1. March 5 – First Steps on the Pacific Crest Trail (Mile 0 → 8.8)
2. March 6 – Learning the Systems (Mile 8.8 → 26)

March 5 – First Steps on the Pacific Crest Trail (Mile 0 → 8.8)

I started the day like many of my weekdays lately: working. Even while going through meetings and tasks, it was hard to focus. I knew that by the end of the day I would finally be standing at the southern terminus of the Pacific Crest Trail. The anticipation had been building for months, and now it was actually happening.

Later that afternoon, I drove down to Campo, the official southern start of the PCT, located right along the U.S.–Mexico border wall. Seeing the border fence stretching across the landscape made the moment feel real. This was mile zero.

There were a couple of people there when I arrived. One person was volunteering with the Pacific Crest Trail Association and checked my permit before I started. Another man introduced himself as a trail angel and gave me his phone number in case I ever needed help along the way. It was a nice reminder that the PCT community is real, and that people genuinely look out for hikers.

With that, I took my first steps north.

Within the first ten minutes, I felt the weight of my backpack in a way I had not quite experienced before. My back started to ache, which immediately made me wonder if something was wrong with my setup. I tightened the straps across the front of the pack and the pain eased up. About an hour later, the discomfort returned, so I tightened them a bit more. That helped again, but not permanently. Another hour later the pain came back, and this time I took the pack off and adjusted the straps on the back.

That seemed to work.

This process of adjusting straps, shifting weight, and experimenting with the fit of my pack would become a recurring theme throughout the weekend. I quickly realized that dialing in the right configuration takes time and a lot of trial and error.

Around 4:30 PM, I passed a campground and heard people calling out to me. They asked if I was lost. I told them I wasn’t, that I had just started the PCT and was heading north. They mentioned that the sun would be setting soon and warned that the canyon gets dark quickly. Sunset was around 5:45 PM, so their advice was probably reasonable.

But I really wanted to keep going.

I had a campsite in mind that I hoped to reach, so I pressed on down the trail. When I arrived, however, I discovered that all the tent spots were already taken. With daylight fading, I had to keep moving for another two miles to reach the next possible camping area.

I arrived just as the sun was disappearing.

That gave me roughly 15 minutes of usable light to set up camp. It was a bit of a scramble, but I managed to get my tent up before darkness fully set in.

This was also the first time in my life I had ever slept in a tent.

The temperature dropped quickly once the sun went down, and I immediately realized I had a learning curve ahead of me with my sleep system. I use an Enlightened Equipment Revelation quilt, which is designed differently from a traditional sleeping bag. It is open on the bottom and uses straps to connect to the sleeping pad.

The problem was that I had not quite figured out how it was supposed to work.

I tried putting my sleeping pad inside the quilt, but it felt too tight and I could barely fit inside it. Eventually I gave up on that idea and just left the quilt open at the top and used it more like a blanket. Between the cold air, the unfamiliar setup, and the general awkwardness of sleeping in a tent for the first time, I spent much of the night tossing and turning trying to stay warm, even while wearing my down jacket.

The night was long. Darkness lasted from roughly 6 PM until 6 AM, which meant I was in my tent for about twelve hours.

Even though it often felt like I was lying awake for long stretches, I must have slept more than I realized. I estimate I probably got around six hours of sleep total.

Considering it was my first night ever sleeping in a tent, in the cold, and on the first day of a thru-hike, I count that as a success.

March 6 – Learning the Systems (Mile 8.8 → 26)

The morning started rough.

When I woke up, the inside of my tent was covered in moisture, and my sleeping quilt was damp. I could not immediately tell where the moisture had come from. It might have been condensation from the cool night air, my breath inside the tent, sweat, or some combination of all three. Whatever the cause, everything felt clammy.

I used my quick-dry towel to wipe down the inside of the tent as best as I could. It helped a little, but the bigger problem appeared when I started packing up.

The bottom of the tent was soaked, and because it was wet, dirt and sand had stuck all over it. It looked like a complete mess. Since it was wet, I could not really clean it properly or fold it the way it was supposed to be packed. Instead, I stuffed it into a trash bag I had brought along and shoved the whole thing into my backpack with the plan of dealing with it later.

Not exactly the smoothest start to the morning.

A little while after getting back on the trail, I met a hiker who had camped near a water cache. He told me he planned to hike slowly and spend time exploring side trails and nearby peaks along the way. He also mentioned that he was planning to walk about a mile down the road later that day to help carry additional gallons of water back to refill the cache.

That kind of effort really stood out to me. The PCT relies heavily on volunteers and trail angels, and seeing hikers contribute to something as simple but essential as a water cache is a great example of the community that exists on this trail. Depending on how slowly he hikes, there is a decent chance I might run into him again later on.

About ten miles into the day, my shoulders started hurting again from the backpack. I tightened the waist belt a bit more to shift some of the weight onto my hips, which helped somewhat. I was still clearly in the phase of figuring out the right adjustments for my pack.

Eventually I reached Lake Morena County Park, and by that point I was pretty tired and starting to feel a little nauseous. The stop ended up being exactly what I needed.

For the first time since starting the trail, I had access to a real restroom. Even better, I had the chance to lay out my tent and let it dry in the sun. Once the tent fully dried, the dirt and sand that had been stuck to the bottom simply fell off. After that, I could finally fold it up properly and pack it the way it was intended.

The campground also had a few wild turkeys wandering around, which was a fun and unexpected sight.

After resting for a bit, I continued hiking for another six miles toward Boulder Oaks Campground. Originally, I had not planned to stop there. My goal for the day was to push the mileage higher and try to reach at least 25 miles for the weekend stretch.

But things changed when I talked to a Forest Service staff member at the campground.

She mentioned that winds were expected to reach around 45 mph that night. That alone made the idea of camping further up the trail less appealing. While thinking about it, I also started doing some quick math in my head.

From this point, I have roughly 680 miles until Kennedy Meadows, the gateway to the High Sierra. Even if I average about 60 miles per week, I should still arrive sometime before June 1st. Since most hikers do not enter the High Sierra until mid-June or even early July due to snow levels, getting there too early would actually be a problem.

That realization was surprisingly freeing.

Up until that moment, I had been thinking that I needed to push huge mileage every weekend to stay on track. But the math suggested otherwise. Sixty to seventy-five miles per week would be more than enough to keep me on schedule.

With that pressure gone, the decision became easy. I decided to stay at Boulder Oaks Campground for the night.

The campground staff even handed out fresh oranges, which tasted incredible after a long day of hiking. Sometimes the simplest food is exactly what your body is craving.

That evening I met a few other hikers. One guy from Salt Lake City had previously hiked the Continental Divide Trail, so he had a lot of experience with long-distance hiking. I also met a couple from Switzerland who were traveling together on the trail. We all ended up eating dinner together and talking for a while about politics, culture, and life in different countries.

Moments like that are one of the unexpected highlights of long-distance hiking. You meet people from completely different places and backgrounds, but for a short time everyone is sharing the same trail.

I took advantage of the campground amenities to charge my devices, then set up my tent again for the night.

Thanks to some advice from the hiker from Salt Lake City, I finally figured out how to use my quilt more effectively. Instead of leaving it open like a blanket, I wrapped it around myself like a cocoon, with the open side underneath me.

That simple change made a big difference.

I slept better that night, at least from about 8 PM until midnight, which already felt like progress compared to the night before.