Week 23- Springer
Monday- Sunday As I sat down to write this final chapter of my saga, I found myself hesitant to start. I think it is because it solidifies the closure of this chapter of my life, and oh what a chapter it has been. The three days leading up to my summit day were full of intense and fun moments. Sunday, I hiked 26.2M, my official highest mileage day on the trail (and ironically an exact marathon). I had to do about two hours of night hiking to make those miles, but I made it work, and was able to spend about 6M less in the rain the following day.
Three to four inches of rain were expected on Monday, and they surely came, starting in the wee hours of the morning. The trail looked like a river in most places, unless I was climbing up to a ridge in which then it resembled a waterfall. At some points, I couldn’t see my ankles, the water was so deep, but around 2PM, as I was approaching Neel Gap the clouds parted, and the sun came shining down on me.
By the time I made it to Mountain Crossing, a small outfitter and hostel, the weather had cleared entirely. Mountain Crossing is a special spot for me and my Pop. He calls it one of his “ash scattering spots”. We go there ever Fall to see the leaves change and check out the overlook. On those past trips I always remember looking to the left of the overlook toward the white blazes of the continuing trail with great curiosity, wondering what was beyond the hilltop ahead. Standing there still soaking wet, with my pack heavy on my back, I now looked there to that hilltop with such a different perspective. I now knew the wonder and wild beyond that hill and just how magical it is.
I was chilled to the bone and borderline hypothermic by the time I went into the store to purchase some resupply items and a soda. Luckily, they let me buy a hot shower while I was there, and I was able to get my body temperature back to normal. After cleaning up, I ate lunch on the stone deck by the overlook before packing up my last resupply and heading out. I hiked up Blood Mountain around 2PM and hit the summit about an hour later. This mountain was my first section hike of the trail and the only part of the trail I had ever been on before starting my thru hike. It will always be one of my favorite parts of the AT.
I sat up there alone reflecting on my experience until a little before sunset, then headed down the other side to find a campsite for the evening. The next afternoon, my friend Kimber met me at Gooch Gap to hike the last 25M with me. I was so honored that she was willing and able to do this with me. It meant so much to have the women who inspired me there to take in those last few miles. It was a cold last couple of days, but having her with me warmed my heart and spirit. She was own personal traveling trail angel.
On Wednesday, around 11:15 AM, I took my last few steps up Springer Mountain, put my hands on top of the bronze plaque beside the overlook and completed the Appalachian Trail. There is an outline of the Eastern United States on the plaque with a small sinuous line indicating the path from Georgia up to Maine. I traced that line with my finger and sighed. I glanced back at my friend Kimber who was looking at me with the most joyful eyes I have ever seen, and as I turned my head back toward the plaque, my lip started to quiver.
Uncontrollable tears poured out of me, then uncontrollable laughter. I leaned back on the plaque and wiped my tears, trying desperately to get it together enough to take a photo while this amazing feeling began taking over my body. I felt as if I was weightless, like I was leaning on the stone platform, but was somehow still lifted two inches off of any surface. A few day hikers were standing around the summit trying to congratulate and talk to me, but I could barely speak. My mind was blank and I was in a daze, not able to put words together and make sentences. After about ten minutes of sitting by the sign, shivering from the freezing cold winds and trying to take a deep breath, my lungs finally came to, and I was able to speak again. I put my gloves on so I could conjure up enough feeling back into my hands to sign the log book. After I made my mark, I stowed the book back into its metal drawer within the stone under the plaque. I then preceded to have Kimber take oh, just about a million summit photos for me. We photographed the first blaze of the trail and the iconic hiker plaque by the overlook, then took a few minutes to enjoy the view.
I didn't want to leave. I didn't want it to be over. I almost couldn't fathom the idea of not having any more trail miles ahead. It was a fearful and strange feeling trying to accept that this was the end. As we left the summit, I stopped and looked at the plaque one more time, closed my eyes, and whispered "thank you". I buckled my pack with my now completely numb fingers, grabbed my poles, and headed for the approach trail. The approach trail is a 9M blue blazed trail that leads from Amicalola State Park to the top of Springer, so our walking wasn't quite done for the day, but it felt different. I could feel that I wasn't on the AT anymore. It felt so foreign, like my legs were moving at a different pace with less purpose and vigor. Kimber and I spent the next few hours moseying down the approach and reflecting on our trail experiences. We talked about good times we had, bad times, strange times, funny times, etc. We also talked a lot about how weird it feels after you finish the trail and how hard it is to explain that feeling to people. Even after only a few hours of being done with the AT, I could feel it. It was a feeling I was not expecting. All this time, all I could imagine was how amazing I would feel after finishing, but here I was feeling strange and anxious. When we got to Amicalola Falls, one of my dearest followers from the Union, Terri Hewitt, had climbed 800 feet up about 600 stairs to walk the last 1.25M with me. I was so touched by her presence, love, and support.
At the end of the approach trail there is a beautiful stone archway that you walk through, signifying either the end or beginning of your epic journey. As I approached that arch, I could hear people chanting and yelling. All of the sudden I saw about a dozen of my closest friends and family waiting for me at the end. Being the middle of the work week, I did not expect anyone to be able to be there other than my husband and his mom and brother, so when I saw all of those happy and familiar faces...well....I lost it.
I have never felt so much beautiful energy and love in one moment. It was the best and most powerful moment of my life. I hugged and kissed and cried on everyone I could get my dirty hiker hands on. I also got to meet my closest friend Amanda's first child, Ford, and hold him for the first time under the archway. "Is this real life?" was all I kept thinking.
My mother and brother-in-law cooked some burgers and hotdogs up for me and a few other hungry hikers, and we all ate under the picnic pavilion down the way from the arch. I didn’t get home until about 11PM that night on account of having to shuttle a hiker from Springer to MARTA after my summit and getting a bit lost along the way, but eventually I did make it home and into a real bed with real pillows, although I didn’t sleep very well at all. Since summit day, life has been so strange. I didn’t realize how difficult reentry into real life would be. The first day I tried to stay busy visiting friends and driving around, but I felt anxious and a little depressed. I went to a meeting. I cried a lot. I went on two long runs. Basically, well I was a mess. I have been beyond overwhelmed and haven’t known quite what to do with myself. Everything is so familiar and so foreign all at the same time. I couldn’t even dress myself to take my mom to birthday lunch that first day back. She actually had to assist me in the endeavor. Driving is weird. I got lost the other day driving in a town I have lived in nearly my entire life. It is all so strange feeling. I still don’t know exactly how I feel, but I know each day, I am acclimating more and more with my regular life, and feeling better. It is bizarre to experience culture shock from entering a life you were once so use to living. The experience has so vividly reminded me of when I first got sober and how unaccustomed I felt then to my own life. As I have stated before in past posts though, a change in purpose will always be tough and scary, and that is exactly what I will be going through over the next few weeks. Out in the woods, I had one purpose, to enjoy a 2,200 mile walk in recovery, and while my walk in recovery still continues today, the purpose of that walk continues to grow and evolve.
