I was worried that quitting to ascend the PCT would ruin my career. I was absolutely right

This is a guest post by Tim “Darko” Mathis (full bio at the end). Submit your own hiking story to The Trek here.

10 years ago, my wife and I arrived at Northern Terminus in Canada after riding the PCT from Campo.

11 years ago I was 35 years old, stressed but optimistic, and had been a nurse for a year and a half. I retrained in midlife, fed up with a decade in low-paying nonprofit jobs. I got a well-paying job at a prestigious hospital and I liked it.

My wife was also a nurse, but had worked full time in the field since she was 22 years old. She was exhausted and came up with the idea of ​​ascending the PCT. She needed a break and was loving the romance.

I had doubts. For the first time in my life, I felt the dignity of earning enough to cover our bills. I was worried about giving that up. I was worried about paying six months of leave. I was worried about leaving a good job in a field full of bad ones. After more than a decade of struggling to get our money in order, we were finally in a position to start getting ahead, paying off debt, and maybe even buying a bigger house (we’d been stuffed into a 600-square-foot condo for most of our adult lives).

The short version of the story is that she convinced me and we left our jobs to go up the PCT.

The longer version is that he was absolutely right. It ruined our careers.

And I want to say, thank God for that.

Quitting smoking is always an option

One thing happened: after we decided to go, we had to save enough for the road. In about 8 months, we saved enough money between us to cover 6 months of not working. That is, we taught ourselves that it was possible to never have to work more than 8 months in a row again if we didn’t want to.

As an adult, sometimes you think you’re trapped. You forget that it is possible to take a break. The process of breaking down the cost of the tour into small pieces, taking those pieces out of each paycheck, and having them add up to one of the best experiences of your life is quite an object lesson. Much is possible. At one point, if you really wanted to, in 8 months you could be doing something completely ridiculous.

After learning that, no job really feels like a trap. You can always leave it. Right now, or at worst, in a couple of months.

The result has been that, over the last decade, none of us have stayed in a job longer than we wanted. We have the advantage that we are nurses, so the options are plentiful. However, much of life revolves around this understanding. You don’t have to work. You can do other things, like be an idiot.

Photo: Tim Mathis

You won’t need to work as much after the tour.

Another thing that happens on a long road is that you realize that you can be happy without much. When that happens, working toward more things seems counterproductive if the work isn’t something you want or need to do.

Before we hit the road, we were always frugal. We were both raised as working-class Midwesterners in a small town in Ohio.

However, along the way this happens to you. You have to carry everything on your back, so each possession becomes a burden that you compare with its usefulness. Each purchase becomes a cost/benefit analysis. Every day when you pack and unpack, you remember what you need and what you don’t.

Before the trip, I always felt that I should not be materialistic. I shouldn’t want more things. Although I secretly did it. I wanted a nice house, modern clothes, a good haircut, that kind of thing. I’m not sure why. I just did it. Along the way something happens and you realize, wait, no. I really don’t want those things. Extra things just make life harder.

It’s strange, but that feeling never seems to go away. Even 10 years later, the impulse to buy is no longer very strong (although I admit that I have a persistent desire to binge on restaurant food at every opportunity).

Some things are great. Some things are necessary. But it’s a common experience to come back from the trail and clean up your junk. We have a lot more money now than when we were hiking, but our car is 26 years old. We’ve moved into progressively more modest spaces (except in opportunistic times, we’ve found plenty of deals somewhere nice).

We currently rent a studio apartment for $800 a month and have the flexibility with our landlords to travel as much as we want and avoid paying rent when we’re away. They ask us if we ever plan to move or buy a house (after all, we’re 45), but we honestly can’t imagine giving up this sweet deal.

From a career perspective, this really creates problems for greedy employers. We don’t have to work hard to cover our expenses, so it’s hard for them because they have almost no control over our choices. In the 10 years since the trial, neither my wife nor I have worked full-time jobs for more than a few months at a time, outside of the Covid years, when it seemed like the right thing to do. Nursing is a grueling role in the best of situations, but for us, the path eliminated the materialistic need to continue striving for higher salaries. Is Job giving you problems? As Ice Cube said on Friday: «Bye Felicia.»

Photo: Tim Mathis

«Life is either a daring adventure, or nothing at all…so why are we working again?»

That’s a Helen Keller quote, taken out of context. This is what I mean:

I asked my wife what she thought about the topic of this article. A year after returning from the PCT, he returned to work part-time at the job he had before the trial. She said: «When I came back, what struck me most was that nothing had changed. I had lived a whole life and everything here was exactly the same. The people were the same. The problems were the same. The complaints were the same. Nothing had changed. I couldn’t imagine going back into that.»

When that happens, you realize you have a choice: keep working at a job where nothing changes or live a whole life in six months. Every day feels like a decision. After coffee and breakfast today, would you like to go on a daring adventure or nothing at all?

I’m probably being unfair to the world of work. Some people like it. That’s how the world still works.

But you also start to wonder. Doesn’t the world also need explorers? People forging a different way of being?

So, that’s what happened. Instead of us becoming people who defined our identities by our jobs, work became a means to an end. We have used paid employment to cover the bills, but more importantly we have used it as a vehicle to do the things we want. We have accepted contracts in Las Vegas to be close to family and in Seattle to be close to friends. We obtained a license in New Zealand so we could travel abroad.

Meanwhile, we have traveled an average of three months a year. We have learned Spanish. We have walked part of the Continental Divide Trail and Te Araroa, walked a Camino and cycled through Taiwan.

Photo: Tim Mathis

10 years later and our careers are ruined in the best way possible.

Paradoxically, all this time of freedom has finally paid off financially. My wife spent much of her free time learning how to invest and manage our money carefully. (When your income is low, the impulse to save and invest comes naturally.)

Over the years, investments have appreciated, but our need for income has remained more or less the same (accounting for inflation). That has given us the flexibility to do the productive things we really want to do, which also makes us some money. I have written four books. He’s started two businesses: his current one (Nurses Investing for Wealth; shameless plug) is producing enough that none of us currently need to work a real job.

I take turns because I want to. She teaches nurses to do what we’ve done: manage their finances and change their thinking to turn a brutal, grueling career into a path to getting the things they want out of life.

None of that would have happened if she hadn’t convinced me to quit my job to move up to the PCT 10 years ago, I’m sure.

So if you’re debating a raise and are worried it will negatively impact your career, I can assure you that the PCT completely ruined ours.

Also, you should definitely try it.

Photo: Tim Mathis

About the author

Tim “Darko (as Donnie Darko)” Mathis is the author of The Dirtbag’s Guide to Life. he writes in TimMathisWrites.com. His wife Angel “Tater” Mathis financially educates Nurses investing to gain wealth.

Guest post by Tim “Darko” Mathis.Do you want your writing to appear on The Trek? Submit your own route story.

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Featured image courtesy of Tim Mathis.