Day 22: On a Hiker's Psychology

The first month is almost finished, and there is a lot to say. The gang has traveled through Georgia, into Tenn. and the Smokeys, and we are now marching on the North Carolina border toward the doorstep of Virginia. For the past week we have been blessed with severe thunderstorms that have followed us for 100 miles, pouring rain on our heads and rattling our tents with each thundering lightening strike. We are progressing nicely and can practically smell the homecooking as we approach our respective homes. To this date, our largest day mileage wise has been 24 miles. Overall, we are averaging around 20 miles. Hikers we meet are amazed at our "blistering pace" and it would be a lie to say that we aren't proud to be seen as the cream of the crop in that regard.

Thinking about interesting anecdotes has never been my forte. Boastfully, I could mention our closest bear encounter yet, where in the midst of night two bears (we think) came within 10 yards of our tents. We heard loud rustlings in the bush outside, and Jake poked his head out to see two glowing eyes in the dark. Softling, he let out a curse word, to which the bear grunted (in what could be considered the bear version of the same word) before running off. In a more embarassing yet similar fashion, I could tell about the time I was walking the trail when I surprised a large doe. The deer sprinted up the mountain side some 20 yards, all the while making a high pitch shrieking sound. Then, it turned to face me. Feeling slighted that the deer was not scared enough to sprint away all together, I made myself big and made some noise by banging my poles together. Unexpectedly, the deer merely stood there and began stomping its feet in a display of defiance. I won't tell you who was the first one to flinch and walk away, but lets just say that you should never underestimate the utter ferociousness of nature, even does.


In a more philosophical note, the trail gives you a lot of time to simply think. Staggering up a mountain a few days ago, I came up with this connection between a hiker's mind and the trail. In the hiker world, we follow a strict routine, in terms of eating, sleeping, setting up shelter, etc. To disturb such an order causes a hiker to become extremely annoyed and upset. When your'e hiking up a mountain, your mind tends to wander to all the things that are wrong at that moment. You didn't eat enough breakfast, your sleeping pad is wet, your blister on your left foots looks like a bad playdo session, or you simply didn't like the way your pack feels on your shoulders. With each step that you dwell on the bad, the trail seems to get steeper and more rocky. At times, you reach what you think is your breaking point . You can't go another step. The only option seems to fall back down that mountain. At other times, your mind is thinking positively, and that same trail becomes one of those smooth paved walkways found in airports. Although the trail takes on the shape of your mood, I would argue that it isn't a totally mercilous demon. Even in the hardest moments, the trail gives you something back. When hikers finally reach the top of that mountain, andthey are too exhausted to even cheer or hoot outloud in triumph, insteadthey let out a soft sigh. That sound is by far one of the sweetest sounds I have heard on the trip thus far.


Take care, and I'll try and write again as soon as possible.