Dear Pacific Crest Trail (2023)

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  

Lessons of Our Father

On a daily basis, almost without fail, I write. In a world filled with noise and endless distraction, I find refuge in a blank, white computer screen and the flickering thought of what might come next. It is my way of processing the world and what I experience. Most of the time, this means thinking deeply about the entertainment I digest, the books I read, places I travel, and the food I eat. At other times, this can mean sharing lessons learned from moments both big and small. What I write has always been part journal and part musings from a partially examined life. I have always chosen to share my thoughts in the hopes of starting a dialogue.

With this understanding, this piece is for my dad. Losing your father is a monumental experience. It deserves attention. It deserves examination. In my mind, as a writer, I think it deserves to be shared. To experience such an event is natural. It is meant to be the order of things. If things progress naturally, it will happen to all of us.

If we are honest with ourselves, we understand our names will not ring for eternity. If we are lucky, our names will last a few generations. With each passing iteration of family and friends, the light containing our name will flicker until it is no more. One day, who said or did what will be lost to time. This does not mean our time on this planet does not matter. On the contrary, it gives purpose to the time we do have. While we have a better chance of winning the lottery than being the next Caesar, Lincoln, or King, we should still strive for greatness, small acts which can cause ripples throughout time and space, and small gestures of selflessness that can make a world of difference.

When I examine the legacy of Eldon Box, my father, I do not see a man who will be remembered forever. Yet, I see a man whose ideals will stand the test of time. What he stood for will last longer than his name. If he were sitting here today, I can imagine him saying, “Such a truth is more than fine by me.”

Those ideals are important, and they are lessons instilled deep within me. Now, if you will indulge me, I would like to share some of his most concrete and foundational teachings.

Any man can father a child, but being a dad is much more powerful. Dads show up. They teach. They correct. They show their softer side without fear. They model behavior. They provide. They empower. They do not stand in the way of their partner. They let them shine brightly. They forgive. They learn. They adapt. They provide unconditional love. They hope to build better versions of themselves. They celebrate and they console. They share and they give. They know themselves. They are gentle. They are loving. They are supportive. They are men we should choose to emulate.

Patriotism comes in many forms. For some, it means service in the military. For others, service can come in the form of nonprofit work, volunteerism, politics, and/or advocacy. This grand American experiment demands active participation from us all. We should focus less on winning and scoring points for our side. Instead, we should be solely focused on perfecting our slice of this union for those who follow in our footsteps.

Our families should come first. We have an obligation to those most immediately standing in our circle of influence. Our families deserve selflessness and presence. They deserve the best of ourselves. They deserve to know we are not superheroes, but flawed vessels still working toward something better. They deserve a name filled with pride and power. They deserve to know power comes in many forms, but outward power focused on making the world a better place is a power worthy of our pursuit. Again, they deserve love.

Our friends deserve kindness, forgiveness, and generosity. Our friends deserve hours lost to laughter. They deserve shoulders to cry on when the world gets tough. They deserve the shirt off our backs. They deserve time and patience. They deserve us showing up when needed. They deserve to feel like family.

These are lessons taught by my father that I will never forget. These lessons are also only the tip of an exceptionally large iceberg. Underneath the water’s surface, there are countless others. Many of these lessons have yet to reveal themselves to me and will only be uncovered with the passing of time. I am confident many of them will come to me with the force of a tsunami. They will find me in the strangest places, and they will find me when I need them the most.

If this is what we aspire to in our interactions with our children, our partner, our country, and our families, then our nameless legacy will be much stronger. The world may not remember us, but our actions can contribute to a universal sense of truth.

Eldon, dad, I thank you for the lessons. I am a better man, citizen, partner, friend, and family member because of them. I and all who knew you are the personification of your legacy. I cannot promise a name etched in stone. I can only promise a continuation of the ripples you made with the examples you provided. Your name will not be remembered forever, but those things you held dear will stand the test of time.

Be good to each other,

Nathan 

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