AT Day 41

Miles: 14.87

Total Miles: 731.21

(Four Pines Hostel, VA)

The last 24 hours have given me the most encounters with wildlife that I’ve had on the Appalachian Trail. Not that it was anything all that noteworthy, but for the most part I don’t really see much wildlife out here. So to have any encounters at all is sort of a big deal, within the context.

First, I’m pretty confident that there was a bear roaming around at camp last night. I can’t say for sure, but I’m fairly confident about it.

I started to hear it while I was still writing in my tent, but it was up on the hill from where I was camped. There are often sounds of animals tromping around in the fallen leaves at night, but you can tell the difference between a big animal and a smaller one. After you’ve been out here for a long time, you become familiar with what something *should* sound like. This wasn’t a mouse or a squirrel. It also wasn’t a deer. If anything, it sounded like a person (or something at least as large as a person) stepping around in the forest vegetation. Over the course of an hour it got closer and closer to my tent until eventually I became a bit uncomfortable, reached out from my tent, and zipped up the rain fly closure.

The though occurred to me that it was funny that I’ve invested so much money in this ultra lite tent, with space-age material so thin that it weighs almost nothing, and that I’m zipping it up to create a 1 or 2 millimeter barrier between myself and what it probably a bear outside of my tent. As if that’s going to provide any protection at all.

There is a lot of controversy about food storage on the AT. And I don’t usually talk about it a lot, because I have made the choice to keep my food with me at camp at night. If a bear eats me over the next 1500 miles, may this journal be a testament to my personal stupidity and proof that you do in fact need to hang your food at night. But this isn’t Grizzly Bear country. This is Black Bear Country. And from what I can tell, it seems like they aren’t the ones that are going to eat me in my tent.

I guess you could say that I’m willing to bet my life on it.

I had trouble getting to sleep after the bear came by camp last night. But eventually I must have. Because eventually I was sleeping heavily and deeply.

That is, until the mouse ran across my face. At first I wasn’t sure exactly what was happening. It’s disorienting waking up in that little tent, where the fabric is basically 6 inches above my face. But I thought it was a mouse right away. Then I reached over to my headlamp to light the space inside my tent. And sure enough, there was a little mouse there.

It took me the better part of 20 minutes to get myself out of my tent, and then take everything else out, so that I could shoo the mouse out of my tent, put everything back in, and get back to sleep.

Be assured, this will be the last time that I accidentally leave my tent opened 6 inches. I’d opened it to piss just an hour before, and the mouse managed to slip in after I came back in but left the zipper just barely open.

It sort of made me uncomfortable, but that’s also life out here. Be assured–I didn’t sign up for it so that I could shit in a hole and have mice run across my face at night, but that’s just part of the game if you want to thru hike this trail. I’m also not a big fan snakes on trail. But we still do it…

—

Then today I had an incredibly strange encounter with a raven.

He was preached on a log, right beside the trail, and squawking aggressively. I stood there for a minute, not sure exactly what to do. But eventually I figured that if I continued on he’d fly off, but I was wrong. When I went towards him, he lunged towards me, continued squawking, and even started to fly at me. He got so close that I had to swat him away with my hiking pole, because I’m pretty sure he was going to come in and either claw at me or peck me. I didn’t need to get off trail because of being mauled by a damn bird. Better that than a bear, maybe. But still, I didn’t want a bird-induced injury.

My best guess is that he was probably injured.

I’ve never seen a bird act that way before. He was in a literal “Fight or Flight” mode.

I was in the height of the mushrooms when I encountered the raven that attacked me. And it was hard for me not to read below the surface. Or at least feel like I was reading below the surface.

I felt like I understood the raven, in his hurt state. It reminded me that we’re animalistic too. That we as people also become aggressive when we are hurt. Even to the ones who mean us no harm. And in that aggression we may do ourselves further harm inadvertently.

—

It did eventually rain last night, but it wasn’t until late–in the early hours of the morning. Can’t remember if it was before or after the mouse thing. I think that the mouse was after the rain. But I could be mistaken. I was so so tired.

