My Life and Backpacking
Mt. Huron Descent, photo of Ivey Smith, taken by Steve from Golden; Colorado Trail 2020Feeling Lost…
I’d already had two careers, and too many failed relationships to count—I’d trained with an Olympic horseback rider right out of high school, graduated from college with a degree in Nutrition and Food Science, and I was a fashion model with an agency in New York City all by the age of 22.
When everything was said and done, I still didn’t know what I wanted out of life.
After the spring and summer of 2016, which I spent bouncing around places like Puerto Rico, the Dominican Republic, New Orleans, the Florida Keys, and southern Appalachia—I felt more confused than ever.
I’d gone out searching for answers and returned with new questions I never before thought to ask.
Behind the scenes, 2015
Behind the scenes with Carol Persons & Leah Sarrah Bassett, 2015 
NYC, photographer unknown, 2015A new way forward…
One morning, in a state of total hopelessness and despair, back in my home state of Maryland, I found myself considering the time I spent in Asheville—an eclectic, funky city tucked way up in the Blue Ridge Mountains of western North Carolina.
My mind took me back to the winding trails through rhododendron groves, the misty woods and moss covered pines, the smell of sweet citrus sap filling my nostrils.
I wondered…
I’d met a girl there who let me sleep on her couch for a week—a nice break from my tent—one day while we were riding in her car, she told me about the Appalachian Trail.
She said she’d hiked it when she was depressed, that it took her ages to do and that it was one of best and hardest adventures she’d ever been on. It changed her life.
I remembered thinking to myself, “If she can do it, so can I.”
I moved to Asheville that fall.
Waterfall, Western North Carolina 2018Once I heard about the trail stretching from Georgia to Maine, it never really left my mind.
I didn’t doubt my ability to hike the whole thing.
In fact, I felt like my life depended on it.
I had no formal backpacking experience, and yet my heart pulled me to the mountains, whispering to me, “All you have to do is walk, it can’t be that hard.”
Oh, the irony.
My gear was borrowed and hand-me-downed when I departed from Springer Mountain on the rainy morning of March 6, 2017. I was all alone save for my dog, Jill.
March 6, 2017
August 6, 2017I have always been stubborn, impassioned, and full of fierce determination—hard-headed, if you ask anyone close to me.
I am the girl who had to walk 2,200 miles (and then 2,000 more) before realizing the magic is found in the journey—not at its end. A lesson I am still learning today.
Simply put, backpacking saved my life.
My experience was full of rough edges and sharp pieces. It hurt me and woke me up and showed me how to reconnect with myself and the world by first leading me far away from everything familiar.
Backpacking taught me how to be alone without being lonely.
And truth be told, my life has been as winding as the trails I walk upon.
I tell my story about hiking the Appalachian Trail and people tend to assume it was the best experience of my life, but the reality is much different than what most imagine it to be.
Climbing down from Katahdin, I felt like someone had stabbed me in the heart. I had found everything I was looking for in the dirt beneath my feet, blisters between my toes, calluses on my palms—and suddenly—
It was over.
I didn’t know how to keep the joy with me.
Appalachian Trail 2017Sobriety was the answer…
I am a recovering alcoholic; I’m also a recovering fashion model, over achiever, control freak, perfectionist, love addict—you name it, I got it. This is my truth.
Today, though, the key word, is “recovering”.
I took a chance on the Appalachian Trail; I stepped out into the unknown and the girl I came face-to-face with in the mountains was strong and brave. She had dreams—big ones.
And I almost lost her.
Reconnecting with my purpose after the trail was harder than I ever imagined it would be.
It meant getting sober and taking a good long look at my life, where I’d been, where I was now, and where I was headed.
Sometimes I think about the girl I left standing on the peak of that sacred mountain in the fog all those years ago—her hair awry from the wind, rain and mud clinging to her legs, clothes filthy from so many miles of walking—she knew what lay ahead, she new life would never be the same.
And she serves as a constant reminder, calling me back to my mission when my feet become tired or begin to stray from the path.
Photographer: Holly Burnam
Appalachian Trail 2018There are endless paths to walk in life, the right ones are usually the hardest.
And the most rewarding.
When I think about my life and backpacking, I am filled with gratitude. It was the harder path to take, but every day it brings me a few steps deeper into the life I once dreamed of living.
