AT Slideshow

Description:

Shots from my 2008 thru-hike. Most taken by myself, others were donated by friends I hiked with (namely, Enoch, EZ-Does It, Snap, and Sprout) to fill in gaps where I neglected to dig out my camera.

Music: Doobie Brothers "China Grove"
My Morning Jacket "I'm Amazed"
Rusted Root "Free My Soul"
Old Crow Medicine Show "Wagon Wheel"
The Who "My Generation"
Genesis "I Can't Dance"
Sheryl Crow "Love Is Free"
Bedouin Soundclash "When the Night Feels My Song"
Chris Knight "Go On Home"

Millinocket, ME

The morning dawned a cloudy day, yet almost balmy compared to the frigid mornings these few days past. Up early, with only day-packs, we climbed quickly up into those clouds. Seeing nothing but the rocks immediately surrounding us, we made our final ascent to that coveted peak, that longed-for symbol of completion: a weathered wooden sign standing awkwardly upon the boulders. There was no impediment in our minds, nor any distraction in our eyes, for there was nothing else to look at, nothing else to see. There was only a contracted world shrouded in fog but bursting with the bright glory of success. The chill, damp wind kept our celebrations shorter than one might have expected after so long a time spent in effort and anticipation, but our shouts and laughter were no less for it. We howled louder than the wind could, stood stronger than the mountain itself, for we were here; we had come to Katahdin as to a holy mountain and were found worthy by all the tests the long oddessey of the trail could throw at us. We each took our turn before the sign, standing above or kneeling before it, awash in a brew of emotions that no words nor even any tears could begin to express. We hardly understood them, knowing that time would take care of that; right then, it didn't matter. What mattered was that we were there. We were done. We were thru-hikers at last.

Monson, ME

One sunny spring day, which now seems so long ago, I took my first steps on the approach trail leading to the AT, beginning what would be a true oddeyssy of body, mind and spirit. It is over 2000 miles later, and I've made it to the final trail-town and resupply point: Monson, the doorstep of the hundred-mile wilderness. This will be my last entry until after I have summited Katahdin and become an official 2008 thru-hiker. How exciting!

Since my last entry in Andover, things have been going well. The terrain became significantly easier, and we continued having pretty good weather. We survived the remnants of Hannah quite easily; it rained steady all night, then stopped just after dawn, didn't even get wet. We did get soaked pretty bad the other day when the cold front moved through; cold indeed... the temperatures took a serious drop last night. This morning was frigid and it was hard to get out of the sleeping bag. Especially knowing we had a river to ford in just over 2 miles of easy terrain. But it wasn't too deep, and the freezing water had a rather invigorating effect more than anything. It's only the second ford so far (water levels have been low enough to rock-hop the rest) but I'm coming to enjoy them. Feels more adventurous, I guess. And anyways, I keep reminding myself that the discomforts never last. 20 minutes after we set out this morning, I was sweating.

Looking back at my previous entries, I see some real negetivity. I also see that it looks like I'm sort of dreading the end of this trek. Neither are true reflections of how I feel. For the first, I'm enjoying every day of this hike, only occasionally having hard days, usually just hard hours or minutes. Like I said, the discomforts are fleeting and the satisfactions of the trail are always there waiting; like the sun behind the clouds, it never stops shining even if I don't see it. As to the second, well, there are some things I'll hate to leave behind, but there are also reasons I'm happy it's almost over.

Things I'll miss: All my friends I met on the trail, especially my crew: Enoch, K-Bomb, and Orangedust (and her dog Bea), but also Neon, CC Rider, Freefall, Wookie, Mike, Old Buzzard, and many others. The open hours to do nothing but walk and think my own thoughts, uninfluenced by news, books, or anything else. The forest's peace, the mountains' beauty. Natural light and natural daily rhythms. Not having a job. Sitting on some mountain just enjoying the silence. Seeing moose (saw 2 a week ago, about 15 minutes apart) and other wildlife, even if only occasionally. The self-sufficiency and simplicity in that all I need is carried on my back. The best tasting water ever, free and flowing.

Reasons I want to finish: Seeing my parents, sister, and friends back home. All my music. Not having to hoist my broken, ill-fitting pack again and tackle what is often just ridiculous trail. Riding my bike. My body is tired of hiking. No more staring at trees all day. No more staring at trail all day. Gaining some weight back. Meals that need more than just adding boiling water. Fruits and vegetables, every day. Clean socks. Mongolian Barbeque. Being able to actually write down what I'm thinking instead of forgetting half of it.

