Summer on the PCT

If you are looking for a story with lengthy and detailed scenes of sexual activity, this isn't for you. While it does feature some sex, most of this tale is the story of how two people came together in rather unusual circumstances. Votes and comments are always appreciated.

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Seeing the videos and reading about the fires in California, Oregon and Washington this summer reminded me of the summer of '06 when I spent time backpacking in all three states. As I remembered my time there, I wondered how things have changed in the last decade and a half....

The PCT. The Pacific Crest Trail. A trail of over 2600 miles winds from the Mexico/California border to the Washington/Canada border. In southern California it crosses a desert before climbing into the Sierra Nevada Mountains, then on north into the Cascade Mountains and finally up to Canada.

Ever since I was a teenager, I had wanted to 'do the PCT.' A moderate number of people called 'Through Hikers' would do the entire distance in one summer, starting in May and finishing four to six months later. In 2005, when I was thirty, I realized if I didn't do the hike soon, I never would. I was still healthy, loved backpacking and had a job as an emergency room doctor which I could leave for an extended period of time. It was in October of that year when I first brought this subject up to Vickie, my live-in girlfriend.

She and I had been together for a couple of years. We had a comfortable relationship and enjoyed each other's company, even though we had very different hobbies and professions. She was not at all interested in the outdoors except for an occasional picnic or a short stroll in an urban park. However, she was perfectly fine with me going on extended trips while admitting she would spend the time getting together or traveling to spas with her girlfriends. She was an art historian and loved museums, indeed she worked in the biggest one in the state as a curator and historian.

Once we discussed it and she realized I was seriously planning on being gone for five months or so, she became a tiny bit more distant from me. There was nothing major, just a slight cooling of her emotions. After a few weeks we had a heart-to-heart talk about it. She said she was hurt that I would be gone for so long for what was basically an extended vacation. After our first glass of wine the talk became quite personal and deep. We discussed long term goals including marriage and children. Neither of us were ready for those, but once we put this on the table, she wondered out loud if this could actually give us an opportunity to assess our relationship. She suggested at the end of the trip if we were still committed, then we could more easily move our relationship to a more permanent status. I agreed with this and also proposed she might want to use the time to take a long-desired trip to Europe. Given her art history background, she had always wanted to do a major museum tour, something I could never see myself doing. Suddenly she was all excited and talked about getting funding for the trip from her work to make professional contacts while in Europe.

By the end of the evening and after considerable wine, we had basically agreed to spend a large part of the next year apart pursuing our dreams and reassessing things in the fall. That night we made sweet, tender love and our relationship seemed to be back on track again.

Planning for a four to six-month long hiking trip is quite a bit of work. There are several steps in the overall process. Like in so many other things, timing is key. If one starts too soon, the snows in the California Sierras will be too deep and progress will be slow. If one waits too long, then the fall snows in the Washington Cascades will prevent the completion of the trip. The start date usually is kept fluid until reports of the snowpack in the Sierras come in. Once a date is selected, one needs to mail packages of food and supplies to many little stores or post offices that are near the trail. When well planned, a hiker can get enough food to last until the next resupply stop. I would also send warm weather clothes to a location after the hot desert stretch and a fresh pair of boots to a spot near the middle of the trek.

Obviously, weight is a major issue. To carry a heavy pack can be brutal and slows one down considerably. There are a lot of tricks to limit the weight and some people are able to get their pack weight down to less than twenty pounds before the food and water are added. I did a lot of research into ultralight backpacking, purchased new equipment and planned my meals and meal drop-offs as the winter turned into spring.

By late April both Vickie and I were getting excited about our planned trips. She had received a grant from her job to build up some partnerships with several European museums so they could loan each other art works on a rotating basis. She was delighted to be able to go behind the scenes at some of the biggest museums in the world, including The Louvre.

I was also excited to be in the final phase of my planning. Our second bedroom was filled with little piles of food I needed to sort, pack and ship right before I left. The snow pack in the Sierras was not particularly heavy which meant I would be able to leave fairly early, allowing me more time to finish the trip before the snows hit in Washington. I gave notice at work and told Vickie my start date would be May the sixth. She would stay at our place for another few weeks before heading over to Europe. We planned on vacating the apartment and moving all our things into storage.

