Finishing my second AT Thru-Hike

Wow, what a surreal feeling, walking to the end of a hike. I just finished walking 2,198 miles in 84 days. Wait, what? Say that again? It’s always difficult to understand what I just did.

I hiked up to the southern tip of the AT, the summit of Springer Mountain, on Saturday, October 11th. Throughout that last day, I continued to prompt myself to reflect on the entirety of my time here. It wasn’t an easy thing to do during my 50 mile hike on the last day. My brain was fuzzy and fuzzy, dizzy from the excitement of having finished, but exhausted from lack of sleep.

I had decided to get very tired at the end of this hike. Start at midnight and hike overnight and the next day, from Blue Mountain Shelter to the south end, in one go. My goal was to finish by 6 or 7 pm. I thought this would be a healthy balance of challenge and fun for my last day.

The last night

When I arrived at my last campsite the night before, the shelter was empty. I was pleasantly surprised to have the place to myself. It seemed representative of my entire walk, having spent much of my days alone in the forest. And it would give me the space to be with myself before my last day of travel. I wanted to savor every minute of this experience. I knew I would miss it with every ounce of my being once it was over.

It was a beautifully cool and crisp night. Dusk was approaching. The shelter was at the top of a hill, angled to overlook the valley below. When I arrived, I dropped my backpack on the worn wooden floor and sat breathing in the fresh fall air. I closed my eyes. The highlights of my hike began to flash through my mind like scenes from a movie. All the highlights, whether positive or negative, now bring a smile to my tired face.

I mentally went through each of the 14 states of the OT, in order. Maine: Swimming for several summer days in a row in the 100-mile wilderness, meeting and hiking with my new friend Boo for a week, and remembering the patience I needed to overcome a quad strain. New Hampshire: Being constantly propelled through arduous terrain by the camaraderie of my amazing friends who work at AMC cabins. Vermont: A sense of comfort and the place where I unlocked a new ability to push myself that I never had before. Massachusetts: my home state and cozy visits with my family. Connecticut: Short, sweet and fun and, interestingly enough, the state of my longest mileage day (54 miles) on the entire hike. New York brought back memories of temporary friendships and surprisingly heavy rocks. New Jersey was sunshine and a breath of fresh air.

My mind wandered to the loneliness I experienced in Pennsylvania and how surprised I was to enjoy it so much. West Virginia and Maryland were a whirlwind in the center of the 43-mile Four State Challenge. Virginia conjured up thoughts of pastures with cows, being fed by the angel Fresh Ground at the amazing Leap Frog Cafe, and visits from my parents. The North Carolina and Tennessee stretches were mentally difficult for me, with lots of rain, steep trails, loneliness, and long miles.

And finally Georgia. It would only take me a day and a half to traverse the last state, as I was making about 80 miles in 36 hours to finish my hike. But it was beautiful and gave me great vibes.

I started to cry thinking about all the difficult and magical moments I had experienced throughout this adventure. How many times I cried, how I overcame my fears of walking in the dark, how many miles I often kept walking when it seemed impossible, how I forced myself to face my own frustrations, and the countless times people provided me with invaluable support.

Overcoming my fear of night walks alone has been one of the most rewarding parts of this journey.

As I sat in my final shelter, enjoying the light breeze on my face and the sunlight disappearing through the trees, I allowed myself to feel it, everything. The incredible highs and heartbreaking lows, the lost and lonely moments and the gratitude of new friends, the longing to be home and the wonder, simplicity and privilege of wandering a trail for months. Then, routinely, as I had done each of the last 83 nights, I went through the motions of heating water, eating dinner, laying out my sleeping pad, and getting ready for bed. I tried to sleep as early as possible, just after dark, so I could wake up at midnight and start my last leg.

I’m going to miss my cozy little environment.

The last day

Trying to fall asleep didn’t work well. I was so excited with the anticipation that it was almost over, that I ended up only getting about three hours of sleep. However, it was midnight and time to finish my second AT hike. In my dream state, I pulled myself out of my warm quilt, packed up once more, and walked all night. I was already used to dark, quiet nights, but I still prefer daytime walks. Around 7:30 a.m., as the sun began to rise as I began the climb up Blood Mountain, I thought, «Wow, I don’t have to walk in the dark anymore. Phew.»

Sunrise at the top of Blood Mountain

All day as I made my way up Springer Mountain, I assumed I would cry when I reached the top. But when I finally reached the AT terminal, all I could do was fall to the ground next to the trail sign, let out the biggest, deepest sigh of my life, and sit there staring a thousand meters away. I’ve finished now. I’ve finished now.

on

This one felt different. Different from my first AT hike in 2018, different from my PCT hike in 2022, and very different from my CDT hike in 2024. At the end of those hikes, I felt mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausted in every way. Before, the thought: “«Now I won’t have to walk again if I don’t want to.» would bring comfort at the end of a walk. This time, it’s more bittersweet, not as clear a relief to be done.

I mean, yes, my feet, legs, back, and mind could use a break. But at the same time I feel excited, unlike what happens at the end of other walks. I am inspired by this adventure, hungry for more. I don’t want it to end. I feel like I could keep walking every day. Now that my body has fully adapted to what I’m doing, the pain in my feet really only needs a night’s rest to recover. My legs now feel comfortable being in a constant state of stiffness. I don’t even think much about minor pains anymore. My mind has recalibrated to a new level of tolerance for discomfort. I take comfort in the idea that “walking all day” is the only item on my to-do list.

And what an incredible feeling it is. I feel hard, hardened and worn out, ready for anything. As if I could do anything I set my mind to; there is no roof.

The best part: I know it’s all true. Yo can achieve anything I set my mind to. That, in itself, is the power of hiking.

My mom, who walked the last mile of the trail with me, and I in Springer