The nerves hit the night before as I packed, double and triple checking my gear and food. If I forgot something I was on my own, there was no magic but my own to fix the situation. I tried to remember everything my dear friend had taught me. I hoped and prayed that it would be enough. Nerves carried me to the trailhead after my drop. A few deep breaths and my poles, pack and I were off. Within 10 feet the nerves were gone, my body seemed to remember how to use the poles and stride with a weighted pack. There was no fear about being alone on the trail, for I was alone. It took three hours to spot another human.
I walked in silence and peaceful bliss along a tree covered ridge-line with a smile on my face. There were not many views, but there was peace and beauty. I had packed headphones in case the silence became deafening, but it never did. I enjoyed listening to the birds, insects and my own thoughts spun uninterrupted. Personally, I had been craving this trip, a chance to get away with my own thoughts and heal without distractions. On the trail my mind was clear, there were no distractions, but the initial driving impetus of this trip had fallen away. This trip became about me being comfortable in the silence of my mind. For someone with anxiety, this can be a challenge, there's always a lurking fear that the anxiety will take hold and spiral you. I could not afford to have an anxiety spiral on the trail. Thankfully, my anxiety never surfaced, not even when I was a few miles from camp and running low on water and energy. It wasn't one of those times where I had just mastered the anxiety or was ignoring it; it 100% was not present. The mountains were speaking to my soul, and in that moment I knew that I was going to be fine.
This trip was not about the recreating the magic found on my first trip, but creating a new type of magic. There is no recreating that kind of magic that I had Memorial Day weekend. I carry it with me still. This solo trip required a new brand of courage and for me to delve into my own magic. I'm not saying there weren't moments that I didn't wish for my friend, but I was content to be solo. Alone on the trail you learn more about yourself than imaginable. If you read accounts of thru-hikers or talk to any you will learn that they all say the same thing after finishing: life will never be the same. While my short hike (28.5 miles or 1.3% of the AT) cannot compare to a thru-hike, I know that I am forever changed.
I know that I am a stronger hiker than I thought when developing my plans. My Memorial Day hike we covered about 26 miles over the 2 days, so I planned a 28 mile hike figuring that I would be moving slower without assistance. Day 1 I covered 16.8 miles and realized that I would reach my car the next day around 2 at that pace. I made plans to hike past the car to get my 2 nights in the woods. Apparently, the universe had other plans for me, as on Day 2 the rain came crashing down about a mile and a half from my car and the forecast called for more rain and thunderstorms. While I had the opportunity to continue hiking, I decided that I had achieved my goal and consider it a successful hike even if it was just 1 night out.
I found peace and happiness along the trail, despite the challenges and pain. I found more of me. I listened to the voices in my head about true abilities, my courage, my love and the possibilities of the future. Though I left the trail soaked and looking like a drowned rat, I left with hope and love in my heart, complete in a newfound magic built on the base created in May.
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| Day 1 (16.8 miles) |
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| Day 2 from start to a wet soggy finish at my car (11.7 miles) |
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