What's Your Everest?

It can be alarming how quickly trust and friendship can develop with new people you meet. It cannot be blind trust however. People are occasionally the victims of crime and vandalism much as you can be on the streets in your home community. I had three people ask me prior to my hike, “Will you be carrying a gun with you?” While I chuckled at this question, for it evoked images of the Wild West in my mind, the trail is also not entirely safe; there have been nine documented homicides on the Appalachian trail since 1974 (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Appalachian_Trail). While black bears may be the most dangerous animal you may encounter on the trail, the greatest danger is typically your own isolation. As you hike the Long Trail and join that community, you are thrust into relationships in a way akin to those you share your home community with. You have neighbors you like and some you do not, you have laws, and you have responsibilities. 

          

       Quickly I gained confidence as the week progressed. I had the support of a group of hikers whom I quickly bonded with and felt their mutual appreciation of my presence on the trail with them. Our hiking schedule was virtually in synch during that first week, and while we may have hiked separately during the day, we all joined together each night. As the end of the first week approached, I was buoyed by this community knowing we all had similar aspirations.

The turning point for me that week came when approaching the first major climb on the Long Trail, Stratton Mountain. As a day hike, carrying only some snacks and a lunch, Stratton would be an ample romp. As a thru-hike, with stiff boots, 45 pounds of gear, and sagging confidence, Stratton was my Everest. What pulled me up the mountain at the end of that day though, was the sight of several of the hikers who had continually been ahead of me all week until this point. The fact that I had routinely been the last into camp each night led me to believe that I was the least of the community. Yet, as I pushed up that mountain and engaged in conversation with “Chia Pet,” I came to realize this very solid looking outdoors woman was on her first hike and really struggling. Oddly, that was good news to me. Not so much that she was struggling, but the realization that she was more like me that I had envisioned. As we hiked, she shared her fears of not being able to finish and trying to keep up with her primary hiking partner, “Fruitcake,” whom had completed the Appalachian Trail several years earlier. Mentally, I could feel a switch click inside my head, and no longer was I focusing on my own position within this community based on where I started or finished, but more so on the fact that I was quite simply a part of this community.

As we reached the summit, mentally, I was strong again. One of the contributors to my struggle thus far had been my boots. Stiff and heavy, they were better designed for rugged mountaineering and not thru-hiking. For some reason, I thought the rule was stiff = strong. I broke all the rules and shed those boots in favor of my Teva sandals; a move that would prove to save the week for me. I literally ran down the mountain, passing two others hikers along the way, and made it to camp first that night. In my journal that evening I scribbled "Talons wear Teva's" in reference to my now happy Redtail feet.  Emotional, I was elated; physically, I was strong. I had climbed my Everest and there would be no more doubting myself along this journey. I looked forward to the arrival of the others and finishing my first week on the trail.