The moment I woke up I noticed the beautiful absence of one thing…the sound of rain. It was dry and the birds were singing. The day ahead would take me out of the Smokies and toward Hot Springs and the man I love. I hesitated writing that line…should I call him the love of my life? So cheesy. My boyfriend? It’s not a lofty enough title for this man. My savior is so biblical and my hero is so overplayed. He is simply the one man who makes everything else make sense. I am not someone people easily get on with…I have been called “difficult” by my kindest friends. I don’t think I am disagreeable on the surface…if we met you might find me completely tolerable. Most likely you wouldn’t even notice me. But get to know me and you might find I think too much, talk too little and am too quick to leave the past in the past and move through the world quickly and alone.
My temperament has translated into a lifetime of disappointing relationships with men. I have taught myself, over time, not to be needy or helpless. I am outwardly too capable and overly confident when I have no right to be. I let the men in my life “off the hook” and then I shake my head disapprovingly when they take the easy option…instantly loving them less for being so weak. I push everyone away and then, if you keep at it, I suck you in and am loyal to you for a lifetime. Needless to say, I have very few good friends…but those I have I am utterly devoted to. Men however, men fail to inspire me. Or did, until 16 years ago when I met the man I love now. It’s been a twisted road and we’ve spent the past 15 years apart until we reunited about a year ago, just after my separation. When we first met we were young and our lives were so simple. Now, they could not be more complicated…kids, exes, homes, careers and individual plans all conspire to make sure adult dating is the hardest thing you will ever do…at a point in your life when you have the least motivation to compromise. It is remarkable that it ever works out and I am convinced it only does due to sheer willpower of those involved. A 20 minute drive is enough to call it quits. “You’re a night person, I am a morning person,” – deal breaker. Things you would have laughed about in your 20s and 30s become intolerable in your 40s. “I love ‘Game of Thrones’ but he prefers ‘Vikings’, isn’t that cute??” No...deal breaker.
So the fact that today, this sweet man was going to be hiking something between 15-25 miles to meet me on the Appalachian Trail…which involved buying the equipment, driving 4 hours, sleeping in his car, catching a shuttle to the trail…oh and THEN hiking 12 hours…was in no way the “easy way out.” He met my bullshit head-on and I have to tell you, I have loved him like I never knew possible.
I packed up my stuff and headed off toward Tony. I knew very little about our rendezvous since we were making arrangements via my GPS unit. I think I have bitched about this before, but texting on my GPS unit is like testing the text option on the original Motorola StarTac. You know a bunch of guys were sitting around sending simple 3 word messages and saying, “no way anyone will EVER do this…not when they could just pick up the phone and say it.”
I passed the Northern boarder of the Smokies before noon. There was nothing to distinguish the milestone in the hike. There was no big sign acknowledging what you had just endured to get here. There was simply a dirt road and a box to sign in/out of the park. I opened the metal box and wrote my name with the pencil provided. I paused only for a moment to take a photo on the large rocks that created the border.
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As I crossed the dirt road and began to climb the next mountain out of the park, the temperature grew noticeably warmer. It was strange, the microclimate of the Smokies. I had been cold for the past week and now sweat poured off me and the sun beat down. I had not even bothered to look at the terrain today, I didn’t seem to matter. I walked as fast as I could and I ran when I could muster the energy. I passed through pastures and grassy balds…the landscape was beautiful and the weather was perfect. I stopped again at the top of a grassy bald known as Max Patch. It was stunning. 360 degree views from the top of the world. I was rushing to meet Tony but couldn’t help snapping some pictures. I passed an old man making his way up the grassy climb and when he reached the top I offered to take his photo and send it to him. I asked him for his email address and repeated it to myself for the next hour as I hiked…then forgot it.
