm tellin' ya— doing hard things is so good for your soul, and once you start pushing yourself way outside your comfort zone and feeling the empowerment that comes with that, it's addicting.
In the fall, I traveled all the way to Nepal to hike the Annupurna Circuit Trek in the Himalayan Mountains. This is a very different style of hiking/backpacking than what I normally do—I was there with a small group and we had a guide who told us where to go and porters who carried our extra gear. We stayed in villages each night and were fed three hot meals a day. The 10 mile days on average were totally reasonable for less experienced hikers. I knew that the main challenge I would face there was the high elevation—the highest point of the trek is at Throng La Pass at 17,769 feet. Before this, the highest I had ever hiked was 14,440 ft to the summit of Mount Elbert in Colorado, the second highest peak in the mainland states.
Even though I had experienced minor symptoms from the altitude on Mt. Elbert (headache, slight nausea), I chose not to take medication leading up to the high pass in Nepal (most people take Diamox to help their body acclimate). I wanted to see how my body would react at that elevation since this whole trip had already got me dreaming about getting into mountaineering and climbing bigger mountains in the future. I am happy that I handled the elevation well, absolutely loved the experience, and am totally motivated to keep working toward new heights!
After returning home from Nepal, winter quickly rolled into New Hampshire, which makes hiking in the whites slightly more challenging and dangerous–my favorite. A new experience for me this season was a winter summit on Mount Washington—the highest peak in the northeast at 6,288 ft and famous for having "the worst weather in the world." Over 150 people are known to have died on Mount Washington, many due to hypothermia and avalanches.
Although I've hiked Washington many times, this would be my first time during the winter. I felt prepared for this trip between keeping an eye on mountain/summit forecasts, having proper winter gear/extra layers, a safety device, and honestly just using common sense. Small mistakes in those kinds of conditions, like dropping a glove or getting damp from sweat instead of de-layering, can have catastrophic consequences. The adventure was a success, but as always, I learned a few things in the process, mainly that I need to invest in crampons because microspikes just weren't quite cutting it for this one. I had to bear crawl on all fours in some spots, but hey, that ain't gonna stop me.
I've always enjoyed some winter hiking, but with the PCT coming up around the corner, I have a slightly different mindset this season. I want to intentionally expose myself to harsher winter conditions, push my limits, and experiment a little. Next on the agenda, I'm taking an "Alpine Snow & Ice Skills" course through the International Mountain Climbing School in NH. Maybe it's an unconventional way to get ready for the PCT, but I figure if I expose myself to these intense winter experiences, then the early spring nights in the desert or up high in the Sierras probably won't feel so cold or dramatic. To be honest, what I'm more unprepared for is the other end of the spectrum–the extreme sun/heat. Good thing I ship out on the earlier side.
STEP TWO: GET GEAR
Dialing-in my gear/kit for the PCT has come pretty naturally. Once you have a few thru hikes under your belt, you'll probably have your basic system down–what works for you, the gear you can't live without, and what you can safely leave at home. At that point, it's just upgrading any outdated (heavy) or worn-out gear, and making minor tweaks to tailor your kit for the specific conditions you'll encounter on that specific hike.
These days, I basically have a collection of Hyperlite packs and shelters, so it took me, like, a couple minutes to decide which ones would work best for me on the PCT. I landed on the Unbound 40 pack (big side pockets that are gonna be really efficient for bigger water carries) and the Mid-1 shelter (my go-to for solo trips). It's undeniable that HMG's weatherproof and bombproof gear is just superior. I love it and trust it and it makes my life easier to know that I don't have to search any further to try to find something that I'd like more.
To complete my big three, I decided to upgrade my eight year old, feather-depleted L.L. Bean sleeping bag to ensure proper warmth on those inevitably cold nights I'll face on the PCT. After some rigorous research, I went with the Kuiu Altai 15° mummy bag. Kuiu is a hunting brand, so that's pretty random–you'd think that backpacking brands would have the best warmth-to-weight ratio. But to my surprise, this particular bag actually beat most of those specs and checked all the other boxes for me. As I've always said with gear, though, there's no "best" or "worst" gear; it just comes down to personal preference and what you value. For example, most hikers seem to prefer quilts over bags these days, but I respectfully disagree. I'll happily carry the extra ounces in order to zip all the way up, hood, and all. What can I say—I'm a cold girl.
Outside of my big three, I'll carry my usual system of extra clothing layers, toiletries, electronics, first aid, etc. It'll all be organized into various HMG Stuff Sacks and dry bags, which weigh nothing and make a type-A girl extremely happy. I've always loved the Pods that perfectly fit the shape of the pack to house my extra clothing, and I'm currently obsessed with the new "Zippy's" to keep track of my small items, like electronics and toiletries.
I also invested in a few new pieces of gear for this hike. First off, I got the Garmin inReach Mini 2 (for satellite communication and emergency services), which seems to be pretty standard procedure on the PCT. I haven't even taken it out of the box yet, but I'll be sure to bust it out and get familiar with it before hitting the trail.
