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.

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

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

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…

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

Good, long day. Paka and I got out early and he finally saw his first Moose. Two of them, in fact, feeding near the shore on the far side of Mountain View Pond, submerging their entire heads under the surface of the water to reach the vegetation at the bottom. We were excited to find canoes nearby but, alas, they were chained and locked. Someone was thinking.

We’re all a bit spread out in the 100-Mile Wilderness right now. Cosmo and Spice about five miles ahead; Landshark, Easy Walker, Huff, and Puff (who left Monson a day after us) hopefully not far behind. The plan right now is to finish on Monday the 29th, weather permitting. Searching but not really feeling any emotion around it at the moment. Just enjoying being here now.

Chewy found the Bible in his pack and isn’t speaking to Paka.

Aquaholic

Now that it’s colder, my appetite is cranking again. I know I’m not carrying enough food to fully feed me for the next three days so I’ll just continue to eat as my appetite requires and then start stealing food from Paka Bear.

Paka found another hard-back Bible in a shelter today and, as far as I know, it’s been in Chewy‘s pack all day. We actually saw Katahdin for the first time today from White Top Mountain. We were more than 70 miles away but it looked much closer. It’s gonna be a big climb.

Aquaholic

I’d be surprised if it got much above 50 degrees today, which made crossing the West Branch of the
Pleasant River a bit of an ordeal. Foot-numbing c-cold!

After the river crossing, the Trail meandered through a forest of huge, white pine trees (some up to 130 ft), an area called The Hermitage.

According to the Trail guide, “In the colonial days, the biggest and best of these white pines were used as masts for sailing ships and warships, and were considered property of the crown. Anyone caught poaching one of these trees, was hanged.”
Magnificent forest.

Redwood, Cosmic Ivy, and I arrived at the junction of the Gulf Hagas Trail late in the afternoon, stashed our packs in the woods, and attempted to cover the 5-mile Gulf Hagas loop before dark. I had been told about this place by a kayaking friend of mine from Maine. He made me promise I wouldn’t pass it by and I’m glad I didn’t.

Referred to by some as the Grand Canyon of the East, it has it’s own unique majesty, only similar to The Canyon, though, in that it has a stream running through it. A very deep, narrow gorge, definitely one of the most beautiful places on the Trail. Wish I had my boat.

We finished the loop just before “too dark” and joined Paka, Achilles, and Chewy, who had already made camp at the junction. Feeling good but pretty tired after my first 20+ mile day in over a month.

Aquaholic

Another FAT breakfast, a warm farewell to the Pie Lady and to our final trail town.

I’ve just learned that Spice had a considerably more interesting stay in Monson than the rest of us. Seems he got a ride into town the other day from a nice local girl with whom he apparently hit it off because she was later searching for him around town with a huge ham sandwich she had made him.

Well, she eventually found him and Spice was absent for the rest of the afternoon and for Monday Night Football last night. We were all teasing him for most of the evening since we arrived to the shelter… until he spoke:

“Say what you want, guys, but none of you have ever had a ham sandwich that good.”

We entered the Hundred Mile Wilderness today. Only 99.4 miles to Katahdin.

Aquaholic

Day off to worship the Autumnal Equinox.

Outstanding breakfast this morning followed by visit to the P.O. and then joined The Pie Lady to the next town for some errands.

I ate three Big Macs for lunch.

Another great dinner and I don’t think I’m going to make it over to Shaw’s Boarding House to join the gang for Monday Night Football.

Aquaholic