The Preparations

Sitting in a lecture with my laptop open, with my already highlighted notes and only semi-paying attention to the words being spoken. I listened to the keywords and to the highlights, I listened to hear if anything was said that was not on the lecture outline. But I had about thirteen tabs open and only maybe three of those were related to the actual respiratory therapy content that I was supposed to be soaking in. The rest of it was researching and planning for the PCT.

I knew as close to nothing as you could possibly know about long distance backpacking. I had hiked Black Elk Peak once. I had done some small hikes out in California a couple of times. I had gone for hikes in Montana with my best friend. But if I am being honest, I hadn’t even tent camped overnight yet when I decided that I was doing this.

I was fortunate enough to already have a backpack that would be the size I needed. But everything else… started from scratch. I used my hard-earned bar wages to purchase a tent, I was gifted a sleeping pad by my loving brother, I purchased cook sets and backpacker meals and a new knife. I reached out to Prana and Toad and Co, explained what I was doing, and these super cool brands gave me pro-codes to get some of their gear. I bought a wool long sleeve, a wool tank, I had some hiking pants, I had my boots, I bought a couple of sports bras, Ex Officio undies, and some Darn Tough socks. I bought a bear bin that was relatively inexpensive but CUMBERSOME and lacked much actual storage space. I picked up as many shifts as I could handle to help offset all of the expenses—even the cheapest backpacking gear adds up quickly. I was fortunate enough to have additional contributions from the loving support system that wanted to see me thrive, and most of all see me safe on this expedition.

So, I had all of the basic supplies that I would carry with me always… but how the heck do you get things to yourself several thousand miles from home? Restocking at way points would be ridiculously expensive and there was no guarantee they’d have what I needed. So someone has to send you packages along the way, or else you have to pre-mail all of your own packages before you leave.

Being that I had never done anything like this, the attempt at estimating the amount of supplies I would need was difficult. If the typical woman my age needs 2,000-2,300 calories a day, then 2,500-3,000 a day should be enough, right? And if my dog eats two cups of food at 130ish calories per cup, then tripling or quadrupling her caloric intake should be enough, right? But how the heck do I carry like 20 pounds of dog food? Not only the weight, but there is no way that much kibble is fitting in my bear bin. How much toilet paper do I need to pack? Because due to the wise words of one of my best friends “Please don’t wipe your ass with anything poisonous!” I felt toilet paper was a necessity. And okay sorry boys for the TMI, but ladies—anyone else prone to UTI’s? Anyone else feel like you’d like to rip your bladder and kidneys and everything else out when you get one? What the heck do I do if I get one of those out there?

SO.

MUCH.

RESEARCH.

SO.

MANY.

QUESTIONS.

AHHHHHHHHHHH.

My resources for experienced people to consult were extremely limited. I had a lot of good tips from people from their unique experiences, but I had really no insight from any other women. Like, how do you avoid UTI’s? Do you pack toilet paper or just drip dry (yuck sorry)? Are people going to hardcore judge when I become a hairy mammoth or do I just suck it up and pack a razor? Do you even bring deodorant? What do I do on my period? Am I more likely to get attacked by a predator because they can literally smell my blood? Again—sorry boys. But these are real fears for the ladies in your life.

So, I spent hours upon hours reading on the internet. And we all know how far down the rabbit hole you can get when you resort to that. In addition to the hours on the internet, I consulted my incredible resources down at the Great Outdoor Store (who would later become wonderful friends) on their advice. I started making packing lists, I plotted out the places I would stop and the estimated date of arrival at each place (I WAY overestimated the mileage that I’d be able to manage in the beginning). I picked a starting point that was the closest I could get to Oregon but still be in California. I asked my brother to make the nine hour drive up to this point from where he had been living to drop me and the doggo off. He enthusiastically agreed, bless his kindness. I failed to research the terrain and climate at said starting point which was a very daunting mistake to make. I stood in the aisles of PetSmart for HOURS. Literal HOURS reading the labels on dog food to see which one was the most natural with the most protein and the most calorie dense without completely obliterating my bank account. I found a brand that worked for me and my dog and started feeding it to her a few months early to try to put a couple extra pounds on. I figured it would be inevitable for her to lose a couple. Also side note, I discovered AFTER my journey that they invented dehydrated dog food now. Would highly recommend this to anyone in the future rather than carrying kibble.

To prepare for the physical aspect, we just ran. (I’d also like to interject that I do not particularly recommend repeating any of my physical preparations as I’d do things quite differently now that I have actual experience under my belt. Please learn from my mistakes.) But I didn’t have enough time in a day to hike the kind of mileage I was trying for, so I figured that running would account for the mileage difference (it did not…). And this was basically the extent of my physical preparation… again. Would not recommend.

I worked the grind through finishing clinicals, labs, lectures, bar-shifts, presentations, I got a really big tattoo. I bought a house.

I received a call the morning before I walked at graduation that shattered my world.

My life changed again.

I graduated the next morning.

Wow.

I graduated. The people I loved surrounded me to celebrate this accomplishment and they made me feel like a million bucks.

I set a Leave-Sioux-Falls date. I put in my notice at the multitude of jobs I held. I attended a funeral and gave love to a family who needed support. I got another tattoo. I walked down the aisle with one of my best friends on her wedding day. I scheduled my boards to become a registered RT. I passed my boards to become a registered RT... the Friday before I left town. I hosted a bonfire at my new house to say see-you-later to all of the friends that I had a newfound appreciation for. I packed, I borrowed a more reliable vehicle to make a cross-country trip, I put the dog in the car and bid my teary-eyed adieu’s.

I set out on a road trip knowing that what I had with me, would be what I had with me, for the next few months. I also knew that I was terrified, and despite my best efforts, very unprepared. Unprepared and overpacked. But I had Letty. And everything was going to be okay.

First stop: Bozeman