Coping With Readjustment And Thoughts Of Suicide
Writing this is difficult because doing so is an admission that I am no longer on the Pacific Crest Trail.
Yes, it may have been close to three months since I last set foot on the PCT, but my mind is still out there somewhere, lost in the wilderness.
The transition back into the “real world” has been interesting, to say the least. The lingering effects of my thru-hiker superiority complex have made it difficult to accept that people are no longer eager to take me into their homes and feed me. I wander streets expecting to encounter hiker trash at every turn. I sit on the ground outside local businesses searching for open wi-fi networks. I dig holes and poop in them.
The trail is not something I thought I would miss. Every day I hiked and every day I thought about the next town, the next burger, the next beer, the next opportunity to use a flushing toilet, and when that day finally came, when I finally reached town, it was the best day ever – every time. But I went into town knowing that my time there would be short-lived. I knew that the trail awaited and that my journey must continue, regardless of town’s temptations.
I do my best to remain present, to take lessons learned from the trail and employ them moving forward, but this is easier said than done. The teachings and experiences of the PCT are not akin to those gleaned from a classroom or travel abroad – the PCT changes you (and not just into an incredible walking machine). Sure, the PCT is just a hike, and ultimately that’s what you plan to conquer, but what you do not plan for is the profound mental, social, and emotional transformations associated with thru-hiking.
What I am trying to say is (at the risk of sounding cliché), thru-hiking is a life-altering experience. For realsies.
THE PESSIMIST
“So how was it?”
An empty question asked as a formality in a world where nobody really cares about the achievements or intimate details of one another.
Describing the trail in a single word or sentence would be an egregious offense to all thru-hikers, yet in the interest of being polite I bite my tongue and say, “it was good.”
Sadly, a lot of people do not care to hear what you have done. You will find that the strangers you met in town along the trail expressed a more genuine interest in your experience than the friends, family, and coworkers you return to after the PCT.
To tell the tale properly I would need hours, even days, and most people would prefer to spend their time distracting themselves from the things they wish they were doing instead of being reminded of them. Not that everyone would enjoy trudging through unforgiving weather and terrain on the PCT, but the idea is there.
Hiking the PCT is not like returning from a trip. Hiking the PCT is like going through middle school, graduating high school, and then attending college. It is not one, but an infinite combination of unique experiences that words, photos, and videos will never even enter the realm of accurately portraying.
But to hell with expectations, you didn’t hike the trail for them, you hiked it for you.
THE OPTIMIST(ICISH)
Trail or no trail, life goes on.
Equipped with my stunning new calves and my (again) redefined outlook on the world, it is time to go in search of my next adventure.
I have learned how to live cheaply, how to fend for myself in the bush, and how to put my faith in humanity once more.
Growing up I, like many children, was force-fed the lie of “you can do anything when you grow up”, but it is not until now, after hiking the PCT, that I truly believe this to be a reality. I am still baffled by some of the things I made it through out there.
I would suggest that every person hikes the PCT (at least) once.
Now that my time in the wilderness has expired, certain aspects of my trail life have become inappropriate or unacceptable in the eyes of society. Most notably:
- Mention of the trail – it used to be that every single person I met would be sung the story of the PCT as I indulged their ridiculous questions – now, few people seem to know what the PCT is.
- Bathrooms – you cannot just pull over and deposit your waste (liquid or otherwise) wherever you want (the search for public restrooms once again becomes a part of my daily struggle).
- Hygiene – your once acceptable excuse for odor becomes a distant memory as you are again expected to maintain a tolerable level of stink.
- Meals – unless you want to expedite your body’s return to a slothful state, you must dramatically curb the amount of food you are ingesting (no more unlimited candy binges).
- Free time – all of a sudden just sitting and doing nothing turns from a relaxing hiking break into an unacceptable waste of your time.
NEXT STEPS
Now, far from the trail, finally escaped from my prison in the wilderness, all I can think about is getting back out there.
The five months I spent on the trail were five of the realest of my life. My mind was free from trivial distractions that the world pretends are important, and my number one priority every day was survival. Stripped of outside influence, I was free to make decisions for myself – without having to worry about what anyone else would think. The trail is liberating.
The trail still echoes in my every thought and action, but as time marches forward the call of the trail slowly fades into memory; it is instead replaced by a call from the future. A call not to return to, but to go to the trail, not as it was, but how it is now.
Will I return to the trail? Will I again throw myself upon the mercy of the unknown, of certain uncertainty, of the wild?
All I can say is that I hope so.
