When I had this enlighten the load idea I thought it was kinda cool. Induce a little self-therapy by contrasting the realities of hiking the Appalachian Trail at 26 vs. going through a divorce at 38. Could be some useful juice there.

As I continued checking in on the idea, it kept sticking, and before long I didn’t need to check in on it anymore because it started checking in on me…and it didn’t just stick, it grew. So I felt like maybe I was on to something…and maybe it was worth writing down… to see where it might go.

Had I known at the time what I would have to go through, what I would have to face and endure, I would likely have said ‘no fucking way.’

But I set myself on a new path and I’ve pushed it for truth ever since. Destination: enlightenment, or some form of it at least, initially to overcome my despair and ultimately to raise the quality of my character and life experience. I’m in the middle of it all now looking deeply and intently into the following domains, which will be some of the key sections of my book:

• Self Care
• Time
• Space
• Money
• Relationship

So far it is has been a godsend that my stronger tendency toward optimism blinded me from some of the realities I would encounter on this path, because it is running my entire being through a grinder. It works me to tears at times and I don’t shed those easily. I am, however, experiencing enough magic to keep me attentive and engaged…and committed…to the point that my better self-image emerges more often and reveals better self-projections, which seem to garner more accurate and desirable reflections from others.

The path started with awareness. Plain and simple it would seem, but when you’ve employed denial as a primary survival tool for so many years, you’ll find a few habits and patterns that need breaking. I’m not proud to admit that, but looking back I can see how denial kept me moving when I knew I was lost. I’ve come out of that and there’s no going back, but it’s still only a beginning.

The difference is that I can no longer pretend that everything will just work out. And it’s painful to face and have to fix the realities I unconsciously created. The areas that most need my attention are getting it, but I’m still trudging through the thickness of the long green, rocky tunnel.

With awareness comes pain, but also a sense of empowerment. Onward.

I’ve been working on a public speaking topic recently and I’m finding the idea of speaking in public both exciting and terrifying. Exciting because who wouldn’t want to hear what I have to say about what I think about while I’m walking about? Terrifying because what if the answer is no one? And what if that old recurring nightmare of ‘being on stage in front of an important audience to deliver a mind-altering masterpiece only to realize that I forgot to dress myself and have nothing to say‘ comes true?

But it’s just something I’m thinking about right now so I happen to be very well-dressed and properly prepared, and my audience is particularly ideal: smart, attentive, easily amused, and very attractive. All is well, but still, I’m a little nervous, so I’m working on becoming more comfortable.

Doing a little research this morning I came across an old de-jitterbugging tactic. It suggests you imagine that your audience is naked and, therefore, more uncomfortable than you. So I give this a little projection and I start my speech and all is going well until I begin to realize a potential problem: a room full of naked people and my tendency toward A.D.D.

Now I say tendency because I only experience about 80% of the common symptoms of A.D.D. A psychologist friend recently informed me that if I exhibited the other 20% it would mean that I am also bipolar, but those PhD-types, always diagnosing and coming up with wacky stuff like that because they’d be jobless if everybody was normal like me.

Anyway, the great thing about A.D.D. is that it consistently directs your mind to the coolest and most interesting places, which can make for a very rich life experience. There’s another side of A.D.D., though, that can be less beneficial if hey did I mention that the people in my audience are really attractive? Women and men both: attractive, naked, intelligent and very much into what I have to say. Several approach me after my speech, in fact, to exchange contact information. Seems they want to join me for a hike sometime…then hang out and drink wine to, you know, take the conversation deeper and to learn more about what I think about. Pretty cool.

(I love you, too. All of you, I do.)

I should get back to working on that speech topic.

When I was young I subjected myself to a lot of pain. So full of ego I would sooner suffer silently than surrender to complaining or pain-killing substances.

In time, if you’re open and paying attention, pain can go from being, well, a pain, to becoming more of a messenger. It is either threatening, indicating a weakness or sickness; or it is empowering, indicating strength or health.

