The Strut

Clothes swap '09

Though I am off the trail I feel like a few things carried over to the pavement on which I now tread with my shinny pumps. That I am woman, hear me strut. No longer am I afraid to do anything on my own. I am the master of my destiny and can choose not to eat quinoa and Ramen. I can eat sushi instead and get a real job and begin to save up for the VW bus I want to convert to run off of veggie oil so that I can tool around the country.

So I am still hiking only with an opened toe heel, and I continue to meet people only they are the ones I shake hands and negotiate a salary with, and it is still a challenge since there is a learning curve I need to hurdle. So in a way my hike continues...

MassHole

Massachusetts...that's where I'll get back on. It's a feeling that I had, yes it would mean skipping 1/2 of ME and all of NH and VT but something told me to get on in Mass. So I did.

"You're not going to cry this time, right?" my mom asked with that I'd be so proud even if you did look, "Definitely not!" I assured her. This would be round three to the finish I thought.

So my mom hugged me, teared up, said that she was so proud of me, then hugged herself and waved, only to catch up to me 30 seconds later, hug and tell me how proud she was of me for a second time, and snap a picture. Then I saw my dad. Another wave and some more, "Bye...love yous," a few more steps, byes and I love yous and then just me huffing. I had been three weeks off the trail resting my foot and I sure felt it.

There are apparently 5 stages of grief:

1. Denial
2. Anger
3. Bargaining
4. Depression and
5. Acceptance

By the time I got to the Wilbur Clearing Shelter I was in denial. My right ankle isn't really giving me trouble, it's nothing that a little stretching and massage can't take care of, I thought.

I realized I forgot my water purification tablets in the car and quickly dialed my mom and hoped the call would go through. They were at the top of Greylock Mt. enjoying a burger in the lodge. "We'll leave them with the receptionist," coaxed my mom.

I was just three miles away from Greylock, however, the storm was still storming and I knew that I'd better give my perfectly healthy ankle a rest.

Buzzz....Buzzzz....my phone was ringing again, "Hi honey, guess what I'm doing right now...hiking the AT!" I've met Detroit Dave," "Deleware Dave," I corrected, "right and Dilly Dally." Just then I knew I needed to get to Greylock.

By the time I met my mom I was at stage 2: Anger, but I was keeping it in. When my mom saw me she shrieked, "Jilly!!!" as she scuttled to me to give me a big hug. She went on to say how happy she was to be on the trail and how she could now say that she completed part of the AT and how she wished she could hike the whole thing. She continued to say how there was such a positive energy on the trail, that everyone is so kind and that she was again so proud of me. I felt terrible, one for not matching her enthusiasm and two for pretending that nothing was wrong when yet another injury was brewing.

"Is everything ok?" my mom asked after slightly skipping and commenting on the vibrant green leaves and the great smell of the outdoors which was met with a "mmmmhmm,"

"Ok, what is it?" my mom asked with a furrowed brow. That's the thing about moms they always know when something is wrong even without you saying anything. Side note. I get blotchy when I cry and this dreadful blotchyness lingers for hours after I sprinkle and no matter how long I used to wait to go down stairs after episodes of water works to allow for the scarlet to clear up she would always see me and say, "have you been crying?"

So it was at this point that I did not keep my word about crying. I sobbed, and felt sorry for myself. I was angry for attempting the trail yet again only to have my body say, "No, no, no, not gonna happen."

"Give me your pack," my mom said with the athority of Superwoman. For a second I thought I caught a glimpse of furling cape. I protested. The pack was heavy and she wasn't used to it, and we had only a mile left till Greylock. But she insisted and had a pep to her step the whole way back to the car.

Stage 3: bargaining, crept in, what if I rested it for a day, then continued to hike, maybe I just need to break in my hiker feet again.

4. Depression. I failed I thought. What am I to do now?

Back at the car my dad told me that after I left he told mom that he was going to miss me but then he thought, well she'll be back in a week.

More sobs. "Oh! I dedicate this song to you Jilly," my mom said as Ozzie sang, "Mamma I'm coming Home,"  over the car radio. More sobs. My dads shirt was soaked in tears and nose pudding.

My dad has taught me that the best way to deal with difficult situations is with humor. During adolescence he was notorious for making you feel terrible about the bad thing that you did and then making you laugh right after. Back in the car after a moment of silence I said, "I feel like one of those spoiled rich kids. I want you to drive me three hours West then I'm going to hike and then I'm going to call you when I get too tired so you can come and carry my pack the rest of the way. Then I want you to get me  Dairy Queen."

Now I'm home. I'm sure some of you have seen me or heard from another person, but I am home and ready to own it. At this point I am at stage 5: acceptance.

Everything happens for a reason. I realize that I am not meant to be on that trail right now and my body is telling me so. So now it's on to the next chapter in my life, although we'll leave an earmark at this one, since it is possible that I will continue it at some point.

"you don't need to hike 2,000 miles to figure something out," my dad said. He's right because I have figured lots of things out, that something is wrong with my body and I need to find the root of the problem, that my family is there for me always, that people are going to say, "Aren't you supposed to be on that trail," and that I may feel like I want to wear a hat and sun glasses when I go out, but more importantly, life happens and when you flow with it it will eventually open you up to an ocean of possibilities, ones that I may not have seen had I been battling the current while swimming up stream.

The trail provided me with lots of material to write about, many people to connect with, and a feeling of independence and fearlessness. I can say that I walked barefoot through the woods by myself...check. What's next...swimming with sharks...we'll see about that.

The Jon, Part IV: karma

I learned a lesson from my attitude toward the Jon, that what goes around comes around. I wished Jon off the trail, when it should have dawned on me that Jon was out there by himself and was maybe a little scared or looking for some companionship. As annoying as Jon was, he was harmless and just looking for a friend.

When I got to Monson, I learned that Jon had gotten off the trail in Caratunk, Maine. Phew! I thought. Problem solved. But that night Karma crept into my bones and after the third day after hiking out of Monson, I experienced foot problems. I stayed an extra day at the Pleasant Pond Lean-too after a not-so pleasant realization that I too would have to get off the trail in Caratunk, Maine.

It has taken me a while to post about the Jon, because every time I got my laptop open, I'd experience a surge of guilt upon thinking about broadcasting the story. It is now that I realize the important lesson I learned which has allowed me to share my experience. Karma is real. We should all remember the golden rule, that you should treat others the way you would want to be treated. All of my negativity towards Jon could have been avoided had I been honest with him. I could have simply explained that I wanted to hike by myself, since that was what I set out to do. Jon was not a mean-spirited person and would have given me my space.

But now I am off the trail and thinking about Jon, and hoping that he is well and got his project done. After all, what's so bad about me staring in his work...unless he's decided to use my picture as a dart board...did I just feel a jab in my sciatica?

The Jon Part III: We'll Take Him

When I didn’t think my spirits could plummet any further, Adam appeared like a woodland wizard. Wohoo! “Hey Adam!” I was so happy, I wanted to skip and dance and spin. That night we played Uno, ate our food together, I answered Sam’s random questions like, “have you ever lied? What is you favorite type of tree? and Do you know anyone named Josh?…do you like him?”

Jon doesn’t like spiders so he set up his tent at the tent sight in front of the lean-too while Sam, Adam, Aubry and I situated ourselves in our sleeping bags. It started to poor, lightning and thunder and the roof started to leak on my end so we all squished together. We turned on a headlamp and sent Jon an S.O.S. signal to come join us in the lean-too so that he did not have to get soaked but he never came.

That night I told Adam that Jon was annoying me. “We’ll take him,” he said.

The next morning I had a serious poop cramp. I got up as quietly as I could and tip-toed to the privy to relieve myself. Then I tip-toed back to the lean-too and started packing up, as quietly as possible. Normally I would have changed, had breakfast, taken everything out of my pack and reorganized it, but this morning I forfeited breakfast, kept my sleepwear on and literally stuffed everything in my bag, all while dreading the squeak of Jon’s air mattress. 

When I finally pulled my pack on and clipped the waist-belt, Adam stirred and breathed out a forlorn, “bye…” “Adam, you guys are cool, I just need to get away from him,” I said before I gave a smile and scurried up the second half of White Cap.

