issue #12 Frozen Pen. Was too Tired to Write Last Night.
Appalachian Trail Journals
It’s that time of year. That time when I look back seven short years and reflect on the start of my long walk north on the Appalachian Trail.
In the spring of 2018, I left my car in a dirt parking lot in the rural mountains of Georgia and started walking north on that narrow footpath. I was prepared to walk until I simply didn't feel like - or couldn't bear - walking any longer. Or until I reached the end of the path. I had six months before winter set in. Looking back at my lonely car as I walked away with only my backpack full of camping equipment, I had the distinct sensation that I may never see it again.
Over the course of the next several months I experienced many challenges, including ice and snow, dehydration, biting insects, torrential rains, stifling heat, debilitating fatigue, and bears. Yet somehow I found a way to make peace with all of them (especially the bears). My poems gave me an added sense of purpose. My photographs confirmed to me that this was really happening. Each day I recorded my experiences in my journal, often with fingers clutching a frozen pen. Most of all I wrote to fully realize and penetrate the expansion occurring in my mind and spirit. The path became the great metaphor and teacher. Every day new lessons were revealed to me. All I had to do was just keep walking.
Day 16:
“15 Miles. Frozen Pen. Was too tired to write last night. Did 15 miles out from the Nantahala Center. Probably 5000ft of elevation gain. Punishing Day. Lots of rain and fog. In the tent now. Everything is iced up. Have to get moving.”
Day 46:
“20 Miles. Headed out this morning in clear weather. Began the day with a seven-mile climb up to an exposed ridge. Weather held for a little while, then the storms moved in. Multiple rounds of torrential rain, wind, and lightning. Some strikes were too close. My nerves were on edge. The ridge was not a good place to be, but it was ten miles long with no escape. A few times I tried to find a way down off the side, but it was too steep and the rocks too slippery. Couldn't stop to take photos of the towering thunderclouds. At one point hail was pelting my exposed hands. Spent most of the day in motion. No opportunities to rest with the bad weather. Arrived at camp drenched and shivering. Cooked in my tent vestibule, and ate in the tent, which I almost never do for fear of imparting the smell of food and attracting bears and other animals. I was too cold to look for a suitable branch to hang my bear bag, so just tied it to a tree about a hundred yards from my tent.”
Day 55
“17 Miles. Up and over McAfee's Knob and the Tinker Cliffs today. Another significant milestone on the journey. I traversed this iconic ridgeline under swirling storm clouds. The endless views were backed by gnarled trees growing out of ancient granite boulders. I felt like I was walking through one of my favorite Japanese landscape paintings. Rain on and off throughout the day. Had to set up camp in a downpour. Once again feet are in really bad shape. Wet and blistered. The athletic tape I've been using to bandage them is turning black from grime. Badly need a rest day in Daleville, along with some new shoes, since mine are completely worn out. Currently at a campsite far from the shelter. Many birds singing all around the campsite. Can just barely hear some voices in the distance. Almost too tired to write.”
Day 89
“15 Miles. Slow progress over the rocks today. It took until 4:30 to go 15 miles. Found a nice campsite behind a shelter. Took a quiet walk down to the creek after dinner. I am struggling with the desire to get off the trail and back to my life, in whatever form it may take. Hopefully my resolve to keep walking will deepen as I continue. It disturbs me to be so indecisive about carrying on. I want to want to continue. And I sincerely hope the feeling will return. At the same time, I have a deep desire to just slow down for a while. Sit in the forest and write and soak in the quietude without the relentless painful walking. I am conflicted. Or perhaps I am healed from my wish to think and walk and process? Maybe the sheer physical effort required each day is what's discouraging me the most? I enjoy my surroundings immensely, but it worries me that Pennsylvania is still agonizingly rocky and only supposed to get harder.”
“This evening behind
My thin bug net
Staring up at pines
Out here hunting truths
But recently they’ve
Been hunting me
Creek Flowing”
Wonderful insights into your walk. Very powerful. 😊