jpm

GA->ME OVER

We summitted Katahdin on the afternoon of September 8th-a warm, sunny and calm accent five months and five days from that other warm sunny day I began this journey. It was weird, I guess, to be atop Katahdin with all those friends I'd trudged up the east side of America. We all touched the sign and smiled and hugged and took pictures. We felt proud and happy and relieved and sad and mildly confused all at the same time. Then slowly, one by one, they trickled off down the mountain and out of view-Baro and Jangles, Shasta and H-bomb, Mouse-hiking out of my life just as they'd hiked in. Corey and I enjoyed the view as long as we could, then set off across the Knife Edge and down a different trail, no longer following white blazes.

We had some good times, our crew: hiking all night into Harper's Ferry, sloshing through water in Pennsylvania, eating ourselves sick at The Homeplace in Catawba. It was nice to know those people-they were good companions for a really long walk. I look forward to a reunion of sorts, if ever there'll be one, where I can once again be Donkey (LOVE). We can reminisce about that crazy hitchhike who ran a red light and got us lost in her own small town of Waynesboro, VA. Or the mystery liquor offered by Doc Narly when you first make his acquaintance. We'll try and remember how many Poptarts and packets of oatmeal and Snickers and granola bars and mac & cheese we ate. We'll wonder how we ever lived in such filth and sweat and smelliness. I'm sure, though, we'll remember these things fondly.

Everyone asks what kind of great thoughts I had out there-what did I figure out? No much, really. My mind was full with thoughts of food and water and miles remaining and the weather. I unplugged myself, so to speak. It's a culture, really, long distance hiking-the funny names and lingo, hitchhiking and binge eating, being dirty and smelly, sleeping outside so many nights in a row and walking for weeks and weeks. I like that culture, so I didn't think too much about the real world.

In an effort to give the life of long distance hiking some poetic justice, I wrote an ode:

Sometimes: an ode to long distance hiking (and life, really)

Sometimes, it's hard and boring
Sometimes, it's beautiful
Sometimes, it's slow and intense and you can't concentrate on anything else but your feet and your breath
Sometimes, everything clicks
Sometimes, you pass things by and then wonder if maybe you should have taken a look
Sometimes, you do slow down and look and its right where you want to be
Sometimes, it's raining and cold and all uphill
Sometimes, it's warm and sunny and cruisin' on down
Sometimes, you know what's right around the corner
Sometimes, you don't (that's the best part)
Sometimes, you show up at a lean-to and it's crowded and everybody's stuff is everywhere and everything is wet
Sometimes, it's just two of you and you can spread out and air out and make yourselves at home

It doesn't really matter, maybe, that we did it-that we hiked every one of those miles from Georgia to Maine. I mean, it's no more important than anything else I might have done, I don't think. It does show an awful lot of determination and toughness, though, and I'm proud to have finished something I wanted to do for a long time. But oh what great things we might accomplish if we weren't off hiking in the woods-ha ha :)

Posted by jpm at September 12, 2006 02:14 PM