With no sustenance I was surprised by my energy as I flew up the rocky incline. I kept thinking that Jon would wake up, see that I was gone, and leave in the same fashion I did to catch up to me, but I reminded myself that he hated hills and would be slow moving up this one and that even if he got up the second I left I would smoke him. At the peak I dialed Linnea and left a patchy message informing her that plans changed, I would be arriving a day early for my pickup from the KI road. Originally I was going to take two short days, but I needed to shake Jon and the only way to do so was to hike like a bat out of Hell and disappear. 

After 3.5 miles I put my pack down and had a couple handfuls of trail mix, then I kept motoring. After mile 7 I dumped 3lbs of food and the rest of my isopropyl alcohol off at the lean-too signage; with my pack weight down, my shoulders stopped aching and I was able to move faster. Pine forest is prickly on your feet so I put on my smart wools. The problem with them was that they were my dad’s socks so as much as I pulled them up they would slip down and the excess toe would flap especially after getting soaked with mud. I then cut off the toe portion. This exposed my dirt caked nail beds. I looked like a hobo. 

Four miles from KI a thunderstorm began. Just keep hiking, hiking, hiking, I sang inside my head. The rain fell hard and the lightning and thunder flashed and rumbled almost simultaneously so I knew the storm was right above me as I ran over rocks and sloshed through mud puddles. My glasses were coated with a liquid lens and steaming, I had to constantly take them off and slough off the water and secure them back on my bridge as I dashed on forward. I slipped a lot and I feared for my life the entire time. This is when I ditched my hiking poll, I did not want to allow for any chance of me getting struck by lightning because I was holding on to a metal rod. 

The adrenaline and the falling rain gave my heel wings as I pressed on to the road. About a half mile from the road I happened upon a curious man in on the trail playing with his remote control monster truck.  I wanted to give him a bit of warning instead of sneaking up on him because I know that I looked scary, between the muddy/cut socks, the the soaked button up shirt that was blood and mud stained, the steamed lenses, bandana, bug net and wooden hiking sticks. This man would soon become a trail angel. 

The Jon Part II: My First Escape

On the morning of day 6, I opened my eyelids to here the Jon's noisy air mattress and him saying, "What's the plan?" It was on this morning that I discovered Sam, Adam and Aubry. 

“So, are we all hiking together today?!” Adam asked. "Heck yes!" I blurted, anything to reduce the concentration of Jon during my AT experience was inviting.

At the top of Bearman Mountain, which was not much of a mountain, Adam and I sat while we waited for the others to catch up. He stated that he did not think Jon was hiking the AT for the right reasons. “I agree,” I said, “he is so negative.” I explained that he was always complaining about the bugs, heat or elevation.” Not five minutes later, Jon mounted the crest of the hill, slumped down on a rock and cursed the black flies. Then he took out his camera. “When are you planning on getting to Monson,” Adam asked me. Before I could answer Jon stated, “We are planning on getting to Monson on Monday.” “No, I am planning on getting to Monson on Monday”, I corrected. “Yeah, but I am following you,” he rebuttled. Then he snapped a picture of Adam and I and proceeded to take out his GPS. “What mountain are we on,” he asked. I told him and bid adieu. I knew that it would take a minute or two for him to record the GPS coordinates which was just enough time to get far enough away from him down the mountain.

I was able to hike those 6 miles all to myself that day however, I was not in a state of zen since the whole time I feared that at any moment I’d hear Jon say, “There you are.” 

The perspective lean-too was half-way up White Cap Mountain. A 1000 ft gain in elevation over 2 miles. My steam had completely run out during this ascent probably from the over-expression of adrenaline which provided nitrous in my heals which fueled my escape. 

When I finally reached the lean-too, I started a fire, changed, combed out my hair and waited. It was about an hour and a half before there was movement on the perimeter. A huffing, lumbering, cursing…you guessed it, Jon. Ugh. I asked him where the others were, and he told me he thought they were staying at the other lean-too. Now my spirits were really low. I sort of gave him the cold shoulder, “That climb sucked,” he said, “You know it’s only going to get harder from here, we have the White Mountains and those are much more difficult than the mountains we've experienced so far.” “Yeah, but there are only two ways of getting out of this hell whole, hiking 70miles back through that crap or hiking 40 more miles to Monson.” Did I mention Jon was negative?

This made me think that maybe he was considering getting off the trail. The second day he complained about a knee injury he got while serving and that it hurt to put pressure on it. I told him he should have called a shuttle to Millinocket at White House Landing, or at least spend the 20$ and buy a knee brace in the camp store, he opted to not do anything about it but complain for the remainder of the hike.

Another curious thing he said was, “I could always change my project so that I don’t necessarily need to hike the AT.” But during the same conversation he said that we should exchange numbers so that after I meet up with my parents in Monson I could call him so that we can hit the trail again together.

“I see you’re having mashed potatoes tonight.” Thank you Jon for stating the obvious, again. I think I made a noise in response. I went to wash and came back to see Jon staring at a smoking fire. Now I have showed Jon how to start a fire, you start with birch then surround it in a tipi of the extremely dry twigs the ones that snap off of dead fallen trees, than you surround it by slightly larger twigs, light the birch, get it going and continue to add larger sticks to the fire, until it gets hot enough to burn logs. The fire requires care, you need to stoke it, move logs around to optimize their burning, sometimes add more kindling, Jon, however, would sit and say, “Jill we need your magic,” and wait for me to do something.

Jon did do nice things, for instance, he always hung the bear bags and occasionally offered me a peanut butter sandwich.

I hopped that Jon would get off the trail in Monson and stay off. I believed his negative attitude was no match for the white blaze. I needed to be surrounded by positive energy because this experience is voluntary and you need to constantly remind yourself of the reasons you are doing it. 

It was then that I began to write down my plan of escape from Jon the next morning. 

The Jon Part I: What's the plan?

Again, let me preface this story by saying that I am again not proud of the way I handled "the Jon," however, I definitely learned my lesson, which is that Karma is real and will come back to bite you. 

The start of the 100miles of wilderness exhibits this looming signage that says something along the lines of, “This is the 100miles of wilderness do not attempt this section unless you are in good physical condition and have at least 10days worth of food. I would revise the wording to mention something about a bug net.

3.5miles into the wilderness is the Hunt lean-too, it was there that I happened upon the Jon, a 28 year old former marine, although I would have never suspected, with round blue eyes and gnarly teeth. He had a geeky demeanor which was confirmed almost instantly by the contents of his pack which he showed off. A kindle, GPS and laptop (all off which lost charge by the next day), and upon his introduction of, “anyone, know how to start a fire?...I can only get it to smoke,” to which I responded, “You need birch bark." That coupled with the fact that he started almost every sentence with, “well let me explain,” always stated the obvious, “I hear water,” upon approaching a babbling brook and the fact that he was socially challenged. After only two days of knowing me he invited me to a wedding in September, an event that would require that I hike with him every day for the next 3 months and spend $250 for an Amtrak ride to Iowa.

He told really bad stories, I asked him if he had ever had any encounters with ghosts and this was the story that I got word for word:

“Well let me explain, this one time I was driving on the highway, and I probably shouldn't have been driving because I was very tired and off in the horizon I saw what looked like a giant pulsating spider.”

End of story.

Oh, and he was very annoying. Every time I stumbled or stubbed my toe he would say, “There are things on the ground,” I felt like one of the prisoners in Chicago’s cell block tango number, the one who is telling the story about her husband chewing…no popping the gum…”if you pop that gum one more time,” she says and after he does she fires two warning shots into his head. I am a klutz so I must have heard him say this a few times a day for the six days that he stayed leached to me. 

I am always interested to learn why someone is hiking the AT and Jon was supposedly doing so to complete a school project that required him to snap photos and record their GPS coordinates which would be incorporated into a book. This was great and good for him and I thought I was safe in agreeing to have my picture taken while combing out my hair in the lean-too the first day of our introduction, but it seemed as though every time he took out his camera I happened to be in the picture. At first It seemed innocent, but when I came up out of the water after river bathing one night and turned to see Jon laying on his side on the bank clicking his machine, I started to get the weirdo vibes. Flash forward I saw me in a room explaining to the cops, "I guess I should have known" as they slide a flyer with Jon at the top of the 10 most wanted. 

What else was annoying about him, let’s see…oh, the fact that every morning I got up and he heard a zipper or a yawn he would sit up on his noisy air mattress and say, “I guess I should get up…what’s the plan?!” It’s as if he had radar and could detect my eyelids opening. 