The weekend before my departure was a little bittersweet. We were both excited for ourselves but I sensed a slight sense of sadness about our relationship and whether it would survive the half year or so of us being apart and being essentially out of communication. Due to weight restrictions, I decided not to bring a cell phone but I promised her that at my occasional side trips to pick up my food, I would make every attempt to figure out a way to get a message to her. I also gave her a rough schedule and she promised to send post cards to the same addresses as my food shipments, but we both knew any news from her could be older than four weeks by the time I got them.

She drove me to an airport hotel where we were going to spend the night before my morning flight. We had a nice dinner and a couple of glasses of wine. She tried to put on a happy face but at times she appeared wistful and sad. After dessert we strolled hand in hand back to the room where Vickie and I sat quietly together on the couch. Eventually, she turned and crawled onto my lap and began to kiss me. The kisses were tender and sweet, tinged with a bit of passion, and her caresses were urgent and clinging. I opened my eyes and saw she had tears sliding down her face, something I fully expected but still had hoped I wouldn't see. After a few minutes she pulled back and looked me right in the eye not saying anything.

"Honey, I know you're sad, and I am too, a little bit. I'm going to miss you," I finally said.

"Yes, but you're excited. Right?"

"Well, yeah, of course I am. It's been a dream of mine for over half my life."

She didn't respond for a few seconds before she pulled herself into a hug and spoke over my shoulder, "I'm going to miss you, you know. And I worry about how our relationship will survive."

"Uh, if you're looking for any kind of commitment..."

"No! I'm not looking for a commitment, we've already discussed that. I just know five or six months apart can really strain a relationship."

"Well, one thing is for certain: I'll not be hanging out at any bars or looking for hookups. I'll be alone, dirty, tired and smelly for the entire trip," I chuckled. "You don't need to worry about me straying."

"Oh, Ryan, I'm not worried about you. I'm worried about us and I'm worried about me," she responded. After a minute or so, she went on, "Uh, I don't know how to bring this up, but I need to, we need to. We need to talk about..."

"About what, Honey?" I asked after she failed to finish her thought.

"Well, I'll come out and say it. This will be a real test of our relationship. And if we're going to test it, then we should plan on truly testing it. I think we need to agree that, if the occasion should arise, we don't have to be exclusive this summer."

I sat there stunned. Clearly, she would have far more opportunity for sexual contact traveling around the cities of Europe than I would hiking and camping on the PCT. But I knew her pretty well by then. She had been the one early in our relationship to ask we be exclusive and she had been the one to broach the subject of living together. I had never been concerned about her being unfaithful at all. It seemed like she was offering me a hall pass but, like I said, I would be unlikely to ever be able to use it. I had even figured onesomes were going to be my sexual release for the entire time. I thought maybe she was subtly telling me she'd be the one to seek out partners and wanted to do so with a clear conscience. The more I thought about it the more I realized she had made a good suggestion. If our relationship was going to survive, it had to overcome this time apart and any sexual contacts that might occur. And, if after a summer of sex with those hot Italians or hunky Swedes she still wanted me, then I knew our relationship would be even stronger.

"Uh, sure, I guess," I said after a long pause. "Just to be sure I got this right. You are saying either of us can sleep with others this summer and when we get back this fall..."

"We don't say anything. Nothing. We'll talk about the hike, the museums, the whatevers, but nothing about our personal lives."

We kicked things around a bit more and I agreed to her proposal with a deep, warm kiss. Once we broke the kiss she softly giggled in my ear, "But don't think I'm letting you get away without one final roll in the hay, Buster."

Smiling, she leaned back and pulled her top off exposing her delicious bra-covered breasts. All right, I'll admit it. I'm a breast man. She knew how I liked them and how they excited me. They were nice and well-proportioned and, without a bra, stood proudly on her lean torso. Her fairly small areolas surrounded little nipples which stood out firmly with any stimulation. I could see them through her bra and as I started to stroke her, I could feel them bead up.

