Crossing into Washington hit harder than I expected—the air smelled like moss and memory. From bee stings and storms to mountain ridges that felt like the edge of the world, these final miles reminded me that the trail doesn’t end where it stops. It ends where you meet yourself again.

After nearly four months grinding through California, we flew through Oregon—455 miles in just 14 hiking days. Between wildfire smoke, relentless mosquitoes, and the long-awaited crossing of the Bridge of the Gods, this stretch tested us in new ways and reminded us just how far grit can carry you.

Halfway through the Pacific Crest Trail, NorCal tested us with 30-mile days, heat waves, and relentless climbs. It was the section where we broke limits, deepened our inner work, and discovered the mental strength to soar beyond pain.

Community on trail is a living, breathing thing—shifting, evolving, and teaching lessons you never expect. Join us on the Pacific Crest Trail as we tackle Yosemite, conquer Sonora Pass, endure mosquito swarms, and soak in the beauty of the Tahoe Rim Trail with our trail family—before a bittersweet goodbye.

An emotional return to the Sierra from Bishop to Mammoth—seven daunting passes in seven days, early alpine starts, fatigue, thunderstorms, and mosquito madness. We conquered Mather’s Ice Wall, lost our trail family, and navigated a wrong turn that turned a 12-mile exit into a grueling 29‑mile bushwhack. This is a week of mistakes, healing, and transformation

We fled the High Sierra after frostbite and a harrowing experience—then flipped north, hoping for healing and sanity. What we found in NorCal was so much more: buried cabins, bushwhacking bruises, powerful trail magic, and a deeper gratitude for forward motion.

In the heart of the High Sierra, the Pacific Crest Trail tests even the strongest hikers. But nothing could have prepared me for the night we climbed Forester Pass — the highest and most dangerous point on the trail. With frostbite setting in and a storm closing around us, this wasn’t just a hike — it was a fight to survive.

We rose from the desert floor into the arms of the Sierra—where wind howled across ridgelines, wildflowers stretched toward sunlit skies, and friendships deepened over miles and shared meals. From Tehachapi to Chicken Spring Lake, this chapter carries the quiet strength of transition—into snow, into stillness, into the heart of the mountains.

From embracing discomfort to finding contentment in letting go, the desert has been a relentless, beautiful teacher. Here are five lessons the trail has etched into me so far.

We blinked, and suddenly found ourselves standing at the north end of the Mojave, squinting back at the hundreds of dusty miles we had traversed. Somewhere in the blur, we became something new—hardened, grateful, a little feral.

This desert stripped us down gently, layer by layer, like water over stone. In the absence of excess, I found peace. Not from gaining anything—but from shedding it all.

The trail is a mirror. A teacher. A gentle nudge toward trust, resilience, and choosing presence over perfection.

Week three on the Pacific Crest Trail brought a transformative shift. The initial aches began to fade, replaced by a growing sense of strength and rhythm. Each step became more purposeful, each mile a testament to endurance and adaptability. Navigating the diverse terrains of Southern California, I found not just physical resilience but a deeper connection to the journey itself. This week wasn't just about covering distance; it was about embracing the trail's lessons and discovering a newfound flow.

From sun-drenched desert floors to an unexpected blizzard in the high country, this stretch of trail reminded me how quickly things shift out here. This is the story braving the cold, finding warmth in community, and surrendering to the wild rhythm of the PCT.

The San Jacintos loomed in the distance for 150 miles—an unavoidable challenge whispered about by every hiker. Snow, ice, and steep climbs tested our endurance, pushing us to our limits. Blistered feet, exhaustion, and unrelenting elevation gain made every step a battle, but the mountains have a way of rewarding those who persevere.

The first weeks on the PCT have been a whirlwind—blazing sun, freezing nights, relentless wind, and miles of snow. The desert is harsher and more beautiful than I imagined, each day a lesson in resilience. Some days, everything hurts, yet every sunrise brings the urge to keep moving—one step at a time, deeper into the journey.

After a whirlwind year of moving, getting married, launching a business, and preparing nonstop, Abhi and I are finally here—a sunrise away from stepping onto the Pacific Crest Trail. 2,650 miles. Five months. A journey into the unknown. The nerves are real, but the excitement is even more so. A winter storm is rolling in, making for an adventurous start. Why are we doing this? The challenge. The connection. The transformation. I don’t know who I’ll be on the other side, but I can’t wait to find out.

As women age, the importance of maintaining muscle health becomes increasingly clear. Strength training is not just about aesthetics; it’s a vital component of overall wellness.

An unforgettable adventure that reveals inner strength through the profound lessons of nature.