By Holly Parsons, aka Dispatch
Correspondent

For two hours Dispatch waited for Sunflower [trail name] at the base of Devils Slide that fateful night. She learned from lingering hikers that a group of Europeans were camped above and took solace that he was safe and too exhausted to descend despite his call for pick up earlier that afternoon. She located him the next morning at Nomad Ventures, engaged in a torrid conversation with Amy [staff] about the science of crampon use. There she reunited him with his supply box and ice ax, treated him to lunch at Brewpub, and documented his story. He is Jeroen van der Velde, 37, a health care professional from Enschede, Netherlands. His passions are growing the world’s tallest sunflower and gardening.

“The PCT represents for me a chance to overcome anxiety caused by the modern world,” he shared before relating his story. “I first heard about the trek in 2015 after seeing the film ‘Wild.’ This year everything combined in time. As a runner I was fit. As an adult I’d recently learned I have ADHD. With a deficit of dopamine in my brain I need to be constantly stimulated; seeing new vistas fuels my need for excitement. I thought the adventure was perfect! If you want to kill me, set me in an office behind a computer, with no natural light, day after day.

“I’m also walking the PCT to learn how strong I am. Even in the short time I’ve been on trail, I’ve learned hiking is life. My faith in people had been shattered. Urban life jaded me with all its rushing and rushing — on trail I’m one with nature. I have learned kindness still exists. On the trail, I’ve met hikers, angels, locals — very many good people.”

This story begins with his ascent at mile marker 151 near the Paradise Valley Cafe. “I planned to traverse the San Jacinto Mountain range in Southern California heading to mile marker 179.4 at Devils Slide Trail leading into Idyllwild for a zero day — I’m giddy with excitement. Fortuitously, I left a box of supplies and an ice ax with a trail angel who goes by Dispatch. I met at the Paradise Valley Cafe. We arranged for her to pick me up at the base of Devils Slide in Humber Park in a few days and drive me into the village.

“At first, the trail seemed quite manageable careening through tall grass and overgrown bush. Quickly the path veered strongly upward. Trekkers I met commented this is the roughest ascent since leaving Campo at the Mexican border. I had no clue what was coming. Most of my information was coming from the Blazin Bakers YouTube videos of the PCT 2022. This had been a difficult snow year, I kept hearing, but was certain that by May the snow on the San Jacintos would have melted.

“I also knew parts of the forest burned years ago — but presumed there had been effective trail maintenance. Soon enough I’m shocked to find myself crawling over an endless obstacle course of downed trees; I estimate well over 60. Looking for alternate trails around the trees on very steep ravines was very dangerous. I told myself this requires slow going, think twice before each step. 3 miles per hour was not possible without great risk. One wrong step and I could be off a cliff face.

“The day progressed until I finally found a cell signal at the top near mm171. I called Dispatch and asked her to meet me at 6 p.m. at Devil’s Slide for a ride into Idyllwild. The late afternoon sun was low — I thought great, no more fallen trees. Then, like a bad dream. fallen trees were everywhere; the terrain was super steep and I noted a single patch of snow. I tried to call Dispatch again to move my pickup time back an hour because I knew I wouldn’t get down as planned.

“Another patch of snow presented mid-trail. Then the patches got bigger; within 15 minutes everything was covered with snow. Not wearing waterproof boots on slushy snow, I quickly attached my micro spikes to a pair of Speed Goat 5 Trail Runners. I was only wearing a pair of Nike shorts and a long-sleeved synthetic hoodie — and double socks, the Darntough socks with Injinji liner toe socks. My long pants were in my supply box — it was hot when I packed it at the cafe. I put on my puffy.

“The sun is now setting and the winds are up. I’m continuing at a pace of 1 mile per hour due to dangerous hiking conditions. I slipped a few times on slushy snow; pulling myself forward on tree limbs was the only way through. If I fell, I’d be impaled on the many dead tree limbs lurking below. Thoughts were racing in my head. Why am I hiking alone? If I’m lost, or fall, or become injured, no one will know. The danger was becoming intolerable. I knew if I stopped hiking for five minutes to think, the cold would set in. I had to keep moving.

“The snow was 3 to 36 inches and higher with occasional dry patches. I’m beginning to fret, then my FarOut App malfunctions — the zoom feature on the offline maps would not expand. I couldn’t see the trails. Concerned to get to my trail angel as scheduled, I began rushing. The decision to follow others’ tracks proved a useless maze to nowhere. It seemed everyone was lost. On balance, I again realize the danger if I hurry. My wise inner voice pointed out a dry patch, suggesting I camp here just before total darkness.

“I pitched my tent, simultaneously taking a cold upper sponge bath. Forget about my filthy legs. I put on my Merino wool sleep wear. It was a couple of degrees above freezing, my toes were numb and the wind through the pines was howling. I attempted to cook a warm meal when my gas depleted. My drink was lauw, our Dutch term for barely warm. Stay positive man, better lauw than cold! Just before climbing into my inadequate quilt [from Enlightened Equipment recommended for PCT hikers] I zipped my tent, donned boxer shorts for impeccable warmth on my head and still froze.

“I considered every possibility all night — until I heard nearby rustling. Fear raced through every cell. Instantly, I recalled a story told in graphic detail by a solo woman hiker who heard a mountain lion scratching and found claw marks near her tent in the morning. I’m terrified, and in that moment, my tent collapsed.

“I lay freezing in my quilt; the mountain lion must have torn down my tent. Thinking if I play dead I might be safe, for hours I never moved. At 6 a.m. a call from nature forced me out from under the tent. Only then did I realize the sun was rising. Seeing the cherished picture of my dog hanging on the rim of my pack brought comfort. At this point I activate my Garmin inReach Mini navigation/sat communicator and for an exorbitant price, called my closest friend Alex at home letting him know I’m distressed so he can note my current location.”

“It was a hell of a nervous night. By morning I was learning skills on the fly. One wrong step and I could break a limb. At 7 a.m. I met Clouds, a hiker from the states; he offered water which I gratefully accepted and kept walking. I made it out on the Devil’s Slide trail with the snow crunching under my soles, making the trek more manageable. On the walk out I met hikers ascending and I warned them about my experience. But I think they are all the same — like me. Aw, it’s not such a big deal.”

Sunflower indeed resumed his trek, heading north from Saddle Junction catching up with a group two days after this interview. He’ll soon head north into the challenges sun and heat present on the high desert paths to Kennedy Meadows, where the Sierras await to continue the adventure of a lifetime.