Mile 500: Goodbye, Washington!

Yesterday, on July 31st, I crossed over the Bridge of the Gods and marched my bone-weary feet over the Columba River into Oregon! Reaching my 500th mile and completing my first state feels gratifying. My “hiker legs” are nearly fully fledged, meaning my calves and quads have become fine-tuned muscles which rarely tire, even on monstrous upward ascents. I am increasingly accustomed to hiking for 12 hours each day, regularly reaching an output of 30 miles. As a result, my feet are continuously swelling and throbbing though I treat them with regular cold-soaks in mountain streams and a steady regimen of anti-inflammatory drugs. My circadian rhythm has slowly synced with the sun’s leisurely arch, its daily rising and falling. Having grown so accustomed to the sensation of open air and expansive sky, I’ve found myself feeling more keen on camping rather than springing for motel rooms when I reach a town. In many ways, I feel like a different creature—one that is more readily able to yield herself to the cycle of being continuously recreated, renewed, and restored.

These are the Goat Rocks and that little line is the PCT.

But I have also discovered that the trail is not insulated from many of the mental, emotional, and spiritual challenges that each of us faces in our “real” lives (which I have taken to calling “civilian life”). In the past year, as I hurled toward the date of my college graduation, I struggled immensely with reality that my relationships to my closest friends and to my city would change irrevocably. Frankly, it was heartbreaking to feel the sense of home that I had cultivated with such care and intentionally breaking apart as it reached its expiration date. Such transitions are natural and integral to our lives, especially for the young and the transient. I try my hardest to view these transitional moments as opportunities for learning and growth, but if I’m being totally transparent, they usually feel like moments of mourning and grief.

What’s funny is that I thought the trail might be a place I could process the great changes I am experiencing, particularly the changes among my closest relationships. Yet the trail is the most transient and turbulent community conceivable. Each day I encounter new hikers—some Southbound, some Northbound—and regularly find myself in remarkable situations or intimate conversations. Thru-hiking forges an immediate connection so that hiking and conversation partners are never in short supply. This social aspect of thru-hiking is as disorienting as it is unique and exciting.

Friends and fellow hiker trash at the Trout Lake Grocery in Trout Lake, Washington.

Having reached the one month mark of my hike, I have also begun to watch friends leave the trail and abandon their trek due to illness, injury, or heartache. Witnessing veteran hikers and seasoned athletes getting permanently off the trail has been a bit bewildering. Wait, that person is getting off trail? But they’re over 1000 miles in! WAIT, that person too? I thought for sure they’d go all the way. As I puzzle over the unpredictability of who stays and who goes, I am reminded to appreciate the precious time I myself am privileged enough to spend on the trail. I am reminded to thank my body for each day of grueling work. I am reminded to care for myself with rest and times of rejuvenation. Finally, I am reminded to dig deep into my reasons for sustaining this wild journey and trust in myself.

That said, I am approaching Oregon with a competitive and ambitious spirit. As the elevation profile stabilizes and I begin my second state, I am eager to see what my body can do. Moreover I am hoping that as I refine my routine, I can create more space for writing and reflection, meditation and prayer. That said—I am always looking for new music, more podcasts, audiobooks, and the like. If you have suggestions, or are kind enough to make me a playlist, I would be deeply indebted.

Me post delivering a shoeulogy for my trusty Merrells after 500 miles.

Talk soon,

Isabella

P.S. Many friends have inquired—do I have a trail name yet? So, kind of. After many sub-par offerings I am choosing between “Snap Pea” and “Cayenne.” Both are delicious in decidedly different ways. I always appreciate input so let me know which moniker you’d prefer.