Gin
Falling forward into great unknowns!
I’m a 24 year old woman who got hooked on the idea of walking across America after randomly wondering how I would survive being homeless if, by some twist of fate, I got kicked out by my parents as a kid.
“Well, I would want to make an adventure out of it,” I surmised, “walk every day, always somewhere new…” That line of thought quickly spiraled out of control, morphed into this crackpot dream of crossing the entire country on foot after I graduated high school.
And as of December 9th, 2019, I am the youngest woman to have walked across America solo! Since then, I have cycled and ridden on horseback across the U.S., as well as kayaked the Yukon River.
Outside of adventuring, I enjoy fangirling over books, getting too lost in my thoughts or a good indie-folk song, fostering kittens with my local shelter, and playing in the creek. One day I hope to build my own home in the countryside with land to roam. Until then, I’m slowly chipping away at community college classes, hoping to one day apply to vet school for all of my great little loves, to whom my heart is devoted.
🐀🐦 🐈🐕
“I don’t know about her. I mean she never leaves her bedroom and her only friend is a rat!” — my grandmother fretting about my prospects in life when I was 16
CONTACT
ginandfaith@gmail.com
Gin Szagola
Finley (#7184)
My all-American wonder of a horse who I rode across the U.S. A 125 dollar, 6 year old, 14.2 hand mustang gelding from Palomino Butte, OR. I chose him fresh-off-the-range based off a single photo and, 110 days later, we set off on our journey!
He has come a long way from the wild horse he once was, scared of every unknown, from my touch to his own reflection. With a beautiful, well defined conformation, hardy bare hooves, a flowing forelock and smooth gaits, he is very much the pretty one in the relationship, haha. His plodding pace and affinity for snatching at grass in between steps mirrors my own lazy, potato chip munching ways, which is hard to fault. Especially when he is otherwise noble, and stoic, with a raptor-sharp eye and maturity beyond his years. (Okay, occasionally he’s a butt, but aren’t we all?)
He understands that life on the road means that our home is our heart, that we must seek the sanctuary of each other.
Finley was the best partner I could have asked for, and remains forever in my life. With the journey over, he now resides with friends on an idyllic island in the Pacific Northwest, relaxing out to pasture without a worry in the world. He may have developed a dad bod.
Faith
My bright orange, three-wheeled, googly-eyed companion on my walk across America. The one who started it all. She liked to complain about her weight when carrying more gear than usual. Loved posing for photos. Hated hills, rough terrain, doors she couldn’t fit through, going up or down stairs, and the raccoon that vandalized her that one time. People enjoyed calling the cops on me for “walking with a baby down the highway” in her company.
Living on the road, it would always shock me to remember that — I’m alone out here — as I never did feel that way with Faith by my side.
Since dipping her tires into the Pacific Ocean, she has been happily retired. Rest easy, Faith.
Salvation “Sal”
My touring bike extraordinaire, a 2008 model Trek 520 I bought off Craigslist and cycled the Southern and Northern tier of the U.S. with. (I never could decide whether to call Sal a “he” or a “she,” a timeless identity crisis!)
I learned to love, err, his bar end shifters and v brakes. Not so much his flat tires or jumping gears. We traveled together long enough for his paint to chip, and for his brakes to fail, pads worn to nubs, with his chain liable to jump off its cassette entirely when shifting too abruptly into 1st gear … or 2nd gear … or 3rd gear …
But that’s what a touring bike is made to do, to live. Really live! He’s collecting dust in my grandparent’s garage at the moment but, who knows, maybe he would like to roll through foreign lands yet. Well, unless I meet a Surly Disc Trucker first.