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| If you know this man...please send me his email address |
I knew that I would not see Tony before I had at least covered 15-20 miles of the day. We had no way to communicate with each other. He wasn’t carrying a tracker and his phone would have little coverage as he hiked out of Hot Springs. I began looking for him after about 15 miles. I picked up my pace and hiked on toward 20 miles and past the point where I thought we would probably intersect, a shelter called Walnut Mountain. There was a few people hanging out at the shelter and I stopped to ask if they had seen anyone. They hadn’t. I told them if they did, to send him back toward Hot Springs and I continued on. I was starting to worry…this was actually a pretty ridiculous plan. There were a million ways we could miss each other, from simply stopping for a restroom break to getting off the trail. I was accustomed to the trail and following its blazes. Tony was not. I came around ever bend more nervous than the last. This plan had gone terribly wrong. I saw someone walking toward me on the trail. I hurried to him and before I could speak he asked, “Are you supposed to meet someone out here?” “Yes!” I said, “have you seen him?” “Yeah, a couple miles up on the trail. He was sitting at a campsite. I think he was turning around…thought he had missed you.”
WHAT?! No. I thanked him and literally took off running. Do you know what’s not cool? Running with a 50 pound pack on your back when your knees are swollen and every muscle in your body hurts. Can you even imagine what that looks like? I didn’t care. The thought of not getting to see him was enough to evoke sheer panic. I covered the next couple of miles in record time and yet, nothing. I passed a campsite that was likely where he had been sitting. There was no sign. I couldn’t keep the pace up long. I had covered 23 miles at this point and was running on fumes. Then my GPS pinged. I quickly pulled it off my back and read the message. It was Tony and he was heading back toward Hot Springs. Several messages from him came all at once. He had turned around and was looking for a spot where his phone would connect. It’s crazy how something so simple…walking on a North/South trail, one person coming from North, the other from South, can get so complicated when both are alone and unable to communicate. Literally anything could happen. One of you could twist an ankle and be moving slowly. One might stop at a shelter to see if the other had stopped there, only to be passed by the other in that very moment. One might have gotten a late start…or an early start. And neither of you have anyone else to consider the possibilities with…it’s maddening.
I slowed back to my normal hiking pace, resigned to the fact that I could do literally nothing. As I came up a long, easy incline I looked up to see someone standing in the trail…filming with a GoPro. I was so excited to see him that I didn’t even care that he was filming me after a week without soap. I ran(ish) toward him and wrapped up in his arms. I can still see his smiling face in mind and I tear up thinking about it. We climbed up on some large boulders at the side of the trail and began sharing all our stories. Tony, it turns out, had gotten an early start and was a very fast hiker. He had gotten a lot further than either of us anticipated and then started to second-guess himself, assuming he had somehow missed me. At this point, he had covered nearly 20 miles. Blisters were forming on the bottoms and heels of his feet. His pack outweighed mine by 10 pounds at least. In addition to carrying our big tent and his own bag, sleeping pad and food for both of us…he was also carrying:
-new hiking shoes for me – knowing mine had been soaked for the past week and were in pretty bad shape to begin with he had bought me new ones and hiked them out onto the trail
-fresh, DRY clothing for me
-bananas that I had been craving
-firewood to start a fire – I am serious, he thought this through and realized the wood in the area would be too wet to burn. He was carrying firewood in his pack.
The guy even had laundry detergent in a little pill bottle, thinking I might want to wash my clothing out in a creek. There are no words for what sort of person does this for someone else. I guess there are, but they seem to escape me because everything I write seems underwhelming. It was the most loved I have ever felt and then on top of that, he seemed genuinely excited to have done it.
After a bit of catching up and repacking – we headed back (doubling back on the hike he had already done for the day) the six or so miles to Deer Park Shelter where we planned to camp for the night. I knew right away his feet were literally killing him, though he said nothing and continued to hike far faster than my comfort level. I hustled to keep up, especially on the uphill portions of the trail. Tony also has a past of competitive cycling and I flashed back to days 16 years prior when we would be riding with a large group of cyclists…he at the front pushing the pace, me dangling off the back cursing him. It didn’t matter, I was happy and I needed the push or I would have crawled into camp. Tony and I had talked about trying, at some point in the future, to hike the trail fast – averaging 30+ miles per day. It was clear to me that he was capable of that and I wondered if I could manage. I had lost 10 pounds in the week I had been on the trail. It was impossible to eat enough and I was always either hungry or eating. My goal had been to average 20 miles a day and I was well above that – most days were 22-26 and 28 was my longest so far. I hiked behind him contemplating what 30 miles a day behind this man might feel like and the remaining few miles went by quickly.
