Together on a Solitary Quest

Despite any appearances to the contrary, I was quite nervous that first night. The shelter journal reported that a bear was present at the campsite the previous night, Hurricane Ernesto was swirling overhead, and I was certain that my eagerness would not sustain the weight of my pack for another 266 miles. There were a group of hikers already cooking dinner together and having a jovial time; undoubtedly they knew each other or so it seemed and I was on the outside looking in.  As more and more hikers pulled into camp that night, I began to feel even more isolated.

It was quickly becoming evident to me that I would not be alone on this trip. I held some naïve assumption that because I was hiking alone, I would remain alone throughout most of the trip. Any hope of solitude would remain slightly further down the trail. Limited amenities require hikers to share sleeping quarters, dining space and ultimately conversation. Trail names are quickly exchanged, each comes with a story. “Gobbles” had hit a turkey with his car on the way to Thanksgiving dinner. “Chia Pet” was a novice hiker who shaved her head which helped her take on the appearance of the popular dime dime-store gift. Other names such as “Commando” and “Roman Goat” left little or much to the imagination.

  

Solitude would come during the day while hiking.  Yet each evening there was much community to be shared. It became what pulled me further along each day. There is no comfortable way to carry 50 pounds on your back, no matter how good your pack is or how strong your legs may be. Slogging through the woods with biting bugs, sucking mud and ankle grabbing roots makes one question your motivation for undertaking such a journey. I learned to build in my own rewards throughout the day. A Power Bar pushed me towards morning break. Lunch signaled the half way mark for each day. A cold stream or lookout was always a welcome afternoon break. Removing the boots at the end of the trail section was the best reward of the day. 

Ritual set in very quickly, almost too quickly. Rise and shine was often dictated solely by the commotion in the shelter generated by those who actually enjoy waking up early. The same hikers seemed to depart each morning earlier than others did. Despite the solitary quest though, we all seemed to hike together. The shelter each evening was our village to gather in and share tales of the trail from that day. It was here each night that I found myself recharging from the stories and shared experience of a day on the trail. We each battled the same mud bogs, crossed the same slippery puncheons, and marveled at the same majestic views. 

As the first week progressed, this community grew stronger for me. The first week of September is an ideal time to hike weather wise. Mild late summer temperatures are common, nights are often cool enough to keep the vicious black flies at bay, and water is frequently abundant. Back to school college groups are common along the trail also at this time. The tail end of the Appalachian Trail thru-hikers making their way north from the southern terminus at Springer Mountain, Georgia are rounding the corner in Vermont and sharing this section of trail as well.  Meeting all these hikers of varying abilities and backgrounds opened an entire new world to me.