I am pretty fortunate that I have the opportunity to do something so crazy as pack just a few things into a backpack and walk north through the desert, the mountains, the forests, and the mountains again. Especially at my age. I’m not a kid anymore.

It all started when I came home to Wisconsin to pack up my fiancé’s (now wife) car and we drove all the way to Southern California. My career was going well and she was going to start law school at UCLA in the fall. With back-to-back sixteen hour drives, we spent most of the time talking about our future together. We talked about school, money, children, and the like. Nothing was left off the table.

Eventually, we started talking about how long we would live in California. Just a day into our drive, my wife admitted that she longed for home. It was fine for now, but when we had children, she said she wanted to be closer to family. So, we negotiated.

I promised to pay for her law school. In return, the person who made the most money would decide where we lived. As she was going to a top law school, we knew who was going to make the most money eventually. In return, I would have a grand adventure for my twentieth anniversary.

Four years ago, at our sixteenth wedding anniversary, she asked if I has considered what I was going to do. I sheepishly said that I wanted to hike the Pacific Crest Trail. I would be gone a while, but it would be an adventure that met the definition of Grand. She agreed immediately!

So, here I am a could of months from applying for a permit. The butterflies in my stomach keep me up at night. If the way is made clear, I will go.