Walking from mexico to san francisco

Part 1

I’m writing this on March 29,  about a year after I began my journey. Ever since I finished, I’ve reflected on all the people and places I saw. I didn’t journal my trip daily, but I did record a video for each day that I posted on my channels. I’m excited to organize all of my memories and thoughts in this space. I hope this story inspires you to never give up and to chase your dreams.

For many years before I started my channel, I watched countless YouTubers who traveled and explored the world. Some did it in their cars or vans, others on bikes, and some were even walking. The idea of leaving your life behind and going on an epic adventure was always appealing to me. The truth is, I had no real experience.

The most I had done was take a few camping trips when I lived in Colorado. I remember buying a massive backpack years ago and telling myself, “One day I’ll pack it full and start an epic adventure.” I had that backpack for years. I mostly used it on flights as a checked bag or for local camping trips, taking advantage of the space by adding extra pillows and blankets for comfort.

Gradually, I started getting more gear—headlamps, water filters, a rocket stove, a tent, and a sleeping pad. Before I knew it, I had assembled a pretty solid pack, but I still hadn’t truly put it to the test on an actual backpacking trip.

After being in California for over a year, going wherever my followers told me, I had covered most of the state on my adventures. I would get in my car, load up coordinates, and hit the road. It was incredible seeing all of the nature California has to offer.

On one road trip, I remember seeing some distant spots near a mountain that I would have loved to explore, but I was in a rush to get to my next destination. In that moment, I realized something—I hadn’t actually seen California. I had driven through it, but I hadn’t slowed down enough to truly experience it.

That realization led to an idea. I was going to walk from the border of Mexico all the way to Canada on the Pacific Crest Trail.

After doing some research, I was disappointed to find out I couldn’t just walk the trail. There was a permit required, and the only way to get it was through a limited application window and a lottery system. That bothered me. If I want to hike on a trail, why do I need to win a lottery to do it?

For a moment, it felt like the plan was over before it even started.

But I couldn’t let it go. I stayed up late studying maps of California and eventually came up with a new plan. I was going to walk from the border of Mexico to the border of Oregon. I was already familiar with parts of the coastline from San Diego up to Ragged Point, and I figured it couldn’t be that hard.

I spent countless hours mapping out a route, planning my gear, and figuring out how I would sustain myself. Then, about two weeks before my start date, I had another realization. Walking all the way to Oregon was going to be incredibly difficult, and I had no real understanding of what was beyond Point Reyes. The lack of stores and resources along that stretch made me reconsider everything one last time.

That’s when I decided to end my journey at the Golden Gate Bridge.

Growing up in Florida, I remember seeing the Golden Gate Bridge in movies and TV shows. It felt like a symbol of another world I had never experienced, and it always piqued my interest. After doing the math, I realized this version of the walk would still be over 500 miles. My original plan was closer to 900. Knowing I had cut it down gave me confidence that I could actually finish.

I tried to think through every possible scenario—running out of food, running out of water, losing signal. I even mapped out gas stations along remote stretches of the route. At some point, it stopped feeling impossible. I actually believed I could complete it.

I packed my bag and bought a one-way bus ticket to the San Ysidro border. I arrived on February 18, 2025, in the evening. The bus ride was exciting. I was finally about to begin the adventure I had been thinking about for years.

But the moment I got off the bus, reality hit.

I was alone, at the border of Mexico, carrying 43 pounds on my back.

I felt a sense of urgency to get moving immediately and cover as much ground as I could on the first night. I remember thinking to myself, “I’m actually doing this,” and it felt incredible.

Before this challenge, I felt like I had a pattern of starting things and not finishing them. I would dream big, go all in for a short time, and then fall off when things got difficult. I hated that about myself. More than anything, I wanted to prove that I wasn’t a quitter.

After just a few miles, I already had blisters forming on my toes. In that moment, I made a decision—no matter what happens or how long it takes, I’m not quitting. There was no backing down. I asked for this, and I’m going to get exactly what I asked for.

That first night, I found a random vacant lot near downtown San Diego, hopped a fence, and set up my tent.

Day 2 was the hardest day of the entire trip. I had overpacked, my bag was too heavy, and I had done no conditioning or training. I was unfamiliar with backpacking and wasn’t properly hydrated. The sun was beating down on me as I walked through downtown San Diego. I felt exhausted and knew I needed food.

I went into a restaurant, but something felt off. I started having hot flashes and had to step outside to cool down. I felt like I was going to pass out. I stayed there for over an hour trying to figure out what I was going to do.

In moments like that, I rely heavily on my faith. I remember asking God to protect me and guide me.

Eventually, I left and made my way toward Balboa Park. I climbed down from a bridge and found a flat spot under a freeway overpass where I set up my tent. I had never felt that level of exhaustion or dehydration before, and I only had a small amount of water left.

When I woke up around 4 AM, I was desperate. I didn’t care about the route anymore—I just needed water. I walked for over 45 minutes and found a 7-Eleven, but it was closed. I couldn’t believe it. Then I realized that if I had stayed on my route, I might have passed one that was open.

Thankfully, it was still dark and the sun hadn’t come up yet. I kept going and eventually found an open store. I chugged two electrolyte drinks and bought several bottles of water. That moment saved me.

Later that day, my friend Phil from Sacramento met up with me. We hung out, and I decided to cut 13 pounds from my pack. He took the extra gear and agreed to get it back to me after the journey. That moment lifted my spirits, and with a lighter pack, I felt much more confident moving forward.

