The Trail Began Before The First Step
I assumed the trail began at a monument – at the start of something official. I thought it began with miles, with steps, with my pack on my shoulders and a long line stretching into the distance.
But somewhere between the quiet mornings in the backcountry and the weeks I spent walking myself back to life, I learned the truth: the trail begins long before I would even step foot on the Pacific Crest Trail.
The Long Road Through Grief
Grief changes your sense of time; everything slows down and speeds up all at once. Days blur into each other, and suddenly years have passed with you moving through the world but not quite in it. That’s where I lived for a long time: somewhere between existing and disappearing. I was waiting for the moment when I would feel like “myself” again – some switch flipping, some sunrise inside my chest – but that moment never came.
Grief has become one of my greatest teachers. I have learned how to find strength in difficult places. The wilderness has taught me the same lessons: beauty and refuge coexist with challenge and discomfort. Both grief and the wild ask something of you and both remind you of who you are and who you are still becoming.
The Moment I Heard the Call
August 2025, while hiking down the Third Burroughs Trail in Mount Rainier National Park I felt the pull – from the Earth, from the Universe, from some quiet part of myself that was ready. It was time to hike the Pacific Crest Trail and to deeply explore what I believe is one of the most magical places in the U.S.: the Cascade Mountain Range.
So with courage, I trusted and committed.
Third Burroughs Trail, Mount Rainier National Park
When the Path Felt Like It Was Breaking Apart
This past winter, I made all the decisions I thought would carry me toward the PCT: seasonal work (with that gear discount), being nomadic and living simply. But instead of feeling closer to the trail, I felt even more at a distance.
Being nomadic and car camping turned into a nightmare when every other week my car broke – taking every penny of my trail savings and leaving me stranded. The seasonal gig I was hopeful for ended up being far from what I expected and super draining. I was far from community and struggling mentally and physically and a million more examples (not to lean negative – just acknowledging that life is full of paradoxes, and speaking the truth of the hard moments matter).
I thought the universe was saying no and I was just making peace with pushing the trail off…
The Grant That Changed Everything
I won the PCT Grant – a scholarship awarded to one Washingtonian each season to help fund their thru-hike of the Pacific Crest Trail.
I applied back in November while searching for a way to make this dream possible. I saw the grant posted in every PCT Facebook group and every Reddit thread imaginable. I knew hundreds of other hikers would be applying too, but I trusted anyway.
On February 1st, an email landed in my inbox: “Congratulations! You’ve made it to Round 2 of the PCT Grant.”
Then, on February 13th, another message: I won.
This grant is the reason I am able to hike this season. It changed everything and brought me to my knees in gratitude ~ Trail Magic to the MAX.
Joy and Grief, Woven Together
My path to the PCT (and journey on Earth) has been messy, beautiful, painful, and wildly unexpected. And now, I get to step onto the dirt, carry my life on my back, and walk into whatever comes next.
The trail begins the moment your life cracks open and you decide to walk anyway. Here’s to the NOBO walk ahead!
