Steve and I made it safely to Bend - via hitchhiking. We spend two days there doing all our chores, stocking up and getting ready for the next section. We got a ride of a trail angel to Timothy Lake and started hiking towards Cascade Locks.
Cascade Locks is a super famous trail town along the PCT. Once one reaches the town they can cross over the Bridge of the Gods from Oregon into the next state - Washington. This would be the last state before everyone hiking northbound would finish their journey along the PCT. It is not a surprise, that crossing over the Bridge of the Gods has close to a religious feel for the hikers.
I too was excited for Oregon, but there was something I could hardly deny any longer.
I was completely burned out.
My feet just wouldn't start healing. A sharp pain in my shoulder had joined my aching feet in their agony and I had to take my backpack off every 15min to get it to calm down a little.
I was still troopering onwards, but enjoying the whole experience less and less. I felt like I was just dragging myself through the days - nothing left in the tank. This made it nearly impossible to enjoy any of the stunning sites on trail.
Timothy Lake was stunning, Timberline Lodge with it's gorgeous breakfast and wooden features was outstanding and the Mount Hood area in general was breathtakingly beautiful. I wasn't able to enjoy any of these.
My inability to enjoy the beauty around me made me feel like I was wasting my time. I worked my body so, so hard to get to those stunning places and yet - no joy. The PCT started to feel more like an intense chore or burden I put upon myself, instead of the epic adventure I hoped it would be for me.
The breaking point came when I took a detour from the PCT towards Ramona Falls. This section is the last before Cascade Locks and it is just as beautiful as nature can possibly be. Ramona Falls is just something else. It is this tall stunning waterfall where the water comes down in hundred little streams, weaving a glittering curtain, flowing over mossy, dark rocks.
I would have liked to spend a few hours there. Simply resting, staring, making tea and existing.
But it felt like I couldn't. I had to keep moving. I had to meet my 20 mile minimum every single day. So I did. I kept on hiking and made it to the next stunning point - Tunnel Falls. Another Waterfall that passes over a little tunnel, meaning you can walk under the waterfall. This is just a spectacular section.
And then there was me, feeling guilty for not enjoying it properly, feeling burned out, missing home, questioning all the decisions that got me here. In this moment I bumped into Grace.
Grace is a kickass woman, trauma therapist and very kind soul. She just happened to be out on this exact hike that day and we started chatting. I offloaded a lot and told her how terrible I felt about my hike and how it was just not the experience I hoped for. She listened to all my complaints (thank you again girl) and then she dropped me off in Cascade Locks.
I still feel super grateful that I met her at this very moment. I am not sure if I would have had the guts to quit if it wasn't for her kind words and great advice.
Aftermath
I settled into a motel room in Cascade Locks and booked a flight to Ireland. I would be landing in Cork three days later.
It was tough to come back to Ireland. My old life before I started my adventure was gone. The flat I used to rent had new tenants and rent prices had exploded in Ireland. My job was passed on to someone else before I went of and even though my boss would have still taken me back I couldn't take him up on this.
I moved down to Clonakilty, nearly to hours away from Dungarvan, where I had lived for the last 4,5 years. I left all my friends, hiking spots, usual running trails and favourite cafes behind and moved in with my partner. I wasn't sure if Ireland was still the place for me and I wasn't willing to pay 1200€ a month on a rundown one bedroom apartment to find out.
My body needed the following two month to heal. It took weeks till I was able to walk down the stairs pain free and at least a month for my blisters to heal up. I washed and dried all my gear and packed it away and at that time I simply felt defeated.
I failed. I set out to do this big thing and came back after only 720km instead of the planned 4270km.
This is something I still struggle with - the big question if I failed or if I just got exactly the experience that I needed to progress. I did not achieve my goal and for some that is enough to call it a failure. I do know though that the lessons I learned during that experience would have taken years to be gathered in my normal every day life. It gave me new insights about me, the areas I need work in and how I will prepare better for the next big adventure.