So I guess I'm saying that I'm satisfied with what I've done, where I've been, and where I'm at. But I'm also ready to move on to new things; it's time to finish, to return home. But we do have plans after summiting and before I return home: we're going to rent a car and drive from Bangor to Asheville to see a friend we all met on the trail. She said we could crash at her house for a while. I figure I'll spend a few days there before heading back to Detroit. And then? I have no definite plans, really. But I do know one thing...

The West is next.

Andover, ME

I have successfully hiked from Georgia to Maine. Three days ago I entered the 14th and final state along the AT. Now it is largely a game of holding on, simply maintaining the forward momentum for the final 260ish miles remaining. The big pushes, the big mile days, are mainly over. We're all pretty well past our peak-hiking condition, the mountains have worn us down, and speaking for myself, my legs have no power left on those climbs. I can walk all day downhill, can cruise on the levels, but any incline at all and I'm struggling. I need rest and lots of food, and there's no time for it.

And what's it all for? 1900+ miles of hiking, and in what condition do I find myself? Ever fewer things in my pack, as I continually try to trim weight; ever less weight on my body as fat and muscle alike are metabolized into energy; ever less money in my bank; ever less desire to get a job when I finish, let alone a career; and finally, ever less a sense of belonging in the society, the American culture in which I find myself.

People have occasionally asked my fellow hikers and me if we have lots of deep philosophical thoughts while out there hiking in the wilderness of the mountains. Often we answer that it's just the opposite; even with all that time to think, you'd be surprised at the nonsense, the absolutely random thoughts that go through a hiker's mind. And while that's true, for myself at least, I have had a lot of important epiphanies and thoughts while out there. I've learned quite a bit about myself, had some good ideas. One is that I'm not really much of a loner after all; truth be told, I think a good part of my previous dissatisfaction and unhappiness in life were because I spent too much time alone.

But mainly it's a refinement, a sharpening of my certainty of things I already had a general feeling for. I've always sorta known, but have now become sure, that alcohol is not good for me; physically, mentally, emotionally, spiritually, and socially, it's just poison, I don't need it. I knew before that money and things didn't make me happy, but now I've lived it. I may miss music, or my bike, but 6 months without these things, and they've been the happiest times of my life... and I'm basically homeless out here!

That's actually something that's been on my mind a lot lately, now that I'm near the end of this journey. I had initially hoped that this trip would give me time and perspective on my old life so that I could make some decision about what to do with myself. Once underway on the hike, the sense of belonging, of doing what I was supposed to be doing, made me feel like I might actually make some progress in that. It was as if I was on the right course, and that some answers might at long last be found to the questions in my mind. But I'm almost done and this has not occurred.

I tend to believe in a spirituality of subtraction; that is, dropping one's baggage, letting go of things so that they can flow as they will...basically getting out of one's own way. And I seem to be getting rid of a lot of things, as I said above. The progress, of course, is partial, but I have been learning what it is I don't want in life, what I don't need; and I'm happy to have broken out of my old, stagnant life. But I'm still no closer to figuring out what it is I do want. It's clear to me that my goals in life are different from most people, even those I'm hiking with. Family and career aren't list-toppers. Having a family would be alright, of course, but I've never really been driven towards it. And really, a career is only worthwhile if you have loved ones to support; I don't think it makes sense to work my life away if I'm only doing it for myself. As long as I'm fed, it seems, I can be happy. This hike has taught me that much, so there's no real need for the settled, stable life as long as I'm single. I'd rather wander the mountains.

The problem is mainly that my needs and desires are often conflicting. For example, how can someone who wants to spend his nights out under star-filled skies, who wants to go get lost for a few months in some really wild mountains have the social interaction that he feels he needs to be happy?

Anyways, while all these things stew about in my mind, I'm still having a great time. Weather continues to be pretty good, the mountains have eased off in their ruggedness (the Mahoosuc Range was brutal, capped off by the crazy boulder field of Mahoosuc Notch where I nearly ended up as dead as the moose skeleton that resides down there. Took some tumbles, nearly broke my leg, but it was fun!). Right now I'm in a hostel in tiny Andover, watching U of M football! A slight sense of normalcy for a not so normal life, I guess. Gotta make my family back home proud!

