Blog

AT Day 84

Miles Today: 24.98

AT Mile: 1528.0

(Great Barrington, MA [tent])

I didn’t like Connecticut. I don’t know if it was Connecticut’s fault or if it was just circumstances.

The temperatures were unbearable and the mosquitos were intolerable. In short, I hated the Connecticut section of the Appalachain Trail, and I hope to never step foot into that state again.

I told my friend Hemlock that although we are still friends, I now like him just a little less on account of his living in that state.

Things aren’t all fixed now that I’m into another state. Granted, my soul feels a bit better, there is still weight in my footsteps.

Like I said last night, the trail is wearing me down and breaking me apart. I feel like I’ve lost a lot of the things about myself that make me who I am. I’ve lost a lot of what I was proud of, in pursuit of this new thing that I can perhaps become proud of. I don’t like that my fitness is faltering so heavily, that my muscle is shrinking, that my face is bloating, that my skin is breaking out, that my posture is slouching.

I’m not as happy as I was in the first two months of the Appalachian Trail. In fact, most of the time this trail is not happiness anymore. Most of the days are quite unpleasant as of late, and I find myself feeling prematurely done with the hike.

There haven’t been any moments where I’ve truly considered leaving the trail, but I’ve been as close as I can be expected to get in the preceding days.

Today there were quite a few heavy climbs, which brought the trail up into higher elevations and really beautiful river stretches. Temperatures were around 85 degrees, which felt cool in comparison to the hell that we’ve been navigating through this recent heatwave, but I have to remind myself that the first day I had anything that felt like extreme heat was in Virginia when it hit 84 on the Roller Coaster. Funny that 85 now feels relatively cool and comfortable by comparison to how it felt only a month ago.

Mind you, I’m still m covered in sweat most of the day. There was a point today at one of the peaks where Hemlock and I rested in the open air and sun, a rare moment like that on the AT, and we let things dry. That only lasted about five or ten minutes after getting back to trail, but it was somewhat nice still, if only to be reminded what it was like to wear dry clothes. But even that is far from a perfect moment, because my clothes are also marinated in sweat-brine now, so even when they’re dry, they’re still discolored, stiff, and tacky to the touch.

I still hate being soaking wet and sticky on trail, but it’s something that I’m almost growing used to. It’s still just as awful as it ever was to me, but I’ve learned to accept that it’s just part of being out here.

People are telling me that these temperatures aren’t normal though. I’ve heard from several of the locals that the most recent heat wave and the overall high temps that we’ve had this summer are not what this area used to be like. Maybe it’s just global climate change, or maybe it’s just an especially hot summer, or maybe it’s both. For what it’s worth, I’m also having a lot of the locals tell me that it’s rained far more this year than in summers past. So I’ve found myself on the AT on the wettest and hottest year in memory… wonderful…

Hemlock made comment about my sweating yesterday and again today. He said that he’s never seen someone who sweats as much as I seem to on trail. I mean, he’s soaked through too, but he commented on how I’m using this towel over and over and wringing it out over and over, and he said he can’t imagine how I’m managing to keep up with that much lost fluid. I told him that this isn’t normal for me. That I know I sweat a lot in all conditions, but in this humidity my body is not acting normal. And I’ve observed several times that although others seem to hate this heat as well, they don’t seem to be quite as deep into the layers of hell as I have been these last few weeks.

Hemlock didn’t sleep well last night and his body was hurting him all day. Plinko is still fighting the upper respiratory infection and sounds quite terrible. The day was rough for me today as well, but I feel like I might have been the better of the three of us. By the end of the day Plinko had to take a long road walk cut off because his lungs were bothering him too much, and Hemlock’s feet are now forming blisters all through the soles. I’m actually worried about both of them, in a subtle sort of way. I know Hemlock will be okay and I know that Plinko will get through and get his trail legs back. But I also know what it’s like to be in this trail in good condition, but add one extra challenge like blisters or a respiratory infection, and difficult starts to ebb on impossible.

—

Unrelated to all of this, but I saw more snakes today than any other day of the trail. None of them venomous, but so many that I almost stepped on one. I actually think I might have stepped on him a little bit before he quickly wiggled away. I must have seen at least six or seven of them.

—

My mind wanders all over the place during the miles, just like it did at the start of the trail. But in many ways I feel changed as a person from this time on trail, and I see some of the problems differently than I did before. That had a lot to do with what I was looking for from the AT too–a changed perspective to view my life.

I still spend a lot of time thinking about love and loss during the miles. I don’t want to admit how many miles I spend thinking about the woman who I was engaged to marry two years ago. Some days I feel softly towards those memories, but a lot of days I feel a tremendous amount of anger and resentment still. That then leads me to feel the same anger and resentment towards myself for still being lost in those things. I spend time thinking about a lot of my past lovers. I wish I were not so human. I wish I didn’t spend so many miles there.

