In April 2017, I set out tohike2,660 miles from Mexico to Canada along the Pacific Crest Trail.
(Yes, thats the trail from Cheryl StrayedsWild.)
But I didnt do that.
Courtesy of the author
Instead, I hiked through 700 miles of desert and briefly into the heavily snowed-in Sierra Nevada mountains.
I left the trail to hike along the Oregon Coast, another 300 or so miles.
So I went home.
I set out on the hike in hopes that it would help me feel unstuck from my own life.
My mother had died two years before, and Id spent those years learning to cope without her.
I quit drinking, I didyogaand meditation, I went to therapists.
But mostly, I found the mountains, and in them an ability to get through tough moments.
Losing my mother was a suffering I didnt choose.
Hiking for nearly 1,000 miles and failing to achieve my ultimate goal taught me a lot.
These were the biggest lessons I took away from the trail and into my life.
For four months I was dirty, tired, and smelly.
There were also all the things I didnt bring: I didnt carry books.
For the most part, I didnt feel I was missing anything.
Hot, fresh food, yes.
Clean hands, sometimes.
But mostly, I felt happy to be living in the dirt.
Hiking among other people who had also chosen to given up their creature comforts made it feel normal.
But its also true that I had what I needed: food, water, and shelter.
A sense of purpose.
What surprised me was how willing my body was to do it.
On the trail, I just had to embrace it and continue on my trek.
My journey was mentally challenging, too.
Long trails like the PCT have a slogan: Hike your own hike.
It meant we hikers often left each other behind to reach our independent goals.
When I came home, I felt grateful for my relationships in a way I hadnt before.
No matter how I showed up to the trail, the trail was indifferent.
How I responded to it was entirely my decision, though.
Like a meditation, I was constantly exposed to my thoughts and how they shaped my reality.
The mountain hadnt grown steeper, but my experience of it had because of my thoughts.
Estimates put success rates at about 25 percent.
It also didnt help that 2017 was a snowy year.
Trails disappeared in the Sierra Mountains and even at lower elevations further north late into the hiking season.
I set a goal and failed.
But I was fine.
I had what I needed.
I was carrying it all along.
