I'm sitting at the gate at Frankfurt Airport. With a layover in Toronto, I'm heading to San Diego. I would have expected to be excited by now, but I'm still not feeling it. Throughout the whole week, I didn't have the feeling that I would be flying to the US in a few days. And now, just before takeoff, it seems like the most normal thing in the world, the next step, no different than getting on a train to meet friends. The journey to my date with the PCT, however, is much longer and farther. And there's still a big hurdle to overcome, earlier than I expected. Before my trip, I heard from some PCT hikers who had problems entering the US. One even wrote that she was questioned for 5 hours in an interrogation room by multiple border agents. In the end, she was allowed to enter, but I would gladly avoid that experience. However, this hiker arrived in Las Vegas and the border agents had never heard of the PCT and considered this undertaking to be very unrealistic. I would be landing in San Diego, where the PCT is closer, so I was sure that the PCT would be well known there and I shouldn't have any problems. What I hadn't heard about in advance is the 'Preclearance Program'. In this program, the border control takes place at selected airports before boarding the plane. And Toronto is one of those airports, so suddenly I'm facing a US border agent. I'm lucky, a friend of the agent tried to hike the PCT himself but had to quit due to an injury. After a short and casual conversation about the trail, mainly to check if I know what I'm talking about, I receive the stamp granting me a full six months of stay in my passport and I'm bid farewell with the words 'that's crazy, man'. 'Maybe a little bit,' I reply, wish him a good day and leave. Once again, I've thought and worried far too much before a conversation that didn't even last three minutes. There's a little scare after landing in San Diego. I checked in my backpack in a blue Ikea duffle bag with a yellow zipper. I'm standing at the baggage carousel waiting, but my Ikea bag doesn't show up. Eventually, the baggage carousel stops, but my bag is missing. Then I remember that a hiker who traveled the same way wrote that he found his bag in the end among the oversized and bulky luggage. So I go to the corresponding counter and from a distance I already see the blue bag with the yellow zipper. Relieved, I pick it up and go to my hostel. I've been on the road for 25 hours now, and I haven't slept more than three hours on the plane. It's 9 PM when I fall into bed, exhausted. But the positive thing about this long and exhausting day is that I don't have jet lag.my hostelI spend the next few days in San Diego sightseeing and making the final preparations and provisioning. It was definitely the right decision to stay a few days in San Diego. Today I met three other PCT hikers in the hostel, one Swiss, one Canadian, and one German. Coincidentally, we all start on Thursday. We had burgers together and ended the day with a few beers on the beach. Tomorrow we're going to Campo and spending the last night before the trail in Campo at the CLEEF campsite, like most hikers. So we'll get to know a lot of other fellow hikers there.It's late now and I'm skipping the revision of the text. It'll be fine. Until then.
