In the Fall of 2013 I was deeply nestled into the cozy pillows atop my bed, sighing with relief at having an entire house to myself. I was overjoyed to have found a copy of one of my all-time favorite books sitting on the nightstand.
This book was quite popular so I was not surprised to have found it in the bedroom of my neighbor’s daughter, especially given that we lived down the street from a state park. And I know I was one of the many people who read, reread the book, (then watched, and rewatched the film a year later), “Wild: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail,” by Cheryl Strayed. Hardly anyone these days does not have a vision of a sweaty Reese Witherspoon dragging herself across the desert with a gigantic backpack weighing her down.
I loved getting lost in Strayed’s storytelling, imagining the forests, the snow, the fellow hikers. What a fierce girl, I thought to myself. Maybe I could do this someday. Maybe I could adventure the way she did. Maybe… After a while, I turned off the reading light and told myself that it probably would never happen. Not me. Not this life. I’m not that lucky.
Little did I know that four years later I would be the one telling tales of hiking along the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT).
Little did I know that four years later I would be the one telling tales of hiking along the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT).
In the late summer and early Fall of 2017, I hiked over 800 miles on the PCT through Oregon and Washington states. It was absolutely the most incredible experience I have ever had in my entire life, and I have spent a year traveling around Southeast Asia and India. So this is saying a lot.
And I did it alone. Well, not entirely. I wasn’t alone 24/7. I had friends that I hiked with, camped with, stayed in motels in towns with to buy more food and pick up packages of more food, and basically to eat as much real food as possible before getting back on the trail. But I didn’t start the hike with anyone. I decided to do it on my own, I trained for it on my own, I researched all the gear for it on my own (interviewed professionals and other thru-hikers), and I did it. On my own.
Now this might not seem like a big deal for some people. In fact, I know people who travel, backpack, camp, live, work, whatever, all alone. All the time. And so did I. I went to SE Asia and India alone. But, the WILDERNESS? Who, in their right mind, would ever want to go into the WILDERNESS alone. Like, by themselves. And for like, months at a time. No friends. No dog. No froyo. No lattes. No Whole Foods. Just you and the trees. For months.
I never thought I could do it. Someone else, maybe, but not me. Not someone who had severely low self-esteem, a paralyzing fear of failure (i.e. clinical perfectionism), and a raging eating disorder all by the age of 14. I had a lot of incidents of sexual trauma, severe codependency, and the associated trust issues. I barely trusted myself, let alone other people, and I certainly did not trust the world at large.
But hiking the PCT requires a phenomenal amount of all three. I HAD to trust myself. I HAD to trust other people. And I HAD to trust the world at large. Otherwise I would never be able to take one step along that trail.
Everything in my head and heart bumped up against my fear, which was SUPER loud. SUPER. And I called my friends all the time to get them to talk me off the ledge, emotionally speaking. But I was able to listen to call of my heart, my soul, and my deep desire to find out what I was made of. And, if I’m being honest, to see what everyone else was made of, too.
Luckily, I had some amazing friends to remind me that my anxiety would calm itself down once I started the hike. Those last few days before starting in Ashland, Oregon, were the most jumpy of my life. I could not WAIT to start, and once I finally did, you could not get me off the trail for anything. I had only planned on hiking through Oregon but I was hooked and ended up heading up through most of Washington, as well.
Those two months taught me more about myself than all my years previous. I learned that I could randomly start bawling my eyes out for a few minutes, finally allowing myself to feel my feelings that had been repressed for decades, and I wouldn’t die. I would actually feel better than ever.
I learned that I could run out of food, and other people would show up out of nowhere to feed me. I could have excruciatingly painful shin splints and still be able to hike 100 miles. I learned that no matter how steep, how long, and how challenging a part of the trail could be, it always ended. And usually offered a ridiculously gorgeous view that wiped away any memory of the previous sweaty and torturous few miles.
I learned the pure joy of sitting around a campfire with my new family, laughing and telling jokes, sharing food, under the full moon, night after night after night. And how I didn’t crave anything more. I learned that snow-fed lakes are the best places to swim and wild blueberries are my favorite fruit. I learned to open my heart again, to love again, and to trust.
I learned that my body is an instrument for joy, for fun, and for getting me up mountains and around lakes. It was for hugging my friends, eating good food, and carrying my home on my back. It wasn’t just for people to look at, or for me to criticize.
I learned that I am strong, fierce, kind, loving, compassionate, funny, capable. And I learned that nothing and no one could ever stand in my way of anything ever again. If I could hike for two months on the PCT, I could do anything.
Since coming off the trail, I trust myself, I trust others (the healthy ones that have earned my trust), and I trust the Universe. Basically my entire life has morphed into a far healthier and happier version than it was before the PCT. And this is all because my self-worth and self-love keep me making good choices.
It all starts with one step. One dream. And perhaps, one trail.
Keep dreaming, beautiful souls. Never stop dreaming. You can do this…Trust me :)
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