Whether in a lifetime, a 40-mile hike, or in a span of time, a 3-mile hike, I listen. Why am I on this journey? The trail is before me. Whether with a foundation of knowledge, experiences and strategies or with calloused feet in stable, cushioned boots, I hike an unknown journey. I listen. Why am I on this journey? On the trail before me, whether I struggle with the uphills determined to have stamina, coast the downhills letting gravity pull my feet along the slope or hike the flats getting muddy, I hike through it, never around it. What sticks often sheds. What remains is cleansed. But yet I listen. Why am I on this journey? On the trail before me, whether I step on a skinny log bridge or slippery, unstable rocks, I pass needing focus and balance. With the swift water as a distraction, I sometimes need a stick but more often use my core. And still I listen. Why am I on this journey? On the trail, whether with others or alone, I listen to words of wisdom but I must listen to my own. Is it destiny or is it a journey?
When did you last observe nature through your artist eyes while hiking? Did a color, shape or texture catch your eye? Was it off in the horizon or something at your feet? Did you stop and wonder? Maybe you knew the species name – did that increase your appreciation? Maybe you couldn’t categorize what sparkled at you – did it make you wonder more? Did you share or keep it to yourself? If you shared, what conversation did it ignite? Did it heighten your awareness to look for other artifacts among nature? Art is in the eye of the beholder seen through a personal lens of unique neural pathways to create an interpretation.
A sunrise or sunset, a vista or physical feature captures the eye of most and is often the art people observe while hiking. I see all that but much more as each footstep reveals a new canvas. Of course, this natural art only catches my eye when I am not distracted by kids, a conversation with a fellow hiker or the need to process life in my head. When I create present, mental space, nature is an art museum. I notice contrasting colors, like a sycamore’s white branches against an azure, winter sky or the rainbow strips on turkey tail. I notice unique shapes and their relationship to negative space, like the alignment of tree trunks to each other, the ground or sky. I notice textures, such as the contrast between beech bark to oak when grown adjacent and the protrusions of a burl or fungi that extrude from bark.
This past fall, the Renwick Gallery reopened with an inspirational exhibit of room art installations called “Wonder.” After many recommendations to visit, my kids and I took a field trip there. This 8-room show invites visitors to wander and define “Wonder” for themselves through the installation’s various mediums and textures. Before reading the exhibit’s purpose, my brain connected the artist’s language to the shapes, colors and textures of nature when entering the first room of undulating colors on the ceiling. As I met each installation, some connections to nature hit me instantaneously while others invited me to ponder. Some hit a deep cord – the level of each artists’ s intricacy while summoning the big picture mimics that in nature. Each color, shape, texture on an organism has a purpose that is woven into the grand scheme of an ecosystem. Each brush stroke or molded shape is evidence of nature’s adaptability to create a balance in a system. The vision is survival. While roaming “Wonder”, I question – how did these artists dream the intricacies in their system to create a vision for each piece? What was their process for capturing their interpretation of wonder? Was it their intention to mimic nature?
I am awe struck by the artistry of nature with each foot strike on the textural trail as I am awe struck by each woven stick, the placement of a bug in a pattern, the overlay of rubber, the undulations of string and the placement of a card or glass ball next to another. The artists of “Wonder” invite us to connect.
While my daughter sits in history class, I come upon five boys from the same high school just off the trail. I’m there to install a new interpretive sign when the other was smashed by a falling tree. As I approach them I say, “I know I’m off from school but you guys aren’t. What class are you supposed to be in?” It’s 1:15 pm on December 21st.
“PE.” One mutters as the others stare at me probably thinking, is this lady for real.
“Really? PE.” I respond, thinking why would they want to skip PE. It’s usually a more favored class. Then I remember, I am talking to high schoolers where PE is no longer anticipated but a drag.
“I think you guys should head back towards school,” as I stand there waiting and not giving them an alternative. Finally one of them sitting on a 24+ inch diameter blowdown rises for the trail that leads back to school. The others follow.
