I enjoy pushing myself but I’m not particularly eager for this hike to end. What would be the point of it all if I never slowed down, stopped, breathed, and stretched the beautiful moments paper-thin?

Somehow, I’ve already been on the Appalachian Trail for a month, and there’s already a pit of dread in the bottom of my stomach at how quickly time, and the miles, are passing.

Some of these images were from many years ago. Some more recent. They’re from all the places that make me think of Louisiana - state parks, my parents’ backyard, dirt single-tracks, from my many drives down River Road.

5 years ago, I stood on the Appalachian Trail at Newfound Gap and knew that one day, I would be there again - thru-hiking from Georgia. That’s why my trail name is Newfound.

It took practice to become good at ignoring my own instincts, so I figured it would take the same amount of practice to trust myself again. So I walked into the woods, even when fear coiled in my stomach and every thought was filled with doubt. I remained in that place of discomfort, even when I set up my tent, climbed inside, and would lay awake the entire night, too afraid of my own solitude to sleep.