Becoming an Ultimate Hiker

"In every walk with nature one receives more than he seeks." --John Muir

I thought I was ready.

"My final training hike spanned 22 miles at ~6,000 foot elevation and I came in at just under 8 hours. Finishing the full 26-mile hike in about 9 hours is within reach and I'm excited for the challenge." --Me, 10/18/2012

Ha!

Little did I know I was in for one of the most grueling, fulfilling, challenging, and wonderfully inane things I have ever done. The buildup to the Ultimate Hike is about CureSearch and raising money for a good cause. I don't want this to be lost, as it is the real reason for being involved in this event. I have been fortunate this year and I wanted to make sure I shared some of that good fortune with good causes.

The Hike however was personally driven. It's a challenge I wanted to undertake, though even in this moment I can't say why. Going in I thought I could take it head-on. I'd trained, prepared, planned, and was amped to go. As I learned, you can always hit the trail, and sometimes the trail hits back. This is my story of becoming an Ultimate Hiker.

Section 1: 04:55, 0 miles

Route goes South to North

The SUV lurches to a halt at the end of a dirt road, about a 1/4 mile off the highway. It's still dark, not even a hint of dawn on the horizon. Headlights are our only means of pulling together our final gear.

I'm already dealing with my first challenge - forgetting my headlamp. I've got two small MagLites from my truck. They're not going to cut it, even together. Enter my providence: a giveaway pen from a vendor at a trade show 2 week ago. At the tip of the cap is a rubber end so that it can be used as a stylus and the other tip is a powerful-for-its-size LED light. Clipped to the side of my visor, it's just enough distance to keep me from killing myself, which the MagLites can function at my feet.

We snap a group photo and we're off!

Here we go!

Constantly looking for markers in the dark.

The only part of the trail which put me in a perilous position occurred during this leg. I was between the hard-pushing leaders and those trying to save energy. I felt good keeping the leaders' lights in site, as it gave me a sense of what was coming as I dealt with my diminutive light source. At a tight set of turns however, I lose track of them just as I come to a narrow cut over a minor rock slide. To my right is a drop that is pure blackness beyond my small field of vision. It is probably not an extreme distance down, but I'm not going to test it. I slow to get through the cut carefully and then speed up once I'm clear. I need to have some vision on people until sunrise.

Hurry up giant orb of light!

Official PCT logo

The early leaders

The sun finally appears!

Rounding the lowlands

I'm part of the lead group all morning. We're pushing a good pace, not feeling too overburdened and way ahead of folks. We cross 5.5 miles and start to look out for the 1st aid station. I was excited for this because the timing was almost perfect. The sun had been up for only 20 mins and I was ready to ditch my early morning gear so I can run even lighter.

Section 2: ??:??, 7.2 miles

Route goes South to North

At mile 7.2 we stop and throw each other a series of quizzical looks. Where's the aid station? We finally connect over radios and realize that we've totally blown past where the checkpoint was supposed to be (their fault for not being there). We take a break and decide the only direction to go is forward. It'll stink to carry the cold weather gear an extra 6 miles, but I've got enough water and snacks to not need to double back. The trail starts to meander a bit more as we start to get into more rolling hills. The trail cuts hug the side of some deep gullies and provide some cool formations.

Beginning to get into more rolling hills

Cool formation above the trail

More trees starting to appear

Section 2: 08:33, 8.9 miles

We got another phone call telling us to slow down, lunch won't be there in time. We slow down. In hindsight, I regret this. We were moving at a good clip (a bit under 3mph) and are not expending excessive energy to do it. We've got an extended break coming and should have pushed to the spot. We reach the highway just as the first people out of group 2 catch us. Damnit! I feel we lost about 30 minutes worth of pace because of the calls for us to slow down. Oh well.

Midpoint: 10:16, 12.8 miles

Lunch break! Finally we get to offload our heavy gear. Reloaded on some sandwiches, chips, pickles, etc. Also changed gear, spending some time in flip-flops to revive my feet and then change into fresh socks.

Those who did the Hike last year start to talk about the next section and it begins to sink in: I'm not even half way and the hard part is yet to come. This is where a long hike becomes The Ultimate Hike.

Section 3: 10:51, 12.8 miles

First take a look at the trail map:

Route goes East to West

Notice how much it meanders in the first half (right side of map)? That's because here's what happens to the topography:

At this point we are at the second dot from the left. Time to climb! Being the PCT, it's not like it's intensive switchbacks, but still, it's long, steady uphill climb that is a real test. My only frame of reference is the slow realization that I'm gradually moving higher and higher off the valley floor where we had lunch.