When I started hiking the Appalachian Trail in 1997 I felt pain all over my body everyday. Knee pain, for example, came and went during the first few months of my hike. Thankfully I managed it well and over time my knee got stronger, and the periodic pain from weakness eventually just went away for good.

Pain was an important resource. More than a messenger. Almost like a friend, but not quite. More like a compass or a guide. More like an objective coach. It pushed me and resisted me and I did not always like what it had to say, but I knew it was grounded in a wisdom deeper than my experience.

I walked 2,160+ miles on purpose and pain kept me in check. It forced discipline upon me and helped me set good boundaries.

During my divorce, my experience with pain was very different. It was largely emotional and it didn’t feel like a messenger or a coach, it felt like a bully.

For a long time I was either in denial that my marriage was failing or I felt powerless to fix what was failing. I was convinced that I just had to hold on, that soon my wife would come around. That she would choose me again and surrender to my lead and THEN we could simplify and THEN everything would be okay and we could be happy again.

As I held on, I made concessions thinking that “giving” was the way. Giving felt like virtue to me. “Don’t be right,” came the voice, “do the right thing.” At the time, giving seemed like the right thing to do. And to give was to accommodate. I decided self-sacrifice was going to be my way. But over time self-sacrifice didn’t fulfill me, it emptied me. So when I accommodated I merely gave away my power. At the time I thought that giving everything was good and the right thing to do, but eventually I had sacrificed so much of myself that emptiness was all I had left to give.

And it wasn’t just in my marriage. My professional life suffered, I grew distant with friends, I didn’t feel like I was being the father I wanted to be, and it took a toll on my family who consistently provided so much support.

In these relationship scenarios I was trying to be something I wasn’t, something more than I was, and I ruined good opportunities and good relationships as a result. I also sacrificed many of my personal passions, like hiking and kayaking, and replaced them with supposed to be doings, like working for the all-mighty paycheck.

I literally set my creative work aside in boxes and placed it all into storage. Poems, children’s stories, screenplays, songs, and business plans. All things that woke me up in the morning and kept me energized into the night. I put it all away so I could focus on what I was supposed to be doing. I served others without serving myself. I relinquished control. I was no longer the master of my domain. The emotional pain only grew and I ached and hoped to be set free from it.

In a way I fell from grace, less because of what was happening to me than what I was not making happen. I was loaded down with bad energy. I was weakening. I was kicking my soul out of my body and my entire being was suffering.

That lasted for far longer than I am comfortable admitting and while, intellectually, I knew all along that I was the only one who could fix it, I had some emotional-awareness catching-up to do.

So I did what made the most sense to me, I started walking in the woods again…a lot.

After graduating from college and exploring the US, Canada, Central and South Americas, I came to understand how regular communion with nature is essential. No matter where I am, whenever I go out for a hike or bike ride, I feel my emotional, mental, physical, and spiritual health enhanced. Always, every time improved.

Author Richard Louv, in his book Last Child in the Woods (2005) presented a condition called Nature-deficit disorder to describe the problems people face as a result of being disconnected with nature.

“By its broadest interpretation, nature-deficit disorder is an atrophied awareness, a diminished ability to find meaning in the life that surrounds us.”

In his June 2011 article in Outside titled “Get Your Mind Dirty,” Louv further discussed how much of an effect the disconnect with nature has on all of us, children and adults alike.

“When we think of the nature deficit, we usually think of kids spending too much time indoors plugged into an outlet or computer screen. But after the book’s publication, I heard adults speak with heartfelt emotion, even anger, about their own sense of loss.”

This is extremely important and I’ll just let the article speak for itself. Read the Outside Mag article.

Charlie Sheen was recently quoted in an Earthlink article:

“I am on a drug. It’s called Charlie Sheen. It’s not available because if you try it you will die. Your face will melt off and your children will weep over your exploded body.”