Jon was also very negative,  he was always complaining about the bugs or the elevation or the heat. Why are you hiking the AT? I wondered. The Northern part of Maine is virtually flat and it is all uphill till New Hampshire. Whenever there was the slightest increase in elevation he would say things like, “Would you sign a petition that allowed handicapped accessible ramps and elevators to be incorporated into the trail?”  Even more creepy/annoying I would fly up these inclines not only due to their mildness but also because my legs where built for climbing and when he would finally catch up he would say, “There you are.” 

So I have done a lot of bashing of the Jon, but you would not blame me for doing so if you spent 6 consecutive days with him out in the wilderness where your only chance of solitude was a stinky, bug infested privy. Isn’t it ironic that the only way I got away from Jon was by visiting the jon?

Day 1 Part III

I held out until the last two miles before my emotions could not be held back by the dam anymore. I wailed for the loneliness I would feel, for the pain in my knee I would have to endure, for the uncertainty of my living situation, for the people I was about to let down (several of which I had inspired to pursue their own dreams...what would they think of me now in my lowly state). I felt as if I had hit rock bottom…pun intended.

The miles seemed to carry on forever, and it did not help that I was making my way down as if I was in a drunken stupor meandering left and right, each step weighted and clumsy while the tears gushed out and blurred my unsteady line of sight.

I would then cork the water works, breathe out some hot air and try to focus on the hike only to step deeper into my pit of emotions, all my friends and family at the party I will have to explain my failed attempt to, on top of this,I was reminded of the two cavities in my teeth, the home that was in the process of being sold, the car keys I gave away, the numerous bills I owed for doctors visits, insurance, and school. And here I am literally walking away from it all, and how am I contributing to society? I wondered.

I continued this ebb and flow of ocular flood and drought always turning about to confirm my solitude on the trail before I allowed the gates of catharsis to open once more. I felt like Dianne Keaton in the movie, “Something’s Gotta Give,” when she is typing, and having waves of wails, then shakes her head and continues to type only to be overcome by more tears. If you have not seen this movie you should really make the time.

But I digress. Part of me thought that I might see my parents back at the campsite waiting for me but when I turned on my phone I saw that my invitation text had never sent.

So after my umpteenth time of sobbing hysterically, I saw that I had reach Katahdin Stream Campsite through my receding tears and that there were people, the first people I'd seen all day. S***, that’s embarrassing. I checked the time: 6:59pm it took me about 8 hours to complete the 8.2mile hike. I knew that I was blotchy and I was not feeling social as I trudged passed the tent sites and lean-toos in search for leat-too number 5. One woman waved from a picnic bench and I sort of gave a heavy-hearted wave that probably looked more like hand twitch.

This is when I saw the ranger, the one we had run into when my parents were dropping me off at Abol. “Hey, how did it go?” Then he noticed my blotchy face and dampened state. “What lean-too are you in?” I choked it out. When he asked for my name, I could only say my first, then I had to pause and fight back the tears, gave a peep of an apology and a sniffle then I gave my last. I think it was so hard to say my name because I was not proud of my name at the time. The ranger did not once ask if I was okay or what was the matter. He was trying to stay positive. I wasn’t sure if he was used to seeing this sort of behavior. 

I crawled to the back of lean-too number 5 and saw fruit, a bottle of water and notes. I realized my parents were my first trail angels. More water works and lights out.  

When I shared this story with my aunt and cousins later on my aunt stopped me mid sentence and asked, "how long had it been after your parents dropped you off that you started to miss them?" "8 hours," I replied and we both erupted into laughter. That's the great thing about embarrassing stories, as painful as they are in the moment, they provide some of the best material later on to joke about, not to mention the great abs you'll have from laughing about them.  

Day 1 Part II

About a quarter mile in I started to feel guilty and I pulled out my phone to text my parents: Stay w me at Katahdin Stream tonight if ud like. I hit send and then turned off my phone to conserve the battery. I figured that they had paid for the shelter and I could tell them about my day.

The hike was hard and I proceeded almost painfully slow to prevent injury, analyzing every step before I securing my footing. 

With the fierce wind and driving rain it dawned on me that the trail was set up perfectly for a rock slide and I felt it urgent to get to the top; the top which seemed always to be over the next rocky mound. I finally relaxed at the summit of Abol where the clouds were moving swiftly overhead and the sunlight that broke through the gaps highlighted the vibrant green mountainscape with its yellow wild-flower applique. 

Hiking from Abol peak to the summit of Katahdin felt like walking through a mile-long wind tunnel. I hand to hunch over and focus on my steps. A few times I lost my footing due to the intense gusts of wind. 

After what seemed to take forever I saw the summit signage. I pulled off the smart wool sock covering my frozen hand and managed to turn my phone on long enough to snap a picture. I had full bars and could have dialed my parents from the top but I was in go mode. Must get down before the wind really picks up, I thought.

The Hunt trail is intense sections of trail only three couch cushions wide with drop offs on either side. It was when I reached this point that my knee started to hurt; a sharp pain that radiated to my brain when pressure was applied. They say that “every extra pound you carry adds up to 3 pounds of pressure on your knee joints when you walk (http://www.realage.com/check-your-health/chronic-pain-management/bad-habits-knees-knee-injuries),” so my knees were experiencing 105lbs of extra pressure with each step. 

It was then that the line from my 2011 Thru-Hikers Companion surfaced in my mind like a blinking neon sign, “every year several stubborn southbounders…insist on carrying their fully loaded packs up the AT…this results in knee injuries and aborted climbs or even entire AT hiking plans."

It was at this point that I started second guessing everything. Why would I voluntarily spend 5 months out in the woods in solitude, I thought. I envied my siblings for having established their marriages and families and their stable jobs. I was running away from all of that. I’m going to be alone. What good am I doing hiking the AT, I’m not bettering my situation. I’m still going to need to find a job when I get back. Then I started to worry about my knee; an injury that began a year before when my friend Steve and I had the bright Idea to hike the 22mile long Wapack trail in one day when we had nothing on our side but youth and determination. I started to feel guilty for the way I treated my mother on the way up, how I was so curt and how we didn’t have a proper goodbye. 

That neon sign continued to blink in my mind as I experienced more pain in my knee. 

Day 1 Part I

Now I am not proud of the events leading up to my departure, however, I learned my lesson and this part must not be left out since it is a cornerstone of the story I am about to share. So on the way up to Baxter State Park I was a bit curt with my mom. She was saying things like, “Oh, we should meet up with you in Monson" and, "what’s the next trail town?” “Andover,” I said flatly, “Oh, well we could meet you there too!” Then she went on to look up all the trail towns on Wiki and report rather loudly the population and the demographics and when the town was founded. I started to get a bit annoyed because at the same time I was trying to make an itinerary for her of where the drop boxes needed to go and when they should be shipped.

Finally, we rolled up to the gate at Baxter State Park and the ranger came up to the window as my dad rolled it down. The black flies were swarming, and while my mom and dad swatted them like cats batting a suspended toy, the ranger appeared to be unfazed by them pulling in for a drink on her checks and lips as she asked how many people were planning to hike and where we were planning on staying the night.

“Now would she prefer a lean-too or a tent site?”

I was about to respond when my dad asked, “which would you prefer?”

“Definitely a lean-too,” the ranger advised.

“What about the bugs?” my mom interjected with a furrowed brow.

“The bugs aren’t out at night,” the ranger assured her.

“We’ll take a lean-too,” my dad declared.

I felt like a little kid sitting voiceless in the back seat as my parents responded to the questions delivered by the ranger. Further more, "this girl" they spoke of was supposed to hike all the way from Maine to Georgia, by herself, mind you, and I imagined the ranger questioning my abilities because I wasn't making decisions for myself.

“That’ll be thirty dollars,” said the ranger.

I started to dig into my pack for my money, when my dad pulled out the bills and handed them over.

I explained to my dad that I had planned the whole trip and budgeted it accordingly, but my dad insisted that he pay.

I huffed and crossed my arms as I sat back in my seat like a child.

The ranger also suggested that she (meaning me) get a day-pack at the ranger station so that I did not have to hike with my fully loaded pack up “the single greatest sustained climb on the AT,” (according to the thru-hiker’s companion, all 8oz of it that was also stowed in my pack).

