"The Appalachian trail...a footpath for those who seek fellowship with the wilderness"--Michael Frome

I was talking to Steve about Through-Hikers today and Jeff joined in, calling them "true hikers".  Steve and I liked that..TRUE HIKERS. 

Originally the trail was intended for urbanites to get out of the cities and take day or weekend trips, to take in views. The first section of the trail was opened in 1923 after it was completed it stretched continuously from Georgia to Maine. It crosses mountain top to mountain top, often going through cornfields, woods, open fields.

Some of the shelters are so remote that you have cages that come down and you lock yourself into the shelter for the night to protect you from bears and other wildlife.

After WW2 there was a man named Earl Shaffer, he was the first person to hike the entire trail (over two thousand miles) one of the quotes from his book that I likes is:

"I like to sleep with the sky, as high up as I can, because I like to look at the stars when I fall asleep"

After word got out about what he did more people began to hike the trail from start to finish continuously without a break.  Usually it is people in transition, after college, divorce or death of a loved one.  Also very eccentric or introverted people who are looking to escape mainstream society.

This picture above was taken from our last hike when we went in the fall, it was cold and rained almost the entire weekend, but look at that view!  I have a small photo similar to this one in my wallet that I pull out every once in a while to bring myself back to the trail.

At the beginning of each hike hike I doubt my capabilities I know my physical limitations.   My dad is military and he and Janet both are training for the Army Ten Miler, so they are in great shape.  Steve and I are always doing active things outdoors but it is at the pace of our children.

The entire length of the trail is marked by white blazes, even when crossing through towns you can see the blazes. The are usually painted on trees in the woods, but can also be found on rocks, bridges, whatever can be found where there are no trees.

Here is a photo of my father, we both read "A Walk in the Woods" by Bill Bryson.  When I was finished with it, I said "Dad lets do it! Lets just start hiking chunks of it at a time" and soon after that first hike with Dad (in 2003), my sister Janet joined in on the adventure.

This is one of the views from this past weekend. Dad said "I love being high enough that we are looking down at the hawks."  It does not bother me that the tree is in the middle of the picture (it is driving Steve crazy) because when you are hiking you are often hiking on the spine of the mountain looking through trees at  views like this.

The Shelter was unique, it used to be a potters shed, the roof had this enormous sky light.  I slept on a top bunk so I could be closer to the view of trees.  I woke to the sound of mourning doves and acorns falling on the roof from the trees above.

The internet of the trail is journals which are kept at every shelter.  Everyone who hikes consistently on the trail uses a trail name instead of their real name and they write to each other, sometimes it is important information like which springs are dry, but often it is hikers talking to friends who are behind them who they know will come to the shelter and read it.

One hiker I met told me that he writes only one word each day, to describe the day and he challenges himself  to not repeat that word in the future.

here are some excerpts I have read in the registers:

"The wind sounds like the ocean"

One hiker we met named Chaos who slept at the shelter with us hiked on ahead and stopped in at the next shelter because she knew we would stop there and she wrote to us.   In the middle of the note was a her favorite quote: "Its supposed to be hard.  If it weren't hard everyone would do it.  Its the hard that makes it great."    --A League of Their Own

"Perhaps we march forth because we are convinced the best is not behind us."

Some of the trail names I have come across from the register or from meeting are:

Firecracker

Reason

Chuck Luck

Thoreau

Phoenix rising

Cloud Walker

Tron

Freebird

Birch

Walkabout

Sunbeam

Stryder

Willow

Freebird

Cosmo

All Good

Walking Home

I'm Fine

Wounded fawn

Janet crossing the bridge, it is dark but you can catch a glimpse of her there at the end of the bridge.

"The trail leads not merely North and South

but upward to the body, mind and soul of man."  --Harold Allen

My sister, I love my time with her and dad.

Okay I have a story for this shot.  I was sleeping on my back with the sleeping bag pulled up to my neck. This was at the first shelter where there are only three walls and the fourth side is totally open to the elements, you have to hang all the food from the ceiling to keep it away from mice and racoons, bear etc..  So here I am sleeping and I feel something crawl across my face, crawl back across and stop in the middle of my forehead.  I reach up pick it off and fling it across the shelter.  In the morning while Jan and I were rolling up our sleeping bags and mats Jan points to the VERY LARGE COCKROACH crawling on the floor and I realize, that is what was on my face. 

He was moving fast so the picture is blurred but can you see him? 

So after that ordeal, we put in a day of hiking and taking in the views and get to the next shelter, I start taking things out of my pack and GUESS what crawls out of my pack?!!! I kid you not, there he was, big as you please, hitching a ride in my pack.  You should have seen what a quick draw I was with my flip flop to kill it.

Here is a picture of the first shelter we stayed in (the one with the cockroach).  It wasn't bad really--I have been in shelters where there are snakes crawling around the floor trying to catch all the mice and rats that hang out there.

In some of the shelters I see photographs of mount Katahdin, the ending point in Maine.  The photograph is usually faded to a blue and green color but has not lost it motivating power for through hikers who view it as their goal.  I often think of Pilgrim's Progress when I see things like that, where Christian pressed on towards the celestial city.

