Day 1: Kennedy Meadows

As we drove out of LA, I could feel the excitement in the air. There was no need for either of us to talk about the trip and how we felt. The smiles on our faces and the sparkle in our eyes expressed what words would never be able to describe. The only person in the car who wasn't exactly happy was our trusted driver and friend Reed. He wasn't too thrilled to be up on a Saturday at 7:00 am, but once we purchased breakfast and a coffee for him his attitude changed a little bit.

The road before us quickly changed from 8 lanes to 4 and the towns got smaller and smaller with only a gas station here and there. Just as we hit the 3 hour mark there was a small sign on the left hand side of the road pointing up the mountain to “Kennedy Meadows." With every twist and turn of the road, my stomach clenched tighter and tighter from nervousness. I couldn’t help but notice the snowy mountain peaks and the dry dry desert that surrounded us. All of my fears of hiking along the High Sierras came flooding back as we climbed. Breath I told myself, just breath. Don’t think about how there might not be enough water, the snow could force us off the trail, or that we would be victims of an avalanche.

Thankfully before my thoughts could really get the best of me the road began to flatten and the trees were clustered in clumps alongside the road. Cabins appeared in the distance and a large sign for “The General Store” pointed us in the direction of our ultimate destination for the morning.

Pulling into the parking lot we were greeted by familiar hiker faces- dirty, unshaven, and sun kissed. Here we go I told myself. With a hug goodbye, a final fill of our water bottles, and a quick “what do our packs weigh?” we departed.

The trail was mostly sand and dirt with sage brush lining the narrow one lane path. Occasionally we passed a cactus and a patch of red paintbrush that made for a couple of lovely pictures. After about 3.5 miles we came upon a burned section that had started when a fellow PCT through hiker had neglected to extinguish a fire properly. Amongst the blackened trees and charred rocks were tiny purple flowers. They littered the ground like a fairy dust. It was almost as if someone flying above had accidentally spilled purple paint across the side of the mountain.

The scenery went on like this for sometime and kept our minds occupied as we climbed through the trees to Cover Meade. When we crossed the crest of the mountain the entire area opened up into a huge flood plain. As we walked along the tiny rolling hills that bordered the meadow towards the mountains in the distance we ran into rocks covered in lichen that reminded us both of Brooklyn Spray Paint. The yellow and reds were unnaturally bright and almost too brilliant to be from nature. Note to self, ask Dad why this happens.

Gaining momentum from the downhill we found ourselves at the Kern River Fork within a short period of time. Across the river was a tiny beach, perfect for our first dinner on the PCT. While we were devouring the last bit of our Pasta Primavera Mountain House we noticed a group of individuals gathering wood and water for a campsite just above where we were sitting. Soon enough, the crew came over and introduced themselves as fellow thru-hikers. Tonight they were throwing a celebration because Tom, an amazing trail angel, was providing a feast of fish and a full bar of beer and cocktails. He had hiked in 2 miles to meet the newest group of thru-hikers on their journey to Canada and wanted to share in the experience. Incredible!

Due to the fact that it was our first night on the trail we were a bit apprehensive about joining the large group nestled in the trees above. We attempted to slip out unnoticed, but Left Field, a bearded thru-hiker, wouldn’t hear of it. Before we knew it we were being introduced to the best pack of hikers we would meet on the trail. First up was Jack Rabbit. We never learned his story but we did run into him a couple of times down the road and he always greeted us with a huge “Hello.” Next was Splash, a woman from Washington, who had hiked the PCT SOBO in 2005. Strider and Buddy came as a pair along with a woman named Dawn whose dog Ruby never seemed to tire even though the terrain was steep and the temperature hot. No Pain and Leprechaun provided the wood for the fire. A Canadian couple sang a duet of “Rocky Raccoon” while Tom served drinks out of makeshift cups fashioned from old Gatorade and Powerade bottles. Much to the disappointment of our new friends Carter and I turned in around 9:30 pm, using our East Coast time clocks as an excuse to climb into our tent. What a day!