Community, loneliness and people I don’t know yet

One of the main reasons AT appeals to me is its social aspect. Although I think that both the PCT and the CDT could be objectively more beautiful and with great perspectives, it is the AT and its people who call me. I’ve heard that the community surrounding the AT is unparalleled and that many people value it more than the trail itself. I want to contribute to that community and participate in it during my walk. The value of community has been a lesson I have learned the hard way.

walking alone

A few years ago I was hiking in Austheiane, a mountainous area in southern Norway. My plan was to hike for four days and do a solo long weekend trip visiting three different cabins in the area. The first day was good as I climbed the mountain in the afternoon. It was a lovely place. The cabin was situated between some trees and a large lake allowed the view from the cabin. I arrived at the cabin just as the afternoon fog was starting and everything was ready for a great weekend adventure. After a hearty dinner, I went to bed early. So far, so good.

The next morning the weather had cleared and the mountains made me quiet enough that I could hear my own heartbeat. However, something just felt off. Physically I was fine, but I felt heavy. As if my body had doubled in weight overnight and my mind had forgotten how to enjoy the experience. Still, I packed up after breakfast and headed deeper into the mountains, aiming for a 12-mile day to the next cabin.

“What am I doing out here?”

At kilometer 4 I stopped. Just standing, in the middle of the road. My body just didn’t put the next food in front of the previous one. Without me realizing it, the heaviness had become overwhelming and was now like a rock blocking my path. I remember sighing heavily and my breath trembled as it left my body.

“What am I doing out here?”

My words filled the silence of the mountains, but there was no response. Tears started streaming down my face. I just couldn’t do it. I tried to argue, fight and debate with myself. However, it was in vain. I slowly realized that I wasn’t supposed to be there. Which was me pushing myself past a boundary I wasn’t willing to cross.

I turned around, got back in the car and drove home.

Waiting for a community

In the years since then I have often thought about that day. I wish I could say that I have processed the experience. Instead, it embedded itself within me as one of my fears when I go hiking. The feeling I had up there was so powerful that no part of me had a chance to fight back or move on. It took me some time, but I realized that what was haunting me that day was a feeling of loneliness. I have done many solo hikes and have enjoyed many of them very much because of it. But on some walks I would have preferred company. This was one of them.

Loneliness is one of my biggest fears on the Appalachian Trail, and I think the only thing (except physical injury) would be the biggest potential factor in bringing me home prematurely.

I try not to have too many expectations for my AT hike in 2026. I prefer to be pleasantly surprised by all the good things that can happen. But a wish that I cannot leave aside is to be part of a Tramily. Hopefully I’ll meet people who are as silly as me and who love to be happy after a long day on the trail. Or who really enjoys complaining during a storm but laughs while doing it. If I find my people, I believe I can achieve anything. Even through the AT.

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