CARRIE

Not in a loud or performative way, but in a way that feels rare on trails these days. Where so many people move with intensity—heads down, goals fixed—Carrie brings something lighter. A sense of play. A willingness to slow down and actually be where she is.

It was cold when we met on the trail. Snow clung to the trees, the kind that softens everything it touches. Carrie didn’t rush past it. She noticed it. She stopped to look at icicles forming along branches, jumped into big snow piles without hesitation, laughed easily, and paid attention to the small details most people miss. The trail felt warmer because of her presence. It didn’t feel like hiking with a stranger.

It felt like walking with a friend I’d known for a long time.

That sense of ease didn’t come from nowhere. Carrie has lived through enough to know how precious lightness can be. Growing up in southern Louisiana, the outdoors was always part of her life—something woven into her bones. Family trips to places like the Grand Canyon, Niagara Falls, and Pike’s Peak taught her how to explore and how to see.

Later, adulthood narrowed that world. Career. Expectations. The American Dream. Living in Dallas, the outdoors faded into the background as life became louder and more demanding. Then trauma arrived in waves—a devastating car accident, failed IVF, isolation during lockdowns. The concrete closed in. The noise grew heavier.

When Carrie and her husband moved to Salt Lake City in 2022, it wasn’t about chasing adventure. It was about survival. About breathing again. About finding space where none existed before.

The outdoors became that space. At first, it wasn’t about pushing limits or logging miles. It was about permission. Permission to exist without performing. To step away from urgency. To listen again.

On the trail, Carrie moves at her own pace. She slows down for sunlight hitting snow-covered branches, for water dripping from leaves, for the way ice forms and melts. She isn’t trying to conquer anything. She’s paying attention. Respecting what’s around her. Honoring the moment she’s in.

That shift in perception—born from trauma, healing, and intention—changed everything. Since moving to Utah, Carrie lost over 100 pounds simply by being outside and enjoying the trails. More importantly, she found herself again. Creativity returned. Energy followed.

In 2023, she hiked Mount Timpanogos for the first time. Something she never believed she was capable of. That moment didn’t just change how she saw herself—it changed what she wanted to offer others. She created Girls Only Adventure Trips (GOAT) to help women find friendship, confidence, and space in the outdoors. Not through intimidation. Through invitation.

Carrie respects the trail deeply—enough to turn her passion into community. Enough to help others see the outdoors the way she does: accessible, joyful, grounding. A place to reconnect in a busy, overwhelming world.

Walking alongside her, it was clear why this matters. Carrie doesn’t take the outdoors lightly. She takes it honestly. With playfulness. With reverence. With presence.

She reminds you that exploration doesn’t have to be serious to be meaningful.

That noticing is its own kind of strength.

And that joy, when chosen intentionally, can be transformational.

This is Spirit of the Moment.