My AT Section hike is in the books! All it took was one third of my life to hike the 2,197 mile Appalachian Trail.
It took Jen 46 days. It took me 13 years. Lucky number 13. :-) Actually, it occurred to me after I finished that it really took me 18. That’s because the only time I climbed Katahdin was two days after Jen’s and my honeymoon ended, way back in 2008 when she began her women’s Fastest Known Time (FKT).
It seems fitting that I would have knocked out my very first section when Jen and I were starting our life together.
So, how would I describe my section hike? There were ups and downs. Literally, of course, and also figuratively. Most of the time I was hiking out of season so interactions with other hikers were few and far between. That is a huge part of the trail experience and something I sorely missed.
Sometimes I would go days without seeing another living soul, except for the squirrels, chipmunks, and chickadees. On that subject, animals were always a highlight- beavers, lots of deer, a timber rattler in Pennsylvania, another in New Jersey basking on the rocks at an overlook, banded water snakes at the creeks, cows in Virginia pastures.
My favorite encounter was with a mama bear and a cub who I got to watch for eight or 10 minutes. They were playing at the base of a tree 30 yards away and didn’t even know I was there. I felt like an Appalachian Jane Goodall.
WHAT DID I DO?
Most days I hiked big miles- at least by my standards. Typically in the 20s. A couple of times when I wanted to push myself and switch into ultramarathon mode, I got up into the 40s. Then there were stretches in the White Mountains and Maine where I did 17 or 18 but it felt like twice as much. It’s all relative.
And it’s all relentless. Jen has always says “the trail’s not going to change so you have to.” That’s 100% true. You will think you’re going to get a downhill and it keeps going uphill. You will beg for a break in the rain and it won’t come. You just have to shift entirely your expectations and what you care about. If you don’t, you’re going to be unhappy, and who wants to spend their time doing that? The trail is a great teacher. And it encourages you to look on the bright side and think positively.
I had great visits with friends in Pennsylvania, New Hampshire, Virginia, and New York. Occasionally, I got to hike or trail run with them. Those days were always highlights, just having someone to talk to.
Mostly I just had a lot of time with my thoughts. So I prayed. Or sang. Or just walked along. It always gave to be talking out loud to myself or singing when I came upon the rare human after walking alone for 3 or 4 hours.
STRIKING A BALANCE
I’m a songwriter so I also worked on songs, too. One of them is called “I Can’t Let You Go” and is about civilization.
I was on a ridge near Palmerton, PA, tripping through the rocks, when I looked down and saw the interstate three or four miles away. I love being by myself, but I also love human interaction, a balance of yin and yang.
The farmer poet/prophet Wendell Berry who just passed away recently spent a lot of time writing about community. The world, more than ever, can isolate us. We need each other. Real “each others,” not faces or voices on our laptops.
That’s the biggest take away from my hike… that we need balance. Most of us get more than enough of civilization; spending a little extra time outdoors would be good for us.
I was hiking near Albert Mountain in north Georgia several years ago in late April when I came across thousands of trillium. They swept up the mountainside and kept going on, up and over the ridge.
Most of us see hundreds of cars every day in rush hour traffic. Not enough of us see wild flowers.
WHAT’S NEXT?
I’ve already started thinking about my next adventures. The Appalachian Mountains get a lot of attention- at times (ie, mining) too much for their own good.
There are ranges out West that go weeks within feeling human feet. I want to go out there to Nevada, Idaho, New Mexico and Oregon, and show them some love. Sometimes when we’re hiking with the kids, we’ll walk up to a big tree and just start patting it’s bark and say “you’re doing great, keep it up.” Just a word of encouraging for the life givers. I want to do the same for those mountains. They are underappreciated but they are out there rocking it (no pun intended), just doing their thing, being beautiful, waiting for someone to notice them filling their niche in creation.
WHAT I LOVE AND WHAT’S NEXT
I doubt I will hike the entire trail again. Maybe someday Gus will want to do it, if nothing else just so he doesn’t have to shower for five months. :-)
Jen would probably want to go with him. At this point I’d be more inclined to pick my spots or support them along the way like I did on Jen’s FKTs (fastest known times). Charley would probably come with us. She likes showers too much. But I would want to do Katahdin again, Franconia Ridge, parts of Virginia, definitely Grayson Highlands, the Smokies, stretches of North Georgia, Connecticut. Shoot, maybe I will hike it again. Haha.
People often ask Jen what her favorite section of the trail was. She usually says Connecticut because it has such a diverse landscape in only 50 miles.
I’m not sure what I would say. I would probably fudge and say “wherever I was hiking with friends.” I spent so much time on my own. Absolute quiet for six or eight or ten days is a radical departure from the noise of our family. And the silence was something I wasn’t always comfortable with.
I can’t let civilization go. But just as much, I know I can never let the wilderness go, either. I am already looking forward to hiking other trails. Section hiking the PCT and CDT. Knocking out the Long Trail, Superior Hiking Trail, Ouachita, Pinhoti, Arizona, Centennial in South Dakota, there are so… many… trails! I can’t wait. I also can’t wait to hike with my friend Dan (we’ve been scheming already) and to take it easier, with less pressure to knock it out quickly and max out on the miles.
FINAL THOUGHTS
But for now, I want to say… Thank you, Appalachian Trail, for giving me time to think, sing, pray, and write. Thank you for the views, big and small. Epic grandeur, tiny whimsy. Thank you for being there, available to any and all whenever we want or need you.
I finished the last big chunk of my section hike at Harper‘s Ferry, but saved 7.9 miles between Newfound Gap and Kuwohi (Clingman’s Dome) to finish at the high point of the trail. That’s right, even higher than Mount Washington :-)
I also finished at Kuwohi (which means “Mulberry Place” in Cherokee) because it’s on the border of North Carolina and Tennessee, the two states I’ve called home for 46 of my 48 years of life. Even on my very last day, I was mesmerized by how thick and beautiful the forest was above 6,000 feet and how I saw a type of moss I’d never seen before.
I’m happy to be finished and want to circle around to the beginning when I was supporting Jen way back in 2008.
Thank you, little Jen, for supporting me all these years, allowing me get away for a few days or weeks at a time to knock this out.
We used to joke that I wasn’t going to quantify my supporting her on her two FKTs… because I wanted to hold it over her head forever so the debt would never run out. Well, after Jen supporting my adventure for 13 (18?) years, I think it’s time to say… “Honey, we can call it even.”