"Mmm. Nice," she sighed.

"I can make it nicer," I whispered as I reached around and unsnapped her bra. Once I slipped it from her shoulders, she arched her torso, thrusting her tempting nipples at me. I bent down and took one in my lips and began to gently lick and suck to her obvious delight. After a few minutes she leaned back and unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it off. Then when we came together her beaded nipples drew little circles on my chest as she moved around.

"Honey, this is nice, but I really want you in that bed. Now!" I knew when to obey so I grabbed her, stood up and carried her to the bed before gently dropping her to the sheets. I undid my belt and let me pants hit the floor, leaving only my boxers, while she pulled her jeans and panties down in one big swoop. Once she scooted up in the bed, she let her legs splay apart showing me her well-groomed pussy. I could already see a faint trickle of female arousal between her lips calling out for me to taste her. Once I dropped down to her, she gently took my head and directed me to nirvana.

With tiny licks I was able to part her folds and taste her delicious nectar. She began to moan quietly particularly as I moved my tongue over her clit. The taste was divine and her scent was sweet and pungent. In no time at all she was moaning loudly, thrashing about as I attacked her clit with quick darts of my tongue and curled my finger inside her canal. With a screech she came and quickly begged me to stop.

"Too much, Honey, go easy for a few minutes. Whew. Then you'll get me."

I lay there lightly licking her, enjoying the flavor and her murmurs of contentment. Finally, she shivered a bit and pulled me up to her. "I want you inside me, please. And don't be shy, I need a good fucking, a really good fucking."

I raised up and slid my cock into her. As always, she was nice and tight and well lubricated. I was able to establish a nice rhythm plunging deep and then teasing her opening as if I were going to pull completely out. I kept this up for awhile until she grabbed my flanks and pulled me to her. "Harder, dammit, harder."

"Uh-uh. Gonna tease you..."

"Oh no you're not," she responded and with strength I didn't know she had, she suddenly rolled me over and crawled back on top, sliding herself onto me. "Now I'm in control," she said through gritted teeth. Her plunging on me became stronger and deeper until her clit was banging up against my pubic bone. She developed a light sheen of sweat as her head was bent down and she flexed her torso, driving her pelvis down again and again. I don't recall ever seeing her so driven or so dominating as she was that night. Up and down she went until her chest flushed a deep red and her face tightened into a grimace I recognized as her pre-orgasmic state. I allowed myself to catch up with her and with loud cries from her and deep groans from me we climaxed together. It was such a total body experience that I felt lightheaded, my heart was racing and my breathing came in gasps.

After she dropped down onto me, I could feel her pulse pounding in her neck as she caught her breath. "Am I too heavy for you?" she asked.

"Of course not. You're like a heated blanket," I joked.

"Just as long as you don't call me a wet blanket," she responded, referring to her perspiration. A few seconds later she boosted herself up and crawled over to lie next to me. "Whew, that was wild."

"Uh-huh, it was."

"Now, when you're on the trail and your mind starts to drift a bit, I hope it thinks about tonight. I hope it gives you enough incentive to hike faster and come home sooner."

"Believe me, I'll be thinking about us a lot," I said as I gently stroked her back. "Say, Vickie, I want to say this. No matter what happens with us this year, I want you to know I care deeply for you. I want to thank you for being supportive of my life-long dream and I very much plan on getting together with you in the fall."

"That's so sweet. Thank you," she responded with a kiss. Soon I heard the soft, regular breathing of my sleeping girlfriend.

My flight the next morning wasn't too early so we had a chance to grab a continental breakfast in the hotel lobby. We sat there across from each other not talking very much. I know my mind was going a mile a minute and she had a somber face. She drove me over to the terminal. With all the TSA crap after 9/11, it didn't make too much sense for her to come into the terminal. She dropped me off in front of my airlines check-in area, hopped out as I got my pack and ran to me. I got a big, big hug before I whispered into her ear to take care and have fun in Europe. She didn't answer and suddenly turned away from me with a sob and ran to the car. I watched her drive out of sight before I turned into the terminal to start my adventure.

