Why I Keep Walking

The trail doesn’t care that this is our third attempt.

In 2023, smoke from nearby wildfires forced us off the mountain. In 2024, more fires pushed us south again. And now, in 2025, Peter Thorpe and I are back on the Pacific Crest Trail, determined to finally complete the stretch from Stevens Pass to the Canadian border.

It’s breathtaking. It’s brutal. And just a few days in, I can already feel it in every muscle.

I’ve scrambled over countless blowdowns, washed my clothes in a freezing alpine lake, and surrendered to the relentless mosquitoes. My air mattress has a slow leak. Sleep is scarce. My legs are aching. And truthfully, the trail feels longer and lonelier than I remembered.

So, I asked myself, as I have on every trip like this: Why am I doing this again?

The trail is long, but so is the fight against poverty

Yes, the views are stunning. Yes, there’s a challenge in the climb. But neither of those things are why I keep walking.

I walk because poverty is a harder trail than any I’ve ever hiked.

When a woman in Ghana or Colombia or India takes out a microloan to start a business, she begins a journey just as demanding. Only hers comes without trekking poles or gear reviews. Her obstacles aren’t rocky switchbacks or stormy nights. For her, they look like debt, limited education, no access to a secure place to save, and the daily reality of providing for her children with too few resources.

And yet she walks forward. Step by step. Dream by dream.

Every step tells a story

This journey isn’t just about reaching a geographic border. It’s about making a statement that walking people out of poverty is possible but it takes time, resilience, and a supportive community.

I walk in solidarity with the women I’ve met through Opportunity’s work that empowers entrepreneurs living in poverty with microfinance, training, and support they need to transform their lives.

Their path is not linear. It’s filled with setbacks and uncertainty. But like any long trail, it’s the small, consistent steps that move us forward.

Every time I lace up my boots, I think of them.

Every time my legs burn, or the rain won’t stop, I remember their perseverance.

And every time I feel like quitting, I picture their faces, their dignity, their courage, and their commitment to building something better.

Why this is personal

This stretch of trail between Stevens Pass and the Canadian border isn’t just a hike anymore, it’s a metaphor.

It reminds me that change rarely comes quickly. That real transformation, whether on a mountainside or in a remote village, takes grit, patience, and people who don’t give up when the journey gets hard.

There’s beauty in the struggle. Purpose in the pain. And hope on the horizon.

That’s why I keep walking.

You can walk with us

We’re constantly reminded that we’re not walking this journey by ourselves.

Every donation, every word of encouragement, every shared story reminds us that there’s a community behind this mission. Together, we’re walking toward a world where families no longer have to choose between buying food and sending their kids to school. Where opportunity isn’t a luxury, but a right.

So, thank you for believing in this work.

Thank you for being part of Walking People Out of Poverty.

And for remembering that the hardest trails are often the most meaningful.

Let’s keep going.

Together.

—Dan

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