“I Hope You Meet Witches”

AT Day 113

Miles Today: 19.60

AT Mile: 1820.4

(Kinsman Pond Shelter)

CarrotCake and I were hiking out from the hostel this morning when out of nowhere he said the unmistakable “fuck” that meant he’d forgotten something.

“My sandwich from deli. I left it in the fridge. Shit!”

We both stopped hiking and I turned back to him. I was at the table last night when the guy across from us asked if we wanted his pepperoni–said that he was “too old” for it and that pepperoni gives him heartburn. It wasn’t just a deli sandwich that he left in the fridge; it was a deli sandwich with extra pepperoni. No small loss in the context of a thru hike.

“Want to go back for it?” I asked.

He gave it a moments thought and then said no. Actually he said “fuck it,” but what he meant was no.

We’d met one another more than a thousand miles back–somewhere in Virginia. Then we hadn’t seen one another since then up until yestrday afternoon when he rolled into Hikers Welcome hostel. He recognized me right away and we both remembered meeting under the tree that afternoon with another hiker named Boardwalk. He said that he remembered me making a protein shake, doing a bunch of pushups, and then leaving. He said that he didn’t think he’d ever see me again.

A lot of hikers say that they don’t expect to see me again.

—

It was a mile later when I heard him again. He let out that same utterance of profanity that meant the same thing this time as it meant before–that he’d forgotten something else.

“What is it?” I asked.

“Did I miss the 1800 mile marker?”

I told him that it had been on the right hand side of the trail, about a half mile back from where we were standing now. That it had been written in sticks.

“Shit…” there was a moment of contemplation, and I understood why it meant something to him. These sorts of symbolic things matter on a long trail.

I wanted to make a joke about it and tell him that I didn’t want for us to hike together anymore because he seems to be such a bad vibe with is forgetting so many things and generally having a bad aura about him this morning. But I decided against it. He didn’t seem to be in the mood where a joke at his expense was going to make things better. So I kept it to myself and thought, maybe I’ll write about it in my journal.

“It’s point four back from here.”

I could tell that he was thinking about it.

“Fuck it; I’m going back.” And with that, he turned around and walked the nearly half mile back to the place on the trail where someone had drawn “1800” on the side of the trail with sticks.

He didn’t go back for the extra-pepperoni sandwich, but he did go back for the photo of 1800.

I told him later that I respected him for it. That I might have done the same.

—

A hiker asked me about boredom during my Zero day yesterday. He was a southbound hiker, and had about 400 miles underfoot so far. He asked if I ever get bored, and what I do about it.

It took me longer to answer than I expected, and I thought about it for what felt like a long time. I told him that “boredom” doesn’t feel like the right word for what I feel out here. That I think I know the feeling he’s talking about, but that I wouldn’t choose to call it boredom.

I told him that I listen to audiobooks and podcasts sometimes and that often I’ll listen to music.

I also told him that psychedelic mushrooms keep things interesting and make it hard to become bored, and he told me he might give that a try.

—

On that subject, I had a bit of mushrooms today. It was the first day that I’ve taken more than a gram in a couple of weeks.

I found that it made my climb up to my first 4,000ft peak this morning (Mount Mousaloukie) delightfully easy and that left me very thoughtful. It led me to think a lot about the book that I hope to produce at the end of this trail. More specifically, I’ve been thinking more about the story that I want to tell, drafting an outline, and considering a beginning.

During about five miles today I sort of drafted the fist pages of what I would like to see through to the first chapter of the book.

It’s easier to talk about than to actually do it, but that could be said about walking the AT too. And here we are.

—-

Today I’m camped very high up in the mountains and it’s very cold. It’s the first time on the AT that I remember my fingers being so cold as I lay down to write in the evening. The sun hasn’t even fully set (it’s only 8:15pm), but the air is already incredibly frigid.

I’m camped on a shelter floor, as all the tent sites were taken long before I arrived. The shelter and camp sites are managed by some organization throughout the White Mountains, and I am amazed by how many people are here at the camp sites! There must be at least fifteen kids and a half dozen adults. Then there are four of us camped in the shelter.

For some reason I also had to pay some money to camp here; I guess that’s a White Mountains thing too. I was warned about it in advance at least. There’s a funny story in all of this about my trading a coyote tooth for a discounted campsite, but the details for that story will have to wait for October; I told the camp host that I wouldn’t tell until then.

—

There were more people on parts of the trail today than I’ve become used to on the AT. Again, I was told to expect this from the White Mountains, and it’s also a Friday.

As I went along today, a day hiker paused as she passed me going Southbound and commented on my coyote skull.

“The skull…” I could see her formulating a question that she wasn’t quite sure how to phrase. “What’s the deal with that?”