It’s so awesome that internet gives a possibility to share your thoughts with people who want to listen and to hear. I’ve been reading your articles about PCT for a last few days (I’m dreaming about hiking PCT before I’ll be 40 y.o. :/ ). And your style is amazing (I’m not native in English), you really gives a lot of useful information without excessive pathos and similar scum.
Wish you the best!
Thank you! Happy to hear you’ve enjoyed the reads! I hope to bring you many more in the years to come 🙂
It seems that you use the words I, ME, and MINE entirely too much in this blog.
It seems that you’ve failed to understand one of the core ideas behind a personal blog.
This article really reached me! My time spent on the PCT was much much shorter, only 13 days including a Whitney summit. I also used to spend a month every summer in the Grand Teton Wilderness, in Wyoming, living off of the land, when life was less complicated (ie. before kids and hubby) There is something so amazing about having your life reduced to 3 main concerns; water, food, and shelter. Each decision is truly your own and I find a sense of inner peace that I have been unable to replicate in the civilized world, regardless of the amount of time spent on meditation or hot sweaty yoga. I like to call it “no trail depression.” The only cure is planning your next trip. 2018 back to Wyoming I go 🙂
I’ll (hopefully) be in Wyoming this summer. Let’s hope it does the trick!
Make sure you see Breccia Snow Basin… climb up for a fun glissade down. Angles lakes and rainbow meadows are also places near and dear to my heart. Venture on my friend!!
Thanks for the tip!
I one day hope to struggle with this, but I’m really just here to commend the site and your assistance in enabling my PCT dreaming from the office. Well done and much appreciated.
Love your writing. And am now inspired. PCT MAR/APR 2017, Death: 1, Me: 0. Bring it.
Here’s to you conquering death on the PCT!
I am 16 and from the UK, which would make it quite hard for me to walk the PCT but after some time with depression and facing the fact that life is meaningless the only thing that keeps my hopes up is that one day I will walk the PCT and hopefully find answers. Thank you very much you are so real and funny. I love your work
Being from the UK shouldn’t stop you from hiking the PCT. Every year there are plenty of people from all over the world who hike it! I hope that you get the opportunity to get out and see the trail for yourself soon (and find the answers you’re looking for).
You are wonderful!
Thanks, Maggie!
My husband and I walked the Camino de Santiago this spring (500 miles in 35 days). It’s not the same kind of experience as the PCT–the Camino is quite cushy–but we are feeling the same depression and remorse that it’s over and hoping to recreate it with another adventure. I think I would love the PCT but my husband absolutely would not so I’m considering a cross country bike ride and he would drive the support camper.
I love your writing style! I can’t wait to read more of your posts.
Thanks! I’ve thought about walking the Camino during my next stint in Europe, but I know my mindset would have to be a lot different than that of a PCT hiker. A cross country bike ride is also on the list! Best of luck on your next adventure.
I’ve spent the last two hours scouring your blog, and I just wanted to say two things: first, that I love your writing, and second, that reading your website is doing nothing but cement the fact that I really do want to hike the PCT. Thanks (for this, and probably more).
Thanks, Joy! Happy to hear I haven’t managed to convince you not to hike the PCT. Good luck out there!
Wow. Reading this I was puzzled because it was as if you managed to scoop out my brains and write them down for me – what I was feeling at the same time in 2013, and how I’ve felt off and on since then. Seriously, it’s as if I wrote it, and so thank you for getting those thoughts down so that I can share them with a confused loved one if need be. I really struggled, too, for that first year, at least! And I know many more of us did, too. It’s normal. I’m glad you didn’t kill yourself.
Is it normal that I’ve now slept in the same sleeping bag almost every night for almost two and a half years? And I need to go soon to find a public restroom, which should be easy ‘cuz I’m in Lone Pine. Huzzah! Reintegration isn’t so bad if you just don’t do it. (I chose not to do it.)
It’s only strange you’ve managed to sleep in one sleeping bag through all four seasons. You must be choosing your winter spots well.
Thanks for your wonderful account. For someone who is currently restrained by a comfortable lifestyle, your writing (which is amazing!) gives vicarious pleasures of a trail life. I am planning to hike this year, it’s a different story that I am running low on cash, I am in a totally different part of the world (India-I am excited to know if any Indians have hiked the PCT? Any Indian ladies? No? Okay, I hope to do so) and the struggle to convince my significant others that I can and should go on this journey seems more difficult than the trail life itself(or not, let’s see). You updated a page of my dream in the form of a blog write up (not this one, not about suicidal thoughts but you get my point) I wish to do so very soon. 🙂
I hope you continue writing!
I can’t say that I met any Indians or Indian ladies out on the trail. Would you be the first? Whether or not you are, I hope you find a way to make it out there and experience the trail for yourself.
