In any case, I caught my breath, sacked up (as it were), and hiked up to a beautiful view. It was a stunning vista of mountain ranges, small towns, rivers, lakes and a few delightful puffy white clouds. Also, there was a (non-functional) toilet seat perched on some of the rocks on the edge of the cliff with the words "Rice Field Shelter Scenic Privy" written on top. Hikers have an odd sense of humor sometimes. We took some hilariously inappropriate pictures (which will not be featured on this Blog), and Runaway (who had caught up with us due to my sloth pace), Happy Feet and I sat down and just contemplated the vastness of what was before us. I can't speak for the other two, but I know my thoughts were revolving around the people I was with and had been with on the hike, the fun times we'd already had and the good times to come. After a while, Happy looked over at me and just nodded and said, "Yup," as if my thoughts had been audible. We all three got up and continued on down the trail past Rice Field Shelter.
While walking down the trail with Happy about twenty feet in front of me and Runaway behind me by about the same distance, I stepped where I shouldn't have. The trail was flat and smooth, but the undergrowth had crept in over the edges of the walking surface. In an effort to avoid a puddle, I stepped to the side, into the shrubberies and on to a sharp slope down. I didn't have a trekking pole in my left hand as I had broken one coming down off of the Roan and hadn't replaced it yet. No pole meant nothing to catch my weight on, and as I stepped, I felt the roll happen with all of my weight and the weight of the pack pushing my ankle in a direction contrary to normal anatomy. There was a loud pop, a louder swear, and I crumpled to the ground. I didn't see myself fall, but I imagine it to look a lot like this. Happy and Runaway, having heard my first and continuing use of profane language rushed to my side.
Happy: "Are you okay?"
Me: "*&$%@#!"
"Is it broken?"
"Oh my %$*#!"
"Can I do anything to help?"
"*&#$%#!"
This went on for a while. I was admittedly not the best help in this situation, but that wasn't the first thing on my mind. After the initial shock wore off, I wiggled my toes to make sure they were still getting blood circulated and asked Happy Feet for the whiskey. I took a nice long swig, turned to my two friends and said, "Well, I think that's curtains for me boys." At this juncture, I was certain it was broken. I have sprained, strained, torn and dislocated just about everything, but I'd never heard a pop like this time. I was still splayed across the trail where I had fallen, Happy and Runaway had taken up seats nearby, and the three of us sat staring off again, this time in disbelief instead of wonderment. I knew that in the next few minutes and the next few days there would be a lot of tough decisions to be made, but I couldn't think in that moment of anything but how much I loved being out there with my friends, and how much I didn't want that to end yet. I would be lying to you if I said that I didn't shed a tear at the thought of this grand adventure falling down around me.
At that point something pretty simplistically wild happened. I looked to my right, and there in the undergrowth were dozens of beautiful thistle plants, flowers in full bloom. To some people, thistle is an annoying thorny weed, something to be avoided because of the potential discomfort inflicted by it. To many others, it is a beautiful creation, vibrant in its variety of colors, the smell overwhelmingly earthy, spicy and indicative of some untameable wildness, the mere existence of it proving a foil to the conceptualized aesthetic standard of roses and daisies. To both groups of people, the lovers and nonlovers of thistle, the plant has the potential to be dangerous, harmful and frustrating. They simply choose to look at the same thing in two different ways.
I calmed myself down, took another pull of whiskey and assessed the situation. We were at mile ten of a twenty mile day. The nearest road was seven miles backwards over hellacious terrain. The nearest road going forward was ten miles of unknown terrain. We had about two or three hours of daylight left at this point, and eventually decided the best way out was back. The rest of the group was well ahead of us, so Runaway (in true Trail Magic selfless style) booked on up the trail to let everyone else know what the scenario was. I got to my feet and bearing as little weight as possible on the bad ankle, Happy and I began to hobble back towards the last shelter. The plan was to get there before dark, hike back to town slowly the next day, stay in Pearisburg (again) for a night and Sam would drive out three hours from Knoxville to get me and I would recoup at his place. After looking at my ankle, I was pretty sure it indeed wasn't broken, so I figured I could ride out a couple weeks at Sam's and rejoin the group when I could bear weight again. We got to the shelter and enjoyed a fantastic sunset, the nicest I'd yet seen on the trail, a nice fire and some good company. Hey, even a bad day on the trail is better than a good day at work.
