Hi yinz, sorry it’s been so long since I last wrote! Not only is it difficult to find time to write while I’m on the road, but I also want to be present in my experiences, rather than stressing out trying to figure out what to say about them.
It’s hard to believe, but it’s been almost 3 months since I’ve been tracking! 3 months calling my store my home, digging holes in the ground to go to the bathroom, wearing the same clothes over and over again and always counting the miles to the next restaurant. In some ways I feel like it couldn’t be 3 months, but in other ways I feel like I’ve been doing this forever.
These past few months have been full of many things: ups, downs and everything in between. I made friends, walked over 1000 miles, saw beautiful views, and ate like never before. I also learned many lessons, some that I will carry with me for the second half of the journey and others that I will probably carry with me for the rest of my life. I hope some of what I’ve learned resonates with you too, whether you’re on a trail or not.
Circumstances are temporary
One of the most common lessons I keep coming back to is that things change quickly and a terrible day can change just like that. Whether it’s temperature, rain, pain, lack of sleep, or hunger, being in a less than ideal place won’t last forever. There have been so many moments along the way that these circumstances have made me feel a little miserable. Like most people, I’m not particularly fond of being wet and cold, I don’t function well without sleep, and the constant pain wears me down. When dealing with these negative factors, it’s very easy to get tunnel vision and fall into a headspace of «this will never end, I’ll never feel comfortable again.» The path has shown me that the sun will rise, there will be another night to sleep, and that my body will heal.
For example, there was one morning when I woke up to a thunderstorm at 4 in the morning. I had to clear the camp in the rain and walk for hours in the cold and wet. My team and I were debating going off the trail, at the promise of warmth in a shelter, but we held on a little longer until we came to a gap with a road junction. At the trailhead the sun was shining bright and warm! We let all our equipment dry and let the sun recharge our mental batteries. In just about an hour we felt like new people! We packed our things and continued on, completing a 19-mile day when we reached camp. I have found that it is essential to remind myself that circumstances are temporary, so never give up on a bad day.
Let people surprise you
Of course, you know the basic saying: never judge a book by its cover, but I’m sure you also know that’s easier said than done. As a human being, it is easy to make snap judgments, but often our snap judgments are very limited. Personally, I tend to have my guard up around new people. I know it’s probably a protective instinct, but it makes me approach people with great caution.
To my surprise, as the months go by, I have grown closer to people I never would have expected. There are people I’ve been hiking with for over 700 miles and I was very hesitant at first. I can remember the red flags I felt when I first met them, but over time those red flags have been replaced by friendship. Through time shared and miles together, the walls I wanted to build between me and other people have fallen. As the days go by, I find trust, respect, and mutual care in unexpected places and people.
Beauty is everywhere
A couple of weeks into the tour I met someone who seemed to be complaining about the tour. This person mentioned how “boring the trail was” and that he skipped sections because of it. Of course, everyone is entitled to their opinions and everyone should HTOH (do their own hike), but something about this really bothered me. I realized that it wasn’t just their lack of appreciation of their surroundings that didn’t sit well with me, but also their inability to recognize what a privilege it is to hike.
I have always tried to be someone who appreciates the small and simple things. I believe beauty can be found in most places if you have the right perspective and mindset. I used to look for amazing landscapes and breathtaking views, but more recently I find beauty in the little things that are easy to overlook. I love paying attention to the little signs of life that come into view as I walk every day: the symmetry in the petals of wildflowers, the fractals found in the leaves of ferns, and the delicate rays of sunlight filtering through trees. These small moments remind me of the gift and privilege it is to walk this path.
It’s okay to relax
From a very young age I was prepared for responsibility. My family tells stories, from a time I was too young to remember, about me taking on roles that were probably more suited to a parent or adult. As I’ve gotten older, my sense of responsibility and seriousness seems to grow with me. Before the tour, I was usually stuck thinking 10 steps ahead of what I needed to think about. He was often too serious at work, with friends, and at home. I had a hard time taking my mind off the complex problems that filled the lives of other people around me, and therefore had a hard time letting my brain relax. I set out, hoping that the solitude of nature would reconfigure me, but I didn’t know exactly what awaited me.
While nature certainly has a calming effect, I also learned a lot from the dynamic group I spent most of my days on the trail with. This group looks very different from my social circles at home, but I’ve certainly gained valuable knowledge about how to take life a little less seriously. I have learned that not every day should be a challenge, some should simply be enjoyed. There have been daily lessons on how not to think too much about the small things; Instead, just start moving forward and many things will take care of themselves. Another big problem has been not caring as much about what other people think. People will always have their own judgments no matter what you do, so it’s best not to waste valuable time and energy stressing out about something you can’t control.
Home is a feeling
Finally I want to talk a little about the concept of home. In my short life, I have had many places I have called home, some temporary and some more permanent. I have often felt conflicted when asked «where are you from?» because I don’t have a single answer, and what does it mean to be from a place anyway?
Having been on the Appalachian Trail for almost 3 months, it has shown me how transient a home can really be. While the trail makes me feel at home, it also allows me to feel more connected to many other places I have called home. The fleeting and ever-changing nature of trails reminds me that all the places we call home are really just parts of a larger whole. In one of my favorite songs, Stranger Danger by Lucius, there is a line I love that says, “what is home, possessions or feeling.” I often return to this verse, reminding myself that home is not a building or stagnant place, but a fluid feeling that can accompany you anywhere.
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