“We’re not like the White Mountains in that we don’t have switchbacks…our trails head straight up,” the ranger stated rather proudly.

“If it were me,” my dad declared, “I would hike up the trail with a day-pack…" addressing me, he continued, "the ranger said you could leave the rest of your stuff in the lean-too back at the campground.”

Call me stubborn…or childish, but I insisted that I was going to begin the real way with all 35lbs of my pack.

After my parents took multiple pictures with me rolling my eyes in between, I headed out after a final shot in front of the Abol Trail Head sign. After a few steps I looked back to see my parents following me. “Come on guys,” I said. I pictured spotting them poking their heads out of the trees miles into the trail. I just wanted them to let me go, so it never hit me that we didn't have a proper goodbye. 

Delaware Dave and His Walking Stick

"If you see a man with a bandanna and curly dark hair...that's Delaware Dave," said All In, as we took cover with Quest Seeker in a lean-too from the driving drops. After the skies stopped crying and the puffy cotton-balls parted to reveal the blue, Quest Seeker was eager to press on. All In was a bit hesitant, "the father in me wants to stay here so that you won't be alone tonight, but the hiker in me says that you decided to do this alone...as I'm walking away just say, 'It's okay dad, I'll be fine.'" Alone and with some of the day left, I decided to press on.

Tall, blue vibrant eyes, and permanent smile, I rounded the corner to find Delaware Dave. "Do you mind if I take a picture of your feet?" He asked, "I don't have a foot fetish, I just want to document this." I positioned my feet on a rock and he talked about how awesome it was as he focused and snapped. 

"I like your walking stick," I said. He gave it a squeeze and said that there was a lot of positive energy in it. It was tied with about ten multi-colored hemp bracelets. "My friend makes them for me every time I go on a camping trip. They all represent a different positive energy, I wear the bracelet on the trip and after it's through I tie it to my stick." 

He had been on the trail, heading North, for five months and so I asked him if he had had any issues. "I have lot's of issues," he laughed as he pointed to his temple with his index finger. I laughed and specified physical issues. Apparently he's only had one blister the whole trip and it was from borrowing another man's shoes for a day after his soles had had enough with duct tape. After the bubble trouble, he called the outfitter right away and ordered a new pair of his trusty kicks. Other than that...nothing!

"Some people on the trail, wake up in the morning, look at their guide books and decide on a daily destination, but I just hike. When people ask where I am going to that day I say North. You see one time I planned on having my friends pick me up at a checkpoint and the thought of needing to get somewhere at a certain time changed my whole hike. I finally called them and told them I would let them know when and where to pick me up. So, I don't make plans anymore." 

Delaware Dave delivers a powerful message, that in order to walk through this life with happiness and health, it is necessary to go with the flow and to let intuition be your guide. 

He wished me a physically, mentally and spiritually healthy hike and then we parted ways but I like to think that some of that positive energy radiated to me. 

D.A.R.

I stayed at the Lakeshore House Lodging & Pub in Monson, ME where Ms. Rebekah, allows certain individuals to work for stay. It was while I was in the laundry matte washing bedding and towels that I saw this man in his sixties sitting at a table by the window. He looked like a cross between George W. Bush and Robin Williams and he had these bright blue enlightening eyes that drew you closer to him without you realizing. "Are you a thru-hiker?" he asked. "Doing a work for stay I presume?" "May I ask what your ethnicity is?" "Irish, Scottish, and a bit of micmac Indian," I replied. He was holding pamphlet about colloidal silver and its applications. This has been a practice for thousands of years dating back to the Greeks and Romans. In fact, the use of sliver colloids for treatments of  infections was used up until WWII before antibiotics became the standard (http://health.centreforce.com/health/silver.html). (you can check out this website to see all the applications of silver colloids).

So after this man showed me his pamphlet and I scrolled through some of the uses, he started saying that everything has a silver lining and that we are all connected. God is really Mother Nature and if we are good to Mother Nature, she will be good to us. He spoke of his friend, a pure bread Indian, of whom he attributed   much of his teaching to. He started talking about this idea of a spirit, that our physical bodies house an invisible power that can connect with people. It's the vibe you get from people, you can tell what state their spirit is in. This man kept saying that he could tell I was doing this walk to be closer to nature and that I need to remember to "walk the walk." At this point I was only a couple of feet away from this man and I was getting goosebumps but I knew it was because our spirits were connecting.

He told me that he could tell I had good parents because I was not averting my eyes as we spoke but I could not stop looking in his eyes, as if I were in a trance.

He suggested that I meditate. He also told me to take my time finding a mate because he could tell I was still trying to figure some things out about myself and the union of two people, when it is right is a bridge between the male and female hemispheres of the brain, a powerful connection that is worth waiting for. "Walk the walk" he continued to say. He claimed he was not crazy but that he has been accused of being so and it even cost him his marriage, but he has experienced many miracles.

He said that everywhere he goes he goes for a reason and that he came to Ms. Rebekah's to do laundry but he realized it was also to meet me.

"I hope I have helped you," he said. Then I shook his hand and thanked him, for what I was not sure at that point, but I knew that he had helped me in some way.

I think of this man everyday. I had a few epiphanies after I met this man and while I was home on break due to Achilles tendinitis, one being my love and need to pursue further education in the realm of alternative medicine, and two being the need to confront several people in my life for the health of my spirit.

After confronting was complete I went to the library to get a book on osteopathic medicine, an alternative medicine practiced among medical doctors. I found the book and continued to scan the shelves when my eyes caught, "The Anatomy of the Spirit; The Seven Stages of Power and Healing," by Caroline Myss, PH.D.

I opened to the foreword and the first line read:

"On rare occasions, you may meet a unique person who dramatically alters your perceptions of the world and of yourself."

Instantly I was flooded with that goosebumpy feeling and I thought of the man with the bright blue eyes back in the laundry matte in Monson. So I checked this one out as well.

The book is about medical intuition, the ability to determine a persons site of illness and the factors contributing to it by mere visualization. Dr. Myss, reminds us that it is not a gift but a skill that can be acquired with years of practice. She talks about the seven spiritual centers of the human body and how they radiate energy and that they thrive or become deprived, which can be detected by a change in frequency of this vibrational energy. Thoughts, ideas and perceptions start off as chemical messages and eventually get stored in the bodies tissues, therefor, our mind and body are intertwined and cannot be separated. Myss says that illness does not randomly strike people, instead it is due to any of the seven centers running low on energy due to negative thoughts.

Dr. Myss uses the words power, energy and spirit interchangeably as they all are synonymous with each other. Your second spiritual center your second chakras is about your relationships with people and it recommends that you do not hold grudges, and that you need to forgive others, in order to release the negative energy inside of you that may lead to illness.

I was amazed because I cleared my "rackets" with the individuals in my life that were draining my spirit and I did this after I met the man in Monson, before I knew how he had helped me and before I had any knowledge of this book on the shelf of my library back at home.

The silver lining is starting to show its glint, because I got tendinitis and stepped off the trail and decided to go to the chiropractor I discovered my love for alternative medicine and therefore visited the library and found this book and it is this book that made me realize what the Man from Monson helped me with- clearing my body of negative energy.

She Chose Down

 When I left my spirit back at the Pleasant Pond Lean-too in Caratunk, ME, 150miles from Katahdin, I was on a Greyhound bus thinking what do I do now? I yearned for the trail because I still had life's questions incessantly knocking at my door reminding me that, "you're not in high school anymore, you're a college grad, you can't get away with having an entire degree under your belt and pull off, 'I don't know what I want to do but I know that I could never see myself in a cubicle,'"

The truth is I had no direction in my life so I chose South. Maybe I did this subconsciously, but while my college peers were applying to grad schools, or going to job interviews, I was, during my fifth and final year of text books, saying, "ummm, I want to be on my own, know that I can take care of myself, experience the wild, and figure out what I want to do with my life."

I am not speaking for all thru-hikers, but the ones I met shared a similar story whether it be that they dallied with college but had no idea for a career path (myself included), or they just got laid off or quit their dead-end job, therefore put themselves on a path that had a clear and defined direction: AT heading South to Georgia or AT heading North to Maine.

