A Brief Introduction: Who is Grace Hart?

Kia Ora!

My name’s Grace and I’m hiking the South Island of Te Araroa this winter/spring (2025). I’ve been out here for a couple of weeks now, and I figured it’s about time I tell you a bit more about myself—beyond my descriptions of the New Zealand trail and wildlife.

I grew up in Rockford, Illinois, a rust belt city a few hours northwest of Chicago. At 17, I packed up and left my hometown. I wasn’t entirely sure what awaited me, but I was eager to find out. My earliest outdoor memories are with my Dad and his side of the family, though to call us “outdoorsy” would be a bit of a stretch.

Take my first overnight camping trip, for example. It was with my second-grade Girl Scout Brownies troop, in Mrs. Mertz’s backyard. My Dad brought along a queen-sized air mattress and the loudest air pump known to mankind. When it started raining, I was disappointed, but my Dad couldn’t have been happier. “This,” he told me, “is the best part of camping. Cozy and dry, with rain on the tent? Nothing beats it.” He wasn’t wrong. It’s a feeling I’ve carried with me ever since. My Dad still loves that story, though the retelling always involves him being teased by the other dads about that air pump… right up until they handed him a beer and started swapping stories of their own. 

My first catfish, 2008. The same year I camped for the first time with my Brownies troop.

Camping with my Dad hasn’t exactly gotten more rugged over the years. These days, it’s all car camping with Papa John’s pizza or Chinese takeout—plus, of course, the trusty air mattress. But those early memories sparked something in me: a love for being outdoors, even in the smallest ways.

As I got older, my adventures grew. When I was 12, my Dad took me on a fishing trip to Ontario—our first big one-on-one outing after my younger sister, Sophia, was born. Pickerel Arms Camp in Sioux Lookout became a kind of second home to us. I caught my first walleye and northern pike there, saw my first loon, and built a deeper connection with my Dad. Meanwhile, Sophia (who doesn’t even like fishing) ended up with more fishing accolades and an official “Master Angler” title by age 11. She still stretches her arms wider every time she tells me about her biggest catch.

My sister and I, both age 12, with walleyes in hand.

Those trips to Ontario lit a spark, and by the time I got to college at the University of Minnesota Twin Cities, I was hooked on the idea of a life spent outdoors. I started as a pre-med biology major, but somewhere between the sterile labs and hospital shadowing, I realized that career path wasn’t for me. Joining the Outdoors Club sealed the deal.

When I got into my first backpacking trip through the club, I had no idea what I was doing. My Dad sent me my first proper sleeping bag—a Nemo that’s still with me on the Te Araroa today, though it’s patched with tape and leaking feathers. I crammed it into a school backpack alongside a one-person tent sticking out at awkward angles. It was heavy, messy, and absolutely worth it. That trip introduced me to friends who became family and opened up a world I hadn’t known existed. 

My first birding trip! Ft. UMN’s Outdoors Club. Spring, 2022.

By my junior year, I was working in a horticulture lab, spending my days in greenhouses and fields. I loved it—working with my hands, surrounded by plants, even during the bleakest Minnesotan winters. That job taught me I could build a life that brought me closer to nature instead of keeping me cooped up inside.

After college, I chased that feeling wherever I could. I worked as a shrimp fisheries observer in Pensacola, Florida—an experience that taught me two things: seaside sunrises are breathtaking, and I never want to be stuck on a boat again. The physical isolation was suffocating, and I vowed my next chapter would keep me firmly on land.

That chapter came with a job at Grand Canyon National Park. After two application rounds, I finally got the call, and it was worth the wait. I fell in love with the red rocks and desert skies, and I found a community of fellow adventurers who have similar mindsets. Some of those friends are even meeting me here in New Zealand so we can finish the Te Araroa together.

For now, my feet are firmly on the trail, soaking in the highs and lows of this wild landscape. In April, I’ll return to the Grand Canyon—a place I’m lucky to call home—but until then, I’m savoring every step of this journey.

Staring out at the Grand Canyon from Tanner Trailhead. Spring, 2024.

Curious about my Te Araroa plans? Check out my FAQ for the details. And if you’re on trail, come say hi—I’ll be the one with the patched-up sleeping bag and a smile on my face.

Until next time, 

Grace