10: Ruins, Plaques, and Pictures

Finishing the hike, Andrew looks back at what got him to this place.

Trail Weight is produced and written by Andrew Steven. Our Story Producer is Monte Montepare. Executive produced by Jeff Umbro and The Podglomerate.

Be sure to follow Gina Danza online at wildgina.com and on Instagram at @wildgina. Her prints are available at wildgina.smugmug.com.

Many thanks to Monte Montepare and Jeff Umbro.

Check out Monte Montepare's Moth performances at themoth.org/storytellers/monte-montepare, and if you're looking for a guide service in Alaska, visit kennicottguides.com

Transcript

Note: Transcripts have been generated with automated software and may contain errors.

Andrew: This is a podcast about a year of my life, starting at the end of 2018, when I tricked myself into losing weight by telling everyone I was going to backpack over 200 miles through the Sierra Nevada Mountains in the heart of California. I had never been backpacking in my life—though I had been camping most of it. And also, for most of my life, I struggled with my relationship between diet and exercise. As a result, I weighed almost 400 pounds and needed a change.

When I started making this podcast, I thought it would be a story about weight loss. I thought chronicling a year of my life, ending with a month-long backpacking trip, would make a good story. I wasn’t expecting it to start with the death of my mom. I didn’t know what it would mean for my family. I didn’t know what it would mean for my relationship with Rocky. I couldn’t begin to understand what and how I was processing all of this, and I questioned my hopes and reexamined my goals.

When my Mom died a month into my training, it changed the plans, and I wasn’t sure if we’d ever step foot on the trail. But I made it to the trail, and one day at a time, Rocky and I walked over 200 miles through the mountains and were now less than a day away from finishing our hike.

And thought the end was in sight, looking back, I could see this didn’t begin with the death of my mom or a bet with myself, but it was something that had been stirring inside for a long time.

[Theme Music]

Andrew: I’m Andrew Steven, and this is “Trail Weight,” a podcast about hiking outdoors and the lessons learned along the way.

2007 was the first time I decided to get into hiking. This was one of the times my feelings of insecurity and shame around my body reached a tipping point. For some reason, hiking, this thing I used to hate, popped into my head as a possible solution to my problems. It might have simply been because it had a seemingly endless amount of opportunity for obsession. I spent more time researching gear, local trails, and other hiking-related items than I needed to. I guess it was a semi-productive form of procrastination. But it was still procrastination. In the years following, I’ve often joked that I’m the type of person who wants to write something, but first, I need to spend an excessive amount of time researching the perfect pen, notebook, and writing location. What’s the best temperature to set my thermostat at for productivity? These types of thoughts disguise themselves as doing the work and are complicated because sometimes they can actually be helpful. Still, I’ve found they’re primarily distractions and ways to postpone doing what you know deep down inside you need to do.

I thought that setting an ambitious hiking goal could be used as inspiration (sound familiar?). While flipping through channels on the family TV, I had stumbled upon an episode of California’s Gold with Huell Howser. If you’re unfamiliar with the show, it was a small budget, locally produced, public television travel show that followed host Huell Howser as he visited landmarks, roadside attractions, and historical points of interest throughout California.

California’s Gold with Huel Howser: California's Gold is produced in association with KCET Los Angeles. [Music] Well, hello, everybody. Here we are in Yosemite National Park. [Fades out]

Andrew: If you’re unfamiliar with Huell Howser, he was a former Marine and I’m sure I could Google this fact, but I got the feeling this show was a self-funded passion project of his (and I want to believe that was true). That’s not meant to be derogatory, but more to say I have no idea how this show was ever actually made, but I’m grateful it was because I’d find myself time and again watching when there was nothing else to watch.

California’s Gold with Huel Howser: Tell us exactly, what is Half Dome? [Fades out]

Andrew: We never had cable TV, so this channel was up in the 50s or 60s and far from the regular fair of network TV. Maybe that’s why I stopped changing channels. Maybe that’s why it stood out. Still, for whatever reason, I watched as Huell Howser visited Yosemite National Park and made his way up Half Dome, one of Yosemite’s best-known landmarks. After seeing this I thought it would make the perfect goal for my 2007-self and set out to find local hikes in an attempt to prepare for one day summiting Half Dome.