Many students hang out in the woods along the trail as evidenced by what’s left behind: Algebra I and Geometry homework, cigar wrappers, milk pints, hamburger foil, Nike-designer dime bags, gum and candy wrappers, energy drinks, pens and pencils, cigarette butts, chip bags and lined-paper which is often used to prevent their butts from getting dirty. This litter is usually found in areas where they create hang-out nooks. They move fallen tree limbs and trunks as if there’s an imaginary campfire ring. These nooks surround the trail scattered for a quarter of a mile.
Adults sometimes think the worst of teenagers. I do, as I pick-up their litter and come upon them in the woods during school. I ponder, why do these students seek sanctuary in this narrow spit of woods adjacent to school?
- shining sun and warm air
- escape class and/or a teacher
- talk with friends without an adult’s listening ear
- escape life
- seek solitude under the trees
- seek freedom from adults
- hear the birds call for each other
- rustle the family of deer that inhabit these woods
- escape and shake off social misunderstandings
I challenge my initial thought about the student’s impact on this green space beside their school and ask, is this plot of woods leaving an imprint on them?
Historically, the woods have been a haven but also congered fear. These neighboring students who inhabit the woods during lunch or escape from class don’t fear it but view it as a sanctuary, a place to be themselves in a world where they are asked or demanded to play a role – the role of translator to a mom or dad learning to navigate the american way, the good girl in a family enshrined by a patriarchal culture, the overachiever stressed from two-overachieving parents, the caretaker to siblings whose parents work multiple jobs and the mediator who inhabitants a combative house. This narrow spit of woods provides opportunity: a place of peace before or after a conflict, a place to be playful between their worlds of child and adult hood and a place for them to slip from their role and try on their authentic self. Will this green space change who they are or their feelings about nature?
I am in love with our national parks – each so unique in their stunning landscapes, awe-inspiring physical features, diverse biological characteristics and adrenline-filled adventures for everyone from thrill-seekers to drive-by tourists. My family has ventured to many: Yellowstone, Grand Teton, Rock Mountain, Yosemite, Point Reyes, Sequoia, Kings Canyon, Acadia and more. We desire to visit many more before our kids venture to college.
Next on our list of national parks to visit are those in the southwest: Arches, Zion, Canyonlands, Grand Canyon, Capitol Reef and Bryce Canyon. I usually spend a lot of time researching each park: lodging, campgrounds, best places to visit, off-the-beaten-path must-dos, traveling to and from and between parks and each park’s logistical information (see my post on the 20 questions you should ask when visiting a national park). In preparation for next summer’s trip, I read Abby and Harley McAllister’s e-book guide, Utah’s Big 5 National Parks with Kids. The biggest reason I like their book is it has cut my many hours of research on the web in half. The McAllister’s are a seasoned outdoor family with four children. They have taken the guess work out of planning a family vacation to Utah’s national parks from suggested itineraries and hikes to a driving distance matrix and map.
- Whether your family has three days or two weeks, the McAllister’s provide helpful itineraries detailing the amount of time you should spend in each park and the must-dos.
- Tips for exploring the southwestern landscape safely with kids.
- They devote a chapter to each park providing the family must-sees, areas to avoid, descriptions of family-friendly hikes, other activities such as rock climbing and lodging options, in particular camping.
- A map and driving distance matrix between parks and to transportation hubs.
- An itinerary and information for families who desire to make a side trip to the Grand Canyon.
- Suggested rafting options for the adventure seeker and families. Rafting is an incredible, off-the-beaten method to experience the amazing landscapes of the southwest (or for that matter any landscape). Read the McAllister’s blog for tips about rafting with your kids.
The McAllister’s blog, Our 4 Outdoors, is full of trip reports to many western national parks and other public lands that are a must-do adventure for outdoor families. If your family is considering or planning a trip to Yellowstone, then definitely check out the McAllister’s book entitled, Yellowstone National Park with Kids. Take advantage of their expertise to make your life simpler when planning your next trip to Utah’s national parks.
For obvious reasons, summer is the perfect time for families to seek adventure outdoors providing space for them to share quality time. “Seeking adventure” is defined broadly by families from fishing or swimming together in a local river to backpacking or hiking in the most magnificent landscapes in the United States or abroad. This photo essay, in addition to ones on Mountain Mom and Tots, The Kid Project, Adventure Tykes and Play Outside Guide, showcases the breath in which families seek adventure together in the great outdoors.
