I spent three years in South America in an attempt to become the first woman to walk the length of the Americas. For most of that time I was alone, hiking through remote regions where crossing paths with another person was rare. I would pass through a town every five days or so, and I was almost always invited into a loving home to spend the evening with a family.
These interactions kept me going, tying me to homes and communities, giving me a sense of safety and a feeling of belonging. Yet I always hoped to find a dog. Security was the practical reason, but I think subconsciously I also wanted a friend.
Even when I started planning the expedition, I was certain I’d find a dog. What wasn’t clear was when. Each year, four people begin to walk the length of the Americas but rarely does someone make it past that first year.