Call me strange, but I am loving Charlie Sheen right now, not because I’m interested in promoting his way of life, but because of the way he has me thinking about my way of life. As interesting as every word coming out of his mouth is right now, perhaps even more interesting is the way people are responding to him. From what I can tell, most in the media are shaking their heads, calling him sick and saying he needs help. While that may have merit, there’s another side to this that I think is valuable to see.

I posted the above quote on my Facebook status, some of the comments included:

• “An instant classic!”
• “wired for sound…possibly delusional, too…hate to see him on something.”
• “…this guy has become my hero.”
• “He has seriously lost it.”

The line between being lost and being found can be a very fine one…and Charlie Sheen is walking it, to be sure. Either way, I never liked Charlie Sheen until now.

Whether you like him or believe him or think he’s delusional, you cannot deny that Sheen has removed an enormous weight from his own shoulders and is experiencing a freedom within himself that has been dying to get out for a long time. Some are saying that this is the beginning of his final demise, I would argue that this is his best chance for survival. His best chance at seeing his children become adults, and their best chance at having a father who is at least present and engaged in the world.

Let’s just agree that Charlie Sheen is an addict. He says he has quit drugs and alcohol and has test results to prove it. He has clearly not quit women and, personally, I can’t fault him for that. I do not condone many of his lifestyle choices nor much of his general behavior, but I’m really drawn to what appears to be his new addiction, what I would call “the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth according to Charlie Sheen.”

Freedom of expression with courage and without apology. The line between beneficial and detrimental is fine, indeed, but if it is delivered from a foundation of awareness and rational thinking, it’s an addiction we should all be so bold to exercise.

Postscript

It is now October 5th, 1997, and I am sitting at a table surrounded by French speaking travelers in a hostel in Rivierre Du Loup, Quebec.

I completed the Appalachian Trail a week ago.

Out of Millinocket, Paka Bear, Redwood, and I joined Easy Walker in his van to the coast of Maine. We explored Bar Harbor and Acadia National Park for a few days before dropping Paka at the airport.

Then we drove North, crossed the border into Canada, and spent a couple of days in Old Quebec City where I shaved off my six-month-old beard… bit of a shock…

We plan to spend a day or two here in Riviere Du Loup, then to Montreal, then down into Vermont for some hiking and a visit to the Ben & Jerry’s factory, and finally ending the road trip in Hanover, NH for The Gathering: a hiker festival sponsored by The Appalachian Long Distance Hiking Association (ALDHA).

In the past week I’ve had some time to reflect a bit and to think about what I’m going to do next. By no means have I sorted out a life plan and I don’t expect to anytime soon. Confusion is a little more prevalent than clarity, which is frustrating, and I’ve been experiencing a bit of what I think is depression. I did expect these feelings to some degree and I anticipate they will subside soon.

I’m ready to go home. Ready to spend some time with my family. I plan to catch up on some reading; listen to lots of music; run a marathon next month; explore going back to school for a degree in something interesting; wear jeans and cotton clothing; and, oh yeah, get a job or ten.

I do not know if this trip has changed me as a person but it has enhanced the way I see the world. My appreciation for Mother Nature is still profound and my faith in Human Nature is at an all time high.

It is my opinion that an Appalachian Trail Thru-hike is not a true “wilderness experience” for most people. All of nature’s elements are present and can be fully enjoyed, but, ultimately, the Trail experience is a traveling community of characters following similar physical paths, but widely varied spiritual paths, each one extraordinarily unique.

As fulfilling and enjoyable as it is, an AT thru-hike is NOT for everyone. For some, the commitment and sacrifices required are simply unreasonable. But for those with the true desire to make it happen, I’ll say this: There is more good in those 2,160+ miles than you can shake a stick at.

If and when you find yourself standing on top of one those mountains in Maine or Georgia (hopefully on a sunny day), you will understand how real and important that little voice is inside your heart that tells you to do what most people consider “crazy,” and you will not regret listening to that voice, and you won’t feel the least bit crazy.

I’m grateful to everyone who helped make my trip all that it was and who have helped make my life all that it is.

