The Trek by Raceykay

The Trek by Raceykay - August 2019 Scholarship Essay

Four years ago I sat on my moms bed, patted her back and told her my ambitions before college. “Don’t say no at first okay, just think about it.” I wanted to graduate high school early and go hike the Pacific Crest Trail, alone. It would be the adventure of a lifetime. 2653 miles from Mexico to Canada, with everything I owned in my back.
With a satellite phone and every tracking device possible, my mom said yes. After graduation I counted down the months, weeks, and then finally days until March 11th.
On that day, my family dropped me off at the Mexican Border where a monument stood saying, “0 miles from Mexico, 2653 miles from Canada.” I was ready. I craved for the isolation, views, and the expedition that awaited me.
Let’s just say that after the second night of camping alone, I already felt homesick. What was I thinking? I hadn’t gone a night, without a family member or friend since I was born. With no service most of the time, I wasn’t able to cry or resolve my issues over the phone. I had to get over it myself. And I did.
One week in I met friends on the same trek and we ventured to Canada together. When I was with them, they taught me things a first backpacker like myself would never know. Like how to cold soak your food in a Talenti ice cream jar. The magic leukotape, that cured any hotspots or blisters you get on your feet. The diamond technique; putting your finger tips in a diamond shape and blowing on the fire to make it bigger. How to cowboy camp, which means no tent just you, your sleeping bag, and the galaxy above.
I loved it out in the desert, because that’s where I was raised and what I knew best. But once I was finally getting comfortable, I reached Kennedy Meadows (mile 700) which meant the end of the desert. I knew nothing I had learned would prepare me for the high snow year the Sierra had. Every person I talked to was fear mongering me. “Don’t go through it’s dangerous.” “You’re going to freeze to death.” I wasn’t going to listen.
I found a group of comparatively stubborn people and with all the snow gear we could fit in our bags, we set out into the Sierra Nevada. By our second day we were already over 10,000 feet in elevation, walking through snow piled 12 feet above ground level. I felt insane. Why was I enjoying myself? Even though walking became more challenging than ever and afternoon storms kept me in my tent, I enjoyed how quiet and peaceful the snow made the valleys look. Everything seemed so simple out there.
When I made it out of the first section I felt relieved but mentally drained. My last two days, I lost my group and took off on my own. Just to find out later on my satellite phone that a storm was coming in and I needed to get out immediately. I had to backtrack 32 miles to get out of the Sierra instead of going over a life threatening pass that had ice chutes and a snow cornus at the top. I was able to find my group and warn several other about the storm coming in for the next few days. My group continued to back track with me and we set up camp when we were halfway out. The next morning we navigated through a blizzard and over a pass just to walk a closed road for 13 more miles. My friend shoved all of us in a car at midnight and got us as far away from the mountains as possible.
We all waited 2 weeks for the storms to stop. I felt so nervous for what was to come, but I knew this time I needed to over prepare to survive in the mountains. So with 17 days worth of food, two pairs of shoes, 6 pairs of socks, and a group of five, we set out to do a 124 mile stretch in hopes to not have to exit early. 12000 foot pass after 12000 foot pass felt so epic but terrifying. There were times when I thought my next step might have been my last as we climbed over steep cliffs and slowly made it to our destination.
When the Sierra was over, it felt like it had never happened. The hardships we experienced were a dream, almost. I progressively fell back into the routine I had in the desert and continued north to Canada.
As the snow started to melt everywhere else, I got the true PCT experience. My lunches were spent next to lakes and my nights spent under the stars again. I was grateful to be alone and get to stop, eat, and sleep wherever I wanted. Sooner or later I finally made my way across the Californian border, into my second state Oregon.
Currently, I am only 30 miles away from Washington and 550 from Canada. This trip has taught me many things, such as being independent and also what truly matters to me the most. If I ever had the chance for a gap year again, I know where I’d want to be: the outdoors.