I’m not sure how the fascination started: a twenty-two-thousand-mile trek from Georgia to Maine, in 6 months. To hike through the Appalachian Mountains from one side of the country to another, for the sheer experience. Not necessarily pleasure, that is. Anyone I’ve spoken to about their track (or read about online, or bought a copy of their book) have explicitly told me that the track is absolute misery sprinkled in with a few instances of ecstasy, mostly brought about by reflection after the event itself. Regardless, completing a thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail struck me as the most absolute urgent matter that I needed to attempt, simply for the sake of doing it.
And so I attempted. For an entire year, I worked to save enough money to support myself on the hike, got the gear, pushed myself to become as physically capable as I could (short of actually hiking 2200 miles!), read everything I could get my hands on, completed an entire semester of independent studies so I could stay on track for graduation (thanks for being so rad, College of Liberal Arts!), and ceaselessly explained to my dad that I promised I would be fine and no I would not be carrying a gun. I quit my job, turned in my final paper, and changed the oil in my truck to take off for Springer Mountain- the southernmost terminal of the trail where the bottleneck of hikers end up come spring time.
But three days before I was set to leave, I got a phone call- I was accepted to work for the Park Service and I would be starting in two weeks. I was both elated because I was going to work my dream job and dejected because I knew my hike would be postponed indefinitely. But I wasn’t starting for a while, so I jumped in my truck with my ill-prepared friend and went anyway. For the next few days, we suffered rain, thunderstorms, stale Cliff Bars, instant coffee, and met a large hob-nob group of hikers who showed us kindness, understanding, and helped us when we needed it most. Shout out to the 8 hikers who made room at the first shelter before springer and made sure we had warm clothes after hiking in the rain for 7 hours- you guys saved us from ourselves.
(pre-misery)
But sitting here, staring at my computer screen, I realize
this dream is not something that has been deterred in the slightest. If
anything, I look forward to it more knowing that the social aspect of the trail
is a reliable means of support and kindness, both to give and to receive while
also knowing that everyone I’ve met who has completed a thru-hike has told me
that it is one of the most memorable, lively experiences of their lives. Looking
back, this may be one of the infinite number of ways that we might find eudaimonia: fulfillment through the act
of living, even when hit the fan or are not particularly pleasant. In this
case, I can’t see ‘happy’ as being the right word to use- because hypothermia
and cold oatmeal kinda suck.
This is excellent! I had no idea that you had attempted part of the AT or had dreams about completing it. I personally would love to do the Pacific Crest Trail, mostly because I've never visited the west coast and that part of the country in general, and it's incredibly alluring.
ReplyDeleteThe only experience that I have that can relate to this is when I went backpacking around some of Europe and Nepal for a 6 month trip. Travelling has always been, and still is, a huge passion of mine, and that was my first taste of doing in a in a solo, minimalist fashion. I fell in love with it. I would've done it differently now that I'm done with it (I planned WAAAAY too much in advance - it needed much more spontaneity). But that kind of way of life, none the less, does lead to a sort of eudaimonia. I felt incredibly fulfilled by having gone out there and lived the experience that I had dreamed of living for so long. And believe me, I know it when 'happy' isn't the right word either. There were good times, there were bad and sad times, and then there were downright scary time. But throughout the whole adventure, I was having the time of my life. No regrets (except the spontaneity - but lesson learned for next time)!
A dream deferred is NOT a dream denied. Perseverance is one of the habits of happy people, for sure, and anticipation one of its rewards. Happy trails!
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