Post-Trail Musings

I summited Katahdin with Seamane and some very good hiking friends on September 20, 2024, though it’s starting to feel like it happened in a different life. We arrived home on the 27th, after spending some time in Maine. Seamane needed a much-deserved break after being pretty much stuck at home since I left in March, and our time in Maine was a nice opportunity to reconnect without the typical distractions of everyday life.

Since I’ve been home, I’ve spent the days doing tasks that seem antithetical to life as a thru-hiker: navigating Virginia’s health insurance market, getting Microsoft Teams to work on my PC, filling out forms to become a contractor at my former employer, buying clothes that actually fit me, ordering homebrew supplies, cleaning up my office space, trying to get my old pickup truck to run, and so on. However, in quiet times, I find myself perusing pictures of the hike just to remind myself what happened.

Even though it ended recently, the whole experience sort of feels like a dream — especially since the pounds I lost seem to be finding their way back to my body with amazing efficiency. Who knew that beer has a lot of calories?? That said, I tend to adapt to new situations quickly, so once the hike was done, I just slipped back into home life, albeit with an uncertain future.

My personality generally prohibits me from taking great pride in any accomplishments, so I haven’t spent any time contemplating the gravity of it all. Please know this is not a thinly veiled fishing exercise to attract praise. I salute all my 2024 NOBO “classmates” on a great hike. Everyone had a different experience, and mine was, and remains, a bit ambiguous.

After the fact, I am struggling to clearly define why I did it. Throughout the hike, I was continually haunted by the final words of my first blog post. I’d said, “Me? I just like hiking.” At times on the trail, I cursed myself for that, because I came to learn that that statement should have come with several caveats. I like hiking if the weather is good. I like hiking if I don’t have a million pounds on my back. I like hiking if the terrain is smooth…

The other day, Seamane forwarded me a funny clip from Jim Gaffigan about hiking. He said, “The first thing you realize when you start hiking is that it was a mistake.” That’s not entirely true, but at some points, it certainly felt that way.

Some people like to hike regardless. I learned that I like to hike under certain conditions, which is not optimal when you’re embarking on a six-month journey from Georgia to Maine. That very simple realization was very profound for me throughout my time on the trail, though. It taught me the importance of distinguishing my true thoughts and preferences from those I think I “should” adopt. I might not have needed to thru-hike the AT to realize I need to separate “should do” from “want to do,” but it was a big takeaway for me.

I don’t regret the hike at all, though. I just learned that I don’t enjoy hiking as much as I thought I did… My initial reason for hiking the trail was that I always thought I “should” do it, after spending so many summers taking hiking trips into the mountains of Maine and New Hampshire. I continued to hike it because I wanted to finish. I also had tons of support along the way, and I didn’t want to disappoint anyone — including myself.

As I hiked through Massachusetts — which was only challenging because of the heat — I concocted a plan that perhaps I would just veer left at the Maine Junction in Vermont and continue up the Vermont Long Trail (the AT and the Long Trail are the same in Southern Vermont and separate at the Maine Junction).

That way, I would finish a lot sooner, and I could at least say I thru-hiked something. If I had done that, I would probably get credit for the longest approach hike to the Long Trail ever. I just wanted it to be done.

Seamane and I had a video call when I was at a hotel in Lee, MA, and she seemed fairly deflated, because she knew I was teetering on the edge of throwing in the towel. She said that the hike was not just mine — it was ours — and she was right. That was a big turning point for me. No one who hikes the trail does so totally on their own. People join “tramilies,” or have visitors (as I did), or have followers on social media, or some combination of these. And all the Trail Angels along the way clearly want to help the thru-hikers and see them succeed.

Maybe the heat cooked my brain, but it took me a long time to realize that even though I was technically hiking by myself most of the time, I was never really “alone.” It was never just “my” hike. That realization gave me a new purpose. I was hiking for me, for Seamane, and for everyone who had an interest in my progress.

As I got closer to Katahdin, I finally felt as though I could hike just about anything without too much physical struggle. Who knew it would take me more than 2,000 miles to finally get my trail legs?? Some people (probably most) get them faster. To be fair, the mental aspect of the hike is more challenging, and mercifully, temperatures in New England are much more to my liking. My physical hiking abilities probably exceeded my mental abilities for a long time, so maybe that was the holdup…

Regardless, the act of hiking itself was no longer the central focus. In the end, I suspect it’s not the main point for most thru-hikers. Hiking with purpose, making human connections, being in the moment, and seeing the good in people are all more powerful aspects of the hike than just putting one foot in front of the other. I’m not a very expressive person, and it feels awkward for me to type all of this out, but it took me a long time to fully process that doing the AT was not actually about the hiking.

Starting in Vermont, my hike took on a much different tone. I really felt the energy of Seamane and all of you pushing me (in a good way), I made deeper connections with my fellow hikers, and tried to embed myself in the culture of the trail. In the end, I felt as though I had developed some wonderful friendships and felt very connected to the thru-hiking community.

Summiting Katahdin with Seamane and a group of people I had hiked with for hundreds of miles was the best possible experience. I could not have asked for anything more.

The challenge for me now is figuring out how to capture that feeling and state of mind at home. I’m trying not to rush into anything. I’m working on our house, doing some contract work for my former employer, reconnecting with friends, and trying to focus on what I really want to do versus what I feel like I should be doing. I owe that to myself and to everyone who helped me along the way.