From the North Shore to the Continental Divide: Why I’m Hiking 3,100 Miles for The Trevor Project

On June 25th, I’ll begin the biggest adventure I’ve undertaken in nearly a decade: a thru-hike of the Continental Divide Trail.

Stretching roughly 3,100 miles from Canada to Mexico through Montana, Idaho, Wyoming, Colorado, and New Mexico, the CDT is considered the most remote and challenging of America’s three great National Scenic Trails. For the next four to five months, my home will be a backpacking tent, my days will revolve around walking, and my goal will be simple: put one foot in front of the other until I reach the Mexican border.

While the hike itself is an ambitious undertaking, the journey actually began many years ago.

A Childhood Shaped by the Outdoors

I grew up in Warwick, New York, in the Hudson Valley. Like many kids of the 1990s, I spent most of my free time outside. Long before smartphones and social media, my siblings and I would disappear into the woods for hours at a time. When it was time for dinner, my mom would ring an old cowbell hanging from our back deck, and we knew it was time to come home.

My favorite books were Hatchet and My Side of the Mountain. My favorite computer game was The Oregon Trail. I was fascinated by wilderness adventures and dreamed of one day embarking on one of my own.

The Appalachian Trail passed through my hometown, and one of its most memorable landmarks was Bellvale Farms Creamery, where locals and thru-hikers alike would stop for ice cream. As a kid, I remember seeing hikers covered in dust, carrying everything they owned on their backs, and learning they were walking all the way from Georgia to Maine.

I didn’t know it at the time, but those encounters planted a seed.

The Trail That Changed Everything

After graduating from San Diego State University, I set out to hike the Pacific Crest Trail, a 2,650-mile journey from Mexico to Canada through California, Oregon, and Washington.

The experience changed my life.

For five months, life became remarkably simple. Wake up. Walk. Eat. Sleep. Repeat.

It taught me resilience, adaptability, patience, and gratitude. It also introduced me to an incredible community of hikers and trail angels—complete strangers who offered rides, meals, encouragement, and support simply because they wanted to help.

When I completed the trail in 2018, I knew it wouldn’t be my last long-distance hike.

Since then, I’ve completed Washington’s 93-mile Wonderland Trail around Mount Rainier and Colorado’s iconic Four Pass Loop in the Maroon Bells-Snowmass Wilderness. The Continental Divide Trail has always been the next chapter.

Why I’m Hiking Now

This hike comes at a meaningful point in my life.

Over the past decade, I’ve built careers in both craft brewing and real estate. Today, I’m proud to serve clients throughout Long Island’s North Shore with Douglas Elliman, helping buyers and sellers navigate some of the most important decisions of their lives.

Real estate is ultimately a relationship business. At its core, it’s about trust, communication, service, and helping people move confidently into the next chapter of their lives.

As I prepared for the CDT, I found myself reflecting on the privilege of being able to pursue a dream like this. I realized I wanted the hike to stand for something larger than a personal accomplishment.

That’s what led me to The Trevor Project.

Hiking for a Cause

This year, I’ll be raising funds for The Trevor Project, the leading suicide prevention and crisis intervention organization for LGBTQ+ young people.

I first learned about the organization in 2021. Having lost friends and family members to suicide, and as a gay man myself, their mission immediately resonated with me.

The Trevor Project provides free, 24/7 crisis support via phone, text, and chat to young people who may be struggling, feeling isolated, or in need of someone to talk to.

The outdoors have always been a place where I felt safe, grounded, and at peace. Not everyone has access to those same feelings of support and belonging. If this hike can help raise awareness, spark conversations, and generate support for an organization doing life-saving work, then every mile becomes more meaningful.

Life on the Trail

Unlike the Appalachian Trail, where towns are relatively accessible, the Continental Divide Trail is incredibly remote.

Most nights will be spent camping. Every week or so, I’ll hitchhike into a nearby town to resupply on food, do laundry, take a shower, and enjoy a hot meal before heading back into the wilderness.

Meals will consist largely of practical backpacking staples: tortillas, peanut butter, ramen, dehydrated meals, nuts, bars, and whatever else can survive days inside a backpack.

Some nights I’ll sleep in my tent. Other nights I’ll “cowboy camp”—sleeping directly under the stars without a shelter overhead.

My goal is to average approximately 25 miles per day, though the mileage will vary significantly depending on terrain, weather, and trail conditions. Starting in Glacier National Park means the first few weeks will likely be slower and more demanding before I settle into a rhythm.

What I Hope People Take Away

When people hear about a 3,100-mile hike, the first question is usually, “Why?”

The answer isn’t really about hiking.

It’s about pursuing something that matters. It’s about growth, resilience, and stepping into the unknown. It’s about discovering what you’re capable of when the path ahead is long and uncertain.

Most importantly, it’s about recognizing the impact we can have on one another.

Small acts of kindness matter. Encouragement matters. Community matters.

Whether it’s supporting a friend, mentoring a young person, checking in on someone who may be struggling, or contributing to a cause you believe in, those actions have the power to change lives.

If this journey inspires even a few people to lead with a little more empathy and intention, I’ll consider it a success long before I reach the Mexican border.

As I head west this summer, I’ll be sharing updates from the trail along the way. Thank you to everyone who has offered encouragement, support, and donations. I’m grateful to have you along for the journey.