
I had chosen to share some childhood memories before the great departure for the PCT, but they were deemed too sad for such a happy space, so they were removed. I believe this is different since these tears are for so many reasons, even if Caleb can’t understand why I’m so upset. I’m going to miss what the trail could’ve been, especially with so many good memories already.
I spent the day crying over the loss of Caleb’s dream, something he’s wanted for years and spent the last month watching me do in pieces, so we could still spend time together while one of us got to hike. He’s done with the hike and the people and the dirt roads. He’s done being in pain and feeling like an outsider, as anyone would who isn’t putting in the miles.

Caleb didn’t know that I wanted this more than I knew and wasn’t prepared to have me so sad. This will be a huge adjustment, even with all the zero days, as I had planned to poop in the woods for months and we just got out of the desert and have to leave the beautiful forest behind. I’m not ready to return to society and the reality that brings. I enjoyed having my phone on airplane mode, choosing between two outfits, and spending the day in nature.
Back with all the non-hikers, I will have to pay rent, drive to the store, and sit on a toilet. This also means a return to school, which I knew would happen, but I now feel rushed into. People will expect me to answer the phone and check my mail (which the post office still can’t figure out after two months). Their new anti-fraud system is a bit trash when the employees haven’t been properly trained.

Caleb doesn’t know what to do either as he feels overwhelmed. He doesn’t want to return to the trail this year as he feels he’s already missed so much and might just get hurt again. This affects his opinion on whether to attempt it next year when we already have travel and education plans. He doesn’t want to camp because being outside means being on your feet. He doesn’t want to burden his family but Airbnb’s cost way more when not sharing one with hikers.
We have to patch my tent pad by finding the hole in the tub in Bishop. We stop at the ER on our way out of town, way better service here, but nothing on the x-ray that requires a special shoe (not even an offer from the last one), so Caleb is given some gauze and wished good luck. He’s told to ice and elevate it, which we’ve heard before. We’ll have dinner in a Love’s parking lot before I call it a day some 400 miles from where we started.



















