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Excerpt- Mountains, Madness and Miracles - 4,000 Miles Along the Appalachian Trail
I shoulder my pack that seems to be gaining weight the longer I stand
there. I take up my hiking poles, whisper a prayer, and begin the Approach Trail.
We walk but a half mile when Paul Bunyan falls behind. Calling to him around a
bend in the trail, he ignores our plea to catch up and hike as a family. He
claims he will take this at his own pace, if at all. I try not to let doubt
creep in, even as I struggle with sudden pains erupting out of nowhere in my
foot and knee. It appears everything is in rebellion.
Dread washes over me. What am I thinking, in all
honesty? How can I possibly do some trail from Georgia to Maine? All the plans,
the preparations, the dreams, are about to come crashing down in defeat on day
one—before I even arrive at the official start of the Appalachian Trail on
Springer Mountain.
We complete the mile up
the Approach Trail to the top of Amicalola Falls. There I take off my pack and
struggle with the feeling that I’m making the worst mistake of my life. I can
hear it now when we arrive home in defeat. The sympathetic looks mixed with “I thought
it would be too much.” Or other sentiments meant to comfort but act as barbs
instead.
I turn to see Paul Bunyan stumbling up the trail.
He throws down his pack in an act of surrender. I can tell from his face what
he’s thinking, and it’s not looking good. . .
The son
You got that right.
And this is what I’m thinking. I’m not going any farther on this stupid thing.
Man, I can’t believe how steep it is. I’m not cut out for this. This is a joke.
Maybe if I lag behind, we’ll stop and rethink this plan.
At this point I’m
still wondering what’s going on and what we’re doing. It all seems weird to me.
Maybe we’ll get to the top of the mountain and say, Okay, let’s go back down
and maybe head out again tomorrow and see what happens. This will only be a
one or two night thing. It can’t go on for weeks. No way.
Me
Sigh. It looks like we may
be turning around here at the rest room, atop the waterfalls that gives the
park its name. One mile on the Approach Trail and we are throwing in the towel,
before we even see the first white blaze. The unthinkable is about to happen. We are going to head home in utter
defeat. Oh God, how can this be?
Suddenly a man clutching
a cigarette appears from around the rest room, his head wrapped in a bandanna. He
introduces himself as Flint. Immediately I recognize the name from a hiking
website on the Internet. His wife contacted me a few days before via the site
where I’m keeping my online trail journal. She mentioned her husband’s plan to start
March 5 and that his name is Flint. I already have a connection to the trail!
 |
| Our hiking inner circle that first day on the Approach Trail |
The next moment we’re joined by Dr. B, the man we
met at the arch where we exchanged pictures. We all begin talking about the
hike. . .and then we begin hiking together. I don’t think any more about giving
up or that Paul Bunyan lags behind. We’re officially part of a hiking circle
that will become the mainstay of long-distance hiking—a league of fellow hikers
who hold to some wild, farfetched dream of hiking the entire Appalachian Trail.
Not long into the hike I
realize the value of that inner circle. When we come to a trail intersection, Dr.
B and Flint wait patiently for Paul Bunyan to catch up. They refuse to leave
him behind. They acknowledge him as a vital member of the group. They take
their time, enjoying a slow, relaxed pace on a fine spring day. And with that
patience, Paul Bunyan seems to have more energy.
The doubts are taking flight.
We are not going home after all. We are on our way north by way of a trail.
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