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.