5 min read

Dreaming in a different language

Dreaming in a different language

Less than two weeks and 150 miles until I’m officially finished with the desert section of the PCT - the initial 700 mile northbound stretch from the Mexican border to Kennedy Meadows.

So much has happened in the last 550 miles. So many incredible views, discoveries, wildlife sightings, weather patterns, stories, memories made, lessons learned, and new strength earned. I’ve climbed mountains, survived deserts, crossed rivers, skipped through meadows, walked closed roads, and conquered the LA aqueduct by the light of glow sticks in the night with some of my favorite humans on the planet.

Up until this point, the tramily has worked hard to stay together through the desert, overcoming obstacles in logistics, injuries, pace shifts, financial limitations, alternative routes, and mileage decisions. We all have different mindsets and priorities on the trail but we also value the experience of sticking together and have made the effort to continue on as one. We even picked up a few additional tramily members along the way!

At our last zero spot, in Acton, we said the saddest goodbye to amazing Gabrielle. It was time for her to skip up to Oregon and carry on her journey with some adventures in the PNW before her 3-month visa wraps up and she heads home to New Zealand.

This was one of the hardest moments yet. Gabby has been such a rock for me. She was, on the trail (and will continue to be in “real life” as well), such a true soul sister. We have a similar pace, similar outlook, similar humor, and similar deep feeling hearts. Sometimes it feels like we are basically the same person - even down to growing up listening to Christian rock in the 90’s! She just gets me. She, Serena, and I really formed a special sisterly bond, I think uniquely based on being solo women out here hiking on our own, blazing our own trails. We each came out here alone but found family in each other.  It hasn’t been the same without her.

And just around the corner in Kennedy Meadows, it will be time to send Serena off on her own next adventure. She’s the only one in the tramily who isn’t planning to flip around the Sierras and venture back to complete them at the end of the season when conditions are more favorable. She’s an incredible athlete, tough as nails and cool under pressure, equipped with all the skill and determination to take on the world (or at least for now, the Sierras) with grit and grace.

From the first day we met, when we connected over her lost-and-found lens cap, we have enjoyed a really special friendship. I’ve been really blessed to have had a number of amazing older women in my life in different seasons to mother me, mentor me, encourage me, believe in me, and hold space for me - but I never considered being one of those women for someone else. Not to say it’s a mentor/mentee dynamic by any stretch - we are absolutely equals holding each other up, teaching each other things, making each other’s days sweet and full of laughter and encouragement and growth. But Serena has created and nurtured a really beautiful space for me to embrace my maternal energy and cultivate that “trail mom” love in a special way.

I don’t have children of my own, and I don’t plan to, but I do have an overflow of motherly generosity, affection, and care that I think has been waiting for a place to land and grow.  I did not expect it to be here, on the trail, but it has. From practical things (like booking accommodations in the next town) to local insights (like identifying native flora and fauna) to intangible things (like being the one who you can call when you’re feeling afraid) to providing empathy and support and snacks to those in need - I really have become the “trail mom” to this group that we all joked about in the beginning. And I honestly love it. In some ways, out here, operating in full mom mode, I feel the most me I’ve ever felt.

I really have learned so much in these 550 miles.

I’ve learned beautiful secrets about my home state that I never knew. I’ve learned the names of new plants and animals I’d never seen before. I’ve learned how to use all this incredible gear I’ve brought with me to care for myself and culled all the bits I’ll never need. I’ve learned how to eat for fuel and how essential candy is in the afternoon. I’ve learned I prefer to drink my breakfast. I’ve learned that a hard climb brings with it a new view. I’ve learned that I enjoy filtering water if it means a break by a stream. I’ve learned that strangers can be kinder than you could ever imagine. I’ve learned that nothing changes your mood like a good playlist. And I’ve learned that I’m so much stronger (in all the ways) than I thought I was before I came.

550 miles in. And the adventure is just beginning.

A little while back, Serena told me her grandpa had said to her that you know you’re fluent in a new language when you start to speak it in your dreams.

Last week I started dreaming about the trail.

I don’t mean to say that I’m fluent now in the language of the PCT, but I do believe I’m on my way. It really is starting to feel like home out here. And even with the hard days and the restless nights and the sore muscles and the mental gymnastics of the constant ups and downs... there’s absolutely no place on earth I’d rather be.

Here’s to another 2100 miles ahead. Yoo-hoo!

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...P.S. I’ve also been doing a pretty decent job posting some of the special moments in real time to my Instagram stories and highlights. Please feel free to follow me there for more frequent snippets into my PCT adventure:

@elizabethjoykoppa