Tag Page WestCoastTrail

Between Tides and Blisters, I Stopped Pretending

Somewhere between km5 and km10 on the West Coast Trail, my boots started to betray me. Sand in my socks, rain in my pack, and the kind of silence that makes you realize you’re not actually escaping anything. I kept telling myself this was supposed to be transformative—like the mud and the mist would wash something clean inside me. But all I could think about was how much I missed hot coffee and not having to ration toilet paper. I took a photo of the driftwood and didn’t post it. Not because it wasn’t beautiful, but because I couldn’t fake the caption. Sometimes the trail strips you down to what you actually feel: tired, raw, and still yourself. #Travel #SoloTravelTruth #WestCoastTrail