Protect the Hinterlands! 414 miles for the BWCA

🥾 414 Miles for the Boundary Waters 🚣

There was a time in my life when I didn’t think of the Boundary Waters as a sanctuary.

I’ve been to this wilderness a few times—mostly as a kid and teenager. I remember one trip with my family and our close friends during a year plagued by green army worms. We were totally grossed out—until my dad turned it into a game to see how far we could make their guts fly. That same trip also involved dangerously high winds and a moment when our three canoes got separated trying to cross a lake. It was all chaos and hysterics until we reunited hours later, soaked and shaken.

Another trip came with my high school youth group. Imagine taking 15–20 teenagers into the wilderness—some who’d never held a paddle. Between mile-long portages, sun-melted GORP (mostly sticky candy), and forgetting an entire set of tent poles, it’s a miracle we all made it out in one piece. Back then, I wasn’t eager to return. The Boundary Waters was more challenge than charm.

But something changed in my twenties. After college, I moved to Crested Butte, Colorado—a Rocky Mountain paradise with endless hiking trails and backcountry to explore. It was there that I truly discovered a love for wild, remote spaces. I met Megan, my now-wife, who shared that same love. And it was her bold idea that set us off on an even bigger adventure: a thru-hike of the 2,182-mile Appalachian Trail.

We had no real backpacking experience—just optimism and the blind confidence of two people who didn’t yet know how hard it would be. Within hours of starting, we were wrecked. That first night, Megan did the math on how long it would take to reach Maine at our pace. The answer was… grim. But somehow, five and a half months later, we stood at Mount Katahdin, the trail’s northern terminus.

We finished not because we were fast or strong, but because we were stubborn—and because we couldn’t find a good enough reason to quit. That experience changed me. It taught me that impossible things become possible one step at a time.

Shortly after finishing the trail, my best friend called with an unexpected offer: join him in making a TV series about the National Parks. Another wild chance I hadn’t dreamed of—but I said yes. For the next few years, I traveled across the country and world to film in some of the planet’s most stunning places: Gates of the Arctic, Hawai’i Volcanoes, Bears Ears, Jasper, Katmai, Seoraksan in South Korea, and many more. I developed a reverence for wild land but I saw how easily it can be lost—and how fiercely it must be protected.

Megan and I eventually got married, and as a symbol of how central wilderness has become to our lives, we changed our last names to Hinterland, a word synonymous with “remote, backcountry.” It’s not just a name. It’s who we are and a place of sanctuary. 

And now, it’s brought me back to the Boundary Waters. Not reluctantly, as a teen—but intentionally, as an adult who understands just how rare and vital this place is.

Why I’m Hiking 414 Miles

The Boundary Waters is America’s most visited wilderness area—and one of the most threatened. Proposed sulfide-ore copper mining on its doorstep risks poisoning an interconnected watershed that cannot be repaired once damaged.

That’s why I’m supporting Save the Boundary Waters, the leading campaign fighting to permanently protect this fragile ecosystem. They’re working through science, policy, and legal efforts to ensure future generations can experience what I did—both the hard parts and the beautiful ones.

To raise funds and awareness, I’m committing to hike 100 miles for every $1,000 donated, up to 414 miles total.

The route will take me across three of Minnesota’s most iconic trails:

• The Kekekabic Trail, deep in the BWCAW backcountry

• The Border Route Trail, tracing the Canadian border

• The Superior Hiking Trail, stretching along Lake Superior’s North Shore

This will be one of the toughest physical challenges I’ve done since the AT. But I’m walking for something bigger than myself. I’m walking because places like the Boundary Waters don’t have a voice—unless we speak (and act) for them.

How You Can Help

Every dollar brings me one step closer to the trail—and brings us all closer to protecting this irreplaceable wilderness. Whether you donate $10 or $1,000, you’re helping fund the work that ensures the Boundary Waters stays wild.

If we hit the full $4,140 goal, I’ll hike all 414 miles and share the journey through stories, photos, and updates from the trail.

Let’s protect the silence, the wild, and the wonder. Let’s make every mile count.

Donate today—and help save the Boundary Waters.