And I Would Walk 500 Miles…from Denver to Durango

As a professional journalist, it’s been a long time since I’ve had the opportunity to share my story. For the past innumerable years, I’ve found my calling in using my own words to uplift the voices of others. 

I love writing. It’s my way of communicating with, interacting with, and reflecting on the world. I pride myself in my empathy as a journalist, sitting down for a raw interview where my sources feel a deep connection to share with me what they otherwise wouldn’t — or couldn’t — put into words.

Yet in this time I’ve grown as a wordsmith, I oft wonder if I’ve strayed too far from articulating my own vulnerable ruminations on paper. Sharing others’ fascinating stories remains my passion. But, what got me into writing in the first place was this very need for interpreting my own journey through words. 

Which is why I’m here now, re-introducing myself as I prepare to embark on a thru-hike of the Colorado Trail. 

Many of you may recognize my name (it’s unique and many syllables!) plastered across the site. As a frequent contributor, gear tester, and now editorial intern for The Trek, I’ve been fortunate enough to flex my writing chops in various beats. Now, however, I’m taking my first steps into The Trek’s blogger realm. I’m ecstatic to share the more personal side of myself with this awesome community. 

So, who am I (besides The Trek’s editorial intern)? 

From Sea Level to Sky High

Mandatory gear pic because it makes things feel real and exciting!

Hi! I’m Ariella, an adventure journalist and thru-hiker based in Colorado. I originally hail from the coastal shores of a small town outside Boston, Massachusetts, but found myself gravitating west towards the mountains from a young age. After graduating with a degree in journalism in Arizona, I took a leap of faith. Desperate for true seasons again, I moved to Colorado’s Front Range.

As a thru-hiker, backpacker, rock climber, and mountaineer, I’ve been fortunate enough to have a myriad of opportunities to live and play in stunning destinations. I’ve lived within the jaw-dropping scenery of Glacier National Park for two years, climbed Tahoma (Mount Rainier), hiked a Rim-to-Rim of the Grand Canyon, explored numerous 14,000-foot peaks in Colorado, and completed my first thru-hike of the John Muir Trail (Nüümü Poyo) back in 2022. 

It’s been a few years since this last thru-hike. Enough time to romanticize the suffering and, apparently, willingly subject myself to it again. The Colorado Trail has been a dream of mine ever since I planted roots here three years ago. This was the first place I’ve truly felt at home in, and this hike is a full-circle moment as I prepare to walk alongside the very friend I moved here with. 

Straight out of college shortly after the pandemic with no job prospects and no real ties to the Rockies, my best friend and I navigated the trials of young adulthood. Now, three years later, I find myself reflecting back on the people we once were and how far we’ve come — professionally, personally — as we prepare to embark on the adventure of a lifetime. 

Don’t get me wrong, I still don’t have it all figured out! But in that time, it’s been rewarding to mull over how much I’ve grown into the hiker I am today. Through sheer hiking and backpacking experience, acquiring my Wilderness First Responder certification, and professionally guiding in the national parks, I’ve built up my confidence in the backcountry.

It took a lot of big, scary life changes (see: quitting my two-year stable job) to get here, but my comfort comes from knowing I’ll be fully immersed in the familiar terrain and beloved mountains that bring me so much joy. I often joke that my happy place (and ideal temperature) is 10,000 feet above sea level, something my younger self likely couldn’t fathom, having grown up quite literally at the shores of the Atlantic.

All that’s to say, I’m thrilled to be blogging about my adventures right here on The Trek for the next five weeks as I walk 500-ish miles from the meandering trails of Denver to the high peaks of Durango.

Scrambling through the high peaks of the San Juans, where I’ll hopefully end in five weeks.

My “Why” on Thru Hiking

Besides the aforementioned reasons of feeling drawn to the Colorado Trail specifically, I’ve found myself itching to get back on trail for a longer thru-hike for a myriad of reasons. In the last few years of building my life in the Centennial State, I’ve come to know a certain level of comfortability that I’ve greatly enjoyed. 

So why give that up?

Like many of you, I thru-hike to escape the routine of a 9-5 and the stability I’ve grown accustomed to. To be uncomfortable, to push my boundaries of what I can accomplish. To discover inspiration for myself, my future, and my writing.

I walk for the simplicity of it all; to appreciate the small things in life, like the ways a hot shower can make you feel human again, the friendships forged through meaningful conversations that only a long walk can initiate, or the way a comfort meal can bring tears to my eyes after subsisting solely on junk food and ramen for a week straight.

My last thru-hike was also my first, and in that time, I’ve grown astronomically in my experience — in my comfort at high elevations; in my arsenal of gear that I’ve acquired; in my knowledge of Colorado’s infamous afternoon thunderstorms, ecosystems, terrain, and wildlife. However, I do still clutch tightly to my crippling fear of moose — a very healthy fear, might I add. 

I’m eager to see how this trail both reflects my confidence and, more likely, humbles me in ways I can’t yet anticipate. 

Baby’s first thru-hike! At the northern terminus of the John Muir Trail in 2022 with no food remaining and a gnarly knee tan.

As the days before my departure date idle by, I find myself breathing a sigh of relief as my circling thoughts finally formulate into words: a medium that flows through every inch of my being. 

For those still reading, I’m so honored you’re here! I’m excited to document my experience with weekly (biweekly?) updates as I trek along south to Durango, wherever the wind (and trail) takes me.