On the Other Side of Rivers and Roads

a year from now we'll all be gone

One year since I’ve hopped off the Pacific Crest Trail. You always hear the same thing - you will forever be changed after your thru-hike. It’s easier to yearn for the days that I didn’t know what true, unadulterated joy felt like. Or what spending every day with your pals navigating shit (literally) of both good and bad varietals. It felt like yesterday that I stopped walking - that I was trodding along well-worn trails instead of sitting on Muni rails.

I don’t know if it’s coincidence or choice that my favorite experiences have been concentrated moments in nature. Best summers of my life? 13 weeks at Sierra Camp, working my ass of with some of my best friends. Best thing I’ve done with my life? 19 weeks hiking the PCT with some of my best friends. Now the question is: “Is it nature, people, or the concentration of time?” I’m not saying I need to know the answer, but I am saying it could be nice to know the best solve to the Triangle of Joy. it’s also important to note that in every one of these scenarios (though i’ve only listed two), rivers and roads by the head and the heart seem to be the de facto theme song…often a capella…often with tears.

I never wrote a post about what that day was like, so I’ll do my best to relive it, though I guess like most memories, it has become a little bit more dull and definitely way more fuzzy. The Fairies and I woke up at a clearing a couple (?) miles before the Northern Terminus - the night before was so wet, gray, and dreary that we didn’t know we were going to be greeted by jaw dropping views of Washington. The air that morning was electric. We were passing other hikers and tramilies we’d gotten to know, feeling their excitement buzzing. Accomplishment was spread across their face and we shared glances so saccharine, that until you’re there you wouldn’t believe were real. Every passing water source and subsequent peek at FarOut revealed just how close we were to the end.

We joined hands at a few hundred yards out. Those steps held were the culmination of moments seeing each other at our lowest, most goblin-like states and sharing laughs and love across 2600 miles.

We were there. We were there. We were there.

We made it. The Northern Terminus. Our goalpost. Our guiding light. The carrot at the end of the stick. But it was never really about the end. You might be rolling your eyes at this point and I get it. Out of the 1000s of Reddit posts, blog entries, YouTube videos, and TikTok stories, I’d roll my eyes too at the notion of “It was never about the ending, it was about the journey.” I’m falling into that cliché because it’s true. Our tramily talked at lengths, the PCT is an arbitrary (though beautiful) journey that someone crafted, and because of that, just happens to be 2,650 miles in length. What really matters at the end of the day was what I learned every day being out there, the memories that were crafted along the journey, and the people I met.

all our friends will move away

A year later and now, pieces of my heart have been spread across continents, state lines, and city borders. We’ve all moved on with our lives - though there nary be day that goes by where our group chat doesn’t reminisce on last year. I mean tech is great though, we get to message and vlog our days for each other. I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’m a simp for my tramily and the trail.

I talk about it often but i think I’m broken from trail (and for what it’s worth, broken for the better). The trail showed me I can do anything, that I’m capable and strong enough to do so. It’s unfortunate that in the last year, I’ve been challenged and confronted with moments where that feeling I thought I lost. social situations, societal expectations, and like that, the confidence to grow into myself slowly eroded. while my tramily has moved away, for a few months this past year, i lost myself. that version of me, my inside friend, was lost. he never fully left, but he wandered for a little bit. by design, i think it’s a good thing to wander a little bit, to find what is filling your cup and getting you out of bed every morning.

tiny moments of magic. small phrases that remind you. a book. a scent. a song. musings that awaken dormant memories of those pals you had by your side and the version of you that had been pushed to the wayside, slowly emerge to remind you it isn’t lost.

and they're goin' to better places

really working on this line. “they're goin’ to better places” — a reminder that good is ahead and that change is indeed inevitable. i spent most of the last few days stuck in a melancholic trance, transfixed about wanting to feel like i was back on trail, trying to encourage the last two brain cells i have to fire up those old feelings…i wanted to be back. but amidst the wallowing, i had some reminders of the present and just how wonderful the ahead is, even if it feels like the past is shrouding any light ahead. though the pct was by leaps and bounds, one of the best things i’ve ever done, life is still ahead of me. there are hikes to do, trails to explore, relationships to deepen, and sunsets to chase. there is the now. the people, the places, and the things i get to do today that are in front of me.

it’s this phrase that i try to center as i reflect on the last year of my life. good things have happened, good things can happen, and good things will happen. we’re all going to better places! new jobs, new relationships, new houses - the list goes on. badass ultra-runner katie arnold wrote so beautifully in her substack the following:

if i’ve learned anything from teaching creativity and flow over the past five years, it’s that flow does not depend on ideal conditions. you don’t need to meditate in a monastery on the side of a mountain to have an awakening. you don’t need to a room of your own to write a powerful story (though that’s obviously very nice). you don’t need to be in peak fitness to move with ease and energy.

you just need to allow yourself and the moment to be as they are.

i want to lean in to allowing myself and the moment to be as we are. it’s so powerful to be able to be so present in the moment. to find peace and comfort in the now. it will be a journey to get there, but i am committed to giving it my best shot.

but our friends will be gone away

thanks friends for all the support. the trail, my personal injury journey, explorations of mental health — it takes a village to get through it all. i’m damn lucky to have a village that is locked in with love, deep care, and intentionality. distance to my dearest pals may ebb and flow like the tide, but each person who has entered my life has left their mark.

this reflection got rambly and went all over the map. thank you for reading and thanks for being here on the journey.
we’re on the other side of rivers and roads…for now ;^ )

a.j.