We arrived to the shelter area and Tony pulled his shoes off. His feet were destroyed. We settled on a campsite away from the shelter…a little clearing at the side of a creek. It was absolutely perfect. We set up camp and Tony began cutting more wood for the fire. I speak only for myself here, he may think otherwise – but to me, this was perfect. We made dinner, sat around the campfire and then settled into the tent for the night. It was absolutely the best night. In fact, shit…it was TOO perfect. I began to wonder if Tony might assume it was always like this. I was sure he was sitting there, eating his freeze-dried dinner and wondering, “what was she bitching about, this is great?” and I began to wonder myself. I had wasted the entire Smoky Mountains being a whiny baby about it. Only now with Tony’s reaction to judge myself again, did I realize how lucky I was to be out here and living on nothing with no clutter, no technology and no to-do list.
I am going to pause here and talk about something that you might want to opt out of reading. In fact, you might want to opt out of knowing it even exists. This about to get very female specific and somewhat graphic, so you might want to look away and continue to live your happy life unaware of what goes on within the bodies of the lovely women in your life. If you have the stomach for it – read on and I am about to tell you what it’s like to be on your period while hiking on the AT. Now, this is not news for anyone who is female and has thru-hiked during their reproductive years. It’s a fact you have to face at least a few times over the course of that journey, but for me – it was an “oh shit” moment. I can still remember when it dawned on me, while planning my MONTH-LONG hike… “ah, damn, you know what that means?” I said aloud to no one. I am sure most of you know the rules of the trail with regard to trash at this point…hike in, hike out. Whatever you bring into the woods, you must also hike out of the woods. There does seem to be a “turn a blind eye” exception to toilet paper, but even that requires digging a hole and burying it or composting over the top of it at the levy (side note to the side note – a levy is a makeshift bathroom erected at the shelters where you get to sit on an actual toilet seat fastened to the top of a wooden platform with a hole in it, basically allowing you to poo from a 6 foot elevation. When you are done, you are to toss some mulch in over the top and close the lid to promote decomposition and inhibit odor. Oh and in case you are wondering, the mulch is somehow magically provided. It’s in every levy though I have no idea how it gets there). Tampons, however, are not to be left behind. Honestly, even if they do decompose over time, can you even imagine happening upon that in the woods? Urgh, it would just ruin it all for you, wouldn't it? So, tampons in – tampons out. It’s that simple. Except it’s not, because now you have to decide when to carry all the tampons. Do you pack them in the bag from the start? Or do you ship them in one of your resupply boxes? How sure are you on timing? I mean, think about it, you would be carrying every single tampon you would need for an entire period into and out of the woods. For me (and again, I realize this is graphic) that is likely at least one box of tampons. If you are male and still reading this, we are talking about the size of two rolls of toilet paper (and I applaud your commitment to understanding us ladies. Keep reading.) So, I found myself facing the decision to give up all that space in my bag plus carry them out with me OR…introducing, the Diva Cup.
If you don’t know what the Diva Cup is, good for you because it’s the devil. I would suggest you Google it just to know such evil exists in the world. If you are familiar with it and you actually LIKE it, WTF is wrong with you?? Long story short, I opted to take the Diva Cup with me instead of carrying tampons and I lived to regret it. The Diva Cup is basically a small (but not small enough!) flexible rubber cup, a little taller but about the same size as those little dentist Dixie cups. You are supposed to roll it up and insert it into the…you know what, you can probably just guess and if you can’t – seriously check out the 9 page “user guide” on their website where you will also be shamed for destroying the world with your tampons and for not being comfortable fishing around in there with your dirty hiking fingers only to rinse it off in the dirty, bacteria infested stream…all of which I did and paid the price for (more on that to come). Now that I have reviewed their website, I also see that there is a page called “Tips for Success” which I omitted…perhaps dooming my experience. (http://divacup.com/how-it-works/tips-for-success/).
