THE ROAD NOT TAKED – THE WALK

«Or give up or continue, both hurt.»

The walls and beams of the shelters were covered with names and dates and, here and there, a new perspective. I think we found that verse on our third day along the way, the day before the first rain.

Since then, many hikers that we have met have moved away, either voluntarily or out of necessity. Knee injuries, Giardia, Lyme, expired visas, nostalgia and death in the family, to name a few.

In Virginia, our closest friend on the path decided to go out for the good of changing the content of her summer, and Sunbeam was shocked by how easy she had seemed to make such a drastic change. Sunbeam had been fighting with his own motivations and desires. He had been planning to do (and managed to do) the «half -gallon ice cream challenge» in the middle of the way, and for a while he planned to make that the end point of his trip. But in those last weeks he had a lot of fun that he decided to move on to Maine.

Until he hit the food.

Food is practically a verb along the way. The constant need to feed your body while covering mile after the mile may feel amazing. You can’t leave calories.

Sunbeam is a cheerful cook, and nature in large part packaged and rehydrated from the large amounts of salty foods that we eat had affected him. One dried morning he looked at his oatmeal and could not do it.

In the gloomy afternoon of our first day in Shenondoah, after making the decision not to go to Katahdin, Sunbeam had found a four -leaf clover. On the night sunny to the northeast of Harrisburg that was his last day on the road, he found another.

The plan was to recover my truck. With a vehicle in which I could live, Sunbeam could continue moving north next to the path. She would still experience the nomadic life of the Apalaches mountain she wanted while she had a less arduous daily existence. We would see each other more or less, while still walking along the path.

The plan went well until the truck found a mechanical problem that ended his career. The truck in which I have lived and traveled during the last four years finally kicked the cube. This changed everything: now there was no option to stay close without being on its way. Although she supported my continuous walk, I know that a part of it wanted me to go out of my way. In truth, a part of me wanted the same. But the path yearned for the trip. Through what is not for everyone, but I have found a great love for it. The feeling of positive movement through a beautiful environment. Take only what you need, wherever you go and not need anything beyond. Loneliness and serenity were found above and later. Now without a vehicle and be among houses, what should I do?

She couldn’t continue. I couldn’t stop. Obtaining everything resolved took the last two weeks of July.

Finally the day came and we said goodbye at the beginning of the path. She would return to the path at some point in the future, perhaps in spring. I would continue today, alone. Two weeks outside the path marked the difference. I had lost so much of the adjacent time flow in the forest that almost felt like a different place. It was great and quiet that night. The insects were few, and the birds were still. My feet and legs burned and were sore once again. I was completely just for the first time in a long time.

He took more time than I thought he would. I walked alone in the morning while the sol tried to push through a hacking sky that hung heavy with clouds and smoke. I found myself noticing things I wanted to tell him. The unpleasant song of a rooster of a nearby farm that followed me on the other side of the road and climbed the next hillside. The methodical precision of a spider weaving its network in a constantly tight spiral. The toll of a bell that rises from the city under the rocks whipped by the wind. A frog so small that it could have fit on the side of a penny without touching the edge.

Another hiker in a snoring refuge, and felt strange at the beginning that did not look like Sunbeam.

When planning where to go for my next replenishment, I found myself trying to squeeze a few additional miles, postponing the time I would have to go to the city. I felt reluctant to enter the world again. I wanted to stay in the forest and out of things.

I spent 100 miles of solo hiking on a rocky crest overlooking a large valley. The clouds early in the morning hung casualties, causing the hills to look like islands. This is about. That’s why I’m here. When I had resumed the path, walking towards the trees away from the sun’s ray, I felt doubts in my heart and wondered if I was wrong to continue alone. We had planned to make the way together, all the way. When I looked at that misty morning, I knew I had made the right decision. There, at the top of the rocks, I found the final lines of Robert Frost’s famous poem The unaccado road In my mind.

“Two roads diverged in a wood, and I –

I took the least

And that has made all the difference. «

When I called Sunbeam, his voice was happy and relaxed and my heart jumped. She missed me, but not the path. I missed it and had lost my trail while we had been solving things. The next months would be different now, but they are not bad. She was happy. I was happy. We would see each other again, as soon as we could handle ourselves. Maybe things cannot always be like that. But now they are like that, and that is enough.

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