About 1/2 way up off the valley floor where we had lunch

As I get higher, the trail crosses a series of crazy rock slides. The one below was over 50 feet across. As I stepped through it I could hear rocks underneath the rocks I was stepping on shifting, grinding, and maybe moving. The thought of doing this with a fully loaded pack seemed very unappealing.

See the trail going from the lower right corner back towards the tress? Crazy!

This was the first section I started to pull on my training. First I thought about the Harvey Moore Trail at Cuyamaca, which meanders up at a steeper, meaner pace. I did that, I can do this. I thought of the Lone Pine Trail at Mt. Laguna that climbs fast and long. I did that, I can do this. Finally the trail plateaus and we meander the second half of the section at a decent pace, though my body is really starting to feel it. I powered out miles 15 to 20 on the Big Meadow Trail. I did that at 6,000ft, I can do this at 7,000ft.

Section 4: 13:46, 19.6 miles.

Route goes East to West

I don't know how long I stopped at the last aid station. All I remember is stumbling up, getting some concerned looks from the support team and flopping into a chair with some water. For a moment I feel nauseous, but it passes. I would have only wanted to stop for 10 minutes, but I probably did 20. The final section stands in front of me, one final push. It starts with another 750 foot climb - peaking for the hike at 7,750ft - in about 2 miles, but after that it's all level or downhill. I block out the pain and focus. This is happening. I will do this.

Every step I take over the next 2 miles is steady and deliberate. My legs ache and my lungs burn. I push on. On the course of the final climb I've passed another primitive camp, my 3rd of the hike. It was probably around 21 miles. In about 10 hours, I've passed 3 places where people stop to camp overnight. People do this in 3 days???? This thought occupies me for the final 1/2 mile, fueling me to the final crest. 

The final overlook.

At long last the trail stops rising and finally begins to cut into the side of the mountain. It begins rounding edges, tight but with purpose. My breathing and heart rate steady with the trail and my overall pace improves. I'm in awe over the next mile or so. This is the PCT as I imagine it - a thin presence that carves a tight trail along the steeped edges of the West Coast mountain ranges. At this point I'm probably delirious, but I can't help feel a little euphoric. This is a trail blazed by the feet of 200 years of true pioneers and I'm leaving my own mark on it. I really try to savor the final steps.

Tight cut to a portal.

Can you see the cut of the trail around the edge?

Misstep to the left, not the right.

I cross an access road and suddenly I'm greeted by a magnificent view. Big Bear Lake! I didn't mark the time, but all I could think was, "X hours ago, I left that shore to start this journey. I'm almost back!"

I pass another hiker who's taking a break to rest his weary knees.
Me: "Please tell me that's not a mirage."
Other hiker: "No way man. We're almost there."

Time to descend!

The last leg

Finally I hit the last milestone - Cougar Crest Trail. I bid the PCT adieu and start to descend. 2.5 final miles. Everything hurts, but I somehow find myself unwilling to stop and press on. I can feel it. I look through every tree branch for the flash of a tent or van that will signal the arrival point. I pass one of the trail guides:
"Man am I glad to see you!"
"I knew if I came up this way I'd find someone."
"How much further?"
"About 1/2 a mile."
I push on. The trail levels and widens. I pass numerous people headed on a mid-afternoon hike. Hike? Ha! They're barely doing a constitutional! My feet are burning, my body aches, but I push on a little harder.

Then, at long last...

End of Section 4: 16:50, 26.8 Miles

I'm finished!!! A small group is at the end with a line of paper ribbon. I choke up on my trekking poles and hold them in the air as a jog past like it's the end of Chariots of Fire! Everyone is hugging and high-fiving. Each has done it our own way, for our own purpose, but the end we share together. I celebrate the only way I would ever want: with a 22oz Firestone Union Jack IPA. Some people have champagne, others a flask of various liquors. We clanks glasses smile and congratulate each other.

It began with a meeting in the back room at an REI at the urging of my friends, sacrificing weekend mornings and weekday afternoons - even as my friends dropped out, raising money for CureSearch and then, finally enduring the 26.8 mile endeavor that was The Ultimate Hike itself. This experience pushed me beyond limits I didn't know I could hit. I tested my body in ways I never thought possible. In those moments however, I learned more about myself, pulling on experiences and moments that led up to this event and ultimately made it come full-circle. Anyone can do a hike. Tackling the Ultimate Hike is a different kind of animal. The PCT serves is both captivating and  treacherous. We only suffered one injury in our group, but everyone faced at least one hairy point that could have gone badly. For those who reach the end, the true nature of the journey sets in. Am I over-romanticizing it? Maybe, but that's what makes it so rewarding.