On the road again

Out with the itinerary and in with the moment. From the wise words of the Dali Lama, "do not dwell in the past, do not dream of the future, concentrate the mind on the present moment," so this is what I am doing right now: I am typing, digesting, and my brow is furrowed...I need to stop doing that.

Take a Hike!

I got realigned about a week ago and I feel as if I have a new set of legs. I can sneeze without worrying about Valsava's maneuver tweaking my sciatica, after long periods of lying down I can spring up with the spunk of a ninja, and in the morning I get up and get going, I still get a kick out of the lack of pain. I am telling you, if you have any issues with your body...go see the chiropractor.

Now I can look and feel my age!

So I guess in a way I was doomed from the start of my hike. I had the foot problems just waiting to happen due to my slanted sacrum throwing off my alignment. But now that I have been adjusted  my injuries have healed up quickly and I am ready to take a hike...again.

My feet feel as if they have toughened up over the past 2 weeks, thanks to all the good nutrients and overabundance of food. So I am ready to take on the trail barefoot and all for round...three.

Round 1- hiked until I had to get off and shed some pack pounds and get away from Jon (a topic for another post)
Round 2- Hiked until my tilted sacrum caused Achilles tendinitis and foot pain
Round 3- We'll have to leave this blank for now.

You see, I'm starting to realize that you can plan, plan, plan but life happens and we are left saying, "damn, damn, damn."  My experience is proof of this, as I had planned this trip for ten months and had to make adjustments in all aspects including: footwear, clothing, bug protection, food, gear, itinerary, expectations, and my bodily alignment.

My mother reassured me the other day while we sipped our lemonade on the front porch that my story was a perfect example of learning by doing.

So enough with the plan and more with the do. From now on it will be "one quarter mile at a time."

Because plan backwards is nalp which, if said quickly, sounds a little bit like somebody from Maine saying, "nope," which is a reminder that things don't always go as planned, but according to the wise words of Malcolm Forbes, "failure is success if we learn from it," and let's just say...I've learned a lot!

Realigned

My Achilles tendon is still a bit sore, although it doesn't creak anymore, and the top of my right foot feels as if one of the metatarsals is fractured, but this is speculation since I am not a doctor...yet.

After discussing these physical drawbacks with my parents they suggested that I visit the chiropractor, "they'll be able to realign you," they coaxed, "and tell you whether or not it's a good idea to be hiking barefoot."

So, I made my appointment and they were able to slip me in same day.

"One leg is definitely longer than the other," I told Dr. Elad.

"Don't ever let anyone tell you one leg is longer," he said as he drew my legs together and pulled to see where the two lined up, "because your legs are the same length."

I was shocked. I thought I was just asymmetrical, since there is proof of being so in my feet, the right one is larger, my eyes, one is lazy, I have a more photogenic side to my face, one clavicle sits lower than the other and the fingers on my right hand are whole ring sizes bigger than the digits on my left. So I didn't bat an eye to the thought of my left leg being longer.

I have also seen proof of this in the soles of my sneakers that I have had since 2007. Whereas my sister expires her sneakers every 6 months (which means I get a new pair of kicks about twice a year), mine never retire. At least this pair has not, they have hung around for the past 4 years. They have been up and over Lafeyette, through the subway of Kings Ravine, over Mt. Madison, reached the summit of Mt. Washington and selected for a few first dates. How would anyone be able to part with them? Today they have holes, the seems are busting, the insoles are almost worn through and they feel more like slippers.

Before I left I was out on the front porch getting some sun. My trail runners were set side by side in front of me and I inspected them as I lay on my stomach. That's when I noticed the asymmetry of the vibram soles. Whereas the inside of left sole is worn down more than that of the right shoe, the outside of the right sole is worn down more than that of the left shoe. It looked as if for the past 4 years I had been walking sideways on a slope. That day I made a mental confirmation of my uneven legs.

So back in the examining room, Dr. Elad explained that my sacrum (the triangular bone that sits behind your hips (it is sandwiched between L5 and your coccyx) was askew and pinching my L5 (the last vertebra of your lower back.

This can cause pinching of the siatica (the longest nerve in your body that runs from your lower back, through your gluteus maximus (your buns) down through your leg and to your big toe. I have suffered the pinching of my sciatica for at least 7 years. I have been embarrassed to say it because I am young and it makes me  feel like a geriatric. It acts up quite a bit and it the worst when I get out of bed in the morning. I end up doing this slow-motion routine where I roll on my side slowly slide my legs over the mattress' edge and plant my feet and rise while I brace myself for the shooting pain. Yes...that is me at 23.

It also affects circulation since it is slightly cutting off one of the biggest suppliers of blood to the lower limbs. This explains my compartment syndrome. When I was in high school, I was dancing intensively, six days a week and I was experiencing a burning sensation just above my ankle on my left leg. As this fiery state continued a hard grape-size lump appeared.

The surgeon explained that you have compartments in your lower legs. Think of a hot dog in its casing, the hot dog being my muscle that was being constricted by its casing. So she performed what is called button-hole surgery where she made little incisions and sliced the compartment. In theory, this would allow the muscle to expand before the casing closes up, resulting in a larger casing and a hot dog that can breathe easy.

Imagine that, the surgery cost thousands of dollars, but $40 for a chiropractic visit was all I needed to discover the route of my symptoms and to get popped back into place. It is curious to note that the surgeon said, "we don't know why this happens." We had to pay her to say she didn't know the reason for something that she was conducting surgery on to fix (can you really fix something if you don't know the route of the problem?). The irony is almost unbearable.

So with a torque and a body slam (that's what it seemed like) there was a loud POP! "Ok, your sacrum is back in place," said Dr. Elad. "Wow, just like that?" I said, "just like that," he said with a twinkle in his eye.

He went on to explain that your body will try an fix itself. For me, my sacrum was tilted so the bones in my skull were tilting in an opposite direction to counter the attack (this is all physics). So he proceeded to torque my head and adjust my vertebral column.

"Let's check out your legs now," he said.

He had me lay on my tummy as he pulled my feet out, "there," he said, "same length."

He also said that I was going to feel like a new woman, that it was fine to hike barefoot, and that it was probably time to expire those exhausted shoes "it's going to feel weird walking in them since both legs are planting normally now."

So thank you Dr. Elad, whom we mid as well refer to as "Elad"-din, since he definitely has a genie looking out for him, giving him all of these super powers.

So, long story short, if you have a problem with your body, go to the chiropractor first. It will definitely pay off.

The Social Network

At first I wanted to hike the AT "to be on my own." I craved some solitude so that I could clear my mind, however, you learn very quickly that the AT is a very social experience, which is alright by me.

In fact, I look foreword to the end of the day, after a long tromp, when I see the tin roof break through the trees and I smell smoke, a sign that there will be company tonight. I don't really talk to myself when I hike, though my mind is active, but when you see fellow hikers at the end of the day you understand why Maslow did not list "solitude" in his hierarchy of needs.

You get to reminisce about the day, the things you saw, the individuals you ran into, the terrain. You get to share your reasons for hiking the trail, where you come from, who is missing you, and what you plan to do after.

You get to learn from each other: between the gear, the camp routine and hiking philosophies.

A day has yet to pass that I don't see at least one other hiker. I only had to sleep in a lean-too by myself once. It was at the Leeman Brook Lean-too and I later learned that it was in this log bungalow that four vagabonds froze to death. It was pretty difficult to get to sleep that night because my mind was conducting a slide show of images of all of the terrible horror movies I'v seen.

That's the problem with scary movies, your mind is permanently scarred after seeing them. It would be great to have Will Smith bloop me with his blooper from MIB so that I could erase all of the bad images from my mind...then I would be completely fearless.

"I am soooo glad I didn't know this beforehand," I said to the Boys from Maine after they told me this. "There are probably many stories like that on the AT," said Adrian.

The exciting thing about lean-toos is that you never know who is going to bunk down with you. It's always a thrill to have a Nobo crawl in, because they are the wise people of the trail, at least for the beginning of a Sobo's journey.

When you have hiked 100 miles and they have hiked 2,000, there is a certain respect that a Sobo holds for a Nobo. "How does it feel to almost be done?" "What are you going to do afterwards?" "What was your favorite section?" Many of them say New Hampshire which is a let down because NH is so early on that we fear there is nothing else on the trail to keep us going. Not true. there is the Zoo in NY, the ponies of Virginia and the great smoky mountains.