So really, we need tips for success like it’s an experiment of sorts??
I tell you all this because, as it turns out, my period came on the same day as my boyfriend. Lucky me! So not only was I a weeks worth of ‘dirty’, I was using some sort of masochistic menstrual control device AND it was not agreeing with me. I don’t know exactly what went wrong because there were just so many fun factors – the previously mentioned dirtiness of my hands, the lack of clean, running water or the simple fact that my anatomy was not designed for this item and essentially tried to give birth to it the entire time causing me to have contraction-like cramps while trying to hike the AT. Thanks Diva Cup hippies, think I will just carry my mountains of bloody tampons with me next time…proudly.
Wow, that was a deviation from my little love story and I do apologize for that. If you are rejoining the story here – let’s quickly recap where we are. It’s 2015 and we are on the AT and I am in love.
The next morning, despite horrific cramping pains in my abdomen (sorry. Done now. Promise!) we packed up and headed out
It was actually pretty funny, despite the intense pain in the leg that hit the tree. Tony crawled off the side of the trail and tried to pull me up. It was not happening. There was too much weight above my head on my back. I had to get my pack off and up to him first. Then he hauled me up the side the way you might envision retrieving a cow that had fallen over a cliff. If he had not been with me, I think my only choice would have been to continue crawling down the side of the mountain. If he hadn’t been with me, I would have cried instead of laughed. Once we collected my things and put me back together, we covered the remaining mile or so into town in silence. It wasn’t like a near death experience. I wasn’t hurt beyond bumps and bruises. It was just a reality check – more for him than for me. Tony had never felt this hike was a good idea, he worried endlessly and now, with him right here beside me, he had watched me ALMOST get hurt. For a guy who tends to be protective, this was probably too much.
Once we arrived in town, we stopped in at the outdoor outfitters to get drinks and snack (and tampons) and we sat on the bench out front…neither of us wanting to have the conversation we needed to have. Tony’s blisters were horrible. There was no way he could go on. I have seen big, strong men brought to tears by blisters half as bad as his…and now here he was, insisting he was fine to go on only because he did not want me to go on alone and he didn’t want to be the reason I was off course. We sat there for an hour watching the sleepy people of the sleepy town live their sleepy lives. Finally, I said it, “you can’t go on. I won’t let you.” He was adamant that he could and he would. I refused. I knew there was not much he couldn’t get through but this was bad and I just couldn’t watch it. I suggested we get a shuttle to his truck, parked outside of town, and we could decide what to do from there. He refused. We walked on through town to the last shop before the trail reentered the woods and we sat down on a picnic table. We sat quietly for a long time before Tony said, “why do you need to do this?” I opened my mouth to respond and nothing came out.
I thought for a minute. I had good reasons, didn’t I? I started the trail to prove something to myself – but as time had passed I knew I was capable so it wasn’t that anymore. Then it was to challenge myself, to do high miles and endure tough conditions, but the Smokies had been incredibly difficult and I had exceeded my mileage plan. At one point I needed to explore my own mind – I needed to face myself and the fact that I wasn’t living the life I wanted to live. But again, those things were all behind me and I had spent the last year of my life making brave choices and rediscovering who I really was. This trip was about what I wanted most in this world – love. And the man sitting across from me, telling me he needed me home with him, was teaching me the lesson I needed to learn. I had spent my life being tough enough to survive anything, resilient enough to bounce back and never giving in to the feeling of needing someone – and now, here I was sitting at a picnic table in Hot Springs, NC, covered in a week’s worth of dirt with over 275 miles on my shoes and needing nothing more than the person sitting across from me. Actually, wanting nothing more. The universe is funny that way…
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