The Pacific Crest Trail: Part Two

Geschrieben von: Tom Ferstl

3. Juli 2025

Lesezeit 3 min

Tom Ferstl

Tom Ferstl is all about exploring the world one trail at a time. Whether he’s running through the mountains, discovering new cities on foot, or connecting with local communities, he’s driven by a love for movement, nature, and adventure. Based in Zurich, Tom shares real moments from the road—capturing the highs, the struggles, and everything in between.

The beginning of an adventure with and open end. Follow No Normal Ambassador Tom Ferstl on his epic adventure on the Pacific Crest Trail, a 2,650-mile trail that stretches from Mexico to Canada. If you haven't yet: go check out part one of his inspiring journey!

And the journey continues...

Part two of my Pacific Crest Trail: A Dream of Sand and Heat

When people hear “desert section” on the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT), they picture shimmering heat, endless sand, and maybe a cactus every now and then. But the truth is far more complex — harsher, weirder, more unpredictable, and at the same time, breathtakingly beautiful. For me, the desert became a proving ground for endurance, resilience — and self-discovery.

Settling into the Real Trail Life

The desert challenges not just your body, but your soul. It offers you sweeping views, blooming ridgelines, and sunsets that make time stop. And the next day? A brutal climb, searing heat, no shade, and wind that feels like it’s trying to break you.

And still — this is what it’s all about.

The Desert Sets the Pace

After the small town of Julian, something shifted. The novelty wore off. It wasn’t about starting anymore — it was about continuing. My body was still sore, but my mind slowly caught up. The rhythm changed: waking before sunrise, hiking in cool morning light, taking siestas in whatever shade I could find. Breaks became sacred, snacks became emotional anchors.

Furthermore: in the desert, water rules everything. You quickly learn which sources to trust — and which to avoid. You carry more water than you want, and dream not of showers, but of dripping pipes in the middle of nowhere. Every drop becomes a small miracle.

etreating to the tents for shade during the sweltering midday sun.

Between Breaking Points and Awe

As the novelty of the journey began to fade, clear highs and lows started to emerge — moments that accompanied me almost with every step. Over time, they became a regular part of my daily trail life, even though they were far from anything I’d usually call “normal.” Here’s a small glimpse into my personal highs and lows:

The Highs

Trail magic at just the right moment
Laughing hard with strangers turned friends
That first cold soda after 100 dusty miles
Cowboy camping beneath a galaxy too close to believe

The Lows

Blisters that resemble modern art
Sunburn peeling in layers
Carrying four liters through a dry stretch and still being thirsty
That day when everything hurts — until someone shares half a Snickers and restores your faith in humanity

Transformation from within

Around Tehachapi, something clicked: I stopped counting miles. I was just walking. Eating. Laughing. Cowboy camping. Waking up. Repeating. My body had adapted. My mindset shifted. I started noticing the little things — the sound of wind on a ridge, the feel of trail dust, the comfort of that same crusty shirt for the 18th day in a row.

I even started loving the food I used to mock. Tortillas, dry ramen, melted trail mix. Fully embracing my trail basic bitch era — and proud of it.

Pacific Crest Trail Snack Pack Impression

Kennedy Meadows – No Finish Line, But a Milestone

Kennedy Meadows isn’t dramatic. No banners, no medals — just a general store, a few clapping strangers, and a quiet realization: I made it through the desert. I’m dirtier than ever, limping a bit, still shaking sand from my ears. But there’s pride — not loud or flashy. Just honest. Earned.

The desert wasn’t just a section. It was a test.
Passed — one blister, one dusty mile, one sunrise at a time.