The path began before the first step.

I assumed the trail began at a monument, at the beginning of something official. I thought it all started with kilometers, with steps, with my backpack on my shoulders and a long line that stretched into the distance.

But somewhere between the quiet mornings in the countryside and the weeks spent walking back to life, I discovered the truth: the trail begins long before I set foot on the Pacific Crest Trail.

The long road through grief

Grief changes your sense of time; everything slows down and speeds up at the same time. The days blur together and, suddenly, years have passed and you move through the world but not completely in it. I lived there for a long time: somewhere between existing and disappearing. I was waiting for the moment when I would feel “myself” again (some switch flipped, some dawn inside my chest), but that moment never came.

Grief has become one of my best teachers. I have learned to find strength in difficult places. Nature has taught me the same lessons: beauty and refuge coexist with challenge and discomfort. Both pain and wildness ask something of you and both remind you of who you are and who you are still becoming.

The moment I heard the call

In August 2025, while hiking the Third Burroughs Trail in Mount Rainier National Park, I felt the pull: of the Earth, of the Universe, of some quiet part of me that was ready. It was time to hike the Pacific Crest Trail and further explore what I believe is one of the most magical places in the US: the Cascade Mountain Range.

So, bravely, I trusted and committed.

When the road seemed to fall apart

Last winter I made all the decisions I thought would lead me toward the PCT: seasonal work (with that equipment discount), be nomadic and live simply. But instead of feeling closer to the trail, I felt even further away.

Being a nomad and car camping became a nightmare when every two weeks my car broke down, taking every penny out of my travel savings and leaving me stranded. The seasonal concert I had hopes for ended up being far from what I expected and was very exhausting. I was away from the community and struggling mentally and physically and a million other examples. (I don’t want to lean into the negative, just recognize that life is full of paradoxes and tell the truth about the difficult moments that matter.)

I thought the universe was saying no and I was just making peace with moving away…

The grant that changed everything

I won the PCT Grant – a scholarship awarded to one Washingtonian each season to help fund their hike on the Pacific Crest Trail. 2027 registration for the PCT grant is now open if you are a Washington State resident and need help financing your hike next season.

I applied in November while looking for a way to make this dream possible. I saw the grant posted on every PCT Facebook group and every Reddit thread imaginable. I knew hundreds of other hikers would also apply, but I trusted anyway.

On February 1, an email arrived in my inbox: «Congratulations! You have reached the second round of the PCT grant.»
Then, on February 13, another message: I won.

This grant is the reason I can walk this season. It changed everything and brought me to my knees in gratitude ~ Trail Magic to the MAX.

Joy and pain, intertwined

My path to the PCT (and my journey across Earth) has been complicated, beautiful, painful, and wildly unexpected. And now I can step on the ground, carry my life on my back and walk towards whatever comes next.

The path begins the moment your life opens up and you decide to walk anyway. Here’s the NOBO way ahead!

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