March 20, 1997 (Day 1 – Springer Mountain – A.T. milepoint 2.5)

After a week at home with the folks making final preparations, Dad and I drove down to Dalton, GA yesterday and stayed the night in a tiny hotel. Big ceremonial breakfast this AM and made the hour+ drive to Amicalola Falls State Park arriving at 10:30 a.m. I registered at the visitor center and weighed my pack – 54 lbs – ouch. That’s gonna hurt. (I swear under my breath and Dad’s not shy about laughing out loud.) Ran into another potential thru-hiker, Jeff, who flew in yesterday from London and was on his way to getting started a little later in the day. A couple of pics, a big hug and thank you to Dad, and I disappeared into the bare forest on the 7 mile approach trail to the southern terminus of the AT – Springer Mountain.

The approach trail was not terribly difficult, but it was no “walk in the park” either with 50+ lbs on my back! The first people I saw were a group of about 10 day hikers. All in great shape and smiling. I don’t think any of them were under 65 years old, but energetically they were like a bunch of 20-somethings. They offered brownies. I offered cookies. I was feeling a little lighter.

At around 2:45 PM, I arrived atop Springer Mountain, Elev 3730′. Relaxed for a while enjoying the view to the west of a superb, clear, sunny 65-70 degree day. A bite to eat, a ceremonial photo, a hello to thru-hikers Luna (from central Canada) and Kurt (from North Carolina), and I officially started walking to Maine. Destination for the evening was Stover Creek Shelter at mile 2.5, mostly downhill from Springer into a rhododendron and hemlock-filled forest. I am joined at the shelter by brothers, Fiddlehead and Bulldog, from PA. Another hiker, Mr. Mingo from Boston, is tenting nearby and there are four chatty college girls from OH in tents down by the creek. I can tell already that my relationship with food over the next six months will be both passionate and violent.
-Joe

March 20, 2009 – Boulder, CO

After dropping my 8-year-old off at the bus today, I made a quick stop for coffee and went for a walk. I was feeling a little overwhelmed by the weight I’ve been carrying, and struggling with a crappy idea that I’m somehow failing my children.

My marriage is ending. I have problems to solve and I need to cope. I need to act even when I feel defeated and powerless. How the hell do I walk through all of this terrain with integrity?

In other experiences I’ve learned that the quality of my coping is often related to how I label my circumstances. Until today, I’ve been associating divorce with failure, and I’ve been suffering. But today I considered the idea of divorce as a remedy.

remedy |ˈremədē|
noun

• a medicine or treatment for a disease or injury

• a means of counteracting or eliminating something undesirable

verb

• to set right (an undesirable situation)

How about that? As a remedy, the process of divorce can set right an undesirable situation. It is a path to healing.

This is an early stage idea for me, but it gave me feelings of relief and okayness that I haven’t been able to access for some time.

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