“It’s a coyote skull.” I expalined and smiled. “

There was a tangible moments pause between us before she asked her next question. I guess she was trying to figure out what to ask.

“And what’s the story behind that?”

“Oh,” I said happily, like I always do when people ask about the coyote skull on my backpack. “I got it from a witch in Waynesboro, Virginia.”

I like an answer that elicits more questions than it answers, and this has become one of my favorite examples of the principle. For more than a thousand miles now that coyote skull has been affixed to the back of my pack, and since the very moment that I walked out that Appalachain Magik shop with it, it was sparking people’s curiosity.

There has not been a single moment were I have regretted carrying that coyote skull with me to Katadhn.

The lady’s face crinkled a bit after I explained the coyote skull her, and I could see her once again trying to think of what question to ask from here. I’ve learned that most people stop asking questions at this point and just go on their way, but she was still standing there, clearly thinking about it. Her boyfriend had caught up to her by now and was standing with us as well.

Since she didn’t seem capable of finding the next question, I broke the silence between us and offered more explanation. But it was really on the chiraide of an explanation, just like the others. Just an answer that leads to more questions.

“Its teeth started to fall out in Virginia, and so now I have a bag of its teeth. I give them to people sometimes while I’ve been hiking across the country.”

After giving it some thought, she finally said “Oh.” And that was the end of our talk. “Well I hope you have a good hike.”

“You too.” I said. “And I hope that you meet witches.”

—

I’d also like to take just a moment to acknowledge just how little I have used the name of that mountain in my trail journals up to now. I wonder if you, dear reader, have even noticed.

Well, the truth that I have been avoiding it. And the reason for it is because I have approximately no idea whatsoever how to go about spelling it properly.

And instead of just looking it up and commuting it to memory, I’m instead going to continue to either avoid it or admittedly misspell it for the rest of this god damn trial.

I guess I’d just rather get that out there than keep avoiding it altogether and worry that one of you are going to call me out for spelling it wrong. Before you can even do it, I’ve beat you to it.

—

I cried for several minutes today about the Appalachian Trail coming near its end. I know that I’d been having my emotional moments about that ever since the beginning of the trail, but today my face streaked heavily with tears.

It was this morning, while I was still affected by the mushrooms. That’s when I’m always most primed to cry.

I imagined what it might be like to finish the trail. I thought about the signicance that will play in my life.

I cried for several minutes.

—

The Zero day must have been what my body needed yesterday. I didn’t sleep so well the night before last, but last night I slept like a stone. And my body felt better for it today.

The climbs today were supposed to be brutal. To be fair, they were difficult, and today was the highest elevation gain day that I’ve had on the AT so far. I climbed more than 9,000ft, which is significantly more than any day I even saw on the Long Trail!

But I was told by the hosts of the Hikers Welcome Hostel that trying to push twenty miles today was not a good idea. They didn’t flat out say that I couldn’t to it, but they made it sound *way* more difficult than it ended up being.

Partly that may have been because of my having taken the Long Trail and having that to compare things to, but that was also some of the motivation that I had to hike the Long Trail in the first place. I remember when Plinko and I started that trail and how we talked about what it would feel like when we finished up and came back to the Appalachian Trail. We imagined that he White Mountains might even feel easy by comparison, and so far that is how I’ve felt.

Mind you that the miles today were still challenging. But the temps are better now (even cold up here as I write this tonight). There’s plenty of water at the water sources. The trail isn’t overgrown like the Long Trail was…. that list could go on.

—

I added to my notes to write something about how much I miss some of the people from back home–people who I did not get to see this summer.

Some of them I don’t know that I will see again. I burned some bridges before I came out here. Not all of them, but there were some that I burned behind me. There are some people back home whom I do not plan to ever see again.

But then again, I didn’t expect to see or speak to Plinko ever again, and that’s already proven to be wrong.

There are some friendships in particular that left my heart aching today. I won’t list them here, as that part doesn’t necessarily matter. The point of it seems to be to capture that challenge of thru hiking–the pain of being away from the people you love for such an extended period of time.

There are some of them that I miss so profoundly that I can’t put it into words.

—

Alright. I’m growing tired now. It’s nearly 9pm.

Tomorrow I have five miles to get to the road that will bring me into Lincoln, New Hampshire which is my next resupply.

They have two different hostels I could stay at, but I don’t feel like I need the rest. Furthermore, the weather is so good that I don’t want to waste the day being off trail if I can avoid it. So I think that I’m going to go in, resupply and come back to trail tomorrow. I’m aiming for 17 miles, plus the resupply, and that should be somewhat difficult to achieve, but I was also told to expect that from today.

But as always–we’ll see.

—

First night sleeping in a shared shelter in more than two weeks.

Wormwood.