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    Usa "pct" in una frase

    pct frasi di esempio

    pct


    1. I passed fast-food joints and car dealerships, unsure of whether I should stick out my thumb for a ride or spend a night in Ridgecrest and head back to the PCT the next day


    2. When I told him about hiking the PCT, he insisted on washing my clothes


    3. It seemed absurd to me that I’d been hiking in that snowy range all along—that the arid mountains I’d traversed since the moment I set foot on the PCT were technically part of the Sierra Nevada


    4. I hadn’t read Muir’s books about the Sierra Nevada before I hiked the PCT, but I knew he was the founder of the Sierra Club


    5. Or at least the version of prepared I’d believed was sufficient before I began hiking the PCT: I’d purchased an ice ax and mailed it to myself in the box I would collect at Kennedy Meadows


    6. When I told her I was hiking the PCT, she offered to give me a ride to the trail


    7. I followed the PCT along its rocky, ascendant course in the hot morning sun, catching views of the mountains in all directions, distant and close—the Scodies to the near south, the El Paso Mountains far off to the east, the Dome Land Wilderness to the northwest, which I’d reach in a few days


    8. Its western slope comprises 90 percent of the range, the peaks gradually descending to the fertile valleys that eventually give way to the California coast—which parallels the PCT roughly two hundred miles to the west for most of the way


    9. As the notion of quitting settled in, I came up with another reason to bolster my belief that this whole PCT hike had been an outlandishly stupid idea


    10. I’d planned to put them all to rest while hiking the PCT

    11. He’d been planning his hike for years, gathering information by corresponding with others who’d hiked the PCT in summers before, and attending what he referred to as “long-trail” hiking conferences


    12. Jardine was an expert and indisputable guru on all things PCT, especially on how to hike it without carrying a heavy load


    13. I wanted to hike the PCT, but I couldn’t! It was socked in!


    14. “We picked the wrong year to hike the PCT


    15. I realized that in spite of my hardships, as I approached the end of the first leg of my journey, I’d begun to feel a blooming affection for the PCT


    16. I stopped in my tracks when that thought came into my mind, that hiking the PCT was the hardest thing I’d ever done


    17. But hiking the PCT was hard in a different way


    18. Perhaps the impulse to purchase the PCT guidebook months before had been a primal grab for a cure, for the thread of my life that had been severed


    19. Hello, I said to myself in anticipation of what I’d say once I arrived at the store, I’m a PCT hiker here to pick up my box


    20. He lived in San Diego most of the year, he explained, but each summer he set up camp in Kennedy Meadows in order to greet the PCT hikers as they passed through

    21. He was what’s referred to in PCT hiker vernacular as a trail angel, but I didn’t know that then


    22. Didn’t know, even, that there was a PCT hiker vernacular


    23. He placed each item in one of two piles—one to go back into my pack, another to go into the now-empty resupply box that I could either mail home or leave in the PCT hiker free box on the porch of the Kennedy Meadows General Store for others to plunder


    24. They weren’t gearheads or backpacking experts or PCT know-it-alls


    25. On the PCT I had no choice but to inhabit it entirely, to show my grubby face to the whole wide world


    26. I’d only listened and nodded when Ed told me that most of the PCT hikers who’d come through Kennedy Meadows in the three weeks he’d been camped here had opted to get off the trail at this point because of the record snowpack that made the trail essentially unpassable for most of the next four or five hundred miles


    27. They caught rides and buses to rejoin the PCT farther north, at lower elevations, he told me


    28. He said that a few had ended their hikes altogether, just as Greg had told me earlier, deciding to hike the PCT another, less record-breaking year


    29. ” The High Sierra and its 13,000- and 14,000-foot-high peaks, its cold, clear lakes and deep canyons were the point of hiking the PCT in California, it seemed


    30. It was the reason PCT hikers spent so much time talking about water purifiers and water sources, for fear they’d make one wrong move and have to pay

    31. The radical aloneness of the PCT had altered that sense


    32. If I didn’t opt to get off the trail at Trail Pass to bypass the snow, I’d soon reach Forester Pass, at 13,160 feet the highest point on the PCT


    33. I wasn’t rightly prepared to be on the PCT in a regular year, let alone a year in which the snow depth measurements were double and triple what they’d been the year before


    34. By bailing out like most of the other PCT hikers had, I’d miss the glory of the High Sierra


    35. The summit of Mount Whitney, the highest peak in the contiguous United States, was closer still, a short detour off the PCT


    36. Some PCT hikers had resupply boxes sent to Lone Pine, but I’d planned to push through to the town of Independence, another fifty trail miles to the north


    37. The amount I had left over was the amount I could spend on the PCT


    38. I was homesick, but I didn’t know if it was for the life I used to have or for the PCT


    39. I wrote Lisa a letter, asking her to purchase and send me a PCT guidebook for the Oregon section of the trail using the bit of money I’d left with her, and reordering the boxes she’d be mailing me for the rest of California


    40. In the morning, Greg and I walked out of Sierra City for a mile and a half along the shoulder of the road until we reached the place where it intersected the PCT, then walked together for a few minutes on the trail before pausing to say goodbye

    41. I’d left it that morning in the PCT hiker free box at the Sierra City post office as Greg and I strolled out of town


    42. I still didn’t know precisely where I was, but at least I knew I was on the PCT


    43. I got my pot and poured water and Better Than Milk into it and stirred, then added some granola and sat eating it near the open door of my tent, hoping that I was still on the PCT


    44. Now I wished for that ice ax with an almost pathological fervor, picturing it sitting uselessly in the PCT hiker free box in Sierra City


    45. Each step was also a calculated effort to stay approximately on what I hoped was the PCT


    46. It meant I’d followed the path of the PCT


    47. If I was where I thought I was, I’d covered forty-three miles of the PCT in the four days since I’d left Sierra City, though I’d probably hiked more than that, given my shaky abilities with map and compass


    48. I could have taken a side trail to it a day out of Sierra City, but I’d decided to pass it by when I opted to stay on the PCT


    49. It occurred to me that I could ask her for a job for the summer and quit the PCT


    50. After lunch, Christine drove me to the ranger station in Quincy, but when we got there, the ranger I spoke to seemed only dimly aware of the PCT














































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