PCT Day 28 – Pandora’s Pants

Highway 2 (mile 369) to Little Jimmy Camp (mile 384)

I have three hours between waking up and leaving town. In that time I need to figure out an entire new hiking outfit. The shorts I loved pre-trail now have a massive hole in the inseam after less than 400 miles. The shirt I agonized over is rubbing my back raw. I hate online shopping and I hate buying new clothes, but the trail is all about being adaptable, so here we are. Thank goodness Keith is a champion shopper and is willing to help me find a sun protective shirt that won’t rub my skin off.

However, Keith has never bought women’s clothing and so doesn’t understand that size 8 is only marginally relevant, that a size small in one brand is a large in another. A point that is reinforced when the shorts that I’ve ordered into town prove to be too small for me to even pull up over my thighs (even though I’m wearing the same size shirt from the same company that fits great). In the end I buy a few sizes of a few different things and silently thank the stars for whoever invented free returns.

After the shopping debacle I’m emotionally drained, stuck wearing the same clothes for another 85 miles and it’s time to hike. Ah trail life, so sexy. Because this is my blog and I can say whatever I want I want to take a moment and tell women’s clothing manufacturers to get their shit together. Get all your poop in a group and start designing clothes for women with boobs and asses. You’d think that body parts that are fetishised in this country the way boobs and butts are would lead to clothes built to accommodate those assets, but no. According to clothing manufacturers women are just short men with waists who wear pink.

My only solice is to cry a little bit to Keith, text my mom, and then plaster a smile on my face and hitchhike out of town. After a few warm up miles we begin the climb up Baden Powell. 3,000 feet in less than four miles. My brain is super soakered in endorphins at the summit and I sit mindlessly eating cookies dipped in Nutella surrounded by massive rolling peaks. To the north the desert stretches into nothingness and I feel like we’re standing on the edge of a video game, the flat tan whatever is just a segment that hasn’t been rendered yet. Above us the moon hangs half full in the sky, seeming somehow closer than Canada. I push this all from my mind and watch the sun lower and warm the land around us. Distant miles are for future Kara to worry about.