Strangely however, one thing that has changed along these miles has been my relationship to the prospect of being independent and alone. I came out here feeling like the prospect of being alone was the worst thing that I could even think of. Now, I find myself in a lot of the miles wondering if alone is what I might actually need to be at this stage of my life. That of course brings up Boots, and oh how I spend a lot of miles with thoughts of her.

Nothing’s ever simple.

Nothing that matters anyways.

We love, and we lose.

We are born and we die.

We laugh and we cry.

We walk until someday it’s time to stop.

—

In the city of Great Barrington tonight. Back to trail tomorrow morning after coffee.

This town doesn’t seem to like hikers. Some of the people are cool here, but the downtown area feels like Sedona/Gatlinburg in terms of its polished tourism. We, on the other hand, look and smell like homeless people. And that led us to a lot of sideways looks and “you aren’t welcome here” vibes. The $17 price tag on a plate of nachos also gave the “please f*ck off” vibes.

It’ll be good to get back to trail tomorrow. Got laundry. No shower. But I’ll likely live.

I’ve also put my return date on the calendar. I’ll be returning to AZ by September 1st. Going back to work and planning to move into housing by then as well. So that’ll give me about 2 weeks of down time between finishing and going home.

Wormwood.

AT Day 83

Miles Today: 20.68

AT Mile: 1503.1

(Limestone Spring Shelter [tent])

Yesterday was the worst day that I’ve had on trail. Little attempt was made to hide that fact. I hope that my tone wasn’t too much. But when I read it all back, it felt like it said what it needed to say–namely that yesterday was horrible and that it made me hate everything good in the world.

—

It was raining heavily when we set camp last night, and I thought the rain was going to calm down at around 9pm. I was quite wrong. At 1am it was dumping so hard that I put my headlamp on to check that my things were mostly covered by the tent and the vestibule. It rained so heavily that everything became spackled with dirt and mud from giant raindrops splashing into the earth and kicking up bits of dirt. All the edges of my white tent were black with dirt and mud this morning. Much of my gear that was close to the edges of the vestibule was covered in that same filth.

Fortunately I still slept adeqeuatly. Certainly not perfectly, but at least well, considering the circumstances.

It stopped raining at around 4am, and we were all to trail at around 7.

It was another difficult morning for all of us. Everything was wet. After yesterday, there was a lingering sense of hate.

Plinko shared with me this morning that he reached a point, laying in his tent last night, where he realized that he doesn’t have to keep doing this–that he doesn’t *have* to stay on the trail. It wasn’t the same as saying that he was going to quit, but that he was accepting the reality that there’s nothing forcing him to complete the hike.

It’s something that I’ve battled too. On this trail and all my other trails. For that matter, it’s something that we all go through to different degrees at many points in our lives. Whenever we’re entering a challenge of our own choosing. We have to face our motivations for doing it and whether they outweigh the discomfort of continuing.

Perhaps it’s easier for me in that I don’t live as if there is a choice. I hike as if discontinuing isn’t an option.

I’ve been about as close to quitting the trail this week as any other point on the AT. Not that I’ve ever thought that I was going to quit, but that I hated myself for starting this, because now I *have* to finish it… even though I really don’t.

The suffering this week has been bad though. The last several weeks in fact have been hard. I was talking to Plinko about it tonight. He reminded me that some of the people we’ve met and experiences we’ve had off trail in the last two or three weeks have been especially rewarding, but agreed that the experience of hiking the trail has been rough. I might make a bit of an exception for the trail itself through New York, but even that was pretty tough. The only reason that I bring it up as an exception is because I enjoyed the new trail grade and variations in terrain that New York offered.

I keep having to stop writing and scratch bug bites. I must have a hundred of them all over my body. The places that are covered by clothing are no exception. Although ticks seem to be less of an issue up here so far, the mosquitos, gnats, and flies have been unbelievable! I had another one lodge under my eyelid and disappear today. I’ve seen them like this in parts of Alaska, but it’s been rare. Sometimes the trail goes around a swamp or a bog or a river, and the bugs will be so bad that you can’t even stop. You can’t stop to look at maps or to read a sign on the tree or to do anything. You just have to keep going, because the moment you stop moving they swarm you and the little bit of breeze that you had from moving forward stops providing relief.

Plinko has had a pretty bad upper respiratory infection for about a week, to make his hike even harder. He’s got medication for it now, but he’s coughing and hacking all through the day and night. I really feel for him.

In addition to the mosquito bites that are all over me, my thighs have also broken out completely from folliculitis. A month ago I was under some false held hope that I was going to be able to keep that at bay out here, in this humidity and heat. What a laughable notion… It’s been as bad as it’s ever been. It’s uncomfortable and itches and makes me feel self conscious.

In so many ways, I can feel myself falling apart out here. I can feel the breaking that happens on a thru hike.

I expected that this trail would be hard, but the heat and the humidity make the Appalachian Trail a special type of hellscape that I didn’t know existed in thru hiking.

