Trailhead
New Boots • Gathering • Grapevine • Springer Fever
A.T. Companion • Headlamp Material • Work Trips • Side Trails
WE SAW THEM on the valley floor below — perhaps 15 men, single file, walking fast like us, heading north away from the border. They ducked in and out of trees on the edge of the valley. Then they were lost from view as they headed up a draw toward the trail.Suddenly, we rounded a bend and there they were, 10 feet in front of us, moving out of the draw and onto the trail. We stopped to let them pass. A few looked back but gave no sign of recognition. All their attention seemed focused on keeping up with the rapid pace set by the leader. Ann and I had worked hard to get our pack weight light for this Pacific Crest Trail hike. Hers weighed 12 pounds and mine 16 pounds with enough food to take us to Mount Laguna, 43 miles north of the border. Their packs were lighter. Some wore a small day pack, others carried only a plastic grocery sack with their belongings and food. We started our journey from the same place, the small border town of Campo, Calif., about 40 miles east of San Diego. Due to electrical problems, our plane was five hours late and we got into San Diego at 4:30 p.m. Our friends drove us straight to Campo where we passed the border patrol station with nearly 100 four-wheel drive vehicles packed inside a chain-link enclosure. Continuing down a dirt road, we reached the border. A tall, solid steel fence stretched as far as the eye could see in both directions. The area in front of the fence had been cleared of chaparral and sagebrush. Far to the east, we saw a border patrol vehicle driving along the fence. A stone monument at the top of a rise marked the start of the Pacific Crest Trail, 2,638 miles from Mexico to Canada. Our friends took our picture and we were on our way shortly after 6 p.m., determined to put as many miles as possible between us and the border. The twilight was beautiful in the clear desert air. Stars appeared. Just when it became too dark to see, the full moon rose behind us, lighting our way. We found a flat spot next to the trail beside a small stream and settled in for the night, spreading our sleeping bags under the stars. The Mexicans started much later that same evening, perhaps 2:00 a.m., somehow getting across or under that steel fence. As the temperature dipped below freezing and ice formed in our water bottles, we put on additional Capilene clothing and snuggled deeper into our down sleeping bags. They simply kept walking. We covered 22 miles our first full day of walking, meeting three other hikers along the way. Brian from Idaho had taken a semester off from college. Andy and Lia, a young couple from Portland, Oregon, were hiking toward home. Along the way, we saw an occasional Mexican bread wrapper, a soda can with Spanish lettering and once, a picture of a young Mexican woman, inadvertently dropped by her man on his way north to earn money to send home. When Lia dropped her bandanna, we picked it up and gave it to her at Hauser Creek, where we all stopped for lunch. We had no way to return the photograph. But we’re all hiking to meet a dream. We’re hoping to go to Canada. They’re hoping to find a better life for themselves and their families. Now, two days after our start, we’re spending a warm night in the Mount Laguna Lodge sheltered against the strong winds that blow at this 6,000-foot elevation. Where are they?