Thanks to Dan Bruce of Trail Place, who was the catalyst in helping me get this journal produced, and to Patty Wilkins who converted all of my original chicken-scratch to type.

Thanks and love most especially to my Mother, who kept me fed, connected, and even at times, funded.

Keep your load light. Happy Trails.

Joe

September 29 - Mount Katahdin – Baxter Peak – Baxter State Park, Maine (Day 194 – milepoint 2,160.2)

I slept surprisingly well despite the excitement of finally arriving at the base of THE final climb on the Northern route of the Appalachian Trail.

Redwood, Achilles, Chewy, and I walked over to the Ranger Station and emptied our packs of everything but a little bit of food and some warm clothing. Mahatma (Achilles‘ Dad) arrived from New York to join us for the climb. Great to see him again.

Cosmo, Spice, Paka, and Easy Walker actually arrived from Daicey Pond Campground a little after 7 a.m. We were worried we might not see them this morning after leaving them at Abol Bridge yesterday.

Cosmo: “Well, we bought some beer and started drinking before noon for no good reason…again.”

Needless to say, we were happy to see them.

Weather forecast: 100% chance of showers. High 40-45 degrees.

“Maybe it’ll hold off,” pined Easy Walker.

A little over 5 miles to Baxter Peak, Mt Katahdin and the official end of this six-month rollercoaster ride. The toughest climb on the entire Trail in my opinion. Steep UP the whole way requiring all four limbs; climbing, scrambling, stumbling…

The high winds started as soon as we ascended above tree-line. At times, the gusts were so strong you could only hope to stand your ground. But I was knocked to the ground several times despite my efforts to the contrary. Rain and fog soon arrived to join us for the rest of the day.

We reached the 5,267 foot summit cold and wet with, at best, about ten feet of visibility. Fortunately, the accomplishment of reaching the summit temporarily overshadowed the danger we were in, and the celebration was free of worry and full of joy.

Then, Chewy spoke: “Ok, Congratulations and everything guys. Now hurry up and take a picture so we can get the f#ck off this mountain!”

No irony or humor was lost on the fact that we spent over six months trying to get to this point and the weather allowed us to enjoy it for only a few very intense minutes. I suppose we were lucky to enjoy it at all.

Despite periodically being blown to the ground by the wind, everyone got their shot next to the sign. True to form, Paka arrived last, but with news that Achilles and Mahatma had turned around due to the poor conditions, about which I was extremely bummed. (We would later find out, however, that they quickly changed their minds and summited about 15 minutes after we headed down.)

Chewie had been informed of an alternate route down the mountain following a blue-blaze trail called the Saddle Trail, which takes you over the back side. At this point, we were looking for the “safest” route, which we defined as the route that took us below treeline the fastest, and we understood that to be the Saddle Trail.

Easy Walker and I stayed up for a few extra minutes to help Paka get his pictures while the rest of the gang started down. (It is very possible that, due to the fog, none of our pictures will turn out.)

Initially, the descent was reasonably easy with only intermittent gusts knocking us off balance, but after about a half-mile, the trail fell into a very steep, very narrow valley with winds we estimated to be around 70 mph or more, blowing UP the mountain. Rain turned to ice in the cold wind tunnel. My hands were as busy as my feet: one on the ground as a third point of balance, the other holding the hood of my jacket down to keep the ice from hitting my face. Wearing shorts, my legs were exposed to the elements, numb from the cold and a deep shade of pink and stinging from the icy rain. Thankfully, I was able to enjoy the experience despite the intensity of the conditions, and we made it down to treeline in about 45 minutes where the wind ceased and the ice turned back to rain.

Our destination was Roaring Brook Campground on the North side of Baxter State Park. We encountered a large Moose on the way down, which passed only a few feet away from us near Chimney Pond. Also encountered some weekenders who congratulated us with shots of Rum “to warm the insides.”

We arrived at Roaring Brook without further incident and quickly caught a ride in the back of a pick-up truck 16 slow miles around the mountain and back to Katahdin Stream Campground. In the early stages of hypothermia, I was happy to be out of the back of the truck.