While looking for local training hikes I stumbled upon Echo Mountain in the hills above Pasadena. What initially interested me to choose this trail was its summit’s reward: the “ruins” of the old Echo Mountain House resort and Mount Lowe Railway. I hoped seeing these old buildings and relics would help motivate me to accomplish my goal. It was a tangible and tactile finish. It was a clear and obvious destination. It was something to practically look forward to. I don’t know why certain places are more popular than others. Why this peak received more traffic than its neighbors, all because of some old concrete slabs? What is it about abandoned buildings and ruins that capture our imagination? Perhaps it’s the subconscious feeling that these places house countless untold stories waiting to be discovered, and the possibilities of “what-if” require observation.

This isn’t only true for the built world. Maybe stories deep within the soil and stone had been calling me for years since I first thought about hiking. Maybe hearing of other’s adventures crept into my subconscious. Maybe the influence of people and nature inspired me to go. Sometimes without knowing it, stories are being written. When I first dreamt of climbing Half Dome and hiking Echo Mountain, I had no idea it would lead to the JMT. It’s as if our lives are soil waiting for seeds to bloom into stories of wonder and loss and love and adventure and tragedy.

Andrew: We just hiked over the last high point of the trail. And it is literally now all downhill into Yosemite Valley. We're almost done. I can't believe it.

Andrew: As we hiked down towards the finish line, we camped one last night under the stars. The following day we slowly packed our gear. Yes, we were excited and proud of what we’d accomplished, but the ending was bittersweet and reflected in the slow pace we ate our breakfast, drank our instant coffee, and waited for the sun to dry our sleeping bags from the condensation of the night before.

Rocky: Last day of the hike. We gotta get down this mountain. Get down this mountain. Yay. Okay, bye.

Andrew: A few miles down the path, we were shaken out of deep concentration by an incredible view in front of us: the backside of Half Dome. Its familiar shape now reversed, creating a perspective I’d never seen before.

Because you’ve made it this far in the series, you know that first attempt at a Sierra adventure didn’t work in helping me lose weight. Years passed and my weight continued to climb, and though I would visit Yosemite many times in-between, it would be years later before I actually was presented with the opportunity to climb Half Dome.

We wouldn’t be hiking up Half Dome today. But, some friends we made on the trail were going to, and we wished them luck when we passed them. We had decided months earlier that it would be easier to save Half Dome for another trip because of our schedule and the permits required. But seeing Half Dome and walking past the trail junction, my brain began to itch with the idea of coming back one day soon and I was reminded of that first time I thought about attempting Half Dome.

—

My dad and I put a date on the calendar for our hike up to Echo Mountain. I remember reading some sort of blog post about the trail’s history. I can’t find it now, and I don’t remember the site’s name. It was some early hiking blog, pre-Facebook, where other Southern Californian hikers posted routes, trail updates, and sometimes photos. The pictures of giant iron gears and cables sparked my interest in attempting this trail specifically. As I read on, the hike to Echo Mountain worked its way up to the top of my to-do list.

Construction on the original Echo Mountain House began in 1894, and It would become a four-story, 70-room Victorian hotel, complete with an entertainment hall, dining room, souvenir shop, bowling alley, barbershop, and a 40-room Echo Chalet next door. Guest would arrive by funicular (which is always the best way to arrive at anything) and could continue to other mountain-area attractions by train. In fact, the old railway line later would become a road and is now a popular hiking trail.

They struggled for seven years operating the railroad and resort, and after a series of fires and floods that destroyed and damaged the Echo Mountain House, the railway was officially abandoned in 1938. Today only some sparse building foundations, crooked stone staircases, and railway gear remain, alongside a series of plaques placed in 1993 when the area was placed on the National Register of Historic Places.

Sometimes I think it’s not fair that plaques and ruins are how we have to remember things. Even the best can never showcase something as it truly was.

