Well that was a ride. Got a hitchhike from a guy Eddie and his son when running some errands, I had time to kill and wanted to see Campo. Eddie said he was a rancher and was in the area picking up a new water tank for his son’s property. They bought some acreage and were going to build a small home on it for him. But first in the desert they needed water. I told him how I dream of having acreage and growing my own crops on it. We swap contact info to keep in touch, according to his instagram he’s a marihuana rancher. Kudos Eddie, hell of a product, we’ll get along great. Will definitely take you up on your offer to visit when I’m in your neck of the woods.
After arriving and setting up my tent in the field at CLEEF, it took about 20 minutes for the sky to open up and to absolutely pour down rain. While raining the temps plummeted to the low 20s. I tossed on my winter hat, gloves and prepared to ride it out. I now realize I made the mistake back home at the last minute of bringing my 20°F sleeping quilt instead of my 10° F which was also now soaked. I said maybe I’ll ship my 10 to the Sierras.
In backpacking staying dry and warm is key. Let’s just say this was arguably one of the longest nights I’ve had in a while. I tossed and turned, rubbed my hands together for friction heat, did jumping jacks to stay warm and even walked a mile to get my core temp up before getting back into my tent. Overall it was good and bad.
Good to get that out of the way, let me see how bad it can be day one so I can further mentally prepare to embrace the suck. The bad side, I froze all night long. Post 2021 after having Covid. I just don’t do well in the cold anymore, I use to LOVE winter. Would be outside grilling in 0°F in a T Shirt. But now in 2025’s time frame, no exaggeration I shivered all night long.
I ended up saying F it at 3:45AM and waited for the sun to rise laying on a bench tucked in all my clothes, 3 pairs of socks deep in my sleeping bag. My Oura ring thought I was working out all night from shivering.
All in all, less then 2 hours of sleep for the first night
I open my eyes again, this time the sun has finally risen. It’s now time to get up, stretch, have something warm, get ready, thaw/dry out my tent and quilt and get moving. The people at CLEEF put on a nice pancake breakfast with fruit to fuel the hikers before the leave. We make small talk, discuss what to expect and share plans about where we want to camp next all while packing up.
One last photo as a group and it’s time to go.
A small group today. The PCTA gives out 50 permits per day, so my expectation was at most I would see 50 people today. Also PCT hiking season officially kicks off March 1st so we are some of the first people on trail. After a final photo for the memories it was bathroom time, me being a very normal AM routine pooper, I take one peek inside and easily decided to skip the flush toilet, I’ll dig a cat hole a few miles in instead. Probably for the best to get use to that.
The Southern terminus is literally at the Mexican border wall. When I walked up to the wall almost immediately border patrol arrived. Their infrared equipment detects and picks up movement at the border. We were told illegal crossings with Chinese nationals have picked up within this specific area, their journey is after flying to Ecuador from China to bypass needing a Visa they allegedly start hiking through the Darien gap between Panama and Columbia. After they hike the Darien Gap protected by paying off the Columbian Narcos for safety they jump on a plane or train to northern Mexico where they cross the border illegally in Tecate by using various coyotes usually connected to the Mexican Cartel.
Tecate MX is about 12 miles along the border wall from here and with everything going on politically, it doesn’t seem to be lightening up any time soon. As someone who’s worked on IR/OR/optical systems for over a decade in the defense industry as an engineering director. I know exactly how their systems work, and they work well.
Pretty cool.
My thoughts on Border Patrol if I was honest, BP interests me, when I was living in New Hampshire I would see Border Patrol near the Canadian border when grouse or deer hunting in Pittsburg NH. Besides for fish and game wardens, only Border Patrol would walk right up to you as you held a rifle and say hey how’s it going? Clearly in New Hampshire however, there is significantly less “migrant” foot traffic.
I think I’d like to work for border patrol, I love to be remote out in the middle of nowhere, I like being independent, I’d like it not to kick people out of the US or be a “asshole agent of the wall.” But to actually help people, I’m a product of immigrants my self. Granted Sicilian immigrants but I’m no better than anyone else who wants to come here for IMO “ very expensive freedom.” I can understand the desire to provide a better life for their kids.
Back home, besides for my direct friends who are cops… I have a “fuck the police” attitude because they’re straight up corrupt. Is it a shocker as a Sicilian how I was raised? I consider it more a product of experiences. Show your respect, & keep your mouth shut. The police are there to catch a paycheck and abuse overtime while protected by their union, not to help you, in Boston you notice that immediately when they arrive and you get blamed for even calling them. But besides that 90’s NWA F the Police tangent after hiking in this desert, and seeing where these people are having to go, seeing the emergency signals knowing I couldn’t have survived without every ounce of water I carried with me, it’s clear they need help whether they stay or get sent home.
Most of these people or families come here with literally nothing on their back, I do get rules are rules and yes as an American I lean a little more firm on the fact we are flat out full….. But being a human being and not a dickhead and having compassion is possible in EVERY aspect of life.
Border Patrol- What are you doing here?
Me– Hiking the PCT sir.
Border Patrol– Oh yeah? Move along now.
He wasn’t impressed.