I haven’t thru hiked, but have been backpacking enough to prefer sleeping on a thin foam pad on the floor to my bed.
How about making your bed a thin foam pad?
I’ve rafted the Colorado thru Grand Canyon twice with private groups. 21 days cutting thru the belly of the earth, and there is a similar readjustment at the end. Getting back to “rim world” is tough. The actual length of the trip isn’t comparable to the PCT, of course, but the intensity of Colorado River experience makes it seem like a lifetime. I find that a final meal with the group back in Flagstaff helps provide closure. I wonder if some sort of closing ceremony/ritual/activity would help the transition after a long hike such as the PCT or AT. Simply walking off the trail and back onto a bus or flight home can give one “mental blue balls”.
I never experienced much of a readjustment period after my long bicycle trips, probably because I was always in touch with “civilization”.
Love your website and your thoughtful, honest posts. Thank you for all the wisdom! I see you’re currently experiencing Everest. I look forward to reading future posts about your amazing and varied adventures. Cheers to you!
You know what they say: honesty is like, a really good policy to have…or something like that?
Hopefully I continue to write so you can continue to read!
Just found your blog. As someone planning to jump on the trail (and later crawl from exhaustion) next year, it has provided me with endless information and starting points for areas to delve into further. Post-trail depression is definitely something to note and remember; knowing a friend who returned and is in the thick of that mass right now, it is evident that this is a real and a lot of times, unspoken issue. So kudos to acknowledging and speaking up.
Happy to hear you have found some use for my ramblings. On-trail depression is far more exciting than post-trail depression, so enjoy it while you can!
Sounds like reverse culture shock, or transition shock: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Culture_shock
Last Spring, my wife and I (along with our 2 non-biting dogs) picked up a thru-hiker on the Angels Crest Highway in the San Gabriels. Our offer of an apple and pear left over from our own short hike was received as if they were priceless objects. It was a short ride to Cloudburst Summit. I don’t know if it was you but the hiker we picked up had a very similar vibe to your posts.
Sadly this was not me you picked up, but I commend you for helping out whomever you did. The world needs more ride sharing, left over fruit giving, non-biting dog owning people like yourself.
Eloquently stated. Stumbled on your blog today from neatorama & looking forward to catching up on old posts! And planning out my own dream hike 🙂
Thank you, Erica – I hope some of my ramblings prove useful to you in the planning of your own adventure.
Hey, buddy. Loved the video and I look forward to reading more of the blog. I hiked the PCT in 2008 and it feels like a long time ago, I could see some regrowth of areas I saw burned in your video. Last week one of my co-workers gave his notice that he is packing up for the AT – and I’m so excited for him. After all that time on the feet, I found my way into bicycle touring – eating whole pizza – now acceptable again. Thanks for the mental break and good luck readjusting – I’m currently enjoying heat and actual bed.
Benn thinking about jumping on a bike and making my way across Europe and/or Asia, but I can’t get over the idea of having such a huge liability with me at all times. Perhaps I should take my own advice and “just do it”.
Happy to hear that your coworker is about to realize an amazing dream on the AT – best of luck to him, and to you. Enjoy that heat and bed while they last!
Really appreciate the honesty here, something to keep in mind as part of the pre-hike mind prep
Just know that no matter how much you might hate certain days or parts on the trail, you will ultimately miss it.
Man, I can smell you here!
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.
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My musk is undeniable.
Be a writer, you have the skills. It will keep you living in the moment like the trail did, and also broke for the first years anyway–but you now have the skills to cope with that, too! Your blog is a pleasure to read, funny and insightful.
Thank you, Susan.
I shall continue the life of the penniless vagabond as long as my readership continues to inspire me to do so.
Your continued support of my self-destructive lifestyle is very much appreciated!
So glad I stumbled on this post! What a perfect articulation of the complex beast called Post-Hike Readjustment! Every thru-hiker on the planet can immediately empathize. Thanks to your amazing writing skill, the post-hike spiritual conundrum is a little more real to all them city-folk, as well.
I’m gonna steal it and say I wrote it.
There will always, always, always be another hike. You know this.
Happy to hear that you have taken pleasure in this post, but rattled by your threat of plagiarism, I have written you a hike-ku (HA! GET IT!? HIKE-KU?):
The PCT Blues
Our adjustment will subside
Another hike, yes
One of the most honest thorough post-trail discussions I’ve seen. Best of luck!
Thanks, Jan! Glad you enjoyed it.
the more I read, the better and better it sounds. 2017?
Is that the year you want to die? I’m in. 2017 PCT thru-hike it is.