Campo, Pacific Crest

Standing at the Southern Terminus of the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) in Campo, California, I take a deep breath. The desert air is warm, the landscape dry and rugged, stretching endlessly toward the horizon. This is it—the start of a journey stretching 2,485mi (4,000km) from the U.S.-Mexico border to Canada. The PCT is one of America's great long-distance trails, part of the Triple Crown of Hiking alongside the Appalachian and Continental Divide Trails. It winds through deserts, forests, and mountains, crossing 25 national forests and seven national parks. Along the way, I'll climb to 13,153ft (4,009m) at its highest point and push through landscapes that most people only ever see in photographs.

Campo, where it all begins, is a quiet little town with a deep history. During World War II, it was a military base, but before that, it was home to the Buffalo Soldiers—an all-Black regiment formed in 1866, many of whom became the first national park rangers in California's Sierra Nevada. The oldest known Buffalo Soldier, Mark Matthews, joined the regiment at just 15 years old in 1909 and lived to be 111. The town is also known for the Pacific Southwest Railway Museum, where old locomotives and railway signals tell stories of another era. But today, my focus isn't on history—it's on the journey ahead.

The Southern Terminus, marked by five wooden pillars standing next to the border wall, is about 1.5mi (2.4km) south of Campo. The pillars were first placed here in 1988, marking the start of this epic trail. With the desert stretching ahead, the enormity of what I'm about to do slowly sinks in, and I suddenly feel the need to check my gear just one more time. My essentials include a custom-fitted, sturdy backpack, lightweight tent, warm sleeping bag, map and water filter. My food resupplies are carefully planned, with stops in trail towns where I can grab a hot meal and some extra snacks. Water sources will be scarce in certain sections, especially in the desert, so staying hydrated will be a top priority. 

I plan to thru-hike in about five months, averaging 15mi (24km) per day, assuming reasonable and preferably snow-free mountain conditions. The first stretch through the Southern California desert will be gruelling—hot days, cold nights, and long distances between water sources. Then come the towering Sierra Nevada peaks, where possible snow and altitude will bring different challenges. Once I enter Oregon, it should offer some relief with its flatter terrain and enough recovery to tackle Washington with its rugged climbs and unpredictable weather. 

Through it all, I know I won't be alone, as I'll meet hikers from all walks of life, each with their own reason for taking on this journey. Some will thru-hike like me, while others will tackle the trail in sections. Trail angels, kind strangers who leave water, food, or even offer a place to rest, will remind me that this journey isn't just about the miles but about connection. And since there's no way to predict what this experience will bring, I am ready to embrace the challenges, the exhaustion, and the unknown—while reminding myself to appreciate every moment and keep a sense of wonder. 

Right now, Canada feels impossibly far away, but I'll take it one step at a time, embracing every sunrise, every challenge, and every quiet night under the stars.

My boots are laced, my pack is ready, and the trail is calling. Time to go.