Finding My Footsteps

“Where did you come from?”

Who said, that you’re asking. Well, that was my mother. Where did I come from? That is a great question. I was born in Allentown, PA, the home of Yocco’s Hot Dogs and the Great Allentown Fair. My first memories of being outside are filled with images of my father and me fishing. We were bad. In my brief stint as a young angler I caught enough sticks to make a tipi that Bear Grylls would be jealous of. Where/who gave me my love for being outside?

Neither of my parents are too keen on the outdoors. My mother, a Philadelphian, would rather sit on the porch drinking her morning coffee than roughing it in the woods. And my father, who lives in Arizona, enjoys the views of the Catalina Mountains from the comfort of his living room. They both fully support my love for nature, but where did it come from? My mom blames her sister, my aunt. My most memorable camping trip as a little kid came with a trip to Acadia National Park. My aunt is probably the most outdoorsy  person in my family. Personally, I thank her for giving me the outdoor bug.

The Dream

Ever since that trip to Acadia, my love for nature skyrocketed. I have grown up and been tackling the backcountry ever since. Going to a school in an urban environment makes it tough to get outside, but I make do. I’ve been up and down the East Coast (the best coast) and even across the country. The dream is an attempt at an Appalachian Trail thru-hike. I will be leaving Temple for a semester, but will still be getting credit toward graduating. In another post I will go into detail on how it is possible for me to do this.

I look back on myself and can’t imagine little me saying: “One day I will hike the Appalachian Trail.” Well, little me here I am seven years later about to embark on one of the oldest mountain ranges in the world.

Until next time. Keep on hiking!