How 24 hours alone in the woods got me my dream job

View from Little Lakes Valley

Spoiler Alert: It didn't, but here’s what I did gain…

When I arrived at base camp last week on the Little Gems trail in Mammoth, I didn't have a clear goal in mind. I was uncertain about my purpose for being there. I knew it had to do, in part, with the utter disappointment of a year 2025 was turning out to be. My body had not forgotten the surges of cortisol as I watched the homes of friends and family burn throughout the Eaton Fires. It hadn't forgotten the turning of my stomach walking along the coast, seeing and smelling the bloated bodies of dead sea lions. My heart had not forgotten the breaks it felt, watching ICE agents tear families apart in front of my eyes. My body also never forgot the feel of wet mud, wildflowers, and fresh water.

Nature, in all its healing tendencies, has always been a priority for me throughout my 20s and early 30s. As a native Californian, born and raised in the San Francisco Bay Area, I grew up with the privilege of access to places like Santa Cruz, Marin County, and Lake Tahoe. This access inspired my move in 2016 to Amador County, to give up city living for the sake of access. A decision I seldom regretted until wildfire, snowstorms, economic downfalls, and divorce forced my hand to relocate back to the city. As a college graduate with 10 years of professional experience and accolades to match, I was prepared for everything except the state of today's job market. While many statistics boast of low unemployment rates, new hire opportunities are dissolving at an uncomfortable rate.

With all of this on my shoulders, plus a 30-pound overnight pack, I hit the trail to be reacquainted with nature. While I did not leave the trail, job offer in hand, here are some of the insights I gained from 24 hours on the trail, alone, and how it affected my career search.

Putting in the extra effort is worth it.

Since moving back to Los Angeles in 2024, I have found myself rueing the concept of getting in the car. Obsessed with staying as local as possible, I found myself frequenting the same trails and dry Los Angeles landscape. After the Eaton Fire, I lost access to some of the best trails in the area, a feeling that many Angelinos share, losing access to the San Bernardino Mountains. Throughout the summer, I found myself constantly scrolling through reels, images, and alltrails posts in Mammoth. I was (and still do) crave the crystalline lakes, and breathtaking crestlines of the southern sierras. The only problem was that it was a five-hour drive, and nobody wanted to come with me. I thought it was foolish or unbearable to drive that far for a short trip. In the end, it was the least tiresome part of the whole trip, and I found that I highly valued the drive and the scenes from the 395. The ten hours I spent in the car helped me tremendously in processing life events. A challenging task that prevented me from reaching my goal ultimately added value to the overall experience. This refreshed my capacity for creating thoughtful and unique applications, refusing to step away even when asked for several pages of prompt-led writing. In the end, it's all worth it if you want it enough!

You don't need as much as you think.

Pretty soon on the trail, I realized I had overpacked. As someone who enjoys a hearty meal, I was sure I would need plenty of food throughout my trip, so I packed twice the amount suggested. I ended up bringing more than half back to the car and saving it for another trip. This is a metaphor for the fulfillment of your career. In 2024, I sold my permaculture farm and, with it, relinquished my nonprofit residency program- a dream job for me. Finding another career path that matches my expectations has been tedious. My program was my whole life, and I loved it with every inch of my being, but approaching the job market with this in mind has only limited my opportunities. Yes, it is essential to know what you want and try your best to hold out, but in the end, a job's primary purpose is sustaining you as a person, and sometimes just reaching the bottom line is ok. When I got back from my trip, I split my time between applying for 'dream jobs' and scheduling realistic gigs like classes and part-time vendor work. While I love three-course meals and a well-paying career, sometimes a protein bar and a contract gig are enough.

Rain and hail created a temporarily washed out the trail.

Preparedness shrinks doubt.

Wandering into the woods alone for twenty-four hours with no service sounds like the start of a horror film to some people. A lot of people asked me if I was nervous or scared. The reality was no, I have spent most of my life in nature and on trails. That is not to say I'm naturally prepared for a 14-mile jaunt, but I know exactly how to prepare, and that's what gives me the courage to press on. A lifetime of experience creates preparation in a way that feels like second nature. It is a kind of second-sense, or muscle memory, that, like a computer, silently processes all your experience into tangible action. Spending time alone in the back country since the age of 18, I have years of intuition that thankfully led me to pack a separate box of winter gear- just in case it rained on the trail in July- which it did. Huddled in a corner with thermals and wet gear, watching large balls of hail temporarily wash out the trail became a fantastic moment instead of a total disaster. This same concept can be applied to the job search, as I constantly have to remind myself that I know how to approach listings that exhaust formal lexicons of technical jargon to intimidate lesser candidates from applying. I remind myself that preparation didn't begin last week- I have been preparing for these roles since I started my creative career fresh out of UCLA 18 years ago.

You have everything you need to do it alone, but it's better together.

As a freelance worker who spent almost a decade on a rural farm, over an hour from the closest city, I have become very used to doing things alone. I completed a year-long illustration contract with CAC Creative Corps, where I envisioned, created, and executed this major project alone, relying solely on my skills to meet deadlines and create quality content. Here on the trail, everything was on my back. It was my two feet getting me to where I needed to go, and I felt great. That is, until I started to notice all of the other hikers celebrating the views with friends and family. This feeling of wishing I had brought a friend, a collaborator, ensured me that I was still on the right path as I searched for a larger organization to work with instead of continuing to take contracts and one-off opportunities. Community and collaboration are undeniably significant factors in a fulfilling career in the arts, for what is an artist without their audience?

So while I continue on the seemingly endless trek towards employment, I am reminded that I already have many of my needs met. I engage with a fantastic community, my art practice is at its most productive, and I am still capable of self-nourishment, identifying my needs and meeting them in ways that work for me. One day, I will finally revel in the securities awarded through full-time employment, but for now, I am still enjoying the view from the trail.