This past weekend I had breakfast with my dad. It was the first time I had seen him in almost a year because of the pandemic. We got breakfast burritos at a restaurant near my apartment in Los Angeles and returned home to see the new place Rocky and I had moved into. I had gotten him a new Baylor University hat (his alma mater) for Father’s day, as well as some salt and vinegar chips (his favorite). He snacked on the chips as we caught up on the sofa, and the Apple TV screensaver was playing in the background. As photos populated the screen, changing every few moments, one appeared of me, my dad, and my mom. It was taken in the months before she died. My dad grew quiet and said through tears that he had forgotten how small she got and how cancer had taken much of her life before it took all of it.

It reminded me of something he said the day that she died. He kept a picture near him through his life of the two of them when they were younger. He had big 70s hair and was wearing a leisure suit. My mom had on a blue dress, long golden necklace and held my dad’s hand, and they walked in front of his parent’s house. He said that if we got to choose a moment from our lives that we get to look like in heaven, this is what he would choose.

Pictures and plaques don’t do a good job at letting you imagine how things actually were.

Ruins, plaques, pictures… it’s not that they’re inaccurate, they’re just incomplete. They’re moments and slivers and don’t represent the whole. Maybe that’s why we look at photos with other people. Maybe that’s why we reminisce. Together we fill in the gaps and extend the picture beyond its two-dimensional plane. The more perspectives we have the more complete the view.

[BREAK]

Andrew: Twelve years after I first hiked Echo Mountain with my dad (and 125 years after the resort first opened), Rocky and I decided it would make a great training hike as we prepared for the JMT. We decided to add on more miles and continue up the mountain to Inspiration Point and loop around for a total of about 12 miles. This would be our longest hike to date, and with 2,700 feet of elevation gain, this would be a rough approximation of a typical day on the JMT.

We arrived at Inspiration Point and were greeted with a break in the hills and views spanning miles in all directions. Under the shade of a veranda, a reward awaited us: various “telescopes” (actually metal tubes) aimed at significant landmarks through Los Angeles and Southern California.

Echo Mountain would go on to become a regular hike I’d go back to again and again while preparing for our adventure. I’d hike it alone, with Rocky…

Andrew: I'm going to do a clap. What's the date?

Donald Ian Black: Uh, 23rd?

Andrew: It’s February 23rd. [Clap]

Donald Ian Black: Ok. Sync point.

Andrew: ...and even with my friend Donald...

Andrew: There’s a ringing in my ear. [Laughs]

Donald Ian Black: I know, it like, makes my ear ring [Laughs]. You have a really powerful clap. That's funny. Wow. Yeah, my ear totally rang. I don't mind.

Andrew: I know, mine’s still--

Donald Ian Black: Do you have, do you just have extra powerful or is like... [Laughs] [Fades out]

Andrew: ...(who we heard from earlier in the podcast) would join me a couple of times, sharing advice from his previous JMT attempt, gear recommendations, and would provide general, good company.

It seemed fitting that the hike I’d revisit time and time again would be called “Echo” Mountain. (In fact, I just did it a couple of weekends ago at the time of this recording). And even though I began to know its turns and landmarks, I’d still seem to learn something new every time I went.

Andrew: [Fades in] So we had a chance to encounter on a mountain randomly. [Laighs] You saw my backpack. You were like, I'm doing stuff with them.

Andrew: This is Gina Danza

Gina Danza: Um, so, My name is Gina Danza. Um, I'm “Wild Gina.” That is technically my brand. [Fades out]

Andrew: And she’s a photographer that Rocky and I happened to meet at Echo Mountain while training for the JMT.

She was working for an outdoor brand and noticed our packs were made by the same company. She took our photo and offered to replace my beat-up and torn-up backpack that I’d had since my dad and I first went up to Echo Mountain. We exchanged information, followed each other on Instagram, and started talking beyond the trail. We even once happened to bump into each other a second time at a restaurant in LA. It seemed our paths were destined to cross and so I felt it was fitting to record an interview before I went out on the JMT.

