Blueprints for Adventure
Originally written in collaboration with The Drifter’s Journal. Read the original article here.
From an Idea to a Mission
It all started with a simple desire: to spend every summer in the backcountry. That idea grew into something bigger—how to turn a seasonal job from your twenties into a lifelong career, guiding people through the most beautiful places on earth.
I began guiding four years ago. At the time, I knew I would love being outside—the long days in the mountains, the satisfaction of moving through wild places. But what I didn’t expect was how much I would love the people.
Each trip is a roll of the dice. Strangers from all corners of the world, bound together by nothing more than a shared itinerary and a willingness to step into the unknown.
I’ve sat beside an insurance broker from North Dakota, an IT professional from California, a queer couple from New York, an Attorney General from Connecticut, and a single mom from Los Angeles—watching them trade life stories over a campfire as the sun dipped behind the Sierra Crest. People who, outside of this space, might never have crossed paths. And yet, here, on this slab of granite, after a long day of moving through the mountains, the differences that might have mattered elsewhere fade away.
It’s not just the guests learning from each other—I learn from them as well. Guiding has given me the rare opportunity to pick the brain of experts in fields I’d never have had access to otherwise. Every guest I’ve met carries some piece of knowledge, a perspective, or a story that I wouldn’t have encountered anywhere else. Some of the best conversations of my life have happened in the quiet of the backcountry.
Running Into the Mountains
In 2023, I thru-hiked the Pacific Crest Trail and, at the end, set a Fastest Known Time for the 505-mile Washington section. After months on foot, I wanted to see what I could do with more structure and training. That curiosity led me to mountain running.
Since then, I’ve come to love long, slow days in the mountains. Moving efficiently over rugged terrain, covering miles with just the essentials. Despite the exhaustion, I always come back feeling clearer, more grounded, more stoked.
That feeling—the sense of connection, both to the mountains and to the people I share them with—is what drives me.
Returning to the Mission
That connection is also what led to the creation of Western Sierra Adventures. After the owner of the guide company I worked for retired, I saw an opportunity to create something of my own.
Last year, I connected with Sam. During a day of climbing at a local crag, we bonded over our shared desire to build something that reflected our vision for guiding. We wanted to create a company that wasn’t just about taking people into the mountains but about fostering a deeper connection—between people, place, and the experience itself.
After countless sketches on scratch paper, website designs drawn on cardboard, and more back-of-the-napkin math than I can count, Western Sierra Adventures was born.
WSA is more than a business. It’s a commitment—to the people who trust us to take them into the backcountry, to the communities that surround Yosemite, and to the landscapes that make these experiences possible. Our goal is to leave a lasting, positive impact on both the land and the people who call it home.
Creating a New Experience
That same vision is what led me to start WSA’s running retreats. Trail running has given me a way to move through the mountains in a way that feels natural and free, and I want to share that experience with more people.
Not everyone is comfortable heading into the backcountry alone. Some people don’t know where to start. Others want the camaraderie of a group, the knowledge of someone who’s been there before. That’s why these retreats exist—to help more runners experience the mountains in a way that feels accessible, welcoming, and unforgettable.
Guiding showed me the power of shared experiences. Running gave me a new way to explore the backcountry. WSA is the bridge between the two.
And this is just the beginning.
