I just hiked 44 miles to complete the Pacific Crest Trail. Oddly enough I feel little. By the time I arrived the sun has already set. I placed my things down and sat against the monument for a few moments, sipping champagne I've carried for the occasion. Nothing. Now I'm laying on some uneven ground beneath a tree to avoid the inevitable morning condensation, as I've done so many times before. Tomorrow I'll spend some more time in reflection. I'm glad for the conclusion. That is besides for the thirty miles I must now hike back to Harts Pass. One day shy of four months and the PCT is a part of my history.