Andrew: Like yeah-- How did you get involved with the outdoor industry? I mean, just from a personal and a professional standpoint?

Gina Danza: Um, I think I got into the outdoor space after I ended my track career in college. Um, I didn't run anymore, so it's like, what else do you do? I kind of just stopped running in general. And I know that I was a photographer. But I stuck with concert photography for a while. And concert photography was great, but I mean, it's something that I'm not really looking to make it into like a career choice because it's too hectic. It's too crazy. There's long nights. And I was also working a full-time job. So, um, hiking became something more relevant, I would say probably three or four years after college. So probably like 2013-14 when I started taking more photos of nature. And I was like, wow, this is actually pretty cool. I kind of have a little bit of a talent in it. I might as well. And yeah, it all starts with Instagram. When you start putting your photos up on Instagram, I wasn't getting that many likes, but I noticed that people were liking more photos of my landscape photography than pictures of me. [Fades out]

Andrew: While we were talking, Gina shared an, unfortunately, all too common experience that too many people have

Gina Danza: Anyway. Segwaying back to the landscape photography. Um, yeah, so I started posting more photos and then I actually started getting more involved where I'm like, okay, I can maybe start hiking. And this is something that I can do, as like my sport now, since I'm no longer competing.

Andrew: Yeah. Did you ever do anything like that younger? Did you camp at all?

Gina Danza: Yeah, I was a girl scout and I went to 4H camp. But I wasn't like this, like, hiker. Like I wasn't, um-- I was into nature, but I wasn't like, oh my God, like obsessed with it. Like I normally am now. So I started hiking and then I started rock climbing. So I start to meet friends off of Instagram, in my hiking groups who also did like other outdoor sports, like climbing and everything. And basically what's-- how everything got started was I like went to an outdoor store—retailer store and they, uh, I was like looking for some camping gear. And then I started looking at climbing gear. And then like a white guy came up to me who started-- started having a conversation with me and basically kind of gave me a weird look throughout the time. And I was like, okay, like, why is he doing this? And then he's like, “okay, I don't want to make this seem like it's weird or anything,” which is when you say that it's going to be weird. He said, “Hey, um, it's weird to see you in here because black people don't normally hike.” And I was like, “oh, okay.” And then he's like, “have a great day” and walked away. And I thought that was so odd because it's like, why would you like pick me out, you know, and tell me that. And like also no everyone hikes

Shelton Johnson: When most Americans think of African-Americans and national park history, they usually think of notable figures such as Frederick Douglas or Booker T. Washington, or most recently Harriet Tubman. But they don't normally think of wild places like Yosemite. They think of urban environments. They think of rural environments, but not a wilderness. And Yosemite is very much a wilderness.

Andrew: That’s the voice of Shelton Johnson.

Shelton Johnson: My name is Shelton Johson.

Andrew: And he’s a park ranger in Yosemite.

Shelton Johnson: Welcome to Yosemite Valley. [Fades out]

Andrew: In fact, we heard his voice a few episodes ago when we played a clip of him from Ken Burn’s national park documentary series.

Maybe his observation can also be applied to Gina’s egregious experience while shopping for hiking and climbing gear.

Gina Danza: As I looked around the store, there was like all these ads. And most of them were all of white people and there's not a single person of color, like climbing a wall next to the climbing stuff, or, you know, setting up a tent net near the tent section and the camping section. And I was just like, yeah, I'm like-- this is where he gets it from. This is where he gets the stereotype from. And this is how it all fuels, is because of the marketing. And I think that's when I started to realize that when I looked at other Instagram pages and other websites that a lot of these companies—big companies like Patagonia and REI—they just didn't-- weren't, they weren't contributing to the diversity problem. It was mostly just like what, like what person's going to be pretty enough or what person's going to be more relevant enough so that we can sell this product.

