Airport Thoughts

When I first thru-hiked, I didn’t realize until after the final summit that I had used the several months-long galavant as a form of escape. I was running away from some harsh realities I wasn’t quite ready to face – relationships, growing up, adulting responsibilities, being different.

It was easy to say goodbye to my friends and family and the uncomfortable life I had found myself almost trapped in. I wanted change, and becoming a feral woman of the woods felt like just the right amount of change to get me back on track. Over the course of my thru-hike, I faced certain ways of thinking and inner dialogues that would later reflect as growth in my life back in the real world. Still, when I left the trail, I didn’t feel ready to re-enter that “real world”. I quickly became aware that my thru-hike had barely even began to fix the issues I’d confront as I navigated life post-trail. There were still holes within myself I thought the trail would fill, but didn’t.

Now, leaving for the CDT, I find myself having difficulty saying goodbye to the community that has been built up and fortified around me. I find myself NOT trying to escape for once. It’s an odd feeling preparing to leave behind everything I feel as though I’ve worked hard to create around me. I expect a certain amount of change to present itself to me as I once again slip back into feral-woman-of-the-woods-mode. However, I am fearful of growing out of the life I’ve intricately curated over the past several years following my first thru-hike.

I’m fortunate that this time, I have nothing to run from and everything to be running towards – fulfilling a dream and returning to a beautiful community of people who support me fully in chasing this dream. This time, the farewells are less “goodbye” and more “see you when I get back.” I am not only excited to return home and settle back into a familiar routine, but I am already planning for the moment I return to my home. Ready to share stories and lessons, I know everyone present when I re-enter civilization will receive me with open arms.

Airplane Thoughts

As I fly over Montana, nose plastered to the window, staring at the mountains below, I’m feeling a mixture of emotions. Seeing the mountains evokes excitement for what’s to come – the vastness, the vistas, the creatures of the trail. However, there’s another side to the same coin. I’m thinking “how many bears are below me right now” and “it doesn’t look that snowy from up here” as well as “I am so nervous to be starting this alone”. But then I see the trees as we near the ground. My heart feels momentary peace. I realize I’m reeling, but this is the honest truth of hiking across the country.

There are pockets of rain clouds off in the distance and I feel shivers coming on. I’m afraid to be cold, in pain, uncomfortable. Having to relearn how to embrace the suck seems daunting at this moment from a 10,000 ft perspective. But I’ve done it before, and I’ll do it again (I hope).

For context: my mom and I have flown out to Kalispell and driven to Glacier NP where we plan to camp, hike, and get familiar with the terrain before she heads home and I head south.

Campsite Thoughts

Wow! Wow! Wow! Just wow! The mountains, incredible! The smells, incredible! The bird songs, incredible! Glacier, INCREDIBLE! It’s a bit smoky from the fires up north, but there wasn’t enough smoke to obscure the monstrous, snow-capped mountains. They’re intimidating in the best way and yet I cannot wait to walk over them, through them, around them.

The water is fresh and clear, bountiful and pristine. The only light is from the moon and stars. The sounds of the birds and crickets is restorative. The green of the trees and tall grass is refreshing. The excitement is back and it’s growing stronger. There’s no doubt it will be hard and no doubt it will be amazing.