What Walking 2,500 Miles Taught Me About Awareness

One of the most meaningful aspects of hiking and spending time in nature is the mental space it creates. It’s a beautiful, distraction-free environment that allows time to process ideas you may never have stumbled upon without hours of letting your mind wander. And boy, did hiking from Mexico to Canada on the Pacific Crest Trail give me plenty of time for my mind to wander.

Like many people, drinking felt like a normal part of life in my late teens and throughout my 20s - something I relied on to loosen up, gain confidence and have fun. Occasionally, this would lead to some regrettable decisions that evening, followed by ‘hang-xiety’ the next day. Combine that with being too tired to move and unwilling to make nutritious food choices and you have a trifecta of terrible outcomes. Even if my alcohol consumption was never an addiction, it still did enough damage to justify re-examining my relationship with it once I had the space.

Surviving Life on Trail

By the summer of 2023, I was 30 and finally fulfilling my dream of hiking the Pacific Crest Trail, a 2650-mile trail through California, Oregon, and Washington. Spending 140 days on trail transformed how I felt both physically and mentally, and in doing so, completely changed my relationship with alcohol.

Before I began my hike, I thought I would be so excited to get to towns and have a celebratory beer for making it through a section. Once I was actually on trail, it became apparent that alcohol would be taking a backseat to my basic needs for survival. The most important questions I asked myself every day became:

“How much water do I have right now? Where even is the next water source? Do I have enough food to fuel me until I get to the next town? Do I have a comfortable and safe place to sleep tonight? Will the wear on my body from the 25+ miles I hiked today recover overnight so I can do it all again tomorrow?”

Needless to say, figuring out when I’d be able to have a drink of anything other than something truly hydrating was not a priority. I didn’t have my first beer until more than 150 miles in, at the Paradise Valley Cafe just outside of Idyllwild, California. I’d been struggling with nausea and being able to stomach more than half of any meal or snack, likely due to the intense desert heat and new stress on my body. This beer did little to quench my thirst, so I switched to a soda instead (and discovered that a cold can of Sprite is one of life’s true pleasures after a few days on trail).

The first beer of the PCT, 150 miles in

I drank alcohol a few times on the PCT, usually just a drink or two in towns if we had a zero or nero (near-zero) hiking day, never actually getting drunk, only a little buzzed on occasion. I almost always paid for it the next day, no matter how little I’d drunk. If trail angels had coolers with drinks to offer hikers, I always chose a Gatorade or a soda, even when beers were on offer. My body craved electrolytes far more than having a beer.

This extended time hiking and being present in nature was the most in tune with my body I’ve ever been. When making my way up a big climb, it was obvious if I wasn’t fuelled enough and would need to stop to have a snack. The difference in energy almost immediately after eating was astounding. I had the deepest, most restorative sleep of my life throughout the trail. I ended each day physically exhausted from 12-15 hours of hiking, and my body was ready to rest and recover in order to help me do it all again the next day.

My wonderful partner surprised me with a lunchtime Sprite for my birthday.

Back to “Reality”

While I was physically exhausted when we finished the trail and ready to rest, I was gifted a new understanding of how my body could function without alcohol. After returning home to Whistler, there was a lot of celebrating and catching up with friends, mostly over drinks. One morning after weeks of trying to get back into my pre-trail lifestyle, my partner and I woke up feeling hungover, tired and lethargic. It’s hard to become that attuned to your body over months and then go back to doing the very things that destroy it. Who would have guessed that time in nature, being physically active, sleeping well and not drinking for months gave my body a wonderful reset from the overconsumption of living in the 21st Century?

Realizing I didn’t want my life to continue feeling like this, I decided to learn more about the pros and cons of cutting out alcohol. I listened to a Huberman Lab podcast episode discussing the effects of alcohol, which confirmed what I had already sensed on trail - even moderate drinking quietly erodes our health and clarity. If you’re even remotely sober-curious, I highly recommend listening to this episode. It gave the reasoning and language I needed to truly understand just how damaging even moderate consumption of alcohol is.

One of my biggest worries before quitting drinking was that my life would become boring if I quit alcohol. On my sober curious journey, I heard a phrase that helped: “Your life is already boring, you’re just too numb to notice”. This may not speak to everyone, but it has stayed with me ever since. Life has never felt more interesting and exciting to me now that alcohol does not set the terms. The day is mine to craft, not to be shaped by the result of last night’s poor decisions.

Guided by Awareness

The clarity I gained from being sober has also helped show the dangers of being too numb and distracted to question how we want our lives to look. Many people stay just satisfied enough with their lives by counting down the days until the weekend and the possibility of a fun night out or two. Drinking provides a temporary respite from the monotony of often meaningless work designed to build wealth for people who do not need more of it, while hangovers simultaneously dull the senses and motivation to make any changes. It’s much easier to continue in a ‘just-about’ tolerable life when you’re not functioning at your highest capacity, either unaware of how much more there is out there or unmotivated to take any steps to get there. I didn’t fully comprehend the extent to which alcohol is a socially acceptable numbing tool until I’d experienced the presence and freedom without it.

Sunrise at the top of Old Snowy in Washington

When we strip away distraction and confront our most basic needs in nature, we reconnect to our bodies, our values, and what truly matters - and from that clarity, old habits (like drinking) often lose their hold. This space allows us to learn new information, examine our past beliefs, and question where they came from, before actively choosing how we engage with that behaviour in the future. Something that once seemed like a non-possibility all of a sudden made complete sense under the right set of circumstances. For years, I used alcohol as a tool to tolerate environments my gut knew I shouldn’t remain in and quiet the voice that knew there was more out there for me. The PCT was the most fulfilled, present and alive I’ve ever been; no wonder I didn’t feel the need to drink to escape it.

Continuing the Journey

It’s now been two years since I stopped drinking alcohol, and there has not been a single time I have regretted this decision or been truly tempted to drink again. To me, the promise and possibility each day could bring if I’m ready and open to embracing it fully is worth this decision every single time. It seems unlikely that I will ever drink again, but who knows - maybe an occasion where it feels right could arise. Never say never. All I can do moving forward is use the gift of awareness that the PCT has given me, and be thoughtful and intentional about the part alcohol plays in my life (if any). I encourage you to take the space to do the same.