Over dinner that evening everyone has a story to share and .an ear to listen. The next day we go our separate ways. We may meet again, though only one things is set in stone: From now on, we each bear the title Ultimate Hiker.

Let's do it again! No, not really...

Life at Initech

Peter: "Let me ask you something. When you come in on Monday and you're not feeling real well, does anyone ever say to you, 'Sounds like someone has a case of the Mondays?'"
Lawrence: "No. No, man. Shit, no, man. I believe you'd get your ass kicked sayin' something like that, man."

I am Peter Gibbons. About 5 weeks ago I just decided "F$%k it!" Nothing dramatic mind you; I just decided that being constantly stressed, not taking care of myself, and sleeping poorly wasn't worth it. Certainly not for a job that I had no problem getting fried from. But of course, life imitates art...


In my professional life, I have worked for poor management; I have worked for great management; this is the first time that I've ever worked for utterly dickless management. It started with trying to navigate the over-bureaucracy. How many engineering managers do you need? Apparently a few more, because the 5 - FIVE - a tried to reach out to all refused to make an actual decision. So I decided that if they were too scared to make a call, I'd make it for them. To be fair, as soon as I vented this frustration to their boss, I had 3 emails within 2 hours. And basically they said "Um, we guess you're way is OK." Thanks deusche.


Next it progressed to openly circumventing the "rules." Mostly this was out of true necessity. It's one thing to be too chickenshit to make a decision; it's another thing to be too clueless to realize when you're submarining your own people. These clowns were doing nothing to help me do what I knew needed to be done, so I took over. I tracked down my guy directly, had a fantastic conversation, built a key relationship, and now I'm running his introduction to my own company, which apparently has a relationship with this guy that their too dumb to understand.


By this time, I'm just running rickshaw over this company. I'm coming and going as I please (Sleep until 10am - no problem; Golf at 1pm on a Friday - done). Yeah, I'm getting things done but C'mon Man, but I should have at least been reprimanded or something.


Instead - and I can't make this up - I have a Bob. You know the Bobs - the consultants from the movie. Well, I have one. Not only am I throwing people under the bus; not only am I openly circumventing the "rules" to suit my own needs; NOT ONLY am I doing pretty much whatever the EFF I want - I have a guy who I'm venting all of this to and his response is an emphatic, "Well hell yeah Keith. You're doing everything you need to do to get things done." (WTF?) As if that wasn't enough, he's also going over to all the VP and telling them, "That Keith is a real straight-shooter with upper-management potential written all over him!" (Holy WTF?)


All I'm missing is a TGIFridays waitress and a neighbor who tells me when to flip to access-cable nudity. This has just gotten ridiculous, and unfortunately the sad part is that I'm just incredibly unhappy. Maybe I'm still just hurting from the loss of my friends and mentor, maybe it's got to do with this company wanting me to be everything I swore I'd never be if I got my MBA (maybe the source of my rebellion?...nah...), maybe I'm just tired of the folks from Wisconsin saying BS like "Oh man, your culture is just like ours!" (Uhhh, newsflash, NO ONE in San Diego thinks that).


At any rate, their are only 3 options, in two phases.
Phase 1: Passive-aggressive job search.
I'm unhappy, not stupid. I've got complete control of my own situation and I have a responsibility to at least try to stabilize my team. So I figure use the situation to my advantage and pursue two options:
1a - Venato. Our L2M project lives! We've done more research, gotten more validation, and now it's just a matter of seeing if we can deliver.
1b - Go international. Specifically South America or Europe. Why not? I've got networks and connections in both and at this point it would be an incredible experience. I know I can get a job in San Diego whenever I feel like it


Phase 2: Hit the eject button
Assuming I can't make Phase 1 happen, then at the turn of the year I'm going to just go full-bore to find something new in San Diego.


At the end of the day, the best part of this deal is that they bought us for cash. I've got the money in the bank and no one can take it back. I live in one of the absolute best places to live in the world and I have the perfect combination of education and experience to be incredibly successful anywhere I want. there are worse ways to be, so why not be everything I want or more?


Peter: "That's a really good idea."
Lawrence: "Fuckin' A, man!"