New Direction...

(Originally written July 15, 2008)

It was two years ago, today...

The past few weeks had become nearly unbearable to hike during the day as a heat wave was scorching the country, drying up water sources making it harder and harder to keep hydrated. On a couple occasions, I was forced to filter water from stagnant pools in cow fields filled with cow patties and other animal droppings. The filter would only pump 10 or 12 squirts of filthy brownish water into my water bladder before clogging, requiring me to pull out the ceramic filter and clean it, before reassembling it and pumping again. It was too hot, and water sources were too unreliable, at least for the next 10-20 miles to pass up any chance at refilling my supply.

I was a day or so out of Pearisburg, Virginia, after a day of rest, all-you-can-eat pizza and an evening food buffet the night before, paid for by a woman who I helped with computer problems earlier in the day by chance when I wandered into her antique store. The first couple days out of town are always tough. With a pack full of food, there is usually a climb to get back onto a mountain ridgeline, which was common in Virginia where you would climb 1500 feet, (or 150 flights of stairs strewn with rocks, sticks and mud while carrying a 35 pound pack) walk for a couple miles, and then descend and then climb again, up and down like a rollercoaster. In fact, a little farther north is a section of the trail that is aptly called 'the rollercoaster' for that very reason.

This day was exceptionally hot and the sound of locusts buzzed all around me. My arms hung wearily by my side as I searched for any sign of reaching the first summit of the day. But most summits were illusions, since just when you think you are at the top of a particular climb, the trail makes an unexpected turn this way or that, revealing another ascent. And so it was for a good part of the day, until the treeline cleared, revealing a wide 'bald' which is an exposed mountaintop with no trees, like an open field. The white 2-inch by 6-inch blazes that are painted on trees to mark the trail were now visible, painted on 4x4 posts driven into the ground to mark the way, and up ahead was the sign that marked the shelter nearby.

The sign and side path to the shelter were at the summit, and a couple hundred yards away was the treeline and the angled tin roof of the shelter, always a welcomed sight. I took a sip of the nasty water and pushed down the side trail toward the fence, climbed over the stile and dropped my pack on the wooden floor and stretched. The breeze, even though it was warm, still felt cool as it blew across my perspired back. It always felt good those first few minutes after dropping off the pack, especially a full one.

As I sat on the floor of the shelter and looked out at the grassy field, a doe walked by, aware of my presence of course, but unafraid, as she had become used to hikers, many of whom undoubtedly offered food and drink. Interacting with wildlife was, after all, one of the highlights of the hike. 

Her eyes were like huge black onyx marbles as she grazed along the fenceline, watching me now and then to make sure I wasn't a threat. Wildlife on the trail was wonderful to see and I saw deer pretty much every day now, especially in the mornings and evenings.

Out in the field, the breeze blew the grass indicating that rain may be coming. It was never definite on the trail except during the early spring. But the sky was ominous and forboding.

I opened up my pack and dug out my cell phone to call my wife as I would do from time to time or at least see if I had service, which I did. I wanted to tell her about the deer that was just a few feet away. And surprisingly, just as I turned my phone on, it started to ring, it was my wife.

"Hello?" I answered with a smile. Her voice was hesitant and so I asked what was wrong. "Your mom...." she said. "She passed away this morning..." Now, my mom had been sick for some time and had gotten worse after my father passed away. It, wasn't entirely unexpected, but I had just seen her a month earlier when I went home to have my foot x-rayed after a fall.

I was numb... I was already demoralized after finally realizing that I would not complete my thru-hike of the entire 2,175 mile Appalachian Trail which I was undertaking in part to raise money for a local charity. The heat wave was causing dehydration daily and most of my days lately were spent without seeing any other hikers. In addition, the 'green tunnel' of unchanging scenery in Virginia had been taking its toll as had the constant challenge of foot and knee pain.

I talked to my wife a bit, and then my brother and then my sister. It was my choice to come home or not, although it would be several days before I could do so, which meant I would not be home in time for the funeral anyway. It was agreed that I would continue on my hike as that is what my mom would have wanted.

I hung up from them and sat there for a good long hour, emotionless, wanting to cry, but nothing could come out. I stood up and looked at a nearby tree that had a beautiful luna moth on it.

The clouds continued to build, but no rain was in sight. I climbed over the stile in front of the shelter, back into the field and climbed a bit to the summit where there were some exposed rocks. I sat down on one and looked down over the town below, contemplating that I had now lost my mom...the first realization that I was truly on my own now.

I looked up into the sky and asked God to shepherd her safely to my father who had been waiting. They were about to celebrate their 50th anniversary when my father died after years of complications from a lifetime of smoking. My mother had lamented every day and evening since. It was devastating to see the pain she was in, doing everything she could to avoid the thoughts of how much she missed him, and how much she would cry and hold my hands wishing he were still around. I could do and say nothing that would help her, and in fact, I found as I got older, I missed him even more each day. But that was over now... her suffering and her ailing health was no longer a problem, and in those facts alone, I was able to find peace on that afternoon.

I went back to the shelter after sitting out on that rock for a while, watching the clouds billow and roll with the thermals, and found the shelter register and made my log entry. I would only make it one more week on the trail before the heat, foot and leg pains and defeated morale would take its toll. I hitched into Roanoke, Virginia and took the first flight home. I was done. I love you, mom and dad.... I miss you so...