The next day, I got a message from Seuss saying that they'd grabbed a shuttle back to Pearisburg, had gotten a motel room (the same one for nostalgic purposes), and that MacGyver and Babyface were on their way back up to me to carry my pack down and provide whatever assistance I needed. I really don't have words to express how thankful I am to have good friends. All of these guys, Happy Feet, Runaway, Seuss, MacGyver, Babyface and Sam rushed to my aide with zero concern for anything but my well-being. In addition to that, I received messages from four different hikers (Nigel, Gypsy Man, Spooky, Swayze) saying they had heard what happened and wanted to know if they could help in any way. It's a very nice feeling knowing your back is covered. Good friends are hard to come by, and I am incredibly lucky to have the friends I do.
We very slowly walked the last seven miles back into town and got a shuttle to the motel. MacGyver looked at my ankle and looked at me, and I had no doubt what he was thinking but couldn't say. He thought my trip was over. That is not to say that he didn't have faith in my toughness or was trying to be negative, he was just looking at things as objectively as possible and he knew it was not good. I, on the other hand, sometimes have an issue with being unrealistically optimistic. When he looked at me like that, I said, "A little sprain. A week or two off of it and I'll jump back up the trail and meet you guys. No problem." Actually, my optimism versus MacGyver's realism had gotten us into a few minor arguments and was a slight point of contention. I have a (curse/blessing?) of always finding the sunny side, no matter how dismal the situation. Everyone says, "look on the bright side," but it is very necessary to have someone also look at the thing head on. MacGyver and I both knew the reality of the situation, but I forgot that I couldn't wish it better.
Happy Feet decided to jump off the trail while I was recovering. His brother lived nearby in Charlottesville and he really needed to let his blisters heal up properly (yeah, they were still going two months later). The plan was to give him a call when I was ready to walk and we would both catch a bus up to Harper's Ferry to meet up with the guys in a couple weeks. MacGyver, Seuss and Babyface headed up the trail, and I headed back to Knoxville with Sam.
I was RICEing my ankle for a week with little sign of improvement. The swelling had barely gone down, bruising hadn't really started and the pain had not subsided. I finally decided to go to a doctor and have them give it the ol' once over. All the x-rays were negative for breaks, but she said I had suffered a grade 3 high ankle sprain. She said I needed to be in a splint and on crutches for two weeks. She said once I was off crutches, I could walk lightly on flat surfaces. She said in about seven or eight weeks I could start exercising lightly on it. She said that if I cared about my future mobility, I would under no circumstances hike on that ankle until it was healed and strengthened. She said a lot of words, but all I heard was, "You're done."
There was definitely a wave of sadness, but I had already begun preparing myself for the bad news. It hurt to hear it for certain, and it popped my illusory bubble of a speedy recovery, but it was not entirely unexpected.
So what now? Well, I am spending a little quality time with Sam, which is always a positive thing. Soon, the rest of the crew will get to the Shenandoah River where I will hopefully meet up with them and do a week or so of canoeing. It isn't hiking, but the scene at the motel was too anticlimactic for it to be my end out here. There needs to be at least a little fanfare. After that, I will take a bus back to New Hampshire, say hi to the family for a bit, pack my car and head down to Austin, where I will begin a fervent search for work and start living like a normal person again. For now. There has been some talk already of a Fellowship reunion to hike Katahdin in the spring depending on how many people finish.
