the day i quit

144.0 Sassafras Gap Shelter // Awake at 4:00am. Stone cold awake. It was a windy morning, the wind sounded like a freight train coming through the trees. I will never tire of that sounds – it is both truly beautiful and truly terrifying and makes me feel very small up on the top of this mountain. I completed my morning ritual of getting the bear bag down, making my breakfast, dressing and packing up. Let’s pause right here…the bear bag. Have I properly explained the bear bag yet? I want to be somewhat informative to anyone who reads this, so if you have been wondering “what the heck is a bear bag?” and envisioning everything from a metal canister to a bag with a bear embroidered to the front, let’s clarify.

My bear bag is a waterproof nylon bag that I stuff all my food, stove, utensils (ok, it's a spoon) and trash into and hang from a tree at night to keep the bears from getting it. Now, this was about all the explanation I had prior to getting on the trail the first time. I have since watched a few YouTube videos in hope of improving my technique and I have learned a few details. 1. You need to hang the bear bag a minimum of 10 feet off the ground. 2. The bear bag should not be up against the tree, it should be dangling. 3. You should hang the bear bag 100 feet or meters or yards from where you camp (clearly, this detail was lost on me). 

You need rope...thin, light rope and a carabineer. You tie the rope to the carabineer and you throw it over a tree branch. If, like YouTube, you think this is even possible, you are wrong. If you don’t believe me, tie a few shoestrings together and go out into the front yard. It’s like trying to accurately lasso something with dental floss. And then, to think that you need a branch that is like 15 feet off the ground so your bag can hang at 10 feet. Well, good freaking luck. So here is reality…my bear bag hangs typically about 6 feet off the ground and it’s almost always up against a tree and sometimes it’s just leaned against a bush and sometimes it’s just in my tent with me. Remember that whole “I want to be informative” nonsense??? Please watch a YouTube video or ask someone qualified to help you. And if you figure it out, please let me know!

properly hung bear bags

my bear bag

I think I was on the trail by 5am, though I wouldn’t dare check my phone to see what time it was because the battery was so low. It was still dark as night so I hiked with my headlamp for the first hour or two. The sun never really came up – there was a 90% chance of rain and the wind was insane. There was a storm coming. I patted myself on the back for getting out of camp before the rain. There is nothing worse than trying to break camp in the rain…but hiking in the rain is not much better. As the storm came in I stopped to grab my rain jacket and cover my pack with the rain cover. I hiked the next 5 hours in the pouring rain. I was soaked from head to toe. It was such slow going. Much of the AT moves over the top of rocks and in the rain and mud, every step was a potential knee buster. Days like this I develop an unnatural love for my poles…something I didn’t think I would ever appreciate. I had never hiked with poles before so my first few miles of hiking were spent in an awkward dance with them. Today, I cannot imagine taking a step without them. They are like extensions of my body. Never hike without poles – that’s all I am saying.

This day of hiking has been hard for me to write about. And even now as I am forcing myself to do it, I see I am meandering around the story, avoiding the part I don’t want to share with you. On this day of hiking…I gave up.

A few hours in, when it became evident that the rain wasn’t going to let up and that the 22 miles I needed to cover would take me 3 times as long as I thought it would and that I would not likely make my pick up time, I came face to face with the moment of truth and I completely wimped out. I started this internal debate with myself. Why did I NEED to suffer? Why couldn’t I be someone who vacationed at the beach or went to the spa resort? Why did I have to cover 20+ miles in the cold rain? I was hungry and tired and sore…and utterly alone. Why?? For hours I talked myself up on this point. It was simply time to stop suffering and reconnect with the world and with people. I had escaped to the woods too long. I had friends who were sitting on beaches at this very minute, the most challenging thing in their day was to make it to the poolside bar. I wanted that life so badly in those moments. I wanted comfort and companionship. As soon as I heard a car and knew there was a road nearby, I knew I was stopping. And not only that, I was not coming back out in June for my solo month. I was saying goodbye to this life and to pushing myself. What was it all for anyway? I hiked the next 40 minutes warmed by the thought that I was done with this chapter, done with this hike, done with this trail.

When I came out of the woods it was onto a road that crossed the mountain pass. The wind was so strong it nearly blew my tent footprint (the tarp-like piece that goes under your tent to keep your tent dry) away when I got it out to wrap up in. I called my shuttle driver, Chuck. He could be there in about 2 hours. I looked around and I considered my options. I could go on, but it was so cold and wet and slick. I sat down and pulled out every piece of clothing I had. I wrapped the tent tarp around me and I curled up on the ground shivering. I sent a text message to my group text – I was coming off the trail now…and I wasn’t coming back. I sat and waited…colder and wetter with every passing minute. The next thing I knew there was a woman standing in front of me and she was telling me to get up. “Up,” she said, “now. Get up and go up these stairs.” She pointed to the stairs carved in the side of the mountain I had just come down. I got up and did as she said. When I got to the top I looked back to her for my next instruction. “Down,” she said, “now back down.” As soon as I hit the last step, she sent me back up again. I don’t know how many times we did this, three or four maybe, before I really understood what was happening. “You were hypothermic,” she said, “I’ve seen it many times before.” I knew it before she said it. I knew because I wasn’t there and then I was. I had drifted off to someplace and now I was back. She told me to keep moving and I promised I would. I walked up and down those steps probably a hundred times while I waited for my shuttle. By the time Chuck pulled in, I was back to normal and feeling good enough to go on…but now I couldn’t. 

I climbed into Chuck’s van and slid the door shut behind me. We rolled out and began the hour-long drive back to my car. Along the way, I learned a little more about Chuck and his wife, Diane, who was along with him. They met 34 years ago, he was living in Texas and she was in Florida and someone set them up. I asked if that seemed like a good idea at the time and they both laughed. “It made absolutely no sense,” Diane said, “but six months later we moved here to be together. Been here ever since.” Diane teaches high school history and Chuck shuttles hikers around. They live in a mountain town near the AT, which Chuck thru-hiked in 2008. They seemed happy and at peace and I was glad to be warm and in their company. I told them what I was trying to do – about my time out on the trail and the changes I had made in my life since I started. They weren’t surprised. I think a lot of epiphanies happen within this van. Just as we pulled into town, Diane pointed up at the trees along the river. “An eagle!” she didn’t have to tell Chuck to pull over (they had been married for 34 years, I think he knew what she wanted). We pulled off the side of the road and jumped out of the van. They pointed me in the direction of a small suspension bridge, just big enough to walk across. I unpacked my phone from it’s baggie and turned it on. I walked out half way on the bridge and took a picture of the most iconic and beautiful bird I have ever seen. I don’t know if I understood the emotion behind the word “majestic” until I saw this bald eagle in the wild, fly across the river. 

worst photo ever taken of a bald eagle

I have never seen a bald eagle before – I was speechless. I walked back across the bridge to Chuck and Diane. “They’re coming back in North Carolina,” Diane said. We all took our spots in the van and traveled the remaining few miles to my car. We pulled into the parking lot and Chuck jumped out and grabbed my pack. Diane jumped out and grabbed me, wrapping her arms around me and pulling me into a big, warm hug. “I can tell you are tough. You can do whatever you set your mind to.” She smiled and hopped back into the van. Chuck patted me on the shoulder. “I agree.”

I drove approximately 3 minutes to the nearest gas station where I bought a Diet Dr. Pepper and a banana and before I pulled out of that gas station, I knew I was not done with the AT. I just needed a hug.  // 150.7 Stecoah Gap

33 days...

my hands as I pulled back into Atlanta two hours later