nEveresting Recovery

It was a beautiful, warm summer day in August. Lawrence and I were about to embark on our first weekend adventure together. Little did I know how important this adventure would become in my personal journey.

We arrived at the trailhead around 5pm with our backpacks filled to the brim for two nights of backpacking and camping at Stanley Hot Springs. My pack weighed 35-40 pounds. The hike into Stanley was going to be roughly 6 miles and mostly uphill.

I had no idea what I was getting myself into, yet I was eager for the adventure and a chance to spend quality time with Lawrence. Looking up at those towering trees and breathing in the clean mountain air, I felt this rush of excitement. I work out regularly and consider myself in good shape, so I was confident my body could handle whatever this trail threw at me.

The Climb Begins

We began our trek up the trail at approximately 5:30pm. Almost immediately, I started to regret my uncomfortable pack and how heavy it was. I questioned whether I really needed all that stuff. Still, I carried on with some encouragement from Lawrence and the promise of hot springs waiting for us.

“I realized something important about myself. I’m a lot stronger than I thought I was. Not just physically—though hiking over 12 miles with a heavy pack proved I could handle way more than I gave myself credit for.”

The views opening up behind us were incredible though. Every time we stopped to catch our breath, I’d turn around and stare at the valleys spreading out below us. “This is amazing,” I kept telling Lawrence. Despite the heavy pack and the burning in my legs, I couldn’t get over how beautiful this place was.

I was sweaty and hot, and we had to take several breaks along the way. I had no idea it was going to be so challenging, but honestly, I was kind of loving it too. This trail really took it out of me, but there was something about pushing my body like this that felt incredible.

Finally, at about 5 miles in, I began to feel like I couldn’t continue hiking. My pack was hurting my neck and back—it was just too heavy. My feet and knees felt like they were going to give out. Yet we carried on because Lawrence was convinced we were almost there.

The Wrong Turn

With chocolate and water in hand, we continued. At about the 5-mile mark, we passed a fork in the road. At this point, we should only have about one mile left to the hot springs. I felt a sense of relief and thought, “Okay, I can do this. We’re almost there.”

Even though we had no map or GPS to guide us, Lawrence had been here before, so surely he knew the way. We were completely off the grid with no phone service.

We took a left at the fork. The trail continued uphill through forest and rock slides. We trudged through the mud with excitement, ready to finally get to the springs and camp for the next couple of days. It was starting to get dark, and we should have come to a river crossing that signals you’re almost at the springs.

Finally, we arrived at a place up high but still near water. Lawrence looked at me and said, “We have hiked seven and a half miles. I think I fucked up and we took a wrong turn.”

My heart sank, but honestly? Part of me started laughing. “Are you serious right now?” I said. “Seven and a half miles? Lawrence, we just hiked seven and a half miles!”

The sun was setting. It was getting darker and colder. “What are we going to do?” I asked. I was mentally and physically exhausted, but I was also kind of amazed at what my body had just accomplished. I wanted to cry, but I was also proud of how far we’d come.

The Man on the Mule

Lawrence suggested we take a break, make some food, and come up with a plan. As he cooked noodles, he said I could leave my pack there and we could backtrack to find the hot springs. He was considering running back for it after I was safely in camp. At this point, it was hard to walk, let alone with a 40-pound pack on my back.

This wasn’t what we had planned at all. It was approximately 8:30 p.m., and we should have been relaxing in the hot springs by now. As we discussed our options while eating noodles, a man riding a mule—with another in tow—came down the trail.

I couldn’t help but laugh again. “Of course, there’s a guy on a mule!” I said to Lawrence. “Because this day needed to get even more interesting!”

Lawrence asked him if he knew where the springs were from there. “Yes, you missed your turn at that first fork in the road,” he said, then continued his way with his mules.

The Push Forward

Lawrence looked at me and said, “Your brain is trying to convince you that your body is shutting down. You are strong and capable. Don’t let your mind convince you otherwise. We are not staying here. We need to get to the hot springs tonight.”

I still felt like I might pass out from exhaustion. Lawrence said, “You’re amazing. You already hiked seven and a half miles uphill with that ridiculous pack on. You can do this.”

He was right. I had just done something I’d never done before. My body was tired, but it wasn’t broken. Knowing I’d already hiked that far made me feel pretty badass.

“I fucked up, so I’m going to carry your pack the rest of the way,” he said. I looked at him in disbelief. “You’re crazy. How are you going to do that?”

Lawrence picked up my pack along with his own and started moving down the trail. I carried one canvas bag with some food in it and suddenly felt like I could fly. Without that weight on my back, I had so much more energy than I’d thought possible.

Before I knew it, Lawrence seemed to be practically running down the trail. Before long, I began to feel sweaty and nauseous. I called for him to stop for a moment. I threw down my grocery bag, knelt, and began to vomit and cry at the same time.

But you know what? Even in that moment, I felt strong. This wasn’t failure—this was what it looked like to push past every limit I thought I had.

The Final Push

After what must have been 10 p.m., we made it back to the fork in the road—the wrong turn that had taken us three miles off course. At this point, we knew we were almost there, so we hustled down the hill to the river crossing as quickly as possible.

We both managed to soak our boots in the creek, and I almost lost our bag of food. When I caught it at the last second, I held it up like a trophy. “Still got it!” I shouted, and Lawrence’s laughter echoed through the canyon.

We persevered. Once we crossed the creek in our now sopping wet boots, completely out of breath, we charged up the hill—the last hill before the springs. It was still about half a mile up, though it seemed longer.

But then, suddenly, we were there. It was dark and almost 11 p.m. Even with headlamps on, it was hard to see. I must say I had never felt more exhausted in my life, but I’d also never felt more accomplished. We quickly set up our tent and hopped in the hot springs.

What I Discovered

The sense of relief that came over me is hard to put into words. I was both relieved and amazed that Lawrence had somehow managed to carry both of our packs for more than three miles. There was a sense of awe and admiration for this man. I was so thankful that we made it to our destination. I was also grateful that Lawrence didn’t let me give up or stay lost in the forest.

But more than that, I realized something important about myself. I’m a lot stronger than I thought I was. Not just physically—though hiking over 12 miles with a heavy pack proved I could handle way more than I gave myself credit for. But mentally too. When everything went wrong, I didn’t fall apart. I found humor in the chaos. I kept going even when I wanted to quit.

Sometimes, we have to push past the discomfort and pain to get to our destination. It’s okay to have help getting there. You’ll be amazed at what you can do once you push beyond your comfort zone. Had it not been for Lawrence’s strength and words of encouragement, I probably wouldn’t have made it to the springs that night.

And I also wouldn’t have discovered that I belong in wild places, that my body is capable of incredible things, and that I can find joy even in the most challenging moments. When we got lost, I laughed. When faced with more miles than expected, I marveled at the beautiful wilderness around us. When my body reached its limits, I found out it had more to give.

You just never know the positive impact your words and example can have on someone. I realized that I’m stronger than I thought. When I felt like giving up, I kept going, one step at a time. Three weeks into my recovery journey, that night at Stanley taught me I was ready for whatever came next.

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