Anna Conard, hiker and writer

In 2023, I left my career as a professional baker to thru-hike the 2,200 mile-long Appalachian Trail. I had very little backpacking experience and, honestly, didn’t know what I was doing. But I knew the rhododendron groves, cool streams, and deep hollows of Southern Appalachia called to me in ways I couldn’t describe.

This landscape had been the backdrop of my first experiences with the outdoors. Growing up in Atlanta, I spent a week every summer at a camp in North Georgia, mere miles from Springer Mountain, the southern terminus of the Appalachian Trail (though I didn’t know this at the time). Decades later, as I stood on top of Springer to begin my journey, I realized I was coming home.

While most of my thru-hiker peers posted video blogs or social media updates almost daily, I found myself spiraling inward. The most meaningful moments I experienced on the AT were often the least picturesque.

They were moments of struggle: on an impossibly steep incline, with my heart banging wildly in my chest, I somehow mustered the strength to take another step forward, then another. Or the moments were quiet and unassuming, like when I whistled aloud in the quiet forest and a nearby thrush parroted my tune back. An Instagram post could never capture that magic.

The more time I spend in the outdoors, the more this pattern holds true.

When I face challenge or discomfort, I turn inward, tapping into my inner well of strength and the core of who I am. At the same time, I tune into my external surroundings. I feel inspired by the stoic strength of a tree, towering overhead, or comforted by a gentle breeze. I find harmony both within and without. In no other setting does life feel so immaculately balanced.

I created this blog as a better way to share about the duality I often experience in nature: the pith, the internal and deeply personal, and the forest, the bigger picture I’m a part of.

Thank you for following along.

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