This Nobo, 3 Stoves, strolled into camp and he had so many stories to share, it made for an entertaining night. "I should have had the name Bear Punch," he said after he told us that he went backpacking through the Whites to train for the trip. At one of the lean-toos a fox was pestering him, drawn in by his food. That night he slept in his bivy sack and heard sniffing about 6" from his face. Thinking it was the fox he gave it a good punch to the snout, however, it was a hard punch. He crawled out of his sack to see a black bear scampering away.

This story seems unbelievable, but they say when it comes to black bears you're supposed to act aggressive if they approach you.

This same guy said that a tree fell on him. I have yet to share this incident with my mom because I know she would absolutely freak, but it is too good of a story not to divulge. There are trees blocking the way throughout the AT and no matter how often it is maintained it is inevitable that there are going to be trees that keel over. 3 Stoves was hiking along with his earbuds in and heard the crack but thought it was his music. The next thing he knows he's trapped under a tree. He even snapped a picture of himself at this point which he passed around the lean-too for everyone to see. "I was able to wriggle out of my pack and get out from under the tree," he explained. "Then a day hiker came along and was able to help me lift the tree enough to get my pack out."

Talk about intense!

What's great about the AT is that everyone you meet shares the love for the trail and it makes it really easy to get to know someone. In the civilian world, sometimes there are walls that are put up which prevent an introduction, but on the trail there are no walls just canopies, and paths that lead to good communion.

Log Books

Every lean-too has a log book. It is a journal that allows hikers to communicate. It's how we heard about the Sobo whose shoes were too tight and had countless blisters that he ended up losing a toe. Another trekker, called Bubbles wrote about his massive blisters covering his feet resulting in a rescue crew coming to practically carry him out.

"Some people just don't realize the intensity of the terrain when they come out here," said one MATC trail maintainer, that I happened upon, referring to Bubbles.

News travels fast on the white blaze corridor. If you are thru-hiking you are guaranteed to at least at one point  hear and say, "Oh, I have heard about you," when meeting another thru-hiker.

Some draw pictures, others write poems, today I shared my story of why I was hiking barefoot and why I was being held up in the Pleasant Pond Lean-too.

Everyone had continued on and I had to sit and wait out what I thought would only require a days rest. I turned on my solar/crank charged radio. I never made it out of my sleeping bag so I settled in even further as I lay on my sleeping pad tummy down with the log book open to page one.

This journal dated back to the accounts of thru-hikers from 2010. Lots of them suggested the breakfast at Harrisons, saying that it was totally worth it to carry the extra toilet paper that would be needed later on. Northern Outdoors was another hotspot, for its great wings, hot tubs and pretty women. many commented on the ferry ride across the Kennebec River, "It felt weird to not be hiking," said one Nobo.

Then I got to HedgeHog's entry. He wanted to thank a few fellow Nobos: Day Tripper, Rehab Squirrel and MJFox. "MJFOX!!!!!" I said out loud. "No way!" no one was around to hear but I was so excited to see mention of him in the log book. This made my morning.

For all of you newcommers, MJFox is a thru-hiker from a neighboring town who I interviewed prior to my leave. He has an amusing story to tell and I mention him in many of my posts: “Power of the Pink” and 
"Another Visit with Michael J. Fox."

*****************************************

This poem goes out to all you thru-hikers out there...keep logging.

A Thru-Hiker's Log

Thru-hikers log

in a book 

As they sit in a log

shelter

After dropping a log

off in the privy

After passing many log

roads

Eight Legged Suspense

You get over your squeamishness for bugs really fast on the Appalachian Trail. At the Potowaja lean-too Techy looked up to find a palm-sized wolf spider with all 8 of its eyes looking back as his two meat-ball-sized eyes from its throne on the ceiling beam. If I could read spider I’m sure this arachnid was signing that’s right, you’re in my territory now…want to play king of the mountain lean-too? That night Techy and I popped our tents inside the lean-too…it was going to rain and we didn't want some man-eating spider raining on our parade.

From that night on I got into the habit of inspecting the log bungalows for cob webs and their long-legged weavers. I would sleep with a bug net over my head, my mummy sleeping bag zipped up all the way, with my arms tucked in.

The morning I decided to get off the trail due to my injury I awakened, stretched and looked up to find a spider suspended from its sticky silk line. It had dropped from the beam above and was just inches above my head. When we locked eyes, however, it retracted as if its thread was a winch and retreated it back to the ceiling. This made me laugh.

Often I see people get freaked out when they see bugs, and squash them out of fright. But I have always practiced the rescue and release method to dealing with the insects that make a wrong turn and end up lost in our house. I set them free. Now it is I who has taken the turn onto the white blaze corridor, only I am not lost, I am visiting. Our world has made us accustomed to living separately from nature but I want to be apart of it.

The golden rule is to treat others the way you want to be treated. Since I have been good to those weary winged travelers who are just trying to get back outside, I suspect they will be good to me as I sleep out in the open without a bug net, my arms outstretched, breeze on my skin, with the loon song lulling me to sleep. 

Hiker Hunger

There is this unwritten law on the trail that nobody shares food, which makes sense because thru-hikers can't afford the cost or the weight of food to be giving it out. I on the other hand do not abide by this rule as my hiker hunger has yet to set in which could be due to nerves, excitement or the excessive exercise curbing my appetite. I guess it makes me a bit of a trail angle, but I have been giving out snicker bars, Ramen, dried fruit and spice packets because I don't want to carry the extra weight (especially since I have not been consuming it) and I have been doing this free of charge or trade. Although, a few days ago Nobo (slang for North Bounder), Dutch, asked if he could trade me a pop tart for 5 packets of oatmeal. Fair trade. Done. Does this earned me a set of wings and a golden band above my kaput?...I think so :).

The other day, this thru-hiker, we call him, Spice Rack, was making himself some tea to give him that caffeine boost needed to jumpstart his hiker legs.

"Is that a raspberry blend?" I asked

"It's pomegranate...hmmm...I think this is the last bag I have," he lamented.

"Oh, it's ok," I said thinking it was sweet that he would have given me a bag had he had one.

"Oh, I wasn't offering," he laughed.

Then we all laughed, Cunu, Nurse Beka, and Soldier. That made my morning.

At one of the hiker hostels I sat across from Buritto and watched him in awe as he stuffed a meatless sub into his crave cave. I felt like I was watching Natgeo or Discovery, today's show was featuring a snake, only instead of a gazelle it was choking down an enormous sub. The muscles in his neck tightening and relaxing, a continuous eb and flow of bite and swallow without a break for air. Or had he developed a way to breathe through his skin? I did not see his arms drop until the food he cradled in his hands disappeared completely into the abyss of his unhinged jaws.

Another night I spent in a lean-too and over the course of an hour, every time I looked at Nobo, Rambler, he was eating. First a meat and cheese wrap, than a Mountain House meal. I thought my mind was playing tricks on me when I saw him downing another meat and cheese wrap and then another Mountain House. He would eat the wrap by the fire, both hands cupping the soft protein and fat filled dough, his cheeks full, teeth churning, his eyes darting left and right. He looked like a looked like a skiddish chipmunk guarding his nut.Then he would eat the mountain house meals in the lean-too.

Think of the scene in Nemo where the crab is brought to the surface and all of the seagulls start saying, "Mine, mine, mine." Thru-hikers take food seriously. A thru-hiker is, however, whiling to give advice, support, motrin, duct tape, and rubbing alcohol but with all the calories they are expending any bit of food is as necessary and needed almost as frequently as oxygen.

Heel! My Heel needs to Heal

"The term “Achilles heel” has come to mean a person’s principle weakness (Wiki)"; I am experiencing that weakness now.

The Achilles tendon connects the calf muscles to the heel bone. When you put your thumb and fore finger on mine you feel it creak like a hinge that needs some WD-40 as I point and flex my foot.

So as it turns out, you can get injured whether or not you wear shoes. I wore my shoes and experienced knee pains and blisters, took them off and now the knees feel great but I have tendonitis. This is my own fault though, I should have trained.

You see my calf muscles are pumping all day long as I hike, up and down mountains, across rivers and through the mud, and without adequate stretching (which I have failed to do), the muscle can become tight causing the Achilles tendon to be over-stretched and experience more work as my heels continue to pound out miles. As this cycle of tightening and pounding is continued, the tendon becomes less flexible and inflamed and can snap just like an overstretched rubber band.

