The decision that changed everything

I flopped down on an old plastic chair and ripped off my too-small trail runners and socks to reveal dirt-crusted swollen toes. It was time to relax and wait out the heat of the day. It was 11 a.m., and I had just reached the biggest hiking milestone so far - 100 miles into my thru-hike of the Pacific Crest Trail.

Until this point, I had been hiking with two Danish girls and a Belgian guy named Vincent. We’d met at the iconic Scout and Frodo’s place in San Diego, started the trail within a day of each other, and had fallen into a similar pace. We had just spent a nero (near-zero) day in Julian the day before, where I had called my parents in tears about the heat, sobbing that I wasn’t sure I’d make it much further on the PCT. The heat hiking into the town of Julian had been unbearable, with the final 3 miles being completely exposed to the scorching sun, and I didn’t have enough water. We’d crawled between rocks to find any shade we could for short breaks to cool down. My confidence in my ability to continue sunk even lower when I heard that someone had been evacuated by search and rescue due to heatstroke in the next section of trail. That nero day was spent being filled with anxiety about what was to come.

That next morning we had woken up at 3:30 a.m. to try to make it to a water cache before the sun rose and the day's heat settled in. After reaching the water cache and drinking as much as we could, we split off to hike at our own paces, with Vincent ahead, me in the middle, and our Danish friends Sofie and Camila behind, agreeing to meet at the Montezuma Valley Market to wait out the heat of the day.

By the time Sofie and Camila made it to the market their feet were struggling and they had developed some pretty nasty blisters. I overheard them discussing their options and they decided that they were going to stay at the Market to rest until the next day.

“I think I’ll head out around 3pm and try to do another 8 miles or so”, Vincent said casually. We’d already done 14 miles so far that day, thanks to our early start. All of a sudden I was faced with a decision: do I stay with Camilla and Sofie, and choose comfort, or do I push myself into uncertainty and risk ending up on my own if I can’t keep up?

Self-doubt has been something I, like many women, have lived with as long as I can remember. A lifetime of imposter syndrome wasn’t going to completely disappear after only a few days on trail, despite already overcoming many challenges and obstacles to get to where I was.

That decision weighed on me for the 3 hours I spent hiding in the shade at the market, hanging out with other hikers and getting as hydrated as possible. I was also messaging my parents back in England, who were anxiously waiting to hear how the trail and heat had been since Julian. I messaged them that sadly I thought that Vincent was a bit too fast for me, and maybe the Danish girls were taking a bit more recovery time than I needed, and I might end up alone somewhere in the middle.

Every time I tried to hype myself up to head back to the trail that afternoon, the usual intrusive thoughts pushed themselves to the surface: “You can’t hike 8 more miles, that’s a 22-mile day! You’ve never done that before - what if you get left behind? What if no one else wants to hike with you? What if you fail at the thing you’ve wanted to do more than anything for the last 6 years?”.

The shuttle driver arrived at the store and hikers started to pile themselves and their backpacks into the truck, ready to head back to the PCT. I froze, still unsure of what I was going to do.

Suddenly, I heard my heart whisper: “just try.”

I scrambled to get my shoes back on before I could talk myself out of it, stuffing all my belongings back into my backpack and squeezing myself into the truck. It was time to show myself what I was capable of.

That decision led me to not only being able to hike 8 more miles that day, but also showed me the next day I could hike another 22 miles (as I’d already done it before), to then forming the trail family comprised of some of the best people I’ve ever known, to my friendship with Vincent evolving into him becoming the love of my life. It led to a trajectory I could have never, ever predicted, and a life I have been immensely grateful for ever since.

The campsite I ended up at that evening after hiking my first 20+ mile day, sharing with 6 incredible new trail friends.

There is no such thing as failure as long as you are choosing to move in the direction of your goals. As long as you’re not making decisions from a place of fear. The only failure is choosing not to see what you’re capable of when you’re given the opportunity to try.

The more you try and succeed, the more you can show yourself what you’re capable of. If you try and still don’t reach your goal, you show yourself that you can handle disappointment, and that the world doesn’t end. The more you try, the more confidence you build in yourself, regardless of the outcome. This is true for literally any desire or goal you set for yourself. It’s like a hurricane of perpetual growth, with each attempt to achieve something spinning you higher and higher into a life bigger than you could have ever imagined at the bottom.

It took me nearly 6 months after finishing the PCT to fully realize how important this decision was, not just for my hike, but for the rest of my life. One day while I was just existing back in the ‘real world’ it suddenly hit me how everything could have been different if I had decided to give into fear and deny myself the opportunity to just try.

It also hit me on this day that I’ll probably process and have epiphanies about how the PCT impacted me for the rest of my life. One of the hardest parts of hiking the PCT is the post-trail processing and the realization that life on the PCT actually feels so much more natural than how society and capitalism force us to exist. My time on trail sometimes feels like a fever dream, made up of the highest highs and the lowest lows, but it will always be one of the most meaningful experiences I’ve ever had - and full of lessons to carry forever:

Just try. That’s all there is.