The Desert by Aly Pagano

The beginning of a 2,650 mile long journey on the Pacific Crest Trail.

There are a million decisions that lead to beginnings. Priorities questioned. Jobs left. Normalcy  abandoned. At least so it was for me. Yet before I knew it, I was standing below the 30-foot border wall in Southern California. I took a deep breath, the feeling of home still fresh on my skin, and  turned northward.  

This was the beginning of my 2026 thruhike of the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT), a 2,650-mile  continuous trail from the border of Mexico to the border of Canada. It was late April and a soft  breeze brushed aside the hot, direct desert sun. From the beginning of the trail in Campo, California, the trail winds around gently billowing hills and down through forested valleys of long since dried streams. The first 150 miles of the PCT were a slow and steady introduction. Even as my  body adjusted painfully to the weight of carrying my house day in and day out, my mind remained  occupied with the surprising beauty around me. Flowers flooded the trail and songbirds filled the  morning air. Everything was a novelty, stealing my attention with new plants, desert sunrises, and darting lizards.  

As the ‘honeymoon phase’ began to falter, confidence began to rise in its place. Friends around me  grew closer, and we leaned on each other as we took the challenges of trail life head on. We  summited the 10,000-foot-tall Mt. San Jacinto and rapidly descended to the 115-degree desert floor  in a boiling heatwave. The sand radiated the sun back at us, untouchable. Our food melted inside  our packs, water too hot to drink, electronics overheating. Finding shade under bushes, highways,  railroad tracks, and rocks brought relief. The next 100 miles saw us rising before the dawn, midday  slumbers for 3–4 hours in the shade, and evening trudges to camp. I found peace in adjusting my  pace to the environment around me, knowing that I had the ability to move safely forward despite  the growing mountains and warming sun.  

On day 29 of my journey, around mile 475, the desert threw us a curveball. Clouds shrouded views, cold winds forced us to add the limited warm layers we carried, and rains drenched us, our gear,  and the trail. This was not the desert I envisioned. For nearly a 100 miles, we persevered through  cold rains and wind gusts up to 50 mph. I hiked most days dreaming of the warm safety of my tent, yearning for a peek at the now elusive desert sun. It wasn’t until mile 550 that the sun returned, though the wind only gained speed.  

A section of trail cuts diagonally across the Mojave Desert, brutally hot and exposed. In thruhiker tradition, we chose to night hike part of the Mojave, beginning our day at 3 a.m. For 20 miles, we walked aside and on top of the LA Aqueduct before winding our way into a 20-plus-mile wind farm. 

As the sun rose so did the winds. I was forced to plant my trekking poles sideways to hold myself  upright, hiking bent over to keep myself steady as we made our exit out of the low Mojave Desert  through groves of Joshua trees.  

Once clear of the wind farms around Tehachapi, the landscape began to change. From mile 600– 700 of the PCT, the mountains grew taller. Rocky mountaintops replaced sandy knolls, and pine  trees became abundant. Though we had already officially entered the southern reaches of the  Sierra Nevada Mountain range, this was the emotional finale of the desert. It was surreal to imagine  the desert ending after 700 miles: 700 shades of desert-sand tan retreating in our rear view.  

And sure enough, the desert sent us off with a farewell. The days grew hot again, bringing back the  old tradition of afternoon siestas in the shade, and we experienced our longest water carries yet, including a 35-mile section with no natural water sources, only broken up by volunteer-maintained water caches. It was as though the desert wanted to give us one last test.  

And yet, we passed the test. At mile 703, we hung a right on a mostly paved road and walked 0.7 miles off the PCT to a place called Kennedy Meadows. Together with some great friends, I walked  proudly out of the desert, different than how I had entered long ago in Campo. Our bodies strong,  stomachs hungry, and hearts full, we celebrated the conclusion of the first section of the Pacific Crest Trail with our thruhiker family and comrades the best way we knew how: with an all-you-can eat pancake breakfast.