The Journey

The A.T. became a magical place to me on my first backpacking trip, as I sat on the summit of the Priest Mountain and gazed into the valley below. - Midnite

I liked the idea of seeing the real America, the real people and the real towns.  Not the people and towns that you see as a tourist. - Out of Africa

The months of planning were over and the tearful good-byes had been said to Mel's family.  We had added our sentiments to the sign-in register as we stood before the bronze plaque, the symbol of the start of the trail.  We each collected a stone that would accompany us (we hoped) to our destination of Mount Katahdin, Maine.

It soon became evident that hiking the A.T. was 95% mental and 5% physical.  It was difficult to awake snug and warm in our sleeping bags knowing that as soon as we exited our cocoons the goal for the day would be to keep moving to stay warm.  . . . our goal was to walk and walk we did.

So many times during our walk, someone or something would inspire me to think positively and I firmly believe that God was that someone and that He would also provide us with the something to keep us on track.

My biggest fear early in the hike was that I would start to lose weight and have to get off the trail.  It was difficult for me to regain weight once I was in recovery from my eating disorder and every day I prayed that I had not lost any weight.

The white blazes were lost in the mist and we had to stop and wait until the 30-40 m.p.h. wind cleared a patch away before we could continue.  One minute Midnite was visable, and the next she would be swallowed up in the mist.

McAfee Knob . . . we were both anxious to see this anvil shaped rock reaching out into space.  We stopped for an early lunch and were joined by two hawks who soared above our heads.

We have made it to Harpers Ferry, West Virginia, the unofficial halfway point of the tail. . . . For weeks we had been dreaming of reaching this point.

I was beginning to feel pressure, pressure that I put on myself, to cover miles and take less time off . . . .

I suddenly slipped and twisted my ankle.  "Out of Africa," I cried out, "Help me!" . . . .  As much as I hated to go to the hospital, there was also a part of my exhausted mind that said, "If it's broken, you'll have to go home."  My tears, while waiting along side the road, were from pain and those thoughts.  I wasn't ready to quit, but I was too tired to realize it.

It was one of those beautiful autumn New England days . . . we cleaned up in the stream in front of the shelter.  The water already had an icy winter edge to it as we poured it over our heads.

Pines framed the mountains, blue with distance.  We sat looking until it was too dark to see.  This is what we had walked 1,600 miles to see.  It was worth every step.

We were so excited to get up on the ridge that would lead us to Lake of the Clouds . . . . I had been telling Out of Africa for weeks about how I used to dream of the ridgewalk to the hut and how I had kept a photo of it on my desk at work.

I awoke sometime during the night . . . and I could hear strange noises.  It was the loons calling.  There seemed to be dozens of them.  One would start, and the other would take it up.  It was an eerie, faraway sound.  The essence of Maine.

A few more steps and the trees parted to display the most magnificent mountain I had ever seen.  "I see it," I shouted to Out of Africa.  "See what?" she questioned.  "Katahdin!"

This hike was the most difficult and glorious experience of my life and I would not have changed one moment of it, be it good or bad. - Midnite

The trail was a glorious adventure and, although it had it's ups and downs, I would gladly do it all again. - Out of Africa

Where do we go from here?  Set new goals and dream new dreams.