“Baptism”

AT Day 89

Miles Today: 23.29

AT Mile: 1628.1

(Goddard Shelter [tent])

We were stopped at a shelter along with a few other hikers this afternoon, not out of necessity, but out of convenience. The heat and humidity are still overpowering for most of the day, so both Plinko and I are reduced to what feels like walking through quicksand for much of the day, in terms of our progress. We used to be strong hikers. We used to break 30s with relative ease. Now just getting to 25 is a struggle. Let’s also mention that the state of Vermont is known for its constant elevation gain and loss, and so far it’s living up to its reputation.

There’s a quote about the Vermont AT in Bill Bryson’s “A Walk In The Woods,” and I wish I could recall where he quoted it from. But it says that, “Once hikers reach the Vermont border of the Appalachain Trail, they will have completed nearly 80% of the trail’s miles but only 50% of its effort.” (Or something to that effect). Things like that continued to lead me to fear coming to the AT, and have even perpetuated this far into the hike…

Literally as I write this, it comes to my attention that I was misremembering the quote… He was talking about crossing over the VT/NH border, and that at *that* point 80% of the hike is done but only 50% of the effort… Shit. I guess that means a lot of climbing ahead still. But the point stands. Vermont has climbs.

I considered that while I hiked today–that in terms of miles, this would have only been around the half way point of the CDT. But the AT is 800 miles shorter than the CDT. And it’s not wrong to say that this trail is effectively coming to its end.

Holy shit… it’s hard to believe that I’m actually saying that right now and for the first time on the page… I can see this trail’s ending on a horizon.

Plinko and I talked about finishing the trail together yesterday. I may have mentioned that in my journal last night. Or maybe I didn’t.

—

One of the others asked another what motivated her to hike the AT. She was much older, and was going to take most of the year to finish the entire hike. If I remember correctly she was 72.

She said that God told her to hike the trail, and that was what motivated her to be here.

There was some pause before I asked what I wanted to ask but knew better than to ask. I still asked it, even if it was almost mumbled as a way to get away with breaking social norms.

“The Christian god?” I asked.

“What?”

“The Christian god, I assume. That’s the one that told you to hike the AT?”

The look of confusion on her face said that she wasn’t sure what I was talking about, but she said yes, that’s the one she was talking about.

Within the next couple of minutes, the older hiker asked Plinko and I our names.

It’s become funny to me when people ask Plinko where he got his name. He f*cking hates explaining it; I can tell. But that’s how a lot of long-time thru hikers feel about our names after awhile. It becomes exhausting explaining a story of our name to every single person we meet.

For the record, and because I don’t think I’ve shared it before, Plinko took his name from a Price Is Right mini game, where a player drops game chips down a peg board and they go plink-plink-plink all the way down. And he got the name for dropping gear down the sides of mountains on the PCT.

I joked with him today that next time I hear someone ask him how he got his trail name that I’m going to tell them that he used to look *exactly* like Bob Barker from Price Is Right before he grew out the beard and the hair. It’s a claim of absurdity, but it also fits our personalities.

When she heard my name, she asked, “Wormwood, like in Harry Potter?”

I’ve had a few people ask that. And the answer is no. I’ve never seen or read Harry Potter. But I guess it’s a more common thing than my reference to absinth.

“No,” I explained. “Wormwood, as in the hallucinogenic plant used to make absinth. And I was given the name because ‘god’ told me to go out into the Pacific Crest Trail and learn about the nature of all things via the use of a tremendous amount of psychedelics in 2015. Basically the same as your story, except the psychedelics part, and mine was a different god. But otherwise the same basic story as yours.”

—

Today I remembered what it feels like to bathe in a river.

The waters were so cold that it was hard to fully submerge, even in the intense midday heat at only a thousand feet of elevation. I dropped myself in and below the water surface several times. It reminded me of a time many years ago when I was under the influence of acid and swimming in a lake in Arizona. I remembered coming out of the water, feeling so completely changed from before I went in that it led me to feel like I understood the meaning of baptism for the first time.

The river today made me feel more wild than I have before these last few weeks. I’ve swam in several lakes, but this was the first river that I submerged into. There’s something different about flowing water.

I didn’t want to go up the hill to change into my wet shorts, then wade in and go through the discomfort of a cold plunge, then come back out, soap up, do it again, then come out and dry off with that little towel I use to soak up my sweat, then climb back up the hill to change into my dry shorts, then climb back down to dry off some more before starting back to trail.

It all sounded too exhausting.

I just wanted to rest.

But I also knew how good it was going to feel to be fresh and washed. I had fresh and clean shorts, so I decided to wash my shirt even though it wasn’t going to have time to fully dry. At that point it was so soaked and sticky from sweat that even I was becoming disgusted in it.

As I popped back up and into the open air and sunlight, I had that feeling again, about how it makes sense why churches would use submersion in water as a way to mark rebirth and a new beginning. The river might not have done quite that much for me today, but it made a world of difference in my attitude and my overall day.

After lunch at the river I felt cleaner, cooler, and refreshed. The climb in the following 10 hours was authentically tough and rough, but now I’m at camp at mile 23, and I’m still feeling glowy from the wash in the river.

Simple things man… this trail teaches an appreciation for simple things.

—

Today is day 2 of that new food approach where I’m getting a lot of my calories from a mush of oatmeal, protein powder, PB2, and chia seeds. Today I discovered that I really need to go with instant oats, and not standard oats. My mash was way too thick, no matter how much water I added. So even this far in its still a learning process.

I would like to note however, two things about sugar intake.

First, I have dropped my sugar intake on this stretch of the trail by around 80%. It wasn’t in this stretch of trail for any strategic reason; rather, I just realized that I had slid way too far into the bullshit food products and allowing myself to have too much junk food on trail. In just two days of reducing that junk food intake, I can already feel and see a difference in my body. It’s absolutely insane how much inflammation comes from refined sugar!

—

Tomorrow the plan is to aim for 27 miles and an enclosed shelter. There may be some weather in the form of rain coming in tomorrow evening.

Plinko and I are both getting a bit tired and would like to take a day off trail soon. This morning I suggested a nearo on Thursday (day after tomorrow) and he seemed in agreement.

As per usual, I’m growing very tired as I finish this, so this will have to be my end.

Will write again tomorrow. Maps show a lake that is supposed to be good for swimming at mile 20. Sounds like a good motivation to me.

With love,

Wormwood.