Heather Anderson - Thirst: 2600 miles to home

PRAISE FOR

Beautiful and deftly written and intimate and searing in its honesty, Anishs is a quest to conquer the trail and her own inner darkness.

Foreword Reviews, *starred review

With humility and vulnerability, Heather Anish Anderson reminds us that the most impressive feats of strength and endurance are entirely human endeavors, achieved one step at a time. Thirst takes the reader to the trail, but also to the heart.

Ben Montgomery, author of Grandma Gatewoods Walk

Heather Andersons book is much like her extraordinary trail accomplishments: extremely personal yet universally inspiring. She exposes the value of following a path apart from the mainstream, and convinces readers of their own ability to unleash personal reserves of endurance to push beyond mental limitations and cultural expectations.

Jennifer Pharr Davis, author of The Pursuit of Endurance

Just like Heather thru-hikes the PCT from Mexico to Canada, you will thruread Thirst cover to cover for insight into her impressive accomplishments.

Gina Lucrezi, founder of Trail Sisters

Thirst is the kind of book that sits in your bones. It makes you want to push harder at whatever it is you do. Anish is possibly the greatest athlete in the world, but she didnt start that way. This book gives you hope and courage by showing that no matter who you are or where you are at now, you can do more.

Liz Snorkel Thomas, author of Long Trails: Mastering the Art of the Thru-Hike

In no uncertain terms, Heather Anish Anderson is a legend in the long-distance hiking community. Thirst delivers an emotional, inspiring, and beautifully written narrative about the achievement that first put her on this map.

Zach Davis, editor-in-chief of The Trek

HEATHER ANISH ANDERSON

MOUNTAINEERS BOOKS is dedicated to the exploration, preservation, and enjoyment of outdoor and wilderness areas.

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Copyright 2019 by Heather Anderson

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or utilized in any form, or by any electronic, mechanical, or other means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

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Printed in the United States of America

Distributed in the United Kingdom by Cordee, www.cordee.co.uk

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Copyeditor: Laura Lancaster

Design and layout: Jen Grable

Cartographer: Martha Bostwick

Cover photograph: Pacific Crest Trail, Washington UT07/iStock

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is on file for this title.

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Printed on recycled paper

ISBN (paperback): 978-1-68051-236-6

ISBN (ebook): 978-1-68051-237-3

TO THE TRAIL

for being my comfort when I was broken,

my crucible when I needed to become strong,

and my home without fail.

Map of Important Places on the Pacific Crest Trail

All descriptions, events, and dialogue described in this book are based on my personal memories, journals, and discussions with others. Any errors or misinterpretations are mine alone. In a few instances names have been changed to protect privacy.

I stood in disbelief for several moments. The creek was bone dry. After I turned on my phone and waited for it to check my location, I could feel my stomach churning and sinking. I already knew that I was in deep trouble.

A few seconds later, Halfmiles app confirmed my fears. The scorching heat of June in Southern California had rendered the crowdsourced water report, updated by Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) thru-hikers, out-ofdate in just a few weeks. The muddy ground Id crossed a mile before was the last flowing water in Mission Creek for miles. Nearly out of water, all that stretched before me was exposed canyon and thousands of feet of elevation gain in the middle of the day.

I wanted to cry. Either I would have to backtrack several miles to the last creek bed with reliable water or climb onward into the afternoon sun without anything to drink. Neither option was good.

It was a gamble to walk away from sure water, but it would be a waste of precious time and strength to go backward. Only eight days into my attempt to set the Fastest Known Time (FKT) on the PCT, I already felt like I was fighting a losing battle. Reliable water sources were turning out to be dry, and I kept underestimating how much water I needed to carry. No matter how much I thought Id drink, I always needed more.

Demoralized by the thought of going backward, I put my phone away and stubbornly turned up-canyon. There must be water up ahead somewhere, I said aloud.

After another hour of hiking in the triple-digit heat without water, my head was swimming. It was 80 at dawn. This is why no one hikes through Southern California on the PCT in June. There were supposed to be two more water sources between the dry crossing of Mission Creek and the spring at the head of the canyon, so I kept plodding onward, trying not to think about death by heatstroke or dehydration.

My throat became so dry it was difficult to swallow. I pulled out a stick of gum and chewed until saliva flowed and eased the discomfort. When that piece of gum became hard, I put another in my mouth. For the next hour I chain chewed gum, but eventually even my salivary glands dried up.

Feeling wobbly, I berated myself for not drinking more water the day before. For not carrying more from Ziggy and the Bears house. For not drinking more from the first Mission Creek crossing. On and on, I identified ways I could have prevented this precarious death march through a desolate canyon in the heat.

A strange plant blocked my path. It had a profusion of pinkish blossoms and an odd, skunky odor. My brain was slow trying to comprehend it, but something in the back of my mind told me to stop. I stood there numbly in front of the alien plant until my brain caught up with my instinct...