And I think that was like my jumpstart into looking into more of the marketing space around the, um-- around the outdoor industry. And, um-- I was not in the outdoor industry at all, so-- but I use my Instagram as a tool in order to tell my story. And, um, I got picked up by unlikely hikers and then Self magazine picked me up-- picked up the story and then Backcounrty picked up the story. And then it just started to like, it was like a fire that just like started to spread. And it's still spreading today. I just wrote an article, um, uh, with This is Range. Um, so it's just like, I'm still writing and I'm still sharing my story. Now I'm kinda making it more relevant until-- like on top of the work that I've done. Um, I've worked with big brands like Hoka One, One, which is part of Decker. And I've gotten, um, an LA based Black hiking group to be sponsored by them. And I thought that was-- that was like my first big thing. Because I was like, okay, I don't want to make this about me anymore. Like, I've already worked with other brands to get my face onto their Instagram, to get my face on their websites I've gotten hired. Um, and I just want to be able to now share that and get other people of color into the lime light. I'm so happy that I was able to do that with Black Girls Trekkin.

So, I'm doing the work now, now that I'm in LA. Um-- but it's still like a long way to go, but it's something that I still like hold true to my heart and a mission that I'm never going to give up on.

Andrew: Many have acknowledged and tracked how this lack of representation affects people of all ages.

Gina Danza: I feel like a lot of these kids today, especially teenagers don't-- haven't been placed in opportunities or camps or groups in order for them to get outside of the city limits. You know, and a lot of these kids probably look at them and they're like, oh, what's up there? But they have no interest because it either is dangerous, or, to be honest, they don't see people like them doing that.

Shelton Johnson: Yosemite, it also houses some great stories involving African-Americans.

Andrew: Here’s Shelton Johnson again.

Shelton Johnson: During the gold rush, there were African-Americans in the foothills of the Sierra who were panning for gold, trying to strike it rich, just like everyone else, but they had other things to purchase such as their own freedom. You have, African-American serving here as stage drivers. And in particular, I'm thinking of George Monroe who worked for the Washburn brothers and actually drove in different presidents into Yosemite National Park. And then, uh, during the new deal under Franklin Roosevelt, there were African-Americans who worked for the Civilian Conservation Corps right here in Yosemite Valley, pairing and building infrastructure and Yosemite. But the most important story, not that those other stories aren’t important, but the most important would involve the Buffalo Soldiers. These were African-American cavalry and infantry troops who served as some of the first park rangers right here in Yosemite, as well as Sequoia National Park.

Andrew: But these aren’t the stories we tell. We prefer endlessly quoting John Muir and selling t-shirts of Teddy Rosevelt riding a Moose. PS: that famous photograph isn’t even real. It’s two photos spliced together. But we keep disproportionately telling that fake story over these real ones, like the Buffalo Soldiers.

Shelton Johnson: Here in Yosemite, they built trails. They were responsible for building the first nature trail or first museum in the national park system. And then in Sequoia National Park in 1903, the Buffalo soldiers built the first usable wagon road into Sequoia's Giant Forest, the most famous grove of Giant Sequoia in the world. So with those contributions, you think they would have been remembered, but they were forgotten.

And the key thing I've always tried to communicate is that their presence allowed for a greater window to be open for African-Americans and other communities of color to see themselves reflected in that window and to look into that history and see themselves present. And that's a very powerful thing if you grow up in an urban environment and inner city and national parks are to you someplace that does not have your fingerprint, your-- your psyche is not part of that landscape. So when you know these stories, they lend themselves to you feeling more rooted in places that you thought were foreign. And that's a very powerful thing.

Andrew: It’s important to tell these historical stories, but not let it end there. There are amazing Black stories happening that are going untold. And not just stories of being profiled in a sporting goods store. And there are much too many Latinx, Asain, Indigenous, Queer, BIPOC, 2SLGBTQ+ stories not being included.