Gorham, NH

Hello again from New Hampshire. Things have been going considerably better since I last updated. The weather broke, and we had sun every day but one through the White Mountains, which is good because we were above treeline for a few days and bad weather is REALLY bad up there. The one bad day was a great example of that; it was the day we traversed Franconia Ridge. After taking a zero-day in the woods the day before (I was puking my brains out, drank some bad water I think), we woke to rain. Well, by the time we made the climb up to the ridge, we were in the clouds and 60 mile per hour winds. You could see NOTHING and could hardly stand up to some of the gusts, it was very disappointing for me, since I'd been anticipating this ridge (said to be one of the most beautiful views on the AT) since I began hiking. I had the mountain in my sights for 4 days, and when I finally got to it all there was to see was fog. This has happened too many times on this hike, and it put me in a very sour mood.

But fortunately the weather the rest of the week was great, sunny, clear, and calm. Mount Washington was having the best weather of the year the day we climbed it, so we heard from some folks in the observatory club. The summit disgusted me, though. What was once a holy mountain to the Native Americans is now a parking lot/train station, with gift shop, museum, and deli/lunchroom, and a zoo of tourists. I knew it would be like that, but the reality is worse than the idea. I just wasn't prepared for it, I guess, and couldn't wait to hike off and back into the silence of the mountains again. I wasn't the only one; about an hour later, while KBomb and I were taking a break somewhere along the rest of the Presidential Ridge, he said "listen" and it took me a minute to realize that for the first time in a long time, there was no sound. No distant highway, no airplanes, no wind, not even any flies. It was just us and the naked rock around us, an utter stillness all the more stark and certain for having so recently been on the most touristy mountain I hope I'll ever encounter.

So, yes, I'm enjoying myself and this adventure far more. The work-for-stays at the AMC huts were nice too. The deal is this: a night's stay costs $89, but the AMC lets thru-hikers do odd jobs for our stay, given the lack of options available to us. One night we worked some compost for an hour, another time we swept up and folded some blankets. In return, we get to sleep in the dining room, and eat dinner and breakfast, in huge quantities of whatever is leftover from the guests. Not a bad deal. On the other hand, a few times we didn't want to work, and just stealth-camped. The day hiking over Washington was one of them; we got to Madison Springs Hut too tired to want to bother with work, so we went up on the ridge (above treeline) and slept in the most beautiful place I'd ever been in my life. The weather was perfect for a great sunset, excellent star-viewing, and a nice sunrise. It's the kind of camping I'd always dreamed about; and KBomb keeps telling me it's like that times ten in Colorado, so now I'm dead set to head west after I finish the AT; maybe I'll even do some sections of the PCT. I don't think I'll thru-hike it, or any other +1000 mi trail again, though. Too much need to push, you pass by too many things because of deadlines and such, which is not what hiking should be about.

So it turned out that Whites were not as impossible as I had been fearing. If there's one thing I've learned, it's not to believe the hype. You can always do the climbs, just as long as you keep putting one foot in front of the other, even if it is ridiculously steep. The mountains do have an end to them, there is a summit somewhere, you don't have to climb forever. It's like I said before, you can't worry about what's coming, just about where you are: there, it isn't a 3500 foot ascent, it's just another step, and that is always doable.

Still, those climbs did take a toll. We're all pretty damn tired, and are taking today as a zero here in Gorham. Heading down the 8 miles into town the other day, my legs were so wobbly and weak I didn't know that I'd make it in; I kept falling and slipping on the wet rocks, and just generally felt like shit. We were going to keep going today, but we all realized that this terrain is so rugged, and will continue to be so for some time, that we should rest up, refuel and regroup before moving on. We'll be in Maine in 2 days, and though the Whites are officially behind us, the trail will not get much easier for probably 100 or more miles.

On the plus-side, being out of the AMC areas, we'll save money: no more paying $8 for the lean-to shelters/campsites we've been staying at for free all along, no more opportunties at huts to buy food. Now it is only the trees, lakes, and mountains of Maine that await us, and I couldn't be happier.