I also decided to purchase a bear canister. You're required to store food with a canister in the Sierras and although you can just rent one for that section, I thought it would be wise to make the investment. I'd like to play around with it to see how I can best fit it in my pack, instead of trying to do that on the fly. You'll see a lot of hikers strapping them to the tops of their packs, but that doesn't seem like the most comfortable or efficient method as far as weight distribution goes. I'd also like to see how many days of food I can actually stuff in that thing. I got the BearVault475, which says it can fit five to six days of food, but I feel pretty confident that if I'm strategic with calorie-dense food, I could fit six to seven.
I will also need an ice-axe for the Sierras, so luckily, I have a husband who pays attention, and he picked up a nice one for me as a Christmas gift. What a guy. Lastly, I upgraded to a different/better fleece. I haven't always carried a fleece on my hikes, but since getting even more into the winter hiking thing, I'm very pro-fleece right now. I was so impressed with my Kuiu sleeping bag that I ended up with the same brand for my new hooded fleece as well— the Peloton 97— less than 6oz, and it has an incredible warmth-to-weight ratio.
I don't carry much in the way of luxury items—other than a small tripod and an extra battery pack (needed for making YouTube videos on trail). I'm also going stoveless for this one, which saves on the base-weight, but can even back out with food-weight, depending on your food choices. For example, I prefer peanut butter and gummy bears (heavy) over a cold-soaked dinner (not heavy). I haven't totaled up every ounce of my PCT-tailored kit yet, but I suspect I'll be slightly above the ultralight category. I'm typically somewhere between a 12-15 pound base weight, depending on the specific environment and gear needed, and I feel pretty content with that.
STEP THREE: GET A PEN
The last component to getting ready for a thru hike is the research, planning, and logistics. In some sense, I feel more relaxed about this since I've already had some thru hiking experience, but in another sense, the PCT has more complications than I've encountered before, between requiring different permits, varying gear for different sections, and less convenient resupply options.
The Pacific Crest Trail Association opens up two competitive permit days (November and January) for hikers to try to snag a Long Distance Permit. I was lucky to secure one for the end of March. You also need a California Fire Permit in order to use a stove—I'm not bringing one of those, but will probably get the fire permit anyway, just in case I change my mind on that at any point and also to just generally be more knowledgeable of the fire situation. I thought I was going to get a Canada Entry Permit as well, in order to cross the border at the end, but the latest news states that the Canadian Government has ended the program this year. This just means that once I hit the border and finish my thru, I'll then have to backtrack ~30 miles to get back off trail and into civilization–not a huge deal.
Once I scored my permit, I then started diving into the FarOut app (navigation and info) to look into the first couple hundred miles of the trail. I'm currently still in this stage—trying to get a sense of towns I might want to stop in for resupplies, mileage between those towns (which determines how much food I'll carry at a time), and side quests (detours from the PCT that are worth taking and adding miles for).
There are supposedly areas that might be tough to resupply as well, so I'm trying to get an idea of how many mail drops I might want to prepare. I prefer to just buy food as I go whenever possible, but I'll have to get a box sent to me with my winter gear before the Sierras anyway, so it's probably smart to organize some food drops along with it. I have a couple of large bins that I'm stockpiling my extra gear and individual days of food, and I'll have some shipping boxes and cash ready to go so that my husband can easily send me things as I decide I need them.
I still need to buy my plane ticket to San Diego and figure out my ride to the trailhead as well. You can book a seat on the PCT Southern Terminus shuttle, which costs $75 and stops at R.E.I, Campo, and CLEEF (an equestrian center that welcomes PCT hikers to camp overnight, a quarter mile from the trailhead) which is probably what I'll do, depending on the flight schedule.
I have another whole wrench thrown in there to deal with, which is my loving husband. He plans to come out to visit a few times on trail so I need to figure out the best places for him to do that, and have an idea of when I'll arrive in those places. I wish by "best places," I meant the most epic, scenic places on trail, but unfortunately that's not the case. The best places will be places that are conveniently located (wishful thinking) near airports, spaced apart nicely to break up the trip, and don't require a bunch of extra permitting and logistics (he'll hike sections with me). Right now I have to sort of figure out the puzzle and take some notes, and then as I move up the trail, I will need to be extra precise in planning ahead so that he can buy his plane tickets accordingly. Easy peasy.
There's also a bunch of loose ends to tie up with work and personal life of course, but we won't get into all that. So, in conclusion, I'm not quite ready to hit the trail yet. Mentally, I'm there, chomping at the bit, but I've still got some logistics to sort out first and less than two months to do so. Whenever I feel overwhelmed by that, I just try to remind myself that getting ready for the trail, the anticipation and excitement leading up to it, is quite literally half the fun. And the reality is that even after all that planning and preparing, shit's gonna change anyway, and it'll all work out regardless. It always does.
