Go West, young woman, and grow up with the PCT

In the increasing amount of time I’ve told people about my planned PCT hike, I can’t remember a single time when someone asked… «why?»

And the truth is that I’m glad.

Because I still don’t have an answer.

I never backpacked until I was in college, but I was very familiar with Cheryl Strayed’s memoir, Wild.

I don’t know how I found that book when I was 12 years old. Maybe it found me. I was probably too young to Wildbut that was my introduction to the Pacific Crest Trail. I loved reading about a young woman who embarks on a great adventure and still isn’t perfect. doing it anyway. I also loved her rich prose in describing both the path and her personal journey.

At the time, I dismissed the idea of ​​hiking the PCT, since I had never backpacked or traversed beyond the Rocky Mountains. I was also a blossoming and very studious athlete, occupying my time with school, soccer, or skiing.

I had to lead my first backpacking trip myself.

In 2022, I reluctantly accepted a job in my university’s outdoor recreation office. Nothing special, just supporting the rental program during the summer months. I still had almost minimal experience in the outdoor activities they offered (climbing, backpacking, rafting, etc.), whereas I had grown up boating, car camping, or canoeing in the Adirondacks. I felt out of place when clients asked me what the ideal surfboard length was or how to repair drysuit joints.

My boss must have seen something in me (or was desperate for bodies) because I was invited to lead a pre-orientation expedition trip (a “Trip”). Five days in which myself, two student co-leaders, and seven freshmen will all hopefully come together somewhere in the Oregon wilderness.

Luminous painting under the stars along the Upper Deschutes, August 2022.

Fortunately, that trip went off without a hitch, and in addition to seven college freshmen becoming true friends, one team leader wondered if she could ride the entire PCT. After all, parts of this trip were on the trail near Waldo Lake, narrowly avoiding a wildfire closure, and it was downright nice to be camping by the water, sleeping in a tent, and hiking the well-worn trail. But that would be for another time, because at this point I wanted to pursue my passion for exercise physiology research.

I completed my master’s degree in 2025 and, for the first time, I had no idea what was next.

After two years of researching thermoregulation, exercise, and the menstrual cycle, I landed that role. However, I didn’t get a big girl job like I expected. The job market of 2025, plus significant cuts to research funding in academia, made for a difficult time for new graduates. I knew a PhD wasn’t for me at the time (hello, burnout!), so I decided to take a fun year. The idea was to work entry-level jobs to get by and enjoy my 20s for a bit before trying again next year in the job market (or potentially a PhD if I chose that path).

The best presentation I have ever given: the defense of my thesis.

What was supposed to be a year of fun started…wasn’t fun. Not even the «entry-level job» market was hiring, so I settled for the first offer I received, which turned out to be miserable. I should have quit at the end of my first month, but I was afraid to stand up for myself and I had bills to pay. At the same time, they broke up with me, which devastated me. I was also the only one in my grad group still in our little cow town, which made me feel extremely alone. All in all, I sank into a depressive state and spent my days alone on the couch watching Dawson’s Creek when I wasn’t at work.

A few days after being dumped, I spontaneously decided to go backpacking. Maybe the outdoors would make me feel better, I thought. I left work and headed to Spectacle Lake for my first camping experience in Washington State. Climbing at probably a snail’s pace on the switchbacks, I stopped to admire the waterfall, the bridge and the view. Once I got to the lake and settled into my tent site, I felt at ease. Sitting in my hammock, reading burned by Clare Frank, Listening to the waves crashing against the rocks and the birds singing, a feeling came over me:

This is where I’m supposed to be.

Spectacle Lake early in the morning.

I never felt ‘called’ to do anything in my life until this very moment.

Be outside. Be camping. Kunjungi hgtgdfgdtr16. Being in the desert. Embark on an adventure. The hiking part (for me) is meh…just a means to an end which is adventure. But if it takes me to new and beautiful places and spending more time in a tent…

The idea of ​​the PCT began to emerge once again.

Maybe it was a sign that Mrs. ReaganPCT clips from Appeared on my timeline: a fellow academic who left a PhD to pursue the outdoors. Watching those videos made me feel like I could do it too. Academia, work, and doctoral programs will always be there, but will this youthful, directionless, low-responsibility lull be in my life?

The mountain is outside!

Near the end of summer, when I was at my lowest point, I picked up Beautiful little things. Cheryl Strayed came back into my life, this time as an advice columnist under the pseudonym «Sugar.» A question a reader asked (and I’m paraphrasing a lot here), I’m in my twenties, what the hell am I supposed to do?

Sugar responded with three simple sentences:

Trust yourself.

Forgive yourself.

Test yourself.

I think it’s time to test myself.

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