Gina Danza: If you want to help contribute to the online diversity-- especially the social media diversity problem within outdoor brands. If you see a brand constantly promoting, um, a product or having a model or someone that is not a person of color or of a different sexual orientation or whatever it is, it's kind of just a similar, same old, same old, you can call them out in the comments. You can DM them. You know, even if you're not a person of color, like support that and be like, “Hey,” you know, “you're not supporting the cause of diversity. Like, I feel like you need to do that and you're not,” you know. You can call them out in the comments and you can start that conversation if you don't want to do it publicly in the comments, just DM them, you know? And if they just see it and it sits there, do it again, you know, and keep doing it because they will end up answering and it's just-- don't let it just pass by and be like, oh, someone will do about it. Yeah, we're trying. But we also need the support from other people. So more people being able to do that is great. So definitely call out brands. Do it. Do it.

[BREAK]

Andrew: After meeting Gina that day at Echo Mountain, we hiked onward to Inspiration Point. If you’ve spent any time traveling, you’ll quickly learn that there are many “Inspiration Points.” It’s one of the names that carries with it a weight of responsibility. You better be inspired here. Or else. And while many of these places are indeed inspiring, inspiration is not limited to these points. I find it easy to over-value the labeled, publicized, and popular points of interest, even knowing this. Why was I on this hike? Why was it so popular that I had to enter a lottery for the chance to pay to hike it? This isn’t the only trail worth hiking.

Another thing I found interesting about that particular that Inspiration Point was that it had markers pointing out notable places far away from where we were. As if being here wasn’t enough. Making it to this point wasn’t worth it. You also have to go there, and there, and check off this other place, and do more.

As Rocky and I neared the end of the JMT, I too started to plan the next hike in my mind. Convinced I was practical, wise, and attempting to keep the momentum going, I thought I needed another challenge to get me through whatever was next. And so, we hiked on.

Andrew: We are three miles outside of Yosemite Valley walking through the gorgeous granite hallways of Yosemite National Park with the Merced River tour left just a granite wall to our right. We're in between the Mist Trail and the Panorama Trail. And after seeing so much beauty on this trip, it's crazy just how beautiful Yosemite actually is, and how many people are here. Again, after being in the back country for a month, it's a little overwhelming. All the people.

Andrew: The closer we got to the valley floor, the more people we would pass. Day hikers from all over were coalescing, yet again bringing my focus from where I was to where I would be: the end.

Rocky: How much longer till the end of the trial?

Andrew: One mile.

Rocky: [Laughs]

Andrew: We're here on our last mile of the trip. How's it feel?

Rocky: I'm tired.

Andrew: I’m tired.

Rocky: [Laughs] I just started to tear up after hearing that. Woo. I can't believe we did this. Well, not yet. We could die--

Andrew: I love you.

Rocky: I love you--

We could die at any moment. A giant granite boulder falls and crushes us and we never complete the trail. [Laughs]

Andrew: Our feet are finally giving out on us--

Rocky: Finally? Mine have been given out on me for this--

Andrew: But like the pain, not just blisters-- of the 200 plus miles, the 24 days.

Rocky: Yeah. 24 days. I think my knees tiered, like done. My feet has quit. And then my knees are about to resign. [Laughs]

Andrew: It’s 2:12 [PM]. We had told our family that-- to meet us at the trailhead at 3:00 PM. So we're doing pretty good on time. Let's do this.

Andrew: At the end of anything, it’s expected the become reflective. But this was in sharp contrast to the present-minded meditation of hiking we’d been experiencing those last 24 days. I started to think about the hot showers and pizza waiting for us, how it would feel to sleep in our own bed again, and the complexities of arranging a meeting between Rocky’s parents, my dad, and us, with no cell phone reception and only a guess as to when we’d arrive. The stress of life comes back quickly. There was also a chance the woman my dad was dating at the time would be there. I don’t have a problem with my dad dating anyone and want him to have a partner in life, but this would have been the first time we were meeting, and it would be an unmistakable symbol of a changing family.

For years before my mom’s death, I struggled with what it means to be family. Is a family something you’re born into, something that’s hard-wired into your being, or is it a choice, actions, and a conscious decision to be a part of people’s lives? When my mom died, these feelings heightened, and the questions became more significant to a seemingly unavoidable point.