We all grabbed our gear from the Ranger Station and signed-OUT!

Achilles and Mahatma made it safely coming back down on the AT about the same time we arrived and I hopped in with them for the ride into Millinocket, Maine. Others rode with well known Trail Angel, Kampfire, whose objective is to “give every Thru-hiker a ride out of Baxter State Park who needs one.”

I was dropped off at the Appalachian Trail Lodge where I was greeted by Lodge owner, Don, and shown to my room. Few places on the Trail have I felt so welcome and acknowledged. A long, happy, hot shower was followed by dinner with Chewy and his brother, Dean, Spice, Cosmo, Paka, Redwood, Easy Walker, Achilles, Mahatma, Baltimore Jack (finished on the 28th), Meant-2-B (also finished on the 28th), and Trail Angels Dizzy B & Kampfire.

We then made our way over to the bar at Pamola Hotel where the final celebration ensued…

As it happens, the Appalachian Trail Lodge has a stiff 11:00 p.m. curfew, which Paka and I missed by about five hours. We made sure Achilles got back to his room safely, and, for some reason, still chose to walk across town back to the AT Lodge. After unsuccessfully trying to wake up Redwood and Chewie by throwing rocks at their windows (we would later learn that young Redwood was passed out next to the toilet. Chewy, on the other hand, probably heard us, saw us, had a good chuckle, and went back to sleep…), we walked over and found cover in a small storage shed located in a neighboring back yard. Paka found the ground pretty easily and I ended up on an old wooden box in which we found a couple of blankets and some old clothes for warmth, thank you.

A rather fitting end to this long, strange, wonderful trip.

Aquaholic

September 28 - Katahdin Stream Campground (Day 193 – milepoint 2155.0)

Woke up early and watched the sun rise. I hiked alone the eight miles to the Penobscot River and Abol Bridge Campstore. Cosmo and Spice were there relaxing. Again, I found Paka‘s trash in my pack. I was ashamed for letting him get away with it. Plus, I forgot to stash the Bible in Achilles‘ pack before I left this morning, so I carried that, too.

Out of food, I unapologetically pigged out at the Abol Bridge campstore. Easy Walker showed up with bad news: Landshark hurt his knee in the 100-Mile Wilderness a couple of days back and had to slow down, so if we summit tomorrow, he won’t be with us. Nor will Huff and Puff. Bummer.

I left Abol Bridge with a very lightweight but important piece of Paka‘s pack, and followed streams the whole way to Daicey Pond.

I felt fortunate to be able to sit and chat with Park Rangers Marcia and Gabriel. An easy-going couple with a calming presence. The kind of people you want to be like. I relaxed there by Daicey Pond for a bit, enjoying the view of Katahdin, until Achilles, Chewy, and Redwood showed up.

We made our way another 2.5 miles to Katahdin Stream Campground, where we had reserved a Lean-to away from the crowds, thankfully. I’ve been curious about how Paka is doing without the hip belt to his backpack. Wonder if he’s mad?

Weather report for tomorrow: 90% chance of rain.

Aquahoiic

P.S. Spice, Cosmo, Paka, and Easy Walker were last seen heading down to the Penobscot riverside after buying more beer at the Abol Bridge camp store…

September 27 - Southeast edge of Rainbow Lake (Day 192 – milepoint 2137.6)

Excellent views of Mount Katahdin today. We’re camped in a cool little spot next to Rainbow Lake. Very clear, still evening, the silence – deafening, until a sea-plane flew overhead and landed in the lake not far away. That was nice.

I’m not sure how, but the Bible ended up in my pack, which I found, along with some trash, when I unloaded my pack for the night. It’s gotten to the point now where no matter who played the prank, retaliation is aimed at Paka. Poor guy. He just needs to learn how to wipe the grin off of his face when he says, “All I try to do is be nice to you guys and make life easier for everyone.”

Only 22.8 miles to thru-hike completion.

Aquaholic