Eventually it cleared up to mostly blue skies today, although you’d almost never know it since the AT stays in the dense vegetation covered by thick canopy. It became hot, but not quite as humid as it was yesterday. I did still get temperature readings in the 90s though.

Tonight we are all three camped at this shelter, but we’re in our tents, as are the four others who are sleeping here tonight. The mosquitos are too much to be in the shelter. They’d eat you all night. It would be impossible!

Tomorrow we’re going to try to get up and to trail early. We’re going to try to get 25 miles, to bring us to the end of CT. We’ll resupply and get a hotel room if we can. But that’s looking unlikely since it’s 4th of July weekend and prices are through the roof.

Wormwood.

AT Day 82

Miles Today: 20.09

AT Mile: 1480.8

(Stony Brook [tent])

Part 1: Mid Afternoon

I worry that this entry will sound too harsh and too scornful.

Sometimes the trail is like that. And I want for these journals to be as close a reflection of the trail as I can make them. I don’t want to sit here complaining about every bad thing that comes to mind, but I also don’t want to give you something that isn’t the truth of this walk.

The miles today have been hell.

It’s the first day on trail that I’ve broken down and started screaming into the forest. It’s been the first day that I’ve dropped to one knee and struggled to rise again, and it’s been the first day that I’ve completely fallen to the ground and just laid there for several minutes before even making an attempt to get back up.

I hated everything about the Appalachian Trail today. I hated the trail, the people who made it, the people who walk it, my own choice to be here, and my excitement to share the hike via these journals. Every breath I took today was filled with anger and hate, both for myself and for the world around me.

Today I felt like I was walking through hell…

—

The humidity and heat were bad last night. Expected rain, but it never came overnight. Just a few raindrops in the sunrise hours, but nothing to bring the temperatures down.

Plinko and Stranger were out of camp early, and Hemlock and I started out at 7. From the very beginning of the day it was so hot and humid that I couldn’t tolerate it. The heat out here does something to me that I’ve never experienced before the AT. It literally makes me want to die.

Ultimately, the heat of this trail has been everything that I worried that it would be and worse. It’s been amongst the worst things that I’ve ever experienced on a hiking trail. It’s made me wish that I never started hiking. It’s made me hate the prospect of ever hiking again. It’s made me resentful to the world. It’s made me want to ruin wonderful things. It’s made me want to be alone for the rest of my life… shit… I cannot find the words to explain how much I hate hiking in this humidity and heat.

I was soaked through at the very beginning. All morning I just walked, then rang out my towel, over and over and over and over. All day. Just shedding liters of water, then squeezing out a gray sweat-water from my microfiber towel. I sweat so much that I became dizzy. Humidity levels are reading at 87% today and temps have broken 92 on my Garmin. Heat index is around 105.

This morning I had another black bug fly directly into the back of my throat and snag on my uvula. I dry heaved for several minutes, trying to make the sensation of needing to vomit go away. This same thing happened while I was hiking with Boots a few days ago. As the temperatures get higher, there seems to be more bugs. It’s probably just an illusion though. It probably just seems like more bugs when it’s this hot because instead of briefly landing on you and then taking back off, with humidity and heat like this, the bugs land on your layer of wettness and they drown and writhe. They stick to you. And there are hundreds of them. Some miles I have to set my hiking poles aside and use both hands and my towel to swat at bugs and my face. It’s terrible.

I also had a bug fly into my eye and lodge under my eyelid this morning. I spent a long time trying to get it out. I don’t know if it ever dislodged. I never saw it come out.

—

The heat and the hills and the humidity are too much for me.

Being out in this makes me want to die. There is nothing of enjoyment in today. I hate myself, the world, the trail, and everyone in the world today. I cannot conceive any reason why someone would want to hike this god-forsaken trail.

Oh yeah… I almost forgot to mention poison ivy is everywhere, as is stinging needle. I’ve broken out in small rashes and broken sores on my forearms and legs. They add more itching than the mosquito bites already make on their own.

I worried that I might not like the AT. There was no part of me that realized that I would come to hate it as much as I hate this today.

If there is a god, he does not live here.

—

Part 2: Evening

It’s raining heavily now, but it’s still hot and the mosquitoes don’t seem to mind the rain. Temps have dropped some with the coming of this storm a few hours back, but it’s still hot enough that I’m actively sweating as I lay here in my tent, listening to heavy rain outside.

We spent much of the afternoon waiting out the heat in the town of Kent. Back into it around 4, but it was still above 90 degrees.

Plinko, Hemlock, and I are all set up in tents by this river. It’s been so wet. Everything is soaked. First from sweat this morning, then from the rain. But it’s so hot that I’m still sweating and will continue through the night. I have nothing to wear tomorrow that isn’t already wet.

We set camp earlier than normal this evening. We were all beat down today. But I feel like the heat affects me the worst. Or maybe I just show it on the outside more than the others. I wonder if I’m that way with all of my emotions.

Tomorrow we’ll continue walking.

Wormwood.