Miles To Go. Perfect. What a name. That’s the name of this new outdoors blog series. Why? Because I asked ChatGPT what I should call it. He/She gave me “Miles To Go.” It’s from a very famous Frost poem, of course. It sounds poetic, and vaguely aspirational.

The point of this series is to momentarily escape the Swamp™. Not D.C. exactly, just the mental fog and the colored pill-of-the-day that comes from staring too long at the news cycle. Instead of “Top 10 Hikes in America” clickbait, I figured I’d write something a little more personal. A list, yes—but one that’s aspirational. If I keep writing about the trails I want to hike, maybe I’ll eventually hike them. Maybe you will too. Manifesting My Destiny. Manifesting Our Destinies. Manifest Destiny. My God, that is such a better name for this blog series. Huge L, for not thinking of that first.

I’m no Cody Lundin, or Bear Grylls. But I am happiest in nature. I grew up in the suburban wilds of Rochester, NY, and every summer we’d head to the Adirondacks. The peaks that I remember the most were Mt. Marcy, Algonquin, and Ampersand. Ampersand especially, because of that bald rocky-top with 360-degree views. Also because once on our way up a woman passed us on the trail who may or may not have been Sigourney Weaver. My dad, without any hesitation, shouted after her: “See any aliens up there?” She laughed. It was hard to tell if it was an “I’m Sigourney Weaver and that’s funny” laugh, or more a “Haha please don’t follow me” laugh. Whether it was her or not, my sister and I wanted to die. He was 100% convinced it was her.

Now I live in Pasadena, CA, and until about six months ago, I was hitting the local trails 3 to 4 times a week. My go-to spot was a serene loop in Altadena—just 5 minutes away, steep enough to make me feel like I earned my lunch, short enough to fit between news-posting sessions. And then it burned down.

I’m not fishing for sympathy. People lost their homes and lives. Others have gained approximately 15 pounds. I could still drive 20 minutes to a different trailhead—but it’s not the same. Once you’ve had a sacred 5-minute escape route, hiking through L.A. traffic to reach the great outdoors just doesn’t hit the same.

Which brings me here: hiking through writing. I figure if I blog it, I’ll hike it. Trail therapy meets manifestation meets accountability. And the first trail on my bucket list? The mighty Teton Crest Trail.

Because, Derrick, it’s the consensus #1 trail in the U.S. according to people with loads of REI rewards points that actually hike the best trails and blog about it, not the other way around. And because it looks like God’s personal screensaver.

All right, real quick overview of the Teton Trail:

Length: 40 miles (ooookay)

Duration: 3–5 days (uh)

Location: Grand Teton National Park, Wyoming

Highlights: Death Canyon Shelf (wait, wut), Alaska Basin, Hurricane Pass (come on), Cascade Canyon

Wildlife: Moose, bears, marmots, (possibly Sigourney Weaver)

Okay, stop. Cut.

What are we even doing here?

We all want a series with a coherent arc, a believable character, and a journey we can relate to.

I’m a huge believer in baby steps. Not sure if you knew that about me. Probably didn’t. But it’s true. And here I am kicking off this entire series with a 40-mile, 5-day, grizzly bear-adjacent ultra-hike like I’m trying to be the best in the world at walking uphill.

I’ve lived in California for almost nine years now… and I still haven’t been to Joshua Tree. There. I said it.

It’s a day trip. It’s within striking distance. It’s iconic. It’s weird and beautiful and doesn’t have the words “Death” or “Hurricane” in any of its trail names. This makes so much more sense. This is the hike I need to do first.

So let’s reset the journey. Let’s go smart. Let’s go local. Let’s go Joshua Tree.