My family’s favorite “seeking adventure” summer snapshot is displayed in Mountain Mom and Tots photo essay. A hint – it features us exploring one of the natural phenomenons in the world. Can you guess?
Don’t shut down that mobile device quite yet – there are more photos of families seeking adventure on these outdoor family bloggers websites:
Thank you to the above partners for participating in this year’s Summer Snapshots photo essay and all my friends and colleagues behind the lens who shared a little piece of their families with us. To take a look at the past two years of Summer Snapshots photo essays, visit “Summer Snapshots Through a Kid’s Lens” and “Summer Snapshots Through a Personal Lens”.
Share your family’s favorite summer snapshot seeking adventure in the great outdoors in the comments below.
No matter what I do, I can’t escape from getting butt blisters. Every bike trip, always by the third day! So instead of fighting it or complaining, I accept the price I pay for a biking adventure. The pain is worth it because I enjoy a girlfriend’s getaway from kids, my husband, the house, my computer and all the responsibilities of life to be outside, be physical with my body, experience new beautiful, natural surroundings and most importantly share stories, opinions, thoughts and laughter with girlfriends.
A few years ago, my girlfriends and I rode the 184 miles from Cumberland to DC on the C&O Canal tow path albeit after it flooded which left a wake of mud and destruction. This summer, my friend and I rode the 150 miles of the Great Allegheny Passage (GAP) from Pittsburg to Cumberland. Wow, what a difference a trail makes – night and day! The GAP is like a new paved four-lane highway compared to a pot-hole infested road, a.k.a the tow path. On the GAP, our speed was faster and the ride less jarring on the GAP; however, just as dusty, though we were caked in mud biking the tow path. Another positive difference is the close proximity of services, such as food and lodging, on the GAP. We didn’t need to venture far off the trail, if at all. While the services were more numerous within 60 miles south of Pittsburgh, they were every 10-20 miles beyond Connellsville until Cumberland.
Many people bike the entire 330 miles of the GAP and the tow path from Pittsburgh to Washington DC, connecting in Cumberland. However, my friends and I couldn’t devote 5-6 days to bike both. Therefore, we opted for two three-day trips, biking 45 to 60 miles each day on the GAP and 60 miles on the tow path and in our opinion the easiest direction, north to south/northwest to southeast. This choice is clear for the tow path because it is downhill; well, 600 feet over 184 miles but it is still downhill. The GAP has a different elevation profile. Bikers can choose a long, gentle incline over two days and then a short, steeper decline over one day biking from Pittsburg to Cumberland. Or, bikers can choose a hard first day up the Eastern Continental Divide and then two days of sailing (well, maybe not sailing but definitely less strain on your legs) to Pittsburgh. We opted for the former – constant peddling for two days and then a fast, sail downhill to Cumberland.
No matter which direction you choose, you are in for a visual treat. My favorite was the ride from Connellsville to Rockwood – steep, shale slopes with tall trees and a lush understory while listening to the movement of the Youghiogheny River as it washed over boulders. My friend enjoyed the ride from Pittsburgh to Connellsville because the scenery had so much variety from shopping centers to rail yards, steel mills to town centers and highways and railroads to nature’s green all the while we crossed over the Monongahela River several times. Whether you decide to camp or do B&Bs (or AirBnBs), biking the Great Allegheny Passage is a scenic adventure must-do for any biker young and old.
If you are a film buff, then you know that the mark of the “Z” comes from the 1920 film, The Mark of Zorro, when the protagonist, a self-identified superhero, marks his villainous victims’ foreheads with a “Z” using the point of his sword. Today, many outdoor enthusiasts wear the mark of the “z” on their feet due to a z-strap binding attached to a rugged, durable sole. Incessant summer wearing (or all-year wearing in the tropics) of Chaco sandals leaves a prideful contrast of two skin hues in the shape of a “z”.
