It’s surprising how much paperwork is required for an off-grid adventure on the Pacific Crest Trail. In case you ever find yourself planning for this very same hike, here are a few things you will need to think about.
If you are from the UK, you will need a visa allowing you to stay in the US for more than 3 months. This means a long application form and an interview at the US embassy in London. You will need a permit to hike and camp on the PCT – this involves choosing a start date and sticking to it. If you envision yourself wanting to enjoy some hot food in the evenings while walking, you will need a campfire permit. And if you want to finish the last ~8 miles of the trail, which are Canadian miles, you will need a permit to cross the Canadian border via the trail.
You will also need a bunch of backpacking equipment. Luckily I have been collecting items over the past few years, amassing a sort of thru-hiker treasure chest in my room (thru-hike: to complete an entire long-distance hike in one go). The lighter these items are, the better. I have generously been gifted some of these items by my family, over a few birthdays and christmasses.
Then get yourself a flight to San Diego and some accommodation for the first few days. Whilst I am not averse to setting up my tent in a park, I’m sure it’s not legal, and so I’m allowing myself a few more sleeps in a proper bed. I have four nights in San Diego before my official start date. I have booked one night in a cheerful looking hostel and plan to spend the other three nights benefitting from the hospitality of some trail angels (trail angel: someone who, completely out of the kindness of their own heart, helps hikers by providing food, shelter, or driving them somewhere, or doing some other thing that makes their lives that much easier, and honestly I think it’s so wonderful I can hardly bear it).
I think I’ll do some sightseeing for the first two days, before I think about getting the last few of my things together. I’ll need to do my first food shop (help!), get a US sim card, and get some final items from an outdoors shop (read: you’re not allowed to take compressed gas canisters on aeroplanes).
Between now and then, I have some logistical planning to do, or rather, a large amount of research. I do not want to start out with too much of a ‘plan’. More likely than not, it will all fall apart on the first day, as is the nature of a predictably unpredictable nature trail. But forewarned is forearmed, and so the other day I compiled a list of all the things most likely to kill me, and started reading up on ways to minimise my risk against each one: mountain lions, bears, rattlesnakes, heat stroke, hypothermia, lightning, the list goes on. (For my mother, and anyone else reading this concerned for my health, you’ll be pleased to know that one of the most likely causes of death on the PCT is a car accident. But if I do get into a fight with a mountain lion, I’ll be kicking myself if I can’t remember the right action to take. “Was it look it in the eye and tell it firmly to go away? Crouch down and protect your neck? Stand tall and fight back?! Help!!!” Clue: it’s definitely not crouch down. Never crouch down.)
Rather than fear, right now I am feeling a mixture of sadness and excitement. I am a maths teacher, it is half term, and I have just left a job that I love, saying goodbye to students who I really grew close to in a short six weeks of maternity cover. I chose not to accept a permanent teaching position this academic year, as I didn’t want to abandon my classes when it was time to leave, so I have been taking on long term cover positions instead. I feel so grateful that, even in this short space of time, I found another school that made it feel so difficult to leave. Although I wish I could’ve stayed on for just a little while longer, I am excited for the months ahead, and I always knew that my decision to walk the PCT would require major changes in my life.
Kick off is in 62 days. I can’t wait!
Notes from the PCT 