Just strolled down historic Washington Street of Harpers Ferry, West Virginia, only to find the painted stone Appalachian Trail headquarters office where my picture was taken and greeted by employees happy to see me. I felt proud to be hiker #100 for the year, and many are impressed by my (our) pace thus far. Can’t believe I’ve hiked 1013 miles thus far (almost halfway), and later today, friends are coming to visit and hike Maryland. Ahh! Do I sound excited?
Have been hiking alone for nearly a week, as Aaron (Double Bag) slowed a bit to hike with his girlfriend Emily. I had the pleasure of hiking with them for a few days in the Shenandoah’s, then we split ways and will rejoin in southern PA. Much different experience, I find, hiking alone: encountering new hikers solo
draws more attention to you than when approaching a shelter of people as a pair; hearing my own exhales in a silent woods; being inspired to talk outloud, listen more to birdcalls, think. At times it has been more eerie, like on Saturday when a horrific storm blew through and I was walking in hail and dangerous lightning which was surely striking nearby trees. A second round came, this time prompting met to take shelter under a rock near the edge of a cliff. I hiked in the dark to the nearest shelter solo, only to encounter old friends, so all was well. And to make matters more sociable, TWO groups of campers at the same campground invited me in out of the rain for camp food: BBQ chicken, veggies, chips and homemade salsa at the first place (and they wanted to hear ALL about my hike), then brownies at the next stop. Didn’t know whether to feel like a freak for hiking in that weather or a celebrity based on all the ooing and awing, wide eyes, questions.
was okay. Nothing compared to the Great Smoky Mtn NP, I’ll say that. I was there much of the time on weekend days, meaning tons of people, and you cross the Skyline Drive/Blue Ridge Parkway many times, making it less of a wilderness experience. The deer looked sickly and overpopulated, though the bird diversity was still good. Found a number of morels, too, which always make dinner more exciting.
I’m surprised to find how many hikers don’t know trees and other plants. Met a guy the other day who’d been hiking almost three months and didn’t know what a tulip tree was (and we’d been walking through pure stands of them all day!), or that many can’t identify poison ivy, sassafras, or wild ginger. A bit disheartening to know how many are out here for months and don’t know what they are seeing, largely at all. I drew an interested crowd at a shelter this week when I was steaming stinging nettle and making wild ginger tea. At least I was able to share the good news of a few common and edible wild plants (don’t worry, folks: not going to pull a Chris McCandless and eat a bunch of stuff I don’t know), and now these people are interested in learning (and eating) some botany along their hikes.
Still finishing Annie Dillard’s Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. Quote from the book that really hit me:
“Self-consciousness is the curse of the city and all the sophistication implies. It is the glimpse of oneself in a storefront window, the unbidden awareness of reactions on the faces of other people - the novelist’s world, not the poet’s. I’ve lived there. I remember what the city has to offer: human companionship, major-league baseball, and a clatter of quickening stimulus like a rush from strong drugs that leaves you drained. I remember how you bide your time in the city, and think, if you stop to think, “next year...I’ll start living; next year...I’ll start my life.”
Hmm. Love her writing. She’s re-teaching me to see, to look for intricacy, to pay attention to insects and the emerging of tree buds, to appreciate the way children do. Someday I’ll write a book, Annie one of many inspirations.
I’d just like to say that I have an amazing spouse, who has supported me through half of the hike so far, hooking me up with awesome Patagonia gear, letters, home-dried fruit and veggies, and Peeps (what can I say?). It’s unfathomably difficult being out here sans your spouse, now for over two months. Daily, I wonder what I was thinking choosing to be apart by hiking, though I still have to wonder if this dream would have never happened if not now, if not this year, 2009. I’m certain that tackling this adventure while apart is making us stronger - joy and suffering seem to be inseparable.
Memories from the week:
-singing Dave Matthews Band “Stay” as I hiked through a hot woods as it “began to rain”
-irritating (playfully, mind you) a nuthatch on a dead tree by going “pshh, pshh!!”, it’s head going in circles and shifting positions as if to say “where dat comin’ from? stop that!”
-standing fifteen feet from a deer as it continued to graze on shoots in a silent woods
-shooting the breeze with Brits and Kiwis hiking the trail (Phil, Irish, Martin - miss you guys!)
-drinking coffee indoors on a frosty morning in Front Royal (glad I wasn’t on the trail that am)
-having high school kids and clean adults stare at me as I hitchhiked along a busy road, and realizing I’m beginning to look scary with untrimmed beard, bandana, hiking sticks.
-overhearing a middle-aged daughter scolding her father at a park restaurant, asking him to make a decision about whether to go into assisted living or shape up his slovenliness at home (she was mean, too!)
-hearing friends yell, “Hi, Jon!” in the background as Erin and I talked on the phone.
Two hours ‘til friends come. I’ve got a rank sleeping bag to wash before then.
-Jon (Appalachian Trail guy)
“Birches”
“Never lose a holy curiosity.” - Albert Einstein
