High Points and Low Points

It's amazing the things that can make or break a day: starting off with a good breakfast and sunshine usually ends with something far superior to a day that begins with crumbled poptarts and a steady drizzle. A nice cold Mountain Dew or trail magic of Gatorade in the thick heat of the day versus seeing a cooler in the distance and arriving, half falling over rocks, only to determine that it is full of empties. Getting a hitch after 10 minutes versus 20. Sometimes, even the most insignificant event can cause everything to change in a heartbeat. 

Couple this roller coaster of trail emotions with exceptional exhaustion from the constant mental strain of struggling over often unstable boulders and suddenly it makes sense why people have begun getting off the trail with increasing frequency. Recently we have known or heard of people getting off he trail nearly every day and finally we all understand why. Today may have been great - with wonderful views, easy terrain and few ailments - but that is seldom the case for any sustained period of time. 

Everyone starts the trail looking for something, be it an adventure, answers, escape, love...and by the end of 3 months, more likely than not, you have found it. The problem, therefore, lies in the fact that, 9 times out of 10, you won't be finishing the trail for at least another 2 months and so, with an exhausted, injured, abused body it is often difficult to find your reason (aside from what seems to be a common trait among thru-hikers of almost paralyzing stubbornness) to continue your push north. 

I, for one, have been struggling, though serious thoughts of returning home seem far from my mind. I will get to camp and send out a dozen text messages, hoping desperately to hear from loved ones at home. I check Facebook and my email and my blog, hoping for some response from those people that mean so much to me. It is silly, I realize, how monumentally I rely on correspondence from outside of our tiny trail world and how this may prove unsustainable - after all I am often poor at keeping in contact and I have been slacking on providing people with the addresses of post offices in trail-adjacent towns. But to get those voicemails and messages, those impersonal Instagram "likes" and the infrequent blog comments, reassuring me that people outside of this world believe, even when I don't, that I can make it the next 850 miles, is like a shot of adrenaline delivered by angels traveling on the backs of unicorns flanked by rainbows and sunshine (yes, it's that good). That encouragement to push forward from those who, in their justifiably selfish interests, would prefer to have me home is an ice cold Coca Cola on a mosquito-heavy 95 degree day with 80% humidity. It is that good. 

What I am saying, I suppose, is thank you, friends. And please, don't stop. Katahdin is getting ever closer but we still have many miles to go before we rest.