Friends constantly asked me before I left what I would do if Lindi and I ddin't get along.  That thought never entered my mind.

Our decisions on the trail were not what was best for ourself, but best for us, and it seemed, at times, that we were one in the same.

 

The first day out of Troutville we met a hiker who we would truly call a friend . . . Buzz.

Life on the trail was good.  We had made many friends and we felt at home.  I can't remember when the feeling of uneasiness in the woods left me.  I just remember thinking one day as I walked along the trail how peaceful it was and how normal it felt to be there.  Perhaps these feelings came from building up friendships and being able to walk into a shelter and feel at home with the people there.

Midnite said it reminded her of the slumber parties she had as a child.  Everyone staying up late talking or watching T.V., and eating all their favorite snacks.  The comaraderie among us is more than just a familiar face trying to reach a common goal, but the lending of a helping hand when the going gets tough.

We both admitted to wanting to sit down and cry when we thought the climbs would never end, but pride is a hard thing to swallow.  It wouldn't take long for us to realize that over the next few months it was a great relief to let our emotions show rather than keep them in.

   

The next morning I would experience my first injury and would rely on Out of Africa to help me . . . . It was a a very small stream with one slippery rock that sent my feet flying out from under me and my pack twisted my upper body in a direction it didn't care to go.  After flailing in the water like a turtle on its back, my partner helped me to my feet . . . . The pain would persist for a week or so but eventually left me, only to reoccur in my mind when I crossed streams.

Out of Africa and I were also experiencing the homesick blues which I wasn't prepared for.  When I was on the trail that's where I wanted to be, but it seemed that lately when we were in town and I called home, home is where I wanted to be.  These feelings would be with me off and on for the remainder of the trip.

. . . after hiking over 1,300 miles together, we had our first disagreement.

Out of Africa had been struggling the last few days as her paced slowed and her energy level plummeted.  My biggest concern was lyme disease as ticks were plentiful and we had seen quite a few on us and our gear.

I knew that I had to break the news to Out of Africa that I was leaving the trail. . . . "The fire has gone out," I told her, "I can't go on like this any longer."

"Don't worry Africa, if you need a partner we can hike together for awhile."  Buzz, as usual, came through.  He had not planned to stop at the shelter, until I, by leaving my note, asked him to stop.  I hiked with him for the next two days and although I missed Midnite, I did have an adventure!

. . . Mount Moosilauke, our first 4,000 foot summit in the White's . . . We looked off into the distance and saw a gradual climb to the treeless summit and were in awe . . . .

We both agreed that we were tired and hurting, but this was the last leg of our journey and from what we had heard, the best was yet to come.

We wondered if WE smelled the same way when we climbed into someone's car when hitching into town, although we don't remember anyone ever rolling down their windows.

A sense of panic filled me as I realized that Out of Africa was on one side and I was on another.  There was no way for her to reach me without fording the stream.  What if she couldn't make it?

We had started the trail together long before we actually set foot on it, and I wanted us to finish together as well.  I had always seen us standing together on Katahdin, and I was sure that somehow we would be up there together.