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The little village of Campo, where the trail starts, was reached by bus from San Diego. I grabbed a room for the night and enjoyed the last night in a bed for months to come. The next morning after my last breakfast of eggs and waffles, I walked over to the five rock columns which mark the beginning of the trail. I stood there for a few seconds before a car pulled over and a middle-aged woman stuck her head out.

"You gonna hike it all?"

"I certainly hope so."

"Well, good luck. How long you thinkin'?"

"Maybe four to five months."

"You be careful. It's hot and dry down here. Watch for snakes."

"I will. Thanks," I replied as I shouldered the pack and took the first of God-knows-how-many steps facing me.

The first main section of the trail is indeed hot and dry. It goes over arid areas, dry mountain ridges and even a portion of the Mojave Desert before climbing up into the southern portion of the Sierra Nevada mountains. It had been a wet spring in the lowlands and word in the hiking community was that water was not a major issue, as long as one was willing to carry plenty. A gallon of water weighs eight pounds and on some sections of the trail I'd need to carry two gallons. Fortunately, I was in great shape from my training hikes and I didn't need to carry as much heavy cold weather gear which I would be picking up at one of my supply drops further along.

The days were fairly warm and I decided early on to wake up at the first hint of light and hike until midday, rest under the shade of my ground cloth strung off my pack until four pm or so and then head out again until dark. By avoiding hiking in the heat of the day, I found I didn't need as much water and could preserve my energy.

About three days into the hike I was passed by a couple of young Germans. We chatted for a few minutes sharing bits of personal info before they took off. As they left one turned to me and said, "Have a good hike, Erdoc." It was that easy to be given my trail name and for the rest of the trip various through-hikers would call me Erdoc, short for E. R. Doctor. The name was a simple two syllables combining the 'e' and the 'r' into one syllable.

Late the next day I saw I was slowly closing in on a solo hiker but since I quit at nightfall, I did not meet up with them until the next morning. About fifteen minutes after I started out, I stumbled across the camp. A woman eating a cold breakfast jumped when she heard me on the trail startling both of us. I kept my distance while telling her my name and plans. It turns out she too was planning on doing the entire trail. I was impressed. Not many women do the trail and even fewer do it solo. She wasn't ready to leave so I turned to head out when she called out, "Take care, Erdoc!"

"Whoa. How'd you hear that? The Germans?"

"Yeah. They called me 'Wonder Woman.' They couldn't believe a solo female was going to do the trail."

"Well, I'm impressed, too, Wonder Woman. See you up the trail."

She caught up with me that noon when I was doing my midday rest but she kept on walking. Later that day I passed her again and didn't see her until a couple more days had passed. I had planned on taking a full rest day every ten days or so, depending on the location. Some of those would be at resupply locations and some would be in the wilderness. She caught up with me on my first rest day. She looked fairly tired and asked if she could take a load off for a bit.

After a few minutes she took off her hiking shoes, took a swig of water and we began to chat. I told her my brief bio including where I lived and worked. She laughed that she had thought my trail name was 'Urdoc' and didn't understand it, but the name 'Erdoc' made far more sense.

Her name was Julie, she was about my age and came from Colorado. She was on an extended break from a small, nonprofit law firm dedicated to ecological and green issues. They had even supported her with a small grant so she could incorporate her experiences into her work.

It was around three in the afternoon when she decided to stop for the night and set up her sleeping bag some twenty feet from mine. We had dinner together and talked a bit after the sun went down, but we were both tired and hit the sack early. The next morning, she suggested I head out and she would leave a few hours later. For the next week, as we made our way north through the dry country of southern California, we would run into each other almost daily, sometimes passing one another and sometimes sharing a camp. There were several other through-hikers in the area and we'd frequently run into each other as well. On one night there were even six of us camped around a small spring where we shared stories, jokes and good times. The Germans, whose trail names were now Eins and Zwei, were part of this loose, mingling group of hikers.