My dad and I had the type of relationship where we’d debate out the big issues. If we disagreed or differed in perspective, we’d argue our side in marathon sessions. But in the past few years, I’d lost the desire to debate and tried to embrace an “agree to disagree” type outlook. It wasn’t always easy, and more aspirational than actual, but knowing this about my dad and me meant that sometimes there could be uncomfortable moments. You know, the type of conversations that aren’t easily avoided when the family is going through massive changes and sadness and loss.

If my life was a hike, these debates were the ruins of a former structure—reminders of what once was, and what could be again. I was ok with letting them disappear into the undergrowth. Sometimes I feel like my dad would prefer to rebuild them. We cling to what we know when we’re confronted with unwanted change. Sometimes I think I want to rebuild too. Most of the time, I think I’m just putting up plaques that I want to be as good as the original.

Andrew: This trip has been both more difficult than I imagined and, in some cases, more doable than I imagined. It was definitely physically tough, but I was prepared. I put in the training needed and at the end of the day, I'm really proud of ourselves for doing this. There's definitely some difficult times, some emotional times, some... what would you call it? I never felt like ending early was an option, but of course it always is. But, you are capable and you are able to do more than you think-- I don't know. This is sounding weird. I'm going to stop.

Andrew: We hiked down, down, down, past tourists and waterfalls, on our final stretch to the end.

Andrew: How are you feeling?

Rocky: Uh? Ready to sit in a chair. And emotional. We just talked to some older people that are, uh, were pretty, I don't know-- They recognize our accomplishments--

Andrew: Here's the trailhead. We just finished it. [Laughs]

Rocky: [Laughs]

Andrew: We’re done. [Fades out]

Andrew: And just like that, we were done.

Rocky: So, how do you feel?

Andrew: I feel good. Even though I know I could do it, I felt like it wasn't possible, in a weird way. Does that make sense?

Rocky: Yes totally.

Andrew: We did it.

Rocky: 240+ miles

Andrew: We walked for a few more minutes towards the road and bike path, and from a distance, I saw my Dad, alone, walking towards us.

Dad: [Fades in] They finished. Picture. Okay. And let me do a video. Okay guys, 230 miles left.

Andrew: Left?

Dad: I mean, uh, done. How do you feel?

Andrew: Tired.

Dad: You look good. You guys look fantastic actually.

Andrew: Let me give you a smelly hug. [Fades out]

Andrew: Rocky’s parents soon arrived, and we showered and put on clean clothes for the first time in 24 days. We ate pizza under the shadow of Half Dome and tried as best we could to let our parents know what we’d been through. We took photos together and bought souvenirs to commemorate our accomplishments. We said goodbye to Rocky’s family, and my dad started driving us home.

This podcast has been its own plaque-version of my journey—the voice-memos their own ruins. Choosing what to include and what to cut, what to put in bold or what to italicize, has been a difficult but necessary process. What you choose is important.

As triumphant as it felt to finish this monumental hike, I know that it’s only part of the story. Walking over 200 miles didn’t bring my mom back. Hiking for a month didn’t fix my problems. Spending countless hours alone with my thoughts never answered the question of what does a family looks like when your mother dies and you begin a new life with a partner of your own. These feelings have been stirring in my life for many years, and I’m not sure if I’m not any closer to figuring it all out than when I started, but I’ve become more okay with not knowing everything and more comfortable asking uncomfortable questions.

As we drove home, the fantasy of a trail-inspired “real life” crumbled down as the pace of the car and the highway brought into sharp focus the differences between where I had been and where my dad was. We got home late at night and said an awkward goodbye as we picked up our backpacks one last time and walked past our partially dead house plants and into our awaiting bed.

Months passed before I listened to any audio I had recorded on the trail—before I wrote down any of the stories in my head. When I first had the idea for this series I thought my journey of weight loss would be the whole story. What I learned is telling the story is the story. What you put on the plaque, what scenes you keep in the movie, what photos you hang on your wall only tell a part of it. It’s true, but it’s incomplete. For the rest of the story, you need to be there.

[Credits]