When it started to rain it feels to me like it all started out of nowhere. Like it went from nothing at all to the sky absolutely falling out of the sky.

It’s made me a bit nervous, the idea of big rains in my new tent. Yes it’s a “new” tent, but that also means that I haven’t tested it out like I had my other tent. My old 2-person tent I had camped in literally hundreds of nights. This new one is a completely new style to me, and it scares me how little it is in a big storm. I know that I’ll get used to it, but for now the thought of something going wrong or the pole blowing over at night just freaks me out still. I don’t think that’ll actually happen, and I’m sure that I’ll grow comfortable with this tent too, but it may take some time. Ultimately, I really love the tent though. It sets and breaks down so quickly! And I like the more minimalistic approach. I feel closer to the wilderness and less separated at night now. I guess having a f*cking mouse crawl across your face at night will do that for you.

—

At one point this morning I met a couple new hikers. The first of them asked my name and when I told him it was “Wormwood,” he asked if I was a demon in training. He was referring to “The Screwtape Letters.” I’ve had people ask the same before.

I told him that wasn’t where the name came from, and promised that I wasn’t a demon, but also conceded that a demon would probably lie about being a demon, so it would be hard to tell.

About a half hour later I met another hiker. He asked my name, and when I told him “Wormwood,” he told me that he’d heard about me. “Yeah, you’re the ‘pushup guy,’” he said.

I laughed a bit. I guess enough people have seen me doing pushups on trail or at the shelters now that some people have taken note. I haven’t seen anyone else doing it, so I suppose that “pushup guy” isn’t inappropriate. That said, I’m glad that it isn’t my trail name. I’m happy with Wormwood.

A half hour later I reached a trail junction where there was another hiker. She was sitting down and there were two other trails intersecting there. I said hello and asked if this was what it appeared to be–a “crossroads” on the trail.

She said it was.

“You know what that means then?” I asked. “Literarily, if we’re meeting at the crossroads, then one of us must be the devil.”

She laughed, and I reached up and touched my nose. “Not it,” I said.

Later on she mentioned that she liked the tattoo on my leg, as her boyfriend walked up from the other direction. “This is ‘Pushup guy’” he said. And I told him no, that my name is just “Wormwood.”

I giggled and went on my way down trail.

—

I noted at some point today that I feel something different in myself at this point of the Appalachian Trail. I don’t feel the same way that I felt at the beginning, or like anything that I’ve felt on other trails or other points in my life. I feel changed by the AT in a way that is good and palpable.

It’s a shift that I didn’t feel before the (L)ove trip yesterday in the afterglow of it today. Like something is shifted. It doesn’t feel anywhere near complete, but it is clearly shifted.

I feel more confident in myself, more comfortable in discomfort, and more at home on this trail. I’ve found myself thinking to future trails. That I want to do more thru hiking after the AT. I’ve given some thought to trying to hurry through the AT so that I can get on another, shorter trail, before the end of the year. But any time that comes to mind I try to dismiss it. There will be time for other trails another year. For now I really just want to enjoy the AT.

But after the AT, I see myself hiking the Pacific Northwest Trail and the Hayduke Trail. I’m not sure in which order. I’m not sure when. But I think both are very likely.

—

Tonight I’m staying at Four Pines Hostel. There are quite a few other hikers here tonight, and the weather is still a bit sour. It didn’t rain too much through the day today, but it certainly threatened to do so. It’s likely that it’ll rain tonight.

There was more rain in the forecast when I checked earlier this week, but as of more recently, it looks like we might have good weather for the rest of the week.

—

Tomorrow will bring me to Mckafee’s Knob–one of the more iconic photo opportunities of the trail. I’m not usually one to care too much about that on this hike, but since the weather could be nice, I might try to make it there when some other hikers are there to snap a pic for me.

Starting to grow tired and need to go check to see if my tent is dry.

Wormwood.

Out.

AT Day 40

Miles: 28.40

Total Miles: 716.34

(Past Craig Creek Crossing)

Today was my 40th day on the Appalachian Trail, and I started the day with (L)ove.

