Around us, some peaks were once again covered in snow. We were above two thousand meters, setting off late, and time passed without us fully realizing it. Covering thirty kilometers in a day was no longer a problem, but in April, the sun sets early, and fatigue sets in during the afternoon. The ascent continued. Endless.

The last part wasalso the most technical, with a narrow path traced on sandy ground, steep slopes, and no room for missteps; it required every bit of concentration we had left. I felt truly tired now. In two days, I would have covered almost eighty kilometers.

I undressed and then dipped one foot, and then the other, into the stream. The water was icy. I wanted to live the true adventure of the PCT, to have romantic moments, so I immersed myself quickly up to my neck; I stayed for a few seconds, vigorously rubbing myself to wash off the day's sweat, and then judging that the experience was sufficient, I quickly got out. As I dried myself, I sang, "puma, puma, please don't eat me." I had never felt so alone or vulnerable.

Kenny Anderson, Big bear city

I was in the Far West, and Banning already seemed dying, depopulated, a ghost town clinging to the highway it bordered like a lifebuoy. Around us, the wind howled, debris flew, and yet we were happy to be there, protected.

My feet slipped in the snow, and I fell several times. At one point, we had to traverse a few meters of snow along the edge of a ravine. I thought to myself that this was how people died, slipping when they were exhausted and unable to fight back.

It is said that when hiking, one carries their fears in their pack, and when we set out that morning to conquer Mount San Jacinto, we sure had to carry the extra weight of our anxiety. Two years prior, San Jacinto claimed the life of a young man who was supposed to receive his crampons just twenty kilometres away.

As an affluent mountain suburb of L.A., the small town of Idyllwild was mostly known for its mayor, a golden retriever named Max, who unfortunately passed away this year. He leaves behind a political legacy of a lifetime dedicated to the happiness of his constituents.

The silhouette of the stone prey bird is one of the only landscapes I have truly dreamed of while preparing the PCT. I eat my oatmeal, feeling once again that now it’s true, I am a real PCT hiker.

Getting a rough welcome on the PCT

First steps, first threat