At 5pm on May 6th, Jeffrey, of the Hachita Bike Ranch, dropped me off at the Southern Terminus of the CDT. It’s a place called Crazy Cook because of a murder that took place on the US border with Mexico many years ago. Like most of my favorite adventures, the start of this collosal undertaking lacked any sort of pagentry. Just me and Jeffrey and angry hive of bees nesting in a nearby shade structure. He snapped a few photos, I thanked him for the lift, and I started walking North.

It is difficult to describe the breadth of emotions I felt walking up to an obelisk-shaped chunk of concrete in the New Mexican desert. A lot has happened since my last long walk and I spent my first hours on trail running through the last nine years like a slideshow in my brain. Had someone been recording, they would have seen a hiker laughing one moment and tearing up the next. I am incredibly lucky to have the time, money, and body to attempt another long trail and I wouldn’t be here without the support of my family and friends.

My goal of making it to the first water source, about 14 miles north, and a late start meant I’d be spending some hours in the dark. A comet waltzed across the sky while a rattlesnake waved hello with its tail. The myriad silver eyes of wolf spiders, illuminated by the glow of my headlamp, reflected back at me like tiny shards of a recently broken Discoball on the desert floor.

The first days miles were a mix of two-track and arroyos. When I made camp for the night, crawling into my sleeping bag felt mighty fine. I fell asleep quickly, aided in part by a cold Coors Jeffrey had stashed for me. It feels good to be back on trail. It feels like home.