As I reflect back on my experiences over the last few months and this unceremonious ending, there is a wide range of thoughts. I think about how long I had planned for this trip, how long I saved for this trip and how high it was on my list of life goals. I think about all the fun times that will be had without me for the remainder of the trip, and it honestly makes me sad. You see, I have a very acute case of FOMO (fear of missing out). I know how much fun it is to be out there every day, and I know I won't be doing that anymore. Also, I hate leaving things incomplete. I strive to bring my goals to fruition and to finish what I start, and it is very tough for me mentally to leave this thing only fractionally done. In addition, though I know the circumstances are beyond my control, I hate quitting, and that's what this feel like to me. That's irrational and illogical, I admit, but you feel what you feel. Mostly I will miss the people. I met so many exceptional people on this trip, many of whom I have no doubt will be lifelong friends. Despite their future presence in my life, I got to spend every day with these people for two months, and I will very sincerely miss them. That is always a sad feeling. All of this is a bit tough to cope with at the moment.
But then I think about what I just experienced, and all of those other thoughts slip into the background. I spent nearly two months hiking through some of the most beautiful mountains on earth. I saw trees, flowers and animals by the thousands. There were White Pines and Red Pines and Virginia Pines. There were Willows and Hemlocks, Oaks and Ashes, Firs and Spruces, Beeches, Birches, Cottonwoods and so many more. There were laurels, lillies, trilium, lady slippers, mushrooms, strawberries, raspberries, blackberries, blueberries, hollies and holy moly so many more. We saw lizards, larks and ladybugs, birds and bees, bears and hares, dogs and cats and mice and snakes. We saw bugs, dear lord did we see bugs galore. Spiders, ants, mosquitoes, gnats, ticks and crickets, so, so many crickets. And I would be remiss if I didn't mention the vast expanses of rhododendrons and their poisonous fumes. I gained a wealth of knowledge about backpacking, trail food, gear and techniques. I visited towns and hamlets that would never have been a blip on my radar. We saw wind, rain, hail, thunder, lightning and some hot, hot sunny days. I fell asleep to the sound of owls, peepers and Seuss's snoring every night. There were sunrises, sunsets, waterfalls, rivers, mountains, lakes, rock climbs, hills, dales, ridges, peaks, valleys, balds and gaps.
But all of that is nothing compared to the beauty of the people. From the very first day, when Buzzy offered us his cooked dinner and some Dewars, to the very last day when I was writhing on the ground and a hiker named Rapunzel offered me the ankle brace that she was wearing because my injured ankle looked worse than hers, and literally every day in between. I don't know if it's nature, or this trail or just coincidence, but I encountered some of the kindest and most genuinely good people that I've met in my life in the past couple of months. There is something about being out here that brings out the best in people. If you are ever having doubts about the nature of people, hit the trail and your faith in humanity will be restored. Every single day there were acts of completely unrewarded kindness, and hikers as a whole were happier and kinder for it. Kindness and happiness beget kindness and happiness. It is certainly a principle that can and should be applied everywhere and every day. People gave us rides, food, information, conversation, shelter, medicine and help. It was truly inspiring.
Though nearly all the people that I met were unique and amazing, there area few people who have become permanent fixtures in my life: The Fellowship. Runaway, the soft spoken victim. I say victim in jest, as he was subject to our wild and non-conventional hiking methods. Runaway is a great guy with a bright future, and I wish we'd had more time together on the trail. He is trying to get to Katahdin early so that his brother can hike with him before he deploys for the military. Good luck to both of them. Swayze, the crazy hiking addict. With the frame of a hobbit he might fool you, but he has all the strength and dedication of men ten times his size. His hiking exploits were great to hear about, his knowledge useful to draw on and his personality was a constant pleasure to be around. I wish him luck and fun in his attempt at conquering the triple crown next year when he tackles the Continental Divide Trail. Nigel, the non-British Brit. He will be done hiking in August so he can go back to school in North Carolina. With his upbeat attitude, sense of humor, and expert knowledge regarding hammocks, I know his successes in life will be plentiful. Spiceman, the Canadian Wonder. His enthusiasm and kindness are the things that brought the The Fellowship together in the first place. He truly embodied everything that is good about the trail, with gratuitous amounts of genuine kindness and wonderment at what we were experiencing daily. Babyface, the parkour master. He has a wisdom and worldliness that hide his youth. He knows how to talk to anyone about anything and his zest for attacking each day with full vigor is incredibly admirable. He has so many adventures planned, and with his tenacity for experiencing everything, his entire life should be an adventure. Happy Feet, my twin. We were very often asked if we were brothers because of our physical appearance, but our personalities were more similar still. Happy is a guy who lives life in a manner that makes me wonder if we were separated at birth. Every day is a challenge to see how much fun he can have and how many good stories he can live out. This is his second go at the AT, and to put that much effort in a second time around to achieve his original goal shows a drive for success that can only yield positive results. These guys are all people who have impacted my life in a very positive way, and I will forever be grateful that my path crossed theirs.
