Product Description
by Linda Bakkar (Author)
When Linda Bakkar lost her husband of forty-eight years, she had no idea how to move on. Her experiences on the Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) taught her how to live through her grief. She just had to take it one step at a time. This poignant memoir of love and loss details Bakkar's search for meaning and closure on the trail.
Bakkar had already hiked the PCT in 2012, but when her husband, Adnan, died in 2014, she returned to the place that had captivated her.
"Blue Butterfly," as she was called on the trail, wasn't completely prepared for the emotional highs and lows of her trek. As she ventured deeper into the wilderness, she was flooded with feelings of regret and sorrow.
Bakkar knew that Adnan would not want her to lose herself in grief. Instead, Bakkar honors her husband's memory by detailing the lessons he taught her about joy, compassion, and hope. On a journey of 1,200 miles, Bakkar learns how to live without her soul mate. Her poignant memoir shares a beautiful love story and celebrates the couple's life together.
Bakkar knows that this isn't the end of her adventures. She has to keep moving forward.
Author Biography
Linda Bakkar was born in Seattle, Washington, and has spent most of her life in the Pacific Northwest. She shared forty-eight years with her beloved husband, Adnan. The two met in college in Laramie, Wyoming, and went on to raise three sons.
As a young mother, Bakkar joined a group of women who hiked and climbed different mountains across the Pacific Northwest. Bakkar began writing about her amazing experiences to share with her elderly father, and several stories were published in local magazines.
Bakkar spent years hiking different sections of the Pacific Crest Trail. She completed the trail in 2012. When Adnan passed away from cancer in 2014, she returned to it once again.
Bakkar's work has been published in Chicken Soup for the Nature Lover's Soul and The Pacific Crest Trailside Reader, California. She lives in a log house in the Colorado mountains.