It’s become a more familiar and comfortable experience as the AT has continued to unfold. That first time in the Smokeys felt like such a commitment. Then today, by comparison, felt like slipping into a warm bath.

The weather was beautiful from start of the day to finish. There had been chatter amongst the few hikers I’ve met on trail these last two days that there was going to be some big rain coming in today or tonight, and as the day rolled on, the frantic feeling in the air seemed to grow more acute. But again, it never materialized. Instead, we were treated to a day of mostly blue sky and only a scattered bit of clouds in the afternoon. If anything, an afternoon rain might have been welcome to drop the temps a bit, as it was a bit warm in the hours between 11-4.

(I swear that just as I wrote that last sentence, it started to sprinkle a little bit. I can hear it starting to fall down onto my tent.

There is a flower out here called the Mountain Laurel. It is a stunning flower, and it’s been popping up on trail for the last three hundred miles at least. But there had never been blooms like I got to see today. There were times where it felt like they were absolutely everywhere today–hugging the trail almost. Overtaking it. And in the bright sun, it made them all pop even more.

No doubt, the (L)ove from this morning had a great impact on my appreciation of the flowers today. And on my appreciation for everything in the whole world today. They would have still been beautiful without it, but there’s something specifically about the Mountain Laurels through the lens of LSD that is quite beyond anything that I quite know how to describe.

I found myself lost in them, and every single one was so incredibly mesmerizing. They were like little floral pops of fire works in every direction, highlighted even brighter in the sunlight.

I thought to myself, that every single one of the thousands of flowers were so beautiful, and that if you let yourself, you could have become so easily transfixed by any one of the blossoms.

The thinking went on, that there is surely someone out there in this would who had brought that thought to its extreme–someone who has dedicated their whole life to the Mountain Laurel. Perhaps studying it academically, achieving a PhD in specialized Botany, focusing on that specific flower so that I could look it up on Google to learn more about it than can be fit into a day’s worth of reading.

I thought to myself that someone couldn’t be blamed for choosing to spend the rest of their lives with any one of these little flower buds. They’re beautiful enough that any one would be worth stopping and staying forever. But then there wouldn’t be any more flowers to see. If I let myself fall into any one of these buds, then think of all the ones I’d be missing by not continuing on to Maine–all the flowers that surely will be blooming between here and there.

Still… I don’t think that it would be wrong to decide that this was enough–that I don’t need to go on to Maine, and that the beauty in any one of those little flowers would have been enough. I honestly get how someone could feel that way about something so beautiful.

As such, it wouldn’t have been wrong and it wouldn’t have been right, no matter the choice I made–either to stay and get lost in this beautiful thing, or to appreciate it for a passing moment, then continue down trail.

The next thought was about my crashing into a girl named “Boots” this past weekend at Trail Days. I’ve historically had a bad problem of falling in love too easily, and wanting to hold onto it so tightly that I squeeze the life from what was a wonderful thing until it dies. I don’t mean to be overly dramautic, but there are surely some ex girlfriends out there who might be reading this right now, nodding their head up and down, and saying something under their breath like, “about time he figured that part out.”

So I was scared of last weekend ending. I was scared as I held her closely, like we had been long-time lovers, that after it was over my heart was going to ache.

I was talking to another hiker yesterday morning before leaving Angel’s Rest. He had asked me what my favorite part of Trail days had been, and I made some kind of comments about meeting a girl named “Boots.” He turned to me incredulously, asked if he’d heard me right, that I’d met her just that weekend.

“The girl we saw you there with?” He asked. “Oh–we just thought that was your girlfriend or something.”

“Well, she was,” I told him. “At least for this weekend anyway.”

I don’t want to reduce it down to something as simple as a hookup. There was authentic and deep connection that I felt with her. We both have expressed real desire to do what we can to see one another again.

All that aside though–I thought back to the Mountain Laurels. Then to the girl.

I’d been afraid that coming back to trail was going to be painful and that I’d be longing to be back with her again. But that hasn’t been the case. I’ve missed her, to be clear. But more than that, I’ve felt more alive than ever in these last two days on the AT. Like the weekend and the connection reaffirmed some of the things I forgot were possible in life.

