Looking Back: Starting my AT Flip-Flop

Kim dropped me off across the street from Union Station in St. Paul. She was tearful; I was a little stunned. I had spent the last few weeks preparing for this moment and now it was happening.

First we went to a local restaurant for breakfast. It gave me the opportunity to wear my favorite old pants and flannel once again. Before changing into mountain clothes.

But I woke up in the middle of a fog. It is not the mental state necessary for a final control. I needed coffee…bad. So we left the backpack and her lost team crown, dropped Anya off at the doggy daycare, and headed to breakfast. The ursack, too heavy, spilled food on the counter. He wasn’t ready to deal with it yet.

The Grand Avenue Café is small and retro, with local art on the walls. We had a perfect spot by the window and plenty of time to get to the station.

But my mind would not calm down. I was playing crazy with the details. Did I put my headlamp in the garment bag? Yes. Were all my medications in first aid? Pretty sure. Should I bring the umbrella straps I bought and never used so I can use my trekking poles in the rain? Why not; They don’t weigh anything. H Prep Wipes? In the brain of the package for easy access.

My back hurt and my legs were stiff. Yesterday afternoon I did the 6.5 mile loop along the river with my full backpack. Food, water, everything else. 37.5 lbs. I came back, dropped the backpack and felt my body float. Curse. That was on flat sidewalks and bike lanes. I waited for the pain to subside.

Kim had burgers ready. I had a cold beer. It seemed deserved, but what happens when this is only the second day of the trip? So no beer for me.

This thought fueled the monster within. You’re 67 years old, boy. Last chance to hike the AT? Are you sure that window hasn’t slammed shut yet?

At 5 in the morning, with the birds making noise outside the window, the panic intensified. Two more hours, I told myself. I tried to go back to sleep thinking about the trip Kim and I had taken through the rural area south of the city over the weekend.

Rolling hills of dense green forest, gentle sunset. Deer everywhere, emerging from the tree line without warning. We couldn’t go more than 30 miles per hour. I held on to that.

«Honey, it’s time to get up.» Seven o’clock. The real morning had arrived. It’s time to do the things that needed to be done.

The shaking of the train makes it difficult to write. I look up and see the Mississippi River, trees with vines hanging from them, houses with faded paint, games in the backyard, grain cars parked in sidings, my reflection in the glass.

It’s a full train and there’s a child in the seat next to you. He has just returned from the dining car with a thin cardboard box containing a bag of chips, a microwaved sandwich with cheese sweating in its plastic wrapper, and a Coca-Cola with a glass of ice. I think about going down for a beer, but I have two cans in my backpack. I just want to move.

In Chicago I switched to Lake Shore Limited. This time a small room, a night in Albany and then a connection to Poughkeepsie.

This has been a different journey than the one I took two years ago. The last time I tried to change the AT, I was happy in my small room and didn’t want to leave. Now it’s just transportation.

Fellow traveler.

I booked a room for the night in Poughkeepsie. I received an email from the hotel telling me that their air conditioning was broken and that I wanted to cancel or stay with a 50% discount. A no-brainer. Rain is forecast for my first day. Also good. It will allow me to test my backpack cover and umbrella straps.

Am I ready for this?

I’m going to find out.