AT Day 24
Miles: 30.12
Total Miles: 452.25
(Watauga Lake, TN)
How do you even begin to describe a day that has had so many layers as today? A day that feels more like a lifetime than a day.
I started the day with black tea, honey, and a small square of (L)ove. The choice to add the latter dramatically affected the unfolding of the 10 hours to follow.
Today would be the first time in my life riding this train by myself and independently, from start to finish. It was almost two weeks ago when I met Specs and had that day up in the Smokey’s. This, I suspected would be a different sort of day, but I had no way of knowing how that was going to play out.
Already, as I start writing this tonight, I know that it’s going to be impossible to get even 1% of the day onto the page. But I’ll try all the same.
The places that I’ve been hiking through this last week have progressively shown more and more sign from the hurricane last fall. You heard about it in the news, but to see the wreckage in person is completely different. Yesterday evening I was hiking through a river drainage where there were remains of people’s lives–toys, slippers, a piece of a dog house that looked like it was purchased at Home Depot–it was all washed up on the river bank. But the bank of the river was literally 20 feet below, and this was all stuff that had washed all the way up here when the floods came through. It’s really unemaginable.
I thought that this would be about blown down trees. But this is literally uplifted earth. There are entire swaths of forest that are torn apart.
And massive applause to the ATC and all the work that has gone into clearing out all the damage from the hurricane. This would have been many degrees beyond impassable without some massive efforts over the past 8 months to make these miles passable again.
I don’t know for how much north I’ll continue to see damage from the hurricane. But this seems to be the heart of it. I hope at least that it does not become worse than this. I see now however how so many people died.
It struck me early this morning that today is “May the 4th.” I’m not a big Star Wars fan, and I never have been, but the day struck me this year because today is the day that a memorial is being held in Alaska for a friend of mine who took his life a few months back. His name was Joey Cotter, and he was an extremely cool dude. The fact that he’s not here anymore makes this world a less good place as a whole. I have so much more that I could say, but I’ll keep it short.
Much of today I spent reflecting back on Joey–the time we had growing up and going to school together, and the fact that his life ended like it did. I know that his mom is at least passively following my hike of the trail on social media, and I wish she could know how much time I spend thinking about him out here. Today was especially the case, but he comes to mind literally every day. I’m really upset that he took his life. And I’m really upset that he’s not in this world anymore. I also understand. But it’s hard. I wish he could be out here doing this instead… but we each have our own lives to live.
I tried telling another hiker about it at one point this afternoon. The trip was settling down by then, or so I thought, and after he had told me a bit about his dad passing away, I asked if I could share a bit with him. I tried telling him about Joey, but just started falling apart in tears. I was an absolute mess. I could barely force the words out. We just kept hiking, and he even asked if I was okay, which I was. But I was a blabbering mess as we stumbled down trail, my still trying to tell him that today is Joey’s memorial.
—
At some point I met a hiker, and I zoomed passed him. But as I went by I asked his name and he said “Broken Ass Turtle.”
I spent some time thinking about that after we saw one another for that moment. I feel like a name is important. And not that his name is bad, but what must that do to a person if every time they introduce themselves to another hiker, they begin with “broken.”
I dated a girl last year who refused to let me say that people are ever broken. We disagreed about it at the time, but progressively she convinced me. People aren’t broken. But sometimes we feel that way. And sometimes we identify with that feeling of being broken.
Shit dude… don’t call yourself “broken” every time you meet someone.
Later on I met a guy who introduced himself as PMA. I went by quickly, but paused and asked him what that stood for. “Positive Mental Attitude” he told me, then sniffed and sneezed. I had the impression that he was sick or something, but when we met again later on he told me that he has allergies that are going absolutely out of control. I loved his trail name, but especially considering I was seeing the world through the lens of (L)ove today, his eyes were so puffy that they looked like they were about to pop out of his head! He was clearly miserable. But I gotta say–he still had that P.M.A.
I told him several times that his trail name was brightening my whole goddam day.
Saw an old dude on trail at some point. He told me his trail name was Flash. But that’s about all I saw of him. He was behind me in a flash.
The memorial for Joey was at 2pm today in Alaska. I figured that was at 6pm, out here on the Eastern side of the US. Around that time I stopped and had a moment with him. I had cried several times through the day. There was a blooming flower on a tree. I looked it up. It was a Flame Azalia. I picked it and carried it with me for a few miles, down the mountain and down to where the trail follows a lake shore.
I stopped at some point by the lake and threw the flower in.
I had my moment to reflect.
I cried.
Maybe the most profound thing happened today at dinner.
It was maybe the most important thing that’s happened on trail since beginning at Amacalola Falls, 24 days ago.
Just after I’d thrown that flower into the water, I caught another guy on trail. He was carrying a bunch of fishing gear–rods, a bucket, a net, and tackle. Most people in that situation would have pulled aside, but we just started talking as we both walked down trail in single file.
It wasn’t far–maybe 75 yards, when we got to an intersection. The trail split and led down to the lake or followed the AT, but I could see he was about to head down to the lake to fish. I asked if I could join him, since I was going to have dinner around there soon. He said yes, and so we continued on.
He was younger than me, but surprised me when he told me he was 29. I would have guessed mid 30s. He told me his name was Adam.
We talked a little bit about fishing and about Tennessee. A little bit about the trail.
Then he told me that he’s a pastor at the church in the nearby town.
We talked some more, but I wanted to ask if we could talk about Joey, and so I did. I told him that I felt bad asking him for some of his service during his time off work when he’s just trying to fish, but he authentically didn’t seem to mind. He reminded me that today’s Sunday, after all.
As I write this I’m tearing up heavily. The weight of today, and especially the time I spent with Pastor Adam was a lot. And although I say this a lot, I mean every word of it in this–The experience of being out here and in this has authentically led me closer to god. I don’t know what the fuck that even means, but there are things that have happened out here that I can’t start to understand or even feel close to comprehending. But I have to either call it God or I have to call it Magic. And i don’t know which is better.
There are tears falling on my sleeping pad.
I told Pastor Adam about Joey, about his passing, about today being his memorial. “Actually,” I said, “it’s taking place literally right now, while we’re talking, but up in Alaska.”
It’s not possible for me to share all of what Pastor Adam said as we were together. He set up four fishing rods, and we watched a rainbow form over the lake. It was very possibly the best view I have had on the trail up to here. I ate my macaroni and Lucky Charms, and Pastor Adam basically gave me a kind of sermon, for lack of a better word. He asked me a few more things about myself. I didn’t want for my breakup with Danielle to come up, but the conversation led to that. I tried to skip over it, and he brought things back to it. I told him that’s a lot of the reason why I’m out here on trail. Because my office was way too close to the Railroad Tracks for me to feel comfortable any longer. I didn’t want to end up like Joey. I had to find some kind of change. And so I’m out here.
And so I’m out here…
And so…
I’m out here.
Today was a lot. It was one of the most profound days of my life… but psychedelics will have that effect on you.
It wasn’t a day of pleasure, recreation, fun, fun, fun. Today was a really intense day of reflection, contemplation, and soul searching.
The trail is still young.
I’m planning to be in Demarcus on Tuesday.
Thirty miles ain’t bad for a trippy-dippy-hippy.
Wormwood. Out.
Appalachian Trail Journal 2025 
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