And I could have easily lost myself in her. I easily could have given up the trail, packed up my summer, and headed south to live a life with a girl named “Boots” in Tennessee. That wouldn’t be any different than stopping to lose myself forever in one of those flowers this morning though.

For some reason, this experience of being on the AT has allowed me to become more comfortable with letting things go.

—

I was listening to some lectures by Alan Watts and a few others yesterday and today. One of them mentioned that we must “cultivate the art of uncertainty.” I loved that. Meant to write it down, but here I am remembering it a day later, so I guess it didn’t need to be written. The other thing from Watts was this metaphor about our pasts and our futures.

He talked about our sometimes feeling like we are being pushed forward by the force of our pasts and the things that have happened to us. Like we are victims of our past circumstances. We live as if that were the case sometimes. Often times, even.

Then he said to consider the image of a boat cutting across a lake. Looking at the sight without considering, one might be compelled to think that the wake is what is propelling the boat forward, but that of course the wake is just what’s left behind from the boat moving along. Not the force that is pushing it forward.

Watts said that we are the same–like that boat. That we are not a product of our past, but that our past is a wake of our moving forward and cutting through.

I don’t know… it felt profound at the time. But then again, I was peaking on acid….

—

I met another hiker today who will remain annanomous. Let’s call him “DP” for now…

There is so so so much talk about Norovirus right now on trail, and I was talking about it with DP after he joined me for a few miles.

Those who have not caught norovirus yet are a rare bread at this point, and some people have been really f*cked up by it! So I was hiking with this other dude for maybe an hour when he tells me that he has not had it yet. I tell him that he should count himself fortunate, and to continue doing what he’s doing to stay hygienic.

He then goes on to say that maybe he did have it though… that he had bad diarrhea, and that maybe it was norovirus. But he thinks it might have just been that he had The Runs because he ate too many gummy worms that day on trail.

I laughed a bit, but then he went on to tell me that he “couldn’t get out of my tent in time…”

I wasn’t sure what that meant, but he continued to explain that he has basically sh*t his pants in his tent because he’d eaten too many gummy worms that day, but he was thinking that maybe he just had Norovirus.

“No dude,” I told him. “That’s not Norovirus. That’s just called shitting your pants.”

He seemed unsure how to respond; whether I was being funny or condescending. The answer was both, but I didn’t mean to be an asshole. He went on to say, “That’s why I’ve learned that it’s a good idea to carry extra Zip Lock bags.”

“I thought you were going to say extra under pants.”

He took a second before going on. “No, I’m going to have to pick those up in the next trail town I think.”

Then it dawned on me, and I turned around to look back to him. “Please tell me you are not carrying your shitty underwear in a ziplock bag, inside of your pack right now…”

He hesitated again. “Well it’s my underwear and my shorts, I guess.” There was a moment of silence and just the crunching of dirt under feet. “But I didn’t get it anywhere else. Not on my other gear or on my tent or anything…”

We are in fact, not camped together tonight.

Before we parted ways however, he told me about an encounter that he had with a bear two weeks ago, at camp. He told me that he heard it coming in while he was trying to get to sleep, and that he just laid there quietly. For the record, this is where he should have started yelling and screaming “HEY BEAR! GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE BEAR!” But he says that he was too scared, and he just laid there quietly and terrified.

He went on to say that the bear got so close to his tent that it seems to have stepped on the side corner, and as he did it cut the edge of his tent with its claw.

“Are you serious?” I asked. “Was that the day you shit your pants?”

“No. That wasn’t the same day.”

“That’s probably the day that I’d shit my pants. Also,” I said, “in the future, you should probably tell people the story about a bear ripping your tent before you open up about the shitting your pants thing… just saying.”

—

At the end of the day I ran into another hiker that I’ll call BT. We had been crossing paths a bit around mile 200, but hadn’t seen one another since Hot Springs, when we both had Norovirus (I like to call it “riding the noro-dragon.”) I was going to push another 2-4 miles this evening after that last river crossing, but then I saw her at camp at my mile 28. I shouted down to her from the trail, “Hey, is that BT?”

