In the summer of 1995, Cheryl Strayed stood at the edge of the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) with a backpack so enormous she could barely lift it. She had no experience, no guide, and no clue what lay ahead—just a desperate hope that this journey could save her.
Life had broken her. Strayed’s mother, her greatest source of love and strength, had died suddenly at just 45. Grief consumed her, leading to the unraveling of her marriage and a spiral of reckless choices that left her feeling lost. One day, in the middle of her despair, she stumbled across a guidebook about the PCT. The image of a long, unbroken trail through some of the most stunning landscapes in the U.S. struck a chord. It wasn’t just a hike—it was a path out of the darkness.
With barely any preparation and a will to survive rather than thrive, Cheryl set out alone. The Mojave Desert greeted her with unrelenting heat, while her ill-fitting boots punished her feet with blisters so severe she would lose six toenails by the journey’s end. Her pack—dubbed “Monster” for its sheer size—was a cruel companion, weighing her down with every step.
Yet the trail also gave her gifts. Mornings brought sunrises that painted the mountains gold, while evenings were filled with the kind of silence only wilderness could offer. Strayed battled her doubts as fiercely as the elements. Each mile stripped away the burdens she carried—grief, shame, regret—until she began to feel lighter, both physically and emotionally.
There were moments of magic, too: strangers who offered her water when she was parched, the sight of wildflowers blooming in alpine meadows, and the kindness of fellow hikers who reminded her she wasn’t as alone as she thought.
The trail demanded everything from her—patience, resilience, humility—and gave everything back. By the time she reached the Bridge of the Gods in Oregon, Cheryl wasn’t just a woman who had walked 1,100 miles; she was a woman who had found herself.
Her journey, chronicled in her bestselling memoir Wild, has inspired countless others to take their first steps toward healing. Cheryl’s story is proof that even when life feels impossible, the path to redemption often begins with a single step.