I kept going with one goal in mind—get to the coast. If I could make it to the beach, I knew I could walk from San Diego to Los Angeles. I had driven that route before and knew there were plenty of towns and resources. I just needed to get there.

Eventually, I crossed a few bridges and ended up near Mission Beach Boardwalk. Being on the coast brought a huge sense of relief. I wasn’t worried about water anymore, and I found a beach shower to clean off.

I reached out to my friend Ozzy, who lived nearby, and he told me he’d come find me. Later that day, he showed up with his fiancée. They brought Gatorade, food, moleskin for my blisters, and Neosporin. It meant a lot. The moleskin made a huge difference, and I could finally walk more comfortably.

Seeing familiar faces that early on, especially during the hardest part of the trip, gave me confidence that I was going to finish this. I want to thank Ozzy and Ras for their kindness and support.

As I continued along the sand, I realized I was entering familiar territory. I was approaching La Jolla, a place I had spent time before. Moments like that made the hike feel easier. I had made it through the hardest early days, my pack was lighter, and I had support. From there to Los Angeles, I could stay along the coast and near resources.

As the day went on, the portable charger my mom gave me dropped and broke. I was devastated and started to panic. Aside from the dehydration scare, this was the first real setback.

I searched for electronics nearby and found a store a few miles inland. I was frustrated that I had to leave the coast just to fix the problem. Then I got a call from John, a jeweler from Sacramento who had supported me before. After I told him where I was, he booked me a hotel room so I could rest, shower, and charge my phone. He also sent a delivery with a charger and supplies.

I was overwhelmed. For three days straight, the kindness of others carried me forward. I shared the moment online, and the response was incredible. Donations came in and completely changed my situation. It guaranteed that I would be able to finish the journey. I’m grateful to everyone who supported me.

The next morning, I felt stronger than ever. I bought a new pair of sandals, which made a huge difference. My feet could breathe, and walking became much easier. I left Cardiff and made my way to Oceanside, where I was greeted by followers at the pier. The people I met there were amazing, and that night we all gathered at the pier.

That’s when I realized I had a problem.

The coastal route was blocked by a military base.

When I started this journey, I wanted to do the entire walk without using wheels. I spent the next day trying to find a way around the base without breaking that rule. I even tried to find someone with a boat to take me around it.

Nothing worked.

I went to the train station and considered taking the train, but I missed it. Feeling the pressure, I made the decision to keep going and took an Uber 18 miles past the base.

I was disappointed in myself during that ride. It felt like I had cheated. But I had to move forward. I thought about how far I had already come and how much further I still had to go, and I let it go.

Looking back, I still wish I had walked that stretch, but I can’t change it.

I reset mentally, grabbed some food, and made my way back to the coast in San Clemente. The sunset that evening was incredible. A follower even sent me a video from the bluffs, zoomed in on me walking along the beach.

Later, I met Brock, a local with great energy, and we watched the sunset from above the coastline. That night, I walked as far as I could and found a coastal access point south of Dana Point to camp.

By then, I had completed one full week on the journey.

On Day 7, I headed toward Dana Point to check something off my bucket list—Catalina Island. For years, I only knew Catalina from the “Catalina Wine Mixer,” and I thought it was near Napa. I had no idea there were islands off the Southern California coast until a few weeks before the trip.

I watched videos about the island and was excited to see it in person. I came up with what I thought was a clever loophole. I would take a ferry to Catalina, then another to Long Beach.

I got on the ferry and arrived on the island. It felt like another country. A thick fog covered everything at first, and you couldn’t see the mountains. I walked around, rested, and had a big meal.

Later in the afternoon, the sky cleared and the mountains came into view. It was beautiful, and for a moment I didn’t want to leave. But I had to keep going.

I took the ferry to Long Beach, where a follower named Sophia offered me a place to stay and cooked me a meal. I got a full night of rest.

On Day 8, I left her neighborhood and started walking back toward the coast. It was a hot day, and the walk felt endless. I started early, but by sunset I still hadn’t made it to the ocean.

I stopped at an REI to resupply, then kept going. Eventually, I reached the beach near LAX. There were signs saying no camping, but I was exhausted and took my chances.

I woke up to planes overhead and waves crashing. My tent was soaked from the ocean mist. I packed up quickly and moved to a nearby coffee shop to dry my gear.

Day 9 felt lighter. I knew I was approaching Venice Beach and was excited to finally explore it. That night, a follower named Riley offered me a place to stay. I rested, and the next day we grabbed breakfast and spent some time together.

I decided to take a rest day and camped at a spot I had saved near Santa Monica.

The next morning, I was told I wouldn’t be able to continue along the coast due to a massive fire that had destroyed much of Malibu. I approached the National Guard, who told me I wasn’t allowed through. One of them said I could walk along the shore, but not the road unless I was a resident.

I continued forward and was hit with the reality of the destruction. The coastline was empty, and all that remained were burned structures and debris. It was one of the most devastating things I had seen.

I was eventually stopped and told to turn around, but a highway patrol officer approached me, heard my story, and offered to escort me through the area. He dropped me off past the checkpoint.

I continued walking through Malibu in shock. It was a reminder that no matter how prepared you are, nature can be unforgiving.

As I moved north, I passed Pepperdine University, a place I recognized. It felt grounding to see something familiar.

Up until that point, most of my walk had been through cities and busy coastal areas. After Malibu, that changed.

I realized I was entering a different phase of the journey. I would need to plan every move carefully to avoid running out of food and water.

That night, I looked up and saw a sky full of stars for the first time on the trip.

I had officially left the city behind.

Part 2 - (coming soon)