07/14/2026
A bit of a personal project.
Five years ago, my man and convinced me to start section hiking the Appalachian Trail, one piece at a time, for as long as it takes. A tall task considering we were all on the cusp of turning forty.
I had never backpacked before this quest, but naivety wears off quickly when you are on the trail. Frustrations and physical pain are quick indicators of lessons needing to be learned.
These four days off the grid, deep in forests that have stood for thousands of years, are both the hardest four days of my year and the most healing.
The trail strips life down to its simplest form. Water. Energy. Foot placement. Which freeze dried meal I am going to eat that night. The beef stroganoff is gourmet, by the way.
For hours, those are the only things that matter. Mile after mile, it is just those questions and, of course, your own thoughts. Countless thoughts.
Clarity does not arrive until the body begins to wear down while the mind keeps pressing the gas. Those are the moments I crave, even though the cost is high. The value far exceeds the price, and if the calendar allowed, I would gladly pay more.
Then there is the gift of sharing it with a group of fellow compadres. We have the deep conversations, but we also have the deep belly laughs, the strange noises, deep woods stank, and the kind of ballyhoo that makes you feel like a kid again.
I am starting to think the humanity takes its self far too seriously.
We are now two hundred miles into a twenty two hundred mile journey. At this pace, we should finish the Appalachian Trail sometime in our nineties.
Will we make it?
Who cares.
I just want to make the next trip as soon as possible.
Shot with my good ole X100F except team pic.
