My name is Josh Murphy and my story is quite long. My life has not been conventional by any means, but given the circumstances and my upbringing, I would say I am doing well. Lihat juga source 1. I grew up in rural northeastern Pennsylvania, right on the New York state border, “about an hour south of the Finger Lakes,” as I describe it to most who ask me. A place where, for better or worse, there are not many changes and not many people leave. You could put me in the latter category for most of my life. Sure, I had hopes and dreams of being a globe-trotting photographer, among other things, but I weighed almost 500 pounds and cared more about having a «good time» in the name of numbing myself to reality than doing anything that would get me closer to achieving those dreams.
Standing on top of Mount Whitney, 2022
Me around 2014
After failing college twice and finding myself at a proverbial rock bottom in my mid-twenties, something broke inside me. I went from drinking like a fish and smoking a pack a day to quitting cold turkey. I went from eating 10,000 calories a day to tracking my macros. I moved more. I began to realize that the prison I found myself in was largely self-imposed. I started going for walks and lifting weights. In the span of one year and twenty-three days, I lost two hundred pounds.
Things moved quickly from there, but not without confusion. Before I knew it, I found myself awaiting an involuntary medical separation from the military at Fort Benning, Georgia. That’s where I first heard about the Pacific Crest Trail. Learn more about source 1. I returned to civilian life just in time for the COVID-19 pandemic. The world became strange and my life became dark. But at my lowest moment, I remembered the sense of wonder I felt reading about that “west coast version of the Appalachian Trail.”
Located in the far south with possibly the least marked team of all time.
When I set out to climb the PCT in 2022, nothing in my life was certain, and as I stood in front of the south terminal with nine pounds of camera gear, an overstuffed backpack, useless shit hanging off of it, and tags still on like I was a traveling salesman, I had no idea who I was, what I was doing, or what my life would be like after arriving in Canada. 2,300 miles later, everything changed in a way I never could have imagined. But that’s a story for another time. That experience ultimately led me to become a seasonal wildland firefighter. A career that gave me a new love and appreciation for America’s public lands.
I have been fortunate to live a life I could never have imagined. I’ve been almost everywhere in the United States and several bucket list destinations abroad. Not bad for someone who never thought he’d leave his hometown. It has some cost, personal or otherwise. But through it all, I have realized that life is not about chasing money or the illusion of security. For me, it’s about having a life that one day I can look back on and say, «I not only existed, I lived.» But I’ll never forget where I came from and who I used to be.
Through hiking it went from something I considered a coveted title to something I considered conceptual in nature. I see a Thru-Hike as nothing more than a boat for once-in-a-lifetime experiences, regardless of the mileage or other stats you want to attribute to it, the old saying is true: «the journey is more important than the destination.» And since my journey on the PCT, the idea of embarking on another long journey has been on my mind. None more so than the Continental Divide Trail, or CDT.
At approximately 3,100 miles, the CDT is very different than the more curated experiences of the PCT or AT. For example, approximately 70% to 80% of the trail is officially completed, with the remaining sections consisting of road hikes or a smorgasbord of alternative, choose-your-own-adventure routes.
The trail winds its way through some of the most desolate and pristine wilderness in the world, including Glacier National Park, Yellowstone National Park, Rocky Mountain National Park, and I’ll add a traverse through the Teton Range and Grand Teton National Park.
The Teton Range, 2023
The challenges of CDT are many. Water hauls ranging from 20 to 30 miles, exposure to snow well into summer, difficulties resupplying in some of the most desolate parts of the country, an average elevation of 8,000 to 9,000 feet, and of course, sharing the trail with the largest and most territorial animals in the continental United States. Just to name a few.
Another challenge presented by the CDT is prolonged isolation, which other major trail systems seem to lack. All my PCT friends who went up the CDT say the isolation is unrivaled and it nearly broke some of them. That being said, I’m told that people you meet become friends much faster. Which is really significant in the context of a hike, where social barriers have already been considerably reduced and friends are made in record time.
Grizzly and Moose, photographed in Grand Teton National Park 2023
Damn, I wish we could pet them and not die.
A creative calling
For me, the Continental Divide Trail represents my next big challenge, not only physically and mentally, but also creatively. Photography and writing are pillars of my identity and I have had a camera on or near me since I was 18 years old. I’ve worked professionally photographing and filming for a wide range of clients, but no job has meant more to me than the images I’ve captured while hiking, traveling, and in the line of fire. The Continental Divide will provide me with unprecedented opportunities to capture real, once-in-a-lifetime images of the people, places, and animals along this 3,000-mile adventure.
From top to bottom: Pacific Crest Trail San Jacinto Wilderness, Nakasendo Trail Magome-Juku Japan, Pioneer Fire Chelan Washington
A test of oneself
Despite the greatness that the CDT has in store, I’m aware that it won’t always be a literal walk in the park. A hike north along the CDT requires purposeful movement and deliberate attention to detail. I discovered the PCT as I went along, often clumsily and sometimes getting very lucky. There is much less room for error in the CDT. It will put my physical and logistical capabilities on full display and expose the parts of me that still need work. I will make it. I will fail. I will laugh and cry. Above all, I will grow in a way that only a walk allows me. And once again I will know the unique feeling of my first shower in more than a week, a feeling I will carry through hikes and fire seasons.
3 months after PCT, last shower: unknown
A purpose beyond «I»
Hiking is inherently a selfish act. You separate yourself from society, from your loved ones, from any semblance of normality, even if it’s just for a few fleeting months. But such temporary selfishness, while it needs no justification, can serve a greater purpose. Documenting it can embellish inauthenticity or it can tell a raw story that reaches the right person for the right reasons at the right time. I’m not saying that describing a day drinking cow water and walking 30 miles on a highway through New Mexico will change anyone’s life, but you never know.
I think the world needs people who take risks. Many of us carry dreams that exist beyond the limits of our comfort zone, waiting for something to convince us to take the first step towards them. For me, that moment came unexpectedly, through a book that mentioned the PCT, The Pursuit of Endurance by Jennifer Pharr Davis. It opened my eyes to a world I never knew existed. It came at the right time and you could say it saved my life.
I feel like I have a responsibility to pay it forward. Through writing, through images, if documenting my time on the Continental Divide Trail can convince even one person to get out of their comfort zone and try to pursue their own dreams, take an interest in the outdoors and our public lands, or just get off the couch, then I’ll consider it a successful hike.
Delete LinkedIn, quit your job, and go spend time on public lands. The photo below is private land, but you get my point.
Because at one point I couldn’t
I lived too many years of my life in hedonistic excess and largely unchallenged in any meaningful way. I was often told that I would never amount to anything and that I would never be able to escape the life I used to live. For me, long-distance walking was a way to break those notions and prove not only to myself, but to others, that you can fight your way out of a life you hate. Almost nothing is permanent unless you allow it to be. Change does not happen overnight. It takes years and often it takes suffering in ways you never thought possible to achieve your desired outcome.
The Continental Divide will be another crucible on my path to a fulfilled life and a reminder to me and hopefully you, the reader, of what we are capable of.
These are topics I will write about in future posts before I hit the road. Baca juga tentang source 1. Please subscribe and follow as I look forward to updating you all along the way and the journey ahead.
