Recommended to me by my sister-in-law (and then vouched for by my father-in-law), ššŖšš„: From Lost to Found on the Pacific Crest Trail is one of the most captivating memoirs Iāve read. Strayed’s prose is honest, vivid, and raw. Recounting her 1,100-mile solo hike along the Pacific Crest Trail, she brings the reader along the trail’s pointless ups and downs while also exposing us to her emotional rollercoaster of finding herself.
After losing her mother to cancerāher mother was only 45āStrayed entered a period of recklessness. Burdened by grief, addiction, and her own infidelity, she decided to hike the Pacific Crest Trail in the mid-1990s.
My mom was dead. My mom was dead. My mom was dead. Everything I ever imagined about myself had disappeared into the crack of her last breath.
Cheryl Strayed, Wild
Throughout her journey, Strayed faces obstacles she didn’t anticipate, some of her own making, and learns that some of the things she’s carrying are just too heavy. Weather, wildlife, blistered feet, chafed skin, and self-doubt prove her biggest foes. She meets kind strangers and those with questionable motives on her hike and both types enable Strayed to find herself. Just as she learns to stop overpacking her bag, she subsequently reconciles her grief and her shame. Sometimes our emotional baggageāour “griefcases”āare just as heavy as anything else we carry.
Though her path to recovery looks different from my own, Cheryl Strayedās mastery of storytelling had me feeling every emotion she did as if they were mine. From worry to equanimity and from resentment to delight. From dread and terror to wonder and glee. I felt all of it. Hers is a story of resilience and self-discovery. It is a vehicle for her to confront, and forgive, her main antagonist: herself. The trail is just a metaphor, her demons incarnate. Her primary struggle is within.
Through her introspective narrative, Strayed exposes her vulnerabilities in a voice that is both lyrical and unflinchingly honest. Her candid way of exposing her own insecurities grabs the reader so deftly that once she’s celebrating her victory, you honestly feel like you’ve accomplished something too. And perhaps you have. Maybe you’ve conquered your resolve. I certainly felt like I accomplished something along with her. In conclusion, Wild is a memoir worth reading, rereading, and sharing. It doesn’t matter if you’re a hiker or not. If you’ve ever experienced adversity, this book has something for you. Sure, this book is about hiking a long trail, but most importantly, it’s about a woman’s transformation from a broken soul to a resilient badass.
And maybe Iām too impressionable, but suddenly my 3-11 mile hikes feel paltry and Iām itching to do something rash. Looking at you, Appalachian Trailā¦