I love the open shelters.  I often wake up to the sound of  forest birds, a rooster, or geese all singing "rise and shine".  The wind is in your face while you sleep

Most hikers choose to hike from shelter to shelter, putting in 15 to 20 miles a day and then crashing at night with other hikers. Relationships form quickly among hikers and they all look out for each other.  One time we met Igor and Smeagol, Igor had a foldable guitar that was made for backpackers and he and Smeagol led us in songs around the campfire.

The feeling you get when you finally reach a shelter, especially when you thought you had a few miles left, the sun will be setting soon and suddenly there it is saying "welcome in".

heading out from the shelter

Steve usually writes me little notes, one for each day that I am on the trail.  I usually read them over and over because I miss him.  One of them said "I want you to do this hike to keep you who you are."  He knows what a deep love I have for this.  Another note said "Worship God with your senses today."

When I came back from the hike before this one, I wrote in my journal:

"My shoulders hurt, I have a swollen knot the size of a tennis ball on my right shoulder, my feet have three bad blisters, my calves are killing me, my hips are bruised from the 36 pound pack, but I conquered that side of my mind, I did not slow down and my admiration for the woods increased, my senses devoured the experience. I love the looking, smelling, tasting...so simple I know, but I kept thinking 'I love this, I love this!'"

I really enjoyed the contrast of waking up the next morning for church and putting on the girliest skirt I could find which turned out to be the one with ruffles that Janet bought for me in Paris and painting my nails, wearing strappy high heels and perfume.  The night before I used a scrub-brush in the tub because I was THAT dirty.

This is "Whiskers", he is helping to raise his granddaughter and when he gets free time he jumps on the trail.

"You sit, I know you do, in a close, airtight room, toiling, stagnating, and breeding dissatisfaction at all you do, when if you had the untainted breeze to breathe, your body would be invigorated, and your pictures would charm even yourself."  Thomas Cole to Asher Durand

These chairs  were in one of the shelters, in the background you can see the bunk beds, they are wooden platforms for the sleeping bags. Usually shelters are just a wood deck that you sleep on.

My dad who we call overkill because he is carrying over 60 pounds.

"Afoot and light hearted I take to the open road,

healthy, free, the world before me,

The long brown path before me, leading wherever I choose."   Walt Whitman

I did posts a few years ago on beautiful people and these two men would be in that group.  Janet, my father and I all agree that they were two of the kindest people we have ever met.  Kindness is so beautiful, and it touches people.  I was just reading about an interview with a mother who adopted many children and when asked if she and her husband would do it all over again now that she knows how hard it was, how much it cost, and the time and emotional energy it took, would she not have adopted as many children and she said: 

"Whose life would I choose not to touch?"  Isn't that beautiful?  

We met George and Carl on our last day, they stayed in the shelter with us and then hiked all day with us.  Carl has hiked about 1000 miles of the trail by doing section hikes.  They are both teachers and have summers off so they have time to hike. Their wives do not hike so they often go on hikes together. 

The hills are the hardest for me, a common thought for me when my lungs are hurting and my face is so red and hot that it feels cold, and my body is screaming at me is "I am going to die".   It is not smooth cushiony pine needles or moss going up the mountain it is almost always rocks, so you are using every muscle to balance and you have a pack that feels not unlike having a child clinging to your back.

Carl was telling me in the shelter what he does for the climbs he said  "Look down, do not look up at the ascent that is left, that will only discourage you, look down and attack the hill, don't slow down it will only drag it out, keep up the pace and then take a break at the top, count to 100 if you have to just to get your mind off the pain."

I thought that was good advice for life in general.

So here I am on the hike the next day,  in the middle of a one mile long hill, and I am slowing down, Carl can see that and says "Okay, name a fruit that begins with 'A'," and I say "apple" and then he says  "my turn: B...banana...your turn" and on it went.  I felt like one of his students but it helped, it really did bring joy to the moment.

Towards the end where it was the steepest and felt to me like it was just straight up, I was praying those short desperate prayers "Help" because I did  not have the breath for more and in a little while I found myself with more strength, I had more energy and the climb was so much easier.  I turned to make sure Carl was still behind us and I saw out of my peripheral vision that his hands fell to his side.  I hiked on and snuck a look back and saw that he was holding up my pack by the bed roll which sticks out on the side.  So he was actually carrying the 36 pounds in my pack for me. He had dropped his hands the first time because he did not want me to know he was helping, and even now does not know that I saw him helping.

That is one small story.  Dad, Janet and I could tell you so many other things about George and Carl.

They are not the only people Steve or I have met that has touched us by kindness, our friend Joe K. is like that, and Mr. Jacobs, I can go down the list.  But it always stays with me, and inspires me deeply to be that way for other people.

I thought of the number of times in my life where I have prayed for help and when the Lord gives me strength I take off running without remembering it is Him doing it for me, not my own strength.  Carl was a picture of Christ for me on that hill, lifting the weight, bringing joy to the moment.