One coast to the other.
I had the pleasure of meeting Taylor, a former paramedic and native Australian. She was in San Diego to embark on the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT), which, if you're unfamiliar, is a thru-hike starting in Campo, California, right off the Mexican border, and ends at the US and Canada border. With a quick Google search, you can find that 700-800 people attempt the trail, and according to the PCT Association, only 15-35% actually succeed. I mean, you can end up walking for five months or less, depending on your experience, fitness, and all those factors. It’s absolutely insane. You can’t help but love it.
Feats like this are tremendous its because anyone can do it, but not everyone will do it. I assume that the majority of people who are attempting a hike like this aren’t doing it for money or status; it's a challenge, a change, a sharp turn in your life that you’ve brought on to yourself. It’s an achievement that I believe, as a society, cultural entity, we should celebrate.
Prior to arriving in the States, she had hiked to Everest Base Camp in Nepal. I didn't know much about her initially other than she was a paramedic and she was from a small town in Australia. She seemingly quit her job and here she was about to embark on a trail over 2500 miles long, alone. I picked her up from Pizza Port in Ocean Beach, and without hesitation, she hopped in my van, something that I think most people would second-guess. We sat in my van, ate pizza, and talked for hours. We shared stories of our adventures and found common ground in our experiences. It was refreshing to just sit down and have a conversation with someone where there was no intent. It was simply one traveler to another. Maybe it was just me, but I felt it. There's always an aura around somebody when they're about to embark on a journey, whatever it may be. There's this sense of anticipation and excitement surrounding them the beginnings of a journey into the unknown.There's a sense of being in a foreign land, alone, which seems to exude courage and resilience, it spreads to the people around.
Taylor was couch surfing in an area of San Diego called El Cajon. If you're not from San Diego, you're probably not familiar with it, but it's typically not the place that you would think of when San Diego comes to mind. She told me she spent the day in Ocean Beach watching the sunset at Sunset Cliffs and that it reminded her of Byron Bay in Australia. I've never been, but that paints a pretty good picture for me. Ocean Beach, being this kind of hippie surf-centric, vibrant community makes it relatable to other beach towns. Its a beautiful thing to see or hear when someone gets a sense of welcoming that hint of ‘home’ from a place on the other side of ocean. It's like a reminder that, in some way, we're all connected, sharing similarities despite our differences. Chatting with her over pizza was a pleasure, but as the night grew late, it was time to go our separate ways. A common pattern I've noticed, living a transient lifestyle, is that life changes like the seasons. The leaves transition from green to orange, and eventually, things fall and begin anew.
Immediately after dropping her off, I realized that my phone had died, and being unfamiliar with El Cajon, I spent the next 15 minutes driving trying to find the entrance to the freeway. I even waved some people down at the red light next to me in an attempt to point me in the right direction; it was kind of embarrassing being that I'm from San Diego. Eventually getting on the freeway and driving back to my parents' home. The night served as a great reminder of why I embarked on this lifestyle in the first place. Surprisingly, I wasn't the one journeying, yet it certainly added fuel to my fire.