And she responded, “Is that wormwood?”

We chatted while I made dinner and set my tent.

Still getting used to this new tent setup. It’s a big big change to what I’m used to, but I think I like it. It’s just new and will take some getting used to.

—

Spent some time this morning thinking that I may need to take a tolerance break from the psychs. It’s been 40 days now, and in the early hours of the trip this morning, I kind of felt like maybe a tolerance had developed after all the mushrooms and the bit of (M) that went down the hatch at Trail Days this past weekend.

By the early part of the afternoon however, any thought about tolerance was out the door. I ended up having an incredible and electric day. I’ve really appreciated growing more comfortable with it over the last 4 trips in 40 days. It’s brought a lot of good to my hike of the Appalachain Trail.

—

Temps were hot by mid day today, and the humidity is different out here than it is in the west. I get muggy in hot climbs and it makes me quite miserable. Fortunately the climbs in Virginia haven’t been too bad. But the temps will grow warmer this summer. I know they will.

—

Will get to a small grocer tomorrow that has pizza and burgers available. I don’t have hopes for anything too great, but a warm meal is always appreciated. From there it’ll be another day and a half to Daleville. Last I checked, my buddy will still be meeting me there for 3 days of trail.

—

The night grows late and typing in my tent is uncomfortable. I hope I got what’s important onto the page.

Wormwood.

Out.

AT Day 39

Miles: 26.07

Total Miles: 697.94

(2 miles past Baily Gap Shelter)

It felt different hiking today. Trail Days did a number on my heart and on my soul. I find myself caring less about the miles. And it’s impossible for me not to see the strangeness in finding such a close connection as the one that I shared with “Boots” just a day after sitting down to write about loneliness on the trail.

One of the themes that seems to keep recurring along this trial is that everything is happening exactly the way it’s supposed to happen, at exactly the time it’s supposed to happen. I think that everyone has felt that at some point in their lives, but I’ve never felt it so profoundly and recurrently as I do on this trail. It’s become one of the defining characteristics of my hike of the AT this summer.

—

I slept well in my new tent last night, but I will say that this is one of the biggest changes that I’ve made as a hiker in a long time. This thing is so much smaller on the inside than the tent that I’ve been using for the last 15+ years. It’s going to take some getting used to a new camp setup as a whole. I’m now leaving a lot of the gear that I used to keep inside of my tent on the outside of my tent now, covered by the vestibule.

For its small space however, I’m really happy with how quickly it sets and how breaks, as well as how little it weighs. This was overdue.

Condensation was heavy on that grassy lawn at Angel’s Rest last night. Everyone’s tent was wet. But I slept well, and I needed it after the weekend at Trail Days. I had coffee with some other hikers, then biked to the store to buy juice and raspberries. I’m trying to hike differently moving forward. I’m trying to slow down in my days.

I think that before Trail Days I would have been rushed to break camp and get back to trail. But this morning I sat with the other hikers, shared my raspberries, had a slice of their bacon and a piece of their scrambled eggs. I wasn’t back to trail until around 9:30, and I absolutely didn’t care.

The miles were fairy simple today, and my heart was warm. It felt good to be back on trail. Yesterday was sort of “the day that didn’t exist.” I was under-slept, and recovering from the M. But after a night’s sleep, hydration, some good food, and a cup of coffee, I was feeling really great today. I heard the same from another hiker who I passed coming out of Pearisburg.

It would have been impossible not to have spent at least some of the miles lost in thought about the girl with the fire in her eyes that I met over the weekend. How she came into my life in what feels like such a perfect moment is a mystery to me. But I loved it. And like I said before–I hope that I get to see her again.

I’m set beside trail in my new tent now. This is my first time writing in it, and I’m pleased to say that it works pretty well, in spite of my being set up on a bit of a slope and everything wanting to slide to my right hand side.

Ended up hiking later into the night than I wanted, but only because I couldn’t find anywhere to camp after that last shelter. In hindsight, I should have camped there, even if there were other hikers already posted up. I’ll figure it out though. One day at a time.

More miles to try it again tomorrow.

Wormwood.