And then there are the two guys I started with. Dr. Seuss and I knew each other before, but of course a trip like this forces you to get to know each other in a much more thorough way. What a pleasure to be able to get that close to such an amazing guy. His sarcastic sense of humor rivals many great comedians. It was not uncommon to be unsure if he was serious or not, regardless of how ridiculous whatever he said might have been. He is a true leader in his abilities to bridge gaps between parties and find a workable middle ground, and his sincere desire to include everybody (except Rabbit/Crappy) in all the fun shows what kind of a person he really is. Finally, there is MacGyver. Before this trip, MacGyver, Nick Burns, was one of my best friends. That sentiment has done nothing but gotten stronger for me. He is the kind of guy that gets things done and likes to have things done right. I can't imagine how frustrating for him it must have been to spend that much time with a crew of idiots (I say that with love and respect) who drank like fish, constantly did stupid things for photo ops, left camp late, got to camp late and just generally acted like children for two months. We butted heads a few times on the trip due primarily to our mutual stubbornness, but my affections for him have only been amplified by proximity. Since I've known him, he has been a very strong guiding voice in my life, and he has always gone above and beyond to help me when I need it. Friends like MacGyver are very rare, and I am very lucky to have been able to spend so much time with him. He is honestly one of the most loyal, interesting and intelligent people that I know, and I am really, really going to miss seeing him so much.
It may sound like I'm being overly optimistic about these guys, but it was really a special group, and it was my honor and pleasure to have hiked with them. I don't know how many of them will make it to Katahdin this year, but I know that all of them will make good things happen in their lives after the trail.
I want to thank everyone and anyone who read this blog. It was initially a means of forcing myself to journal, but it turned into a very cathartic and pleasant experience for me. I have enjoyed the process and the feedback, and thank you to everyone for dealing with any spelling/grammar/editing mistakes; except this post, all of them were typed on a smart phone. Not the easiest device for lengthy writing. I hope that our experiences were enjoyable to read about, and I apologize for not being able to write about the full 2000 miles.
Now it's time for me to tackle my next grand adventure, which I am very excited about. I came into this hike to clear my head from the cobwebs that stagnation often brings to my psyche. While I didn't achieve the physical goal of completing the trail, I've conquered many of the psychological demons I set out to wrestle. I feel more centered and balanced than I have in my entire life, and I have no doubt this experience has made me a better person and readied me for what is next.
As a last word, go out and live. It is so easy to get into a routine where we forget the importance of variety, spontaneity and fun. Slow down a little bit, look closely at the things you've overlooked since childhood. Get out of your comfort zone, do something new, grow, learn, achieve. There are invariably struggles when you do this, but nothing worth doing will ever be easy. Start small if you want or go balls to the wall, but push yourself beyond the day-to-day. Simply going through the motions of life will yield nothing but regret and unhappiness, both of which have no place in my world. Many people asked us how we found the time to thru-hike. As it will be with any changes you want to make in your life, you don't find the time; you make it. Make time for what is important: your family, your friends, your health and your soul. Make the time to feel good and be happy, because no one else will do it for you. I wish you all the best in your future adventures.
Until then, Happy Trails!
“Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop away from you like the leaves of Autumn.”
― John Muir, Our National Parks
“Because in the end, you won’t remember the time you spent working in the office or mowing your lawn. Climb that goddamn mountain.”
― Jack Kerouac
