Uphill in a storm – The Trek

Day 9:

The day started promisingly: an early morning four-mile drive to Franklin for breakfast, a shoe diagnostic, and a resupply. We walked in a light rain with a very good mood. I thought of trail name ideas for Laura. She was always on top of things, always looking for solutions, and seemed to have an endless database of information. Database? Coach? He didn’t stay. Then I suggested “On It.” Because man, she was always there.

«Huh. That’s my favorite so far,» he said.

When we got to Winding Stair Gap, we were too early to catch the ferry, so we stuck out our thumbs. After fifteen minutes, a kind woman named One More stopped to give us a ride. Our first successful hitchhike! His car was clean but we certainly weren’t. When we told him our names, we introduced ourselves as Dreamcatcher, Horsepower, and On It. He was stuck. After a nice conversation and listening to Eye of the Tiger on the radio, we arrived at 828 Café. We looked at the menu with big eyes and cleaned each plate. The first mission was a success.

Then a hike to Outfitter 76, where I was told to slow down in the miles. I knew that would be the diagnosis of my recent blisters, but I didn’t want to hear it. I made the investment in some new shoes and we rushed to Ingles to complete our quick mission in the city. Deciding to take the midday shuttle back to the trailhead, On It said, «Alright, we’ve got twenty minutes. Let’s go!» and we ran through the grocery store like we were playing Shop Til You Drop. In the pouring rain on the Franklin town square, we huddled under a gazebo and stuffed food into our bear cans just in time before the ferry arrived.

“Is this a winding stairwell?” He asked horsepower.

“No, my name is Ed,” the driver muttered.

«Uh, okay, but this is going to-«

“Yeah, hop on,” Ed said. We sped down winding roads back to our house in the woods as the rain returned to a trickle. We were grateful that the light rain cooled us down, without realizing what it portended.

The day took a turn when On It discovered that there were no 3 bunk beds available at the hostel we were aiming for the next day. I was struggling with the idea of ​​slowing down, knowing that I would lose my two closest friends along the way and now I wouldn’t even get a hostel stay with them. My thoughts turned gloomy with the weather as we walked through the mud and fog. I felt like I was sent to the children’s table. I couldn’t get as far as On It, who ran marathons regularly, or Horsepower, who spent his days working in construction and tending to a farm. My body wasn’t ready for regular 15-20 mile days and now I was feeling it physically and mentally.

When the three of us stopped to filter water, I sat on a rock and felt emotions welling up and spilling out involuntarily.

«Do you want to talk about it?» In it he asked. I shrugged and continued walking with Horsepower while On It fell behind. I only made it about 100 feet before collapsing. I was ashamed to cry in front of people I admired. I wanted to be tough. But they had seen me at my worst and dirtiest, so they might as well see me cry too. On It caught up with me and helped me stop thinking about myself when he told us he had just taken a bad fall. He was mostly fine, but he had a couple of bruises that were sure to show up the next day. It helped me get it out of my head to remember that we all take our own walk and fall every day.

“Think of it as problem-solving,” On It said after we walked again. «You had a problem. The solution was new shoes and fewer miles, so that’s what you’re doing to get to Maine. It’s not weakness, it’s problem solving.»

My follow-up name for her could always be Coach, because she was so good at it. I left my frustrations behind because we had a shelter planned for the night and I was going to get there, crying or not. The weather wanted to get there too and it got worse as we climbed Wayah Bald. When the thunder began to rumble in the distance, we tried to make the most of it by singing “Tomorrow” by Annie, and I walked up the mountain with new shoes but the same blisters. It stopped being so fun when lightning struck so close that the entire forest lit up and we felt the ground shake. At first we tried to avoid the puddles. When it became clear that we couldn’t get any wetter than we were, we accepted our fate and dug our feet into the mud with all our might. Shots were heard in the distance in a rap battle with thunder, as On It said.

«I almost want to start laughing,» Horsepower said.

«That’s what I’m saying! This is objectively hilarious! It literally couldn’t be worse. You either have a good time or you have a good story,» he said On It. I was happy to try to have a good attitude, but my left food and knee were now screaming. I told On It about my pain (the trainer also doubles as a doctor) and she said, «Okay, but what are your other options?»

Good point. I wasn’t going to pitch my tent on the side of the trail and let them carry on without me. If we were going to suffer this, I was suffering with them. Furthermore, the hope of finding shelter was too tempting. It was the most challenging three hours on the track and perhaps the most challenging three hours of my life racing. There were constant loud thunderclaps that made me wince as we climbed uphill towards the watchtower. When we arrived, we climbed the stairs desperate for cover and finally I put on my raincoat to keep me warm, which didn’t arrive. On He didn’t let us rest much.

«It’s less than a mile downhill and waiting will only make us colder. We have to go,» he said. When On It gives direction in times of crisis, you listen. I lost count of how many times we almost slipped and fell while wading through thick mud. From time to time, our trekking poles would get stuck and jolt us backwards. My knee sent me sharp pains with every step as I counted the steps. Finally, the gleaming roof of a shelter came into view. Unfortunately, about fifteen other people beat us there. Usually the people at the shelters welcome us happily at the end of the day. Today, these guys looked at us like, «Oh, no, there’s more.»

We pitched our tents in the rain and began the painful process of trying to dry off. Hanging out at the shelter seemed impossible, so we huddled in the Horsepower tent and discussed a plan of action for the next day.

«I don’t think I could have gotten through this day without you,» I told On It.

«Yes, you would have. The options were to be wet and cold or to keep moving. You would have kept moving. You have it in you.»

He had a way of speaking that made his encouragement seem obvious. Horsepower turned on some hot chocolate and forced me to eat some kind of dinner despite my poor appetite. Only on the road can you meet someone for nine days and feel like family. The misery of the day was slowly overshadowed by the gentle care and admiration we had for each other.

The rain didn’t stop all night and more thunder woke me up around midnight. The idea of ​​the sun is so strange when you are immersed in a storm. The thought of “why the hell am I here?” It comes quickly when you find yourself climbing a bare mountain in said storm. All night I sang “Tomorrow” in my head to pass the time while I prayed over my tent. Everything wet will eventually stay dry. Everything dark will eventually be light. Tomorrow you have to do it again. This is the mantra of life on the trails.

In He asked me if the storm destroyed my determination to follow the trail. I said, «Of course not. If we survive that, what can’t we do?»

Total AT miles traveled: 120.5

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