If you are looking for a story with lengthy and detailed scenes of sexual activity, this isn't for you. While it does feature some sex, most of this tale is the story of how two people came together in rather unusual circumstances.
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Seeing the videos and reading about the fires in California, Oregon and Washington this summer reminded me of the summer of '06 when I spent time backpacking in all three states. As I remembered my time there, I wondered how things have changed in the last decade and a half....
The PCT. The Pacific Crest Trail. A trail of over 2600 miles winds from the Mexico/California border to the Washington/Canada border. In southern California it crosses a desert before climbing into the Sierra Nevada Mountains, then on north into the Cascade Mountains and finally up to Canada.
Ever since I was a teenager, I had wanted to 'do the PCT.' A moderate number of people called 'Through Hikers' would do the entire distance in one summer, starting in May and finishing four to six months later. In 2005, when I was thirty, I realized if I didn't do the hike soon, I never would. I was still healthy, loved backpacking and had a job as an emergency room doctor which I could leave for an extended period of time. It was in October of that year when I first brought this subject up to Vickie, my live-in girlfriend.
She and I had been together for a couple of years. We had a comfortable relationship and enjoyed each other's company, even though we had very different hobbies and professions. She was not at all interested in the outdoors except for an occasional picnic or a short stroll in an urban park. However, she was perfectly fine with me going on extended trips while admitting she would spend the time getting together or traveling to spas with her girlfriends. She was an art historian and loved museums; indeed, she worked in the biggest one in the state as a curator and historian.
Once we discussed it and she realized I was seriously planning on being gone for five months or so, she became a tiny bit more distant from me. There was nothing major, just a slight cooling of her emotions. After a few weeks we had a heart-to-heart talk about it. She said she was hurt I would be gone for so long for what was basically an extended vacation. After our first glass of wine, the talk became quite personal and deep. We discussed long term goals including marriage and children. Neither of us were ready for those, but once we put this on the table, she wondered out loud if this could actually give us an opportunity to assess our relationship. She suggested at the end of the trip if we were still committed, then we could more easily move our relationship to a more permanent status. I agreed with this and also proposed she might want to use the time to take a long-desired trip to Europe. Given her art history background, she had always wanted to do a major museum tour, something I could never see myself doing. Suddenly, she was all excited and talked about getting funding for the trip from her work to make professional contacts while in Europe.
By the end of the evening and after considerable wine, we had basically agreed to spend a large part of the next year apart pursuing our dreams and reassessing things in the fall. That night we made sweet, tender love and our relationship seemed to be back on track again.
Planning for a four to six-month long hiking trip is a ton of work. There are several steps in the overall process. Like in so many other things, timing is key. If one starts too soon, the snows in the California Sierras will be too deep and progress will be slow. If one waits too long, then the fall snows in the Washington Cascades will prevent the completion of the trip. The start date usually is kept fluid until reports of the snowpack in the Sierras come in. Once a date is selected, one needs to mail packages of food and supplies to many little stores or post offices which are near the trail. When well planned, a hiker can get enough food to last until the next resupply stop. I would also send warm weather clothes to a location after the hot desert stretch and a fresh pair of boots to a spot near the middle of the trek.
Obviously, weight is a major issue. To carry a heavy pack can be brutal and slows one down considerably. There are a lot of tricks to limit the weight and some people are able to get their pack weight down to less than twenty pounds before the food and water are added. I did a lot of research into ultralight backpacking, purchased new equipment and planned my meals and meal drop-offs as the winter turned into spring.
By late April both Vickie and I were getting excited about our planned trips. She had received a grant from her job to build up some partnerships with several European museums so they could loan each other art works on a rotating basis. She was delighted to be able to go behind the scenes at some of the biggest museums in the world, including The Louvre.
I was also excited to be in the final phase of my planning. Our second bedroom was filled with little piles of food I needed to sort, pack and ship right before I left. The snow pack in the Sierras was not particularly heavy which meant I would be able to leave fairly early, allowing me more time to finish the trip before the snows hit in Washington. I gave notice at work and told Vickie my start date would be May the sixth. She would stay at our place for another few weeks before heading over to Europe. We planned on vacating the apartment and moving all our things into storage.
The weekend before my departure was a little bittersweet. We were both excited for ourselves but I sensed a slight sense of sadness about our relationship and whether it would survive the half year or so of us being apart and being essentially out of communication. Due to weight restrictions, I decided not to bring a cell phone but I promised her that at my occasional side trips to pick up my food, I would make every attempt to figure out a way to get a message to her. I also gave her a rough schedule and she promised to send post cards to the same addresses as my food shipments, but we both knew any news from her could be older than four weeks by the time I got them.
She drove me to an airport hotel where we were going to spend the night before my morning flight. We had a nice dinner and a couple of glasses of wine. She tried to put on a happy face but at times she appeared wistful and sad. After dessert we strolled hand in hand back to the room where Vickie and I sat quietly together on the couch. Eventually, she turned and crawled onto my lap and began to kiss me. The kisses were tender and sweet, tinged with passion, and her caresses were urgent and clinging. I opened my eyes and saw she had tears sliding down her face, something I fully expected but still had hoped I wouldn't see. After a few minutes she pulled back and looked me right in the eye not saying anything.
"Honey, I know you're sad, and I am too, a little bit. I'm going to miss you," I finally said.
"Yes, but you're excited. Right?"
"Well, yeah, of course I am. It's been a dream of mine for over half my life."
She didn't respond for a few seconds before she pulled herself into a hug and spoke over my shoulder, "I'm going to miss you, you know. And I worry about how our relationship will survive."
"Uh, if you're looking for any kind of commitment..."
"No! I'm not looking for a commitment, we've already discussed that. I just know five or six months apart can really strain a relationship."
"Well, one thing is for certain: I'll not be hanging out at any bars or looking for hookups. I'll be alone, dirty, tired and smelly for the entire trip," I chuckled. "You don't need to worry about me straying."
