Hiking is so much more than just following a road. It is crossing countries and conquering mountains, it is suffering the harshness of the elements one moment and rejoycing in beauty the next. It is nature in its purest form.
Born in Germany in the seventies, not that far from the Alps, hiking was something I grew up with. As children, we spent days in the mountains, slept in huts with no running water, raced each other to the summit and we had so much fun.
Then, somehow, other things became much more important, other occupations filled my weekends. I moved a few hundred kilometers away from home, and when I turned 30, hiking had mostly become a distant memory.
And then I moved back home and spent a day hiking with friends, and I was hooked by the beauty of the mountains, which is so much more intense after spending years in the narrow, grey confines of a big city. It was less than two hours until I was in the Bavarian Mountains, and they called me.
I started going on hikes, finding this the perfect means to let all the stress of my IT job drain away. At first, just day hikes, then more and more often overnighters. And every time, driving back home also left me with a bit of sadness. My hikes grew longer. And I started searching for longer hikes, found that people did crazy things like walk across the Alps. Of course I had to do that too.
My first “Alpine crossing” took me 8 days, from the lovely Bavarian town Oberstdorf to Merano in Italy, from hut to hut, averaging around 1000m or 3000ft of elevation gain and loss per day. My feet hurt, I got sunburned and hailed on, and I had the best time of my life. I stood at nearly 3000m elevation surrounded by snow peaked summits and breathed the clearest air ever. And after eight days, I was once again sad to stop.
I found even longer hikes, three to four weeks, crossing the Alps and walking from Munich to Venice or from Salzburg in Austria to Trieste at the Mediterranean Sea. All these hikes were far greater than I could put into words – and yet, a few years ago, I became aware that there are really long trails out there that span thousands of miles, where you don’t have the luxury and hassle of staying at huts, where you carry truly everything you need on your back and only resupply every so often. It takes months to do such a trail, and of course, I found I had to do it. With a lot of planning and just as much dumb luck, I got my employer to grant me a sabbatical in 2020, and now all my focus in my spare time is on turning the crazy idea of walking the Pacific Crest Trail, a continuous footpath from the Mexican to the Canadian Border, a reality. And as such crazy undertakings go, they need to be shared. Therefore this blog.