Katahdin Springs

When it comes to storytelling, there is no right or wrong way to do it. It’s one of the few things in this world that doesn’t come with a rulebook or instruction manual. That being said, the logical thing to do usually is to tell the story from start to finish. That was my original intention for this story, but as I sit down to write it I get too distracted by envisioning that last day to focus on the early days of the trail. At first this frustrated me, but I’ve come to realize why it must be told this way.

While they were happening, I didn’t understand the significance of those first few days of my hike, and all the days to follow. I had this feeling deep down that something very important, maybe even magical, was happening but I didn’t quite know why. It wasn’t until I was sitting on top of Mount Katahdin that I realized all of those seemingly little moments from the beginning weren’t that little at all.

In order for my story to make sense, you need to understand what the end of the trail meant to me. And in order to do that we need to begin at the beginning of the last day.

It was almost 5:00 on a cool August morning in Maine. I had already been awake for at least two hours waiting for the day to start. The sun had just started rising when I heard “Picnic?” from the tent next to mine. I could tell immediately from her voice that Sarah hadn’t been able to sleep either. There was no point just lying there anymore, so we got up and began to break down camp for the last time. For almost three months every morning I had the same morning routine: wake up, make coffee in my tiny pot on my tiny stove, get dressed, break down my tent, pack my pack, and start my day. I could have done it in my sleep. That morning, everything went slower as I tried to wrap my head around the fact that this was the last time.

For the most part, we worked in silence. I knew that she felt the same way I did and that there weren’t words for the situation. For months there had been one goal; get to Katahdin. Today was the day that was finally going to happen and we weren’t sure what came after that. Where were we going to stay that night? How were we going to get home? Were things going to be the same as when we left? We had changed so much over our time out there, how were our new selves going to fit into the lives we had left behind?

Leaving camp that day I had a determination I had never felt. As soon as we got to the trailhead I hiked faster and harder than ever before. Even up until that point, I felt uncoordinated and awkward hiking. Those of you that know me, know that athleticism has never been my strong suit. That had all gone away. I was weaving through the rocks, leaping over streams, pulling myself around trees and over boulders. Everything up until now had been preparing me for this moment.

The trail continued to get steeper and more difficult. Somewhere around mile three, I wiggled my way up the crack in a boulder to find myself above tree line. The wind was blowing so hard I had to lie down in order to not get knocked over. 'We shouldn’t be up here,' I thought over and over to myself. 'Is this safe?' No. 'Could we get seriously hurt doing this?' Absolutely. 'Would anyone in their right mind be climbing this mountain in these conditions?' Not a chance, but at that point turning back wasn’t an option so on we went. After what felt like hours of climbing and holding on for dear life the trail began to level out and there it was in the distance. The Katahdin Sign. "Northern Terminus Of The Appalachian Trail."

I began to run. I ran towards the sign. I ran towards the end of the adventure of a lifetime. I ran in spite of all the blisters and sore muscles and tears a long the way. I ran in spite of all the times I wanted to go home. This run was fueled by all the friends I made along the way, all the kind words from family back home, all the picture perfect moments I had experienced. It was fueled by the self-doubt felt up until this point, the cold rainy days, and the people that told me I could always just quit.

I ran until I reached the sign where Sarah was waiting for me. I had done it. And I knew in that moment, that nothing would ever be the same. I was no longer the same.

Stay tuned for more stories from my Appalachian adventure!