Glencliff, NH

Just a brief update here. The rain and mud have NOT stopped. If anything it's worse, because it's getting kinda cold up in the higher elevations. We did a 7 mile day yesterday because I was feeling kinda sick, then we both got wet and it was freezing. I just laid in my sleeping bag all day, shivering, trying to dry off and eventually warm up. Took a couple hours but I eventually did. Thank God the shelter up on that mountain was a four-walled cabin, an ancient fire warden's tower, kinda crummy but kept the wind out.

We had, by this point, lost Enoch and Orangedust (a new-ish addition to our group whom I may not have mentioned. She's cool as hell, and has a little dog with her too, lots of fun). Enoch turned his ankle, apparently, and got into town to rest it. Took us a day to learn this; all we knew was that they never showed up at the shelter the night before. We've since learned, via voicemail-tag and from other hikers, and now from his facebook, that he's made it into town and is looking to do low miles, or maybe take some time off.

Anyways, today I was feeling great, and have renewed my resolve to continue. Despite horrid trail conditions, my mood was pretty good all day. But KBomb's feet, thanks to the constant wet, began to get pretty chafed, and mine weren't doing a whole lot better, so when we hit a road, we decided to hitch into town. Then this guy in a truck driving by just pulled up to where we were sitting (we had not started hitching yet, just snacking and looking at options), and offered us a ride! It's one of those things where you know it was meant to be. When he dropped us off, he gave us $20 bucks too! Best hitch ever!

So we're at the hostel here, just chillin, watching TV and having dry feet. You people back home do not appreciate enough the feeling of dry socks. You just have no idea...

Hanover, NH

Made it into New Hampshire today! I have to admit, Vermont was a pretty hard state for us; if we though Marsh-achusetts (yeah, it's been officially renamed) was muddy and wet, we had no idea about Vermont (Vermud). A more poorly constructed trail I could not imagine, and as the first 97 miles were also the Long Trail, overused as well. Erosion, widening around mud puddles (muddles?) and often just water flowing down the trail... I have to admit, it hasn't been a ton of fun.

In fact, lately it's been feeling more like work than anything, especially with the mountains being "steeper and deeper" ever since Mt Greylock. The uphills are always a challenge for me, and the rain, mud, and a possible intestinal bug have not helped. I told myself, following a fellow hiker's plan, that if I felt like getting off trail for 7 days in a row, I would. I almost made it there this last week, even with the zero-day in Killington. I recouperated pretty well there, our room was a suite and had a TV, fireplace, and was generally very homey, not to mention right next door to the best Irish pub on the trail, and maybe the best I've ever been to. Great food, great times. But it hardly helped my mood improve. As soon as i started hiking again the next day I was depressed and not into it again.

Yesterday was better. I brought back some controlled breathing habits to help me on the climbs which has helped a lot, takes the focus off the pain and exhaustion and puts it solely on the breath; the mud was also less, even with the on-and-off rain all day. Walking through fields of waist high, sometimes shoulder high grass/foliage during or after a rain sucks, you might as well jump in a lake. My feet got soaked again; they've been soaked for days and days, thats actually a big part of my down mood. Your feet are your base, and when the base is troubled, all of you is. I may be moving towards getting trench foot; whatever's going on down there, it hurts.

No, it's not all bad, and I'm sorry to be filling this blog up with negetivity. My friends have been great, we all suffer together and we all bring each other up when it's needed. Thank God this trail is as social a thing as it is; I doubt I could do this alone, if only from sheer boredom. It will suck saying good bye to them when this is over. That's part of why I'm depressed lately, thinking about the end of this hike, and all that goes with it. It's far better, I find, to not think ahead too much, to stick with the present. The future takes care of itself, and when you're not focused on what's in front of you, you just get stressed out. One cool thing is that we may do a road trip after Katahdin to North Carolina to see a friend who's gotten off trail, or maybe farther. So there may be something good waiting for me there.

Oh yeah, I forgot to mention that even hiking I still almost got hit by a car. I guess parts of VT are NOT hiker friendly. On some dirt road in the middle of nowhere, and old lady swerved TOWARDS me and KBomb. She passed maybe a foot away from us; I couldn't even react, my mind couldn't process it... I couldn't even jump out of the way, all I could do was turn around and watch her drive away, totally amazed, like, what the fuck just happened?

Well, I'm updating here at the pizza shop, and our order is up, so I gotta go. I've got the White Mountains almost in my sights, preparing for the challenge, excited for the views, and hoping, praying, begging for no more rain.