Dear Pacific Crest Trail,  

I have not forgotten about you. I hope you have not forgotten me. You were once such a consuming thought. Never in my life have I given so much of myself to a dream. Never have I poured so much energy into something. I spent countless hours researching, training, saving, and planning. I talked about you to anyone who would listen. I shared my dream with anyone who seemed to care. You were my north star. You were a constellation brightening the darkest night. Everyone I met in Los Angeles and everyone who followed my story online knew it.  

Family, friends, and total strangers rallied to support my dream. They offered to mail me food boxes on the trail. They went on practice hikes and backpacking adventures with me. They donated to help fund this dream of mine, and they even helped purchase gear. I have never felt so loved, supported, and encouraged in all my life. I may spend the rest of my days chasing those feelings.  

In an instant, my dream vanished. Three days into my journey, a global pandemic sent us home. In an abundance of caution, it was the right call. Sitting in a cabin in Mt. Laguna, a mere 30 miles from the Mexican border, we watched the news. Airports and borders were closing. Government agencies were begging people to stay home to slow the spread. Businesses were locking their doors. Eventually, the Pacific Crest Trail Association asked us to head home.  

Hitching a ride back to San Diego to regroup, I felt overwhelmed with emotion. I was heading home with nothing more than hope that I might return in a month. I was not heading home because my body betrayed me. An injury, poor financial planning, or some family emergency was not calling me home. I was heading home because of something completely out of my control. No amount of research, training, saving, or planning could prepare me for that feeling. I felt utterly helpless.  

In the months that followed, I battled a profound sadness and a deep sense of loss. Slowly, the news went from bad to worse. It was clear we would not be returning to the trail in 2020. In a few months, my life radically changed, and nothing went according to plan. The loss left me feeling lost and heartbroken, and I had to navigate a world that I did not understand or care to know.  

All the while, I never forgot about you. Three days were not enough. I need to see you again. Just so we are clear, I never stopped planning and searching for a way to return to you.  

There is no date circled on my calendar. I do not know when we shall meet again. For now, I count myself lucky enough to have you near me. As you snake your way through Washington state, I plan on walking as many miles of you as the weekends will allow. I do not know if a thru-hike, section hike, or weekend trips via a conversion van that I can call my own will reunite us. All I know is that we shall meet again. Until then, do not forget about me. I certainly have not forgotten you.  

Be good to each other,  

Nathan