Hiking the CDT: Making the Most of Uncertainty

My name is Rogue, and I decided to NOBO thru-hike the CDT this year— last minute.

In this age of uncertainty, I’ve found that one must be able to adjust expectations earnestly. Feeling like things couldn’t possibly work out or that something unexpected could happen at any moment must be embraced.

One could say that thruhiking always embodies those things, but in the grand scheme of things thruhiking feels like a more secure life decision than ever.

Losing my US Forest Service career plans this year, dealing with lasting injuries from a car crash, and my leap into the world of homeownership has me feeling whiplashed in more ways than one.

A Shock to Public Lands Employees

I was a seasonal federal government employee. A public servant who decided in college that I would base my career on helping the public lands that I love thrive– rather than making any money. Over the years I worked in both hydrology and wilderness management for the NPS, USFS, and nonprofits, often living out of my car, picking up side gigs or second jobs to scrape by.

I worked passionately in what was typically a very physically demanding career with up to 12 hour days, often working until I couldn’t see straight. I was doing restoration work, water quality monitoring, recreation data collection, education, and trails.

Regardless of anyone’s opinion, I know the following to be true: the recent public employee firings have turned many hardworking people’s lives completely on their heads.

So though I did not necessarily want to be thrust into the next chapter of my triple crown hiking journey in the same year as buying a house, I knew that I needed to let things in the environmental workforce settle after budgets and coworkers were cut so deeply.

Hiking to Process

My personal life felt like a rollercoaster this year, with major highs and lows. In addition to the accelerating career uncertainty, I went through the hardest breakup of my life, finished a longstanding injury lawsuit, and scraped together everything I could to buy a fixer upper south of the Tahoe area. Everything seemed to move too fast to even blink, and I am looking forward to quiet days on the trail to review the ride.

I cried for months after the person I thought was my best friend and partner laughed at my tears and disregarded all of the sacrifices I’d made to support them through the horrific death of their mother. It was hard for me to hold back tears as I watched my beautiful Forest Service coworkers cry on multiple occasions as more and more people were severed from the agency. They recorded me on camera as I bawled my eyes out, explaining under oath how in a quick moment, during a drive I did every day, it felt like my whole life had been taken from me. Tears fell on my old hardwood floors as I tried not to get too overwhelmed by all of the infestations and home DIY work I’d signed up for.

All of that has gotten me to this moment, where I feel like I can step off the life rollercoaster for a little while and start on a journey that’s a little more my speed.

Hiking for Healing

In early 2022, I thought I might never be able to thru-hike again after a car swerved into my lane on the highway and hit me head-on. For months I lay in bed and cried. The nerves in my back burned, I couldn’t think straight, and the fatigue from both my concussion and now misaligned body felt insurmountable. I couldn’t even vacuum my apartment anymore let alone hike.

After what felt like an eternity of physical therapy, and despite continued pains, I set out on the South Island Te Araroa in New Zealand at the end of 2023. Despite burning out more easily than before, I was able to finish this especially adventurous journey in a relatively short amount of time.

I found out a couple of months later that I indeed had a rib out of place almost two years after my injury. Despite complaining specifically about feeling like I suffered from this particular problem to a dozen specialists, it took me almost two years to find someone who took it seriously.

Within five minutes of meeting this new physical therapist, he’d popped my rib back in and there was instant relief. I sang and danced the rest of the evening, reinvigorated with the hope of making a full recovery.

Three years later, my spine still feels like I need another lifetime of PT, but I am eager to set out on another thru-hike– this time with my rib in place!

Deciding to Thruhike Anyways

My back hurts, my budget is small, and the world feels like it’s moving way too fast, but I refuse to let outside influences keep me from making the most of this year.

What’s more American than setting off on a grand adventure through public lands with nothing more than a backpack and a lust for adventure?

This is the America I know and love. And rather than cower in the face of crippling uncertainty, I will wipe my tears and continue to live my American dream another day.

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