The webpage I’m reading now, http://www.time-to-run.com/injuries/thebig5/achilles.htm, suggests that I stop, drop, put my leg up and roll the knotted tissue, apply ice, take an anti-inflammatory, avoid weight-bearing activities, stretch and swim.

In other words I cannot hike until this clears up.

So for the next week or two or three, or however long it takes for my heel to heal I will get you up to speed as to what I have experienced on the trail thus far. Then we can hit the trail together, on the same page.

My heart is heavy as I miss the trail life. I had to say goodbye to people that I started to connect with, the pure air, the cool mud on my bare feet, the weight of my pack on my shoulders reminding me that my body was getting hard and toned, and to my spirit which sits quietly in the lean-too where it refused to follow me. 

This greyhound bus is taking me back to the smog and the fog of the civilian life of cement. It’s hard to describe what I have experienced on the trail so far, but it’s an experience that makes you not miss your life at home. As I look out the window and see the cars pass by, the billboards and concrete, I see the simplicity of my life slipping away and I feel a hole in my chest that throbs.

The diesel engines, the din of the tires spinning, the trees become a streak of paint from a brush and an absent stroke. People in their individual cabs, tuned out by the radio, the traffic, the schedules, go, go, go! So quickly we get from point A to point B but do we really ever get to know where we are going, or are we just going through the motions? 

Money Pit

I was making a mental tally of all of the money I could have saved if I spoke to an oracle prior to my trail departure. If I had known that my boots were going to give me blisters and I was going to hike barefoot, I could have saved $235 between the Asolos, the superfeet, and the waterproof spray. If I had known that I was going to lose one hiking pole in the Nesowadnehunk River the second day (after getting caught in the current and being swept down river) and that I was going to ditch the remaining pole while hiking through a thunder storm the 8th day for fear of getting struck by lightening, I could have saved another $85. Had I known I would not be able to eat the foods that I bought in bulk for five months in a row and used all of this money to restock in trail towns, I could have saved $1,000 (this one really hurts).

Oh well, I am trekking and learning every step of the way.

Some things that are key:

Toilet paper
knife
head lamp
ointment (takes care of chafing)
Bug net
Matches
Birch Bark (to get the fires started)

Barefoot Hiking

On day three between the four blisters that had developed and Naysayers words, you're going to have so many blisters that by the time you get to Massachusetts you'll get off the trail, playing over and over again in my head I decided to take my Asolos off and give hiking in my smart wool socks a go. It felt great! And much better on my knee which was giving me trouble ever since Katahdin. My knee injury stemmed from over a year ago when my friend Steve and I had the bright idea to hike the Wapak trail (22 miles) in one day. Ever since then I have had knee issues going downhill. The following day I took the socks off and hiked in "Mysolos".

Three days later I wake up to see three new people in the lean-too. We exchanged names and why we were hiking the trail. Out of nowhere Aubry said/asked, "you're the barefoot hiker?!" I looked down at my fly bitten and dirt-caked feet and said, "Well, I didn't do it to hike barefoot, initially I took off my boots," Aubry cut me off, "because you were getting blisters, we know because they told us at White House Landing." 

White House Landing is a hiker hostel/resupply diamond in the rough 45 miles from Mount Katahdin. I went there to restock. You hike 1.2 miles off the trail around a lake, sound the air horn one short blast and wait on the boat dock for your pick-up. Bill and and son Ben came and got me and I was able to resupply in the camp store. He asked where my shoes were and I explained that I was getting blisters.

"We have been following your tracks for 3 days now, we couldn't wait to meet you!" she exclaimed. I was shocked, I laughed and said that today was day four. 

That same day I met Natalie and Jake and after a short conversation she looked down and said, "Oh, you're the barefoot hiker...we heard about you."

Two days ago, I happened upon two Northbounders who were resting at the blue blaze to the lean-too. I hiked to the lean-too and after an hour a hiker couple showed up. "So you're Dutch," she said to the guy next to me, "and are you barefoot?" "Well, yes I guess I am," I laughed. Apparently, Chainsaw, told them that I was the barefoot hiker.

So I guess I have made a bit of a name for myself. And now I want to hike it on through.

Now after a week of hiking my soles have toughened quite a bit.When I first began, my feet were very tender going through pine sections; about every three steps I would wince and have to pull pine needles out of the bottom of my foot. I would stub my toes and step on sharp sticks. Now I can comfortably walk through these sections with little pain. 

Originally I wanted to hike the trail barefoot but then I gave into $170 gortex Asolo boots as well as the $35 super feet insoles. Now I am making my own super feet. 

I dropped the box

So, not only was I ill prepared with bug and potty protection I also made a bit of a mistake with my diet. I had my parents pick me up so that I could fix my boxes. So, yes, I got off the trail and went home to take care of business. Some of my beef jerky spoiled. I don't know what I was thinking, but I opened the packages and distributed the leathers in plastic baggies but it says right on the $10 packages that it's only edible for 5 days after opening and I was banking on their freshness for five months.

I gave the good bags to my brother-in-law and told him to give them out to everyone he knows.
I'm also not a big fan of the lentils and the veggie soup which has a sickeningly sweet sent. If I could do it over again I would have saved all of the money I spent on food that I bought and bulk and just bought food in the trail towns. Oh well, you live and learn. Knor meals and Mac'n'cheese are way more appetizing.

I like the snickers, gorp, fruit and Ramen, but I wasn't eating the oatmeal, lentils and veggie soup. I know I will get sick of snickers but I'll continue to have my sister send them to me, after all thru-hikers take part in the barter and trade system. Just the other week I traded 2 snickers bars for a pasta meal with home dehydrated marinara sauce.

What to Doo?

Now for a little bathroom talk. There are privies at every lean-too which are spaced every 10-12 miles along the AT but I have opted for digging a hole and squatting rather than dumping a load in a wooden box that smells not so fresh.  I may have been wrong about the smooth stone as an alternative to TP; a conclusion I came to after trying the technology out on day two.

Originally wanted to use natural resources, so as to reduce my carbon footprint, but since privies are so frequently spaced on the trail I won't have to burry TP but just toss it in the privy which is expected.

The privy is sort of a scary place; a small wooded shed with a hole cut in the wooden bench, with a deep dark and smelly hole plastered with the doos of others. I also have this fear of taking a seat and having a spider crawl up and bite me on the behind. So, on day two, I found a wooded and private area behind the lean-too, dug my hole, did my business, and used a smooth stone. I was very proud that I had done a doo doo in the woods and that I was utilizing this stone-age technology for clean up until I experienced severe chaffing that night.

From there I tried picked leaves, dead leaves, then I went back to the smooth stone, but nothing seemed to complete the job. Now that I have spent a bit of time in the wilderness with several nights of chafing in a row, I know what I need, what I don't need and what I need more of. Alas, I have caved and decided that there will be a roll of toilet paper in my pack from now on.

Bugger Off!

Going out on a limb with bug patrol.

Maine is wet, boggy, and infested with bugs...but spirits are high because I am actually following my 2,181 mile goal.The day of my departure, several hours before my parents drove me up to Maine to be released into the wild, Drew Blood and Scout came over to bid farewell, stuff me with calories and give me last minute tips...I have awesome friends.

"Now don't take offense to this but you know not to sleep with any food in your tent, right?"

"Yes."

"Are your belongings in waterproof stuff sacks?"

"Errr...compression sacks."

"Line your bag with a trash bag...it's the old-school way."

"What are you doing about bugs?"

"I have a bug net."

"No bug spray?!"

Scout gave me a little mercy bottle of DEET and told me I may need it.

See, I have this thing against bug spray. Not only do I doubt it's claim, I also think it's bad for the skin to be absorbing all those harmful chemicals. After all, I have been called Jilly-Bug by those who love me and so it makes sense I stray away from the spray.

Well I took the bottle anyways, just like I stowed the bottle of motrin in my first aid just to appease the ones who care. I try not to take even the legal drugs so that they will really work when I absolutely need their assistance.

So back to the muck, I have tried everything for the past week to keep the blood suckers from snacking without a squirt from the DEET. I may have lost some blood but I have not lost my will power.

Day 1 I used my head net which I soon found out was a mosquito net after I noticed the black flies coming in for a lunch hour special of neck and ear flesh.

