It was a cold, wet day when we started hiking the Appalachian Trail in North Georgia and it was a cold, wet day in Northern Maine when we finished. Hiking 2193 miles takes quite a while, even if you’re quick and a whole lot can happen during that time.
We started in early February. Our tent collapsed in on itself on the third night after a snowstorm. We couldn’t stop moving until we got somewhere that we could get dry and warm. There were many lessons learned about winter hiking in those early days. But I wouldn’t trade our early start for anything. We got to see the woods during those quiet snowfalls and that was also when we made our closest friends along the way. It is difficult not to bond to somebody when you are shivering next to them in a cold, dark shelter in the middle of the woods on a frigid night.
I remember looking at the dark outline of the Smoky Mountains in the moonlight from Fontana Dam Shelter. It looked huge and ominous, with peaks shooting into the clouds seemingly going upward forever. The first day going into that foreboding section is notoriously difficult. It is a thirteen-mile uphill battle to reach the ridgeline. That uphill was grueling and seemingly endless.
But it is the difficulty that makes us grow. I felt so grateful and accomplished when the skies cleared as we came over Rocky Top. Without the suffering and the hardship, the beauty and awe wouldn’t be so satisfying. It reminded me that you can’t have beauty without its counterpoint.
I remember the time we were on top of Roan Mountain and the skies opened up, letting fall dime-sized hail. The constant flashes of lightning and claps of thunder chased us down the mountain. The storm followed us as we passed over those infamous bald mountains. It couldn’t have come at a worse time for us. I remember packing as many thru-hikers as we could into the shelter that night.
Waking up the next day to it still raining and having to put back on all those wet clothes and nasty gear and continue walking even though we didn’t want to and even though it wasn’t going to be fun was probably one of the best things that could have happened to me. I have a new approach to life after that wet mountain experience. Not every day is going to be fun nor is it meant to be. You get up and do what you need to do regardless of the situation. You don’t always get to choose what happens but you get to choose how you respond to it.
The next noteworthy story that comes to mind was the time that we decided to go ‘aqua-blazing’. It was summertime in the Shenandoah National Forest and there was something so overbearing about that never-ending green tunnel that we had to escape. So we signed up to canoe down the Shenandoah River instead of hiking through the hills alongside it. We tossed our packs in the canoe and headed downstream with a feeling of optimism. We sank the canoe on the second rapid. After some time we managed to fish it out and were able to finish our canoeing trip without another accident. I lost one of my crocs and one of my trail runners, so I was wearing one croc and one trail runner until we were able to find an outfitter.
Now for the memory that I cherish the most. We got engaged in the White Mountains of New Hampshire. It was a magical day on Franconia Ridge. The clouds were rolling over us and the views were breathtaking. I would never have gone on such an awesome adventure and I certainly would not have been able to finish without my partner. We took this journey together and the bond it created between us feels invincible.
Looking back on the adventure, the whole thing feels to have passed in the blink of an eye, yet so much has happened. When we started hiking the Appalachian Trail there was a lot of uncertainty in my life. This experience has changed me and taught me so many invaluable lessons along the way. We set out on this pilgrimage looking for challenge, growth, and beauty. We found plenty of each and grew more from it than we could’ve ever anticipated. When I think back on all of it, I feel an incredible sense of gratitude.
from the other side 