After waiting for the Border Patrol Agent to stop awkwardly mean mugging and leave, I joke around testing the stability of the wall, I crack a few Local 7 iron worker jokes, and I take a piss through the wall into Mexico. I was technically in two countries at the same time. I cross back and touch the terminus. The official southern most point of the PCT.
There was another person already there and we swapped phones to take pictures for one another and both signed the log book. Our official start.
I started walking north with two others hikers who already had trail names… 7 from rural Canada and Wolf Slayer from Washington. I met both of them the night prior
Wolf Slayer got their name for doing some crazy stuff on their last thru hike of the Colorado trail. Prior to that was the AZT. Wolf’s resume in hiking is actually pretty extensive the more we talk.
7 like me is new to thru hiking. He’s backpacked a bunch like I have, but this is the first time he’ll be out for months. And then there is me, I don’t have a trail name yet but at mile four 7 tells me he’s going to start calling Boston (me) “Mouse”
Why Mouse? Because he said he heard me rummaging around in my tent the entire night like a mouse searching for food. Was he sleeping, or warm like I thought? Nope. But I guess with ear plugs in I didn’t noticed how loud I am? I don’t know if I’ll keep it yet. Day 1 seems too early, but hey maybe it’s meant to be. I definitely was rummaging around all night.
The trail starts gradually up hill. We covered roughly ten hot miles in the sun before Wolf tosses me some sunblock.
“Hey Boston not to nurse you like this but put some sunblock on your legs” -Wolf
I forgot when I hike I wear short shorts. Who wears short shorts? I wear short shorts.
Good call. My pale skin can’t handle the Mexi/Cali sun. I remember I’m only half Sicilian, and with my Irish mother fighting skin cancer this year… I get the hint. There are zero reasons I should mess around and think I’m tougher than the sun, who needs to add any more reasons for me to get Melanoma later on in life? Owning a boat and being “sun” lazy in my 20s, I’ve already done my damage so I say not I as I applied a thick layer of sunblock.
As I apply the sunblock to my legs, ears, nose, face and hands, I think of my pasty pale friend Pat L, I know he’d be pumped to see the wall, being from MA, none of us ever have. It’s also his and his twin sisters birthdays next week. (Happy Saint Patrick’s Day) I laugh to my self about how he got sunburned through a shirt out on my boat that time. He’d absolutely die out here.
Over/under 35minutes. I’d take the under all day.
After another mile or so and I began a steep decent to Hauser Creek. I’ve lost 7 and Wolf as they are much faster than I am. Sunblock stinging my eyes as the sweat drips down my face. In the distance I can see and literally feel the high voltage power lines above me.
That high voltage line makes me think of a friend back home who installs those for our power company National Grid. I haven’t seen him in a few years and I hope all is well with him and the family. Being physically this far away and still feeling the electricity. I’m all set with that. That’s exactly why he crushes it though. You’re an absolute beast and a good dude Brent.
At this point it’s been an 11 mile water carry, no sleep, 32lb bag, let’s F’ing go! Get stoked. I arrive at a makeshift campsite and find 7 and Wolf already there setting up, it’s littered with Poison Oak. And I mean littered with Posion Oak! One thing I’m good at, identifying poison ivy. Being a hunter/fisherman you don’t mess with leaves 3 of a kind and shiny. NEVER. My dad use to get it every summer as a kid he said. Him and Uncle Pete’s pain and suffering was enough for me to skip messing with any shiny leaves.
Tonight’s a night I will try hard to not leave my tent.
We sit down on a log at dinner after setting up our homes. I feel a little nauseous after the miles, the zero humidity is killing my hydration, I’ve eaten nothing real but snacks, slim Jim’s, electrolytes chews and 6 liters of water today. Wolf (a nurse at home) gives me an anti nausea pill and a pep talk to get me through dinner.
7 and I debate how long to cold soak ramen noodles for. Over/under 1 hour? I say under. I spot a trend in my gambling.
After dinner we enjoy a few minutes of small talk. 7 says he has a question for my Boston accent after hearing me say “Starbucks”. I tell him for a Bostonian, my accent is mild! But both these folks being from the west coast. I’m truly a character to them, a rambling bumbling clown whose accent comes out only on certain words.
His question-If I could only eat 1 food every meal out here what would it be… My answer to him was that’s definitely not the question I want to think about right now. He laughs, I laugh, it feels good to have a feel good moment when you feel sick. A quick poke of a nice joint after eating some food to ease the muscles and we slip into our respective homes for the night.
We lay in our tents in the dark (at 6:30PM) and talk to each other from 8 feet away. The three of us are hitting it off and looking out for each other. This is how a tramily starts or a trail family. Like your friends, you don’t pick them they just show up one day and never leave.
I rummage around my tent and put everything in its place. Tonight’s daylight savings time and the three of us debate what time to wake up and whether it affects us or not. Wolf says it will affect us, I say times a construct that if we don’t have watches on and just rise and set with the sun it doesn’t matter?
I honestly don’t know who’s right, but what’s important is we’re having fun. We want to be hiking! I take a moment to suck in the present, but look forward to June and long days. The solstice is my favorite day of the year but that’s an eternity away. And with that I know comes the heat.
I roll over and pull my quilt up tight, say good night to Chesty Puller wherever he is and pass out listening to the gentle gurgle of the creek and someones snoring.
The Pacific Crest Trail 