I then took the net off and waved it back-and-forth in front of my face and this worked but I was only able to use one hiking pole. I must have looked funny, picture me fanning my face with a net, stabilizing myself with one hand gripping a pole, spitting the bugs out that slipped passed and slapping the ones that bit my neck, while balancing myself on a puncheon.

Next...don't laugh...I secured a pine branch to my head with a bandanna because my little brother told me once that bugs tend to feed at the highest point. The branch stemmed about a foot above my head and it seemed to work but it was kind of uncomfortable.

Finally, on day 5 I was able to get a new net of finer mesh at a place called White House Landing, a privately owned camp run by Bill and Linda Ware, found in the middle of the 100 miles of wilderness. You hike 1.2 miles off the AT to a boat dock, sound the air horn one short blast and wait for your pick-up by Bill and his son for a ride to a microcosm of civilization. Along with the bug net, I stocked up of Mac'n'Cheese, a block of cheddar and Knor meals.

I was incredibly happy with my purchases until a few miles back on the white blaze corridor I noticed the black flies still slipping though to snack on my flesh. I was frustrated but at least the mosquitoes were not able to attack; I saw their stingers poking and prodding unable to fit their fat bodies through the portals.

They were able to draw blood from my hands like a hundred tiny syringes but I wrapped my hands with bandannas and this seemed to work.

The bugs should be dissipating in July.

That bottle of DEET weighs as much as it did the day I left.

Laughing Fox

Thru-hiker, M.J. Fox, wanted to treat me to a nice send off, complete with subs, a boat ride and some trail talk.

There is this zoo in NY that the trail cuts through and it is said to be a very emotional experience for many through hikers. It is one of the spots on the trail that I am very excited to see and experience so I asked, Fox, what he thought about it.

"Oh, it's lame...wicked small," he said. "Oh..." That brings a whole new meaning to emotional experience, I thought.

He then started to talk about how great it was to take dips in the rivers in Maine, but than stopped himself and said that it was going to most likely be too cold for me to do the same.

There were a few other things that he said, but you have to realized, this was a conversation between a nobo (Northbounder) and a perspective sobo (Southbounder). There are perks to hiking the AT in both directions.

It was a very comical boat ride and it got to the point were I finally laughed and said, "Mike you need to stop, you're killing me!"

He was not saying these things to get a rise out of me they were just coming out in conversation. Time spent with Fox always results in a comical post.

He asked me what I was going to wear while I did my laundry in town. Hm, I thought, good question. "Lots of the girls brought a town dress, they kept them in zip-lock bags," he explained.

"What did you wear?" I inquired.

"I used to wrap my sleeping bag around myself and camp out in the laundry mat until my clothes were done."

I think I'll go with the town dress, I have a feeling it would probably draw less attention.

Updates

I have not been able to blog for a while since I have been incredibly busy with preparations. To give you an update: all 24 of my drop boxes are packed and labeled, I just this morning seam-sealed my tent (it takes 6 hrs to dry so it is going to remain staked outside till 2pm) and I am making a trip to REI to spend my 2010 dividend...most likely on nylon cord, compression sacks, and some fancy freeze-dried food.

I will be able to blog while I am on the trail, so you will be able to be apart of my journey from home.

I thank you all for the support and I look forward to reading/ responding to your comments and questions.

Karma

Ok...I may have overreacted when I said that grocery stores were terrible and ripping people off. The fact that I bought food today at a grocery store makes me hypocritical, however, I remember my favorite English teacher from high school explaining that being a hypocrite is not a bad thing. In fact it is human because it shows that are thoughts and opinions are dynamic. And how boring an individual would be who is steadfast in their thoughts and beliefs as to not be deemed hypocritical. 

I went back to BJs for round two and loaded up on beef jerky, peanut M&Ms, almonds and snickers. At the self checkout line, while I was scanning my goods, my purse accidentally got knocked into the trash can. Karma...I thought, BJs was getting me back for abandoning my cart a month ago when I walked out because I realized I could get Ramen for much less at WallyWorld.

Since then I bought nuts, grains, and legumes from a local natural food store. However, they tend to cater to vegans.

Hypocrite or not I know that I am a hungry prospective thru-hiker that needs her jerky.

Paper Trail

http://www.sentinelandenterprise.com/ci_18119304?IADID=Search-www.sentinelandenterprise.com-www.sentinelandenterprise.com

The Plan

I graduate in 2 1/2 hrs and I am still in my PJs. I should have spent the morning soaking in the tub, styling my hair and going to the book store to make an early bird purchase of my robe (yes...I gave in). Instead, I spent the morning finishing my preliminary planning. It looks as if it will take somewhere between 4.5-5months to hike the trail. I still have to run back through the Companion and tally the number of drop boxes I need (make some adjustments so that there are no more than twenty-five),  determine how many pounds of food need to go in each box, account for days off and type up an itinerary for the fam.

.

Standard Shipping

Drop boxes...they are not going to ship themselves...they demand money. I did a preliminary search the other day on the UPS website and was shocked to discover that shipping a 10lb box would cost $53 dollars.

To get you up to speed, my trip requires anywhere from 22-25 boxes which would result in over $1000 dollars in shipping!!!

I was a bit depressed these past couple of days to think that all my money would go towards shipping and I started to wonder if I was really saving money by feeding myself this way.

Today I stopping in at the post and told the nice gentleman behind the counter about my drop boxes. "I'll need to put about 10lbs worth of food in each box and I will need over 20 boxes," I said. "How much do you think you could fit in that box?" he asked. I looked over to where he was pointing and saw a 3x10x13 cube of cardboard. "I think that'll do just fine!" I exclaimed. "I think I'll be able to fit 10lbs of food in that." "You could put 100lb of food in it...whatever you can cram in there...and it would still only be the standard shipping cost of $14.95," he said. I wanted to hop over the counter and plant one on his cheek, I was so happy! 

"Oh...and the boxes are free," he said with a wink. 

"So, how many do you want?" 

"Oh, I'm still planning I explained, but I'll be back soon I leave next month."

"Talk about pushing the envelope!" 

I love this place! Not only do they have great rates, they also have a sense of humor, I thought. 

Snapshot

Today I had my last final of my undergraduate career. I graduate on Saturday and then I will be free at last! It hasn't really hit me yet though, I think it will next fall when instead of buying books, going to class and working part time, I will be buying a nice suit, going to interviews and working my charm to get the job.

Just the other day I had an unexpected and exciting invitation to speak with Ms. Caraganis, reporter at the Fitchburg Sentinel. She wants to interview me tomorrow morning and hear my story.

With school under my belt, I can now devote 95% of my time to planning and 5% to work:). As for now I need to get my beauty sleep because tomorrow involves a camera and hopefully puff-free eyes.

3 Bushes

Miche says when I come back I will have three bushes...My mom says that she is going to wash my hair, shave my legs and give me a manicure, Boulder doesn't know how I'm going to pull off using a smooth stone, and Jenny thinks the Diva Cup is gross...This is not going to be a glamorous trip by any means.

I've been planning my trip...so far I am in Woodstock, VT crossing the Gulf Stream Bridge. It takes so much thought to plan. I have to guess at what my pace will be, where I will stay each night, how much food I have to carry between drops, what sites I want to see, where I can meet up with friends, and how I can score free meals. It's exciting though. It's exciting to know that my dream is becoming a reality.

I'm feeling a bit nostalgic this week. It's coming down to the wire and I have to complete three finals by Wednesday, graduate on Saturday, finish planing my trip and say fair well. We had our employee party at the climbing gym, and I am going to miss the crew. I was talking to my sister on the phone today and she put nephew Bob on, "Ha!" "Say I love you," I heard my sister say, "eh-uhv-oo." Close enough. When I get back he'll be able to ask me how I enjoyed the Blue Ridge Mountains and what type of pack I wore.

A note about graduation. I have to buy a cap and gown for 60 bucks. No worries I thought, I'll borrow my friend's robe who graduated last year. "They changed the color," explained Megan. I swear they do this on purpose. What about Rent-a-Robe, or Good Job Here's-a-Robe or Wear-Your-Robe from High School Graduation. I have decided to wear mine, it is white so I am going to dye it green. How about them apples?!

Why would I buy a robe for $60 which will only see the light of day for two hours before it gets stowed away in my closet which I already cleaned out?