Assumptions are made from one z-marked person about another:
- love the outdoors and adventuring in it
- wear Chacos consistently and constantly during warm weather (some even more loyal as to wear them with socks)
- love non-claustrophobic feet
- don’t mind wet, dirty and muddy feet (even when some want pretty toes), in fact often take pride in it
- love flip-flops but desire more support than what they provide for outdoor adventuring
- wear them in many situations from dress-up to dress-down and walking urban streets to hiking rugged trails
- like being noticed for our z-marked feet as it is a symbol of outdoor enthusiasm
- are loyal Chacoists – once worn, always worn (me – 20 years)
Like Zorro who used his superhero powers to save the underdogs from oppression, many Chacoists use their developed relationship with nature to be stewards of the environment, saving Mother Nature from its own human kind. Chacoists come from all walks of life and represent a colorful ribbon in the outdoor world. We are linked by the mark of the “z”, a symbolic tattoo of a Chacoist’s relationship with the outdoors and our desire to conserve it.
Old Rag mountain in Shenandoah National Park is the hiking rage in the Mid-Atlantic. Each and every weekend, the 200-car parking lot reaches capacity by early afternoon with no option of parking alongside the road. For this reason, I never hike it on the weekend, always choosing a weekday for the challenge of a 9-mile circuit hike with 2,200 feet of elevation gain and over a half mile of intense rock scrambling.
I purposefully didn’t write about Old Rag mountain in my book Best Hikes with Kids: Washington DC, The Beltway & Beyond because this is a strenuous hike for children. Old Rag is not appropriate for all kids. As a parent with kids who has experienced hikers, Old Rag gives me pause and requires complete preparation than just a three mile hike on a trail in the DC metro area (see recommendations below).
This summer, I felt my son, age 10, was old and experienced enough to complete this strenuous circuit. My daughter had perviously done it around the same age. Therefore, he and I set out together for this adventurous challenge on a steamy day. When rechecking the forecast before leaving Silver Spring, the new prediction of scattered thunderstorms in the late afternoon rattled me and my intuition was to stay home. But I listened to my husband and we drove west to reach the parking lot by 8:45 am. After checking in with the ranger, we hiked the .8 miles up the road to the trail head at the old parking lot.
A half mile into the uphill walk on pavement, my son said, “my legs hurt.”
“Already. We haven’t even made it to the trail yet.” I replied.
For the next half mile, one complaint after another was expressed along with the body language that matched each complaint. I first tried the drill sergeant approach and then the cheerleader but neither worked. For me this wasn’t a question of his physical capabilities because I knew he could. He had backpacked in Sequoia National Park the previous summer on a strenuous trail. So tactic #3 was deployed – distraction. For the next almost two miles as we switchbacked to the scramble, we peppered each other with the “best” and “worst” questions, such as “where would you most like to visit in the world?” or “what would be the three worst bugs to eat?”
The best part was that before we reached the car I asked, “What did you like most about today’s hike?”
He replied, “Hiking the rock scramble and asking and answering all the best and worst questions.” Little did he know that there was a method behind my madness!
The rock scramble was hard, even for me, made even more challenging with worn-out treads on my son’s hiking boots (note to self, check this before hiking Old Rag) and his desire to remove his pack a few times to maneuver the rocks easier. To reach the top we needed to slide, belly shimmy, squeeze and duck – basically whatever body contortions needed to follow the blue blazes.
One experience we didn’t anticipate, even though my son asked, “Do you think we will see a bear today?”
“Maybe, more likely today than on the weekends.”
Sure enough, we did – a mama and her cubs. While the cubs (about a year old) were super cute, the mama was NOT happy to see us and expressed her feelings with a snorting grunt and a fake charge. After two attempts to pass and needing to retreat, we had gathered enough hikers to try again. This time our group of 14 hiked towards the summit without incident as she had decided to retreat with her youngsters.
I was so thankful that it didn’t rain until we were hiking down the Saddle trail which felt so good on the hot, humid day. As we scrambled on the boulders, I watched the sky like a hawk and prayed for no rain or thunderstorms because I didn’t want to be on the slippery, injury-inducing rocks when they were wet. Furthermore, our survival depended on us not being on the rocks during a thunderstorm.
On our descent, the Saddle trail and Weakly Hollow fire road were a piece of cake compared to the Ridge trail. The Saddle trail descends from the summit for a bit over 1.5 miles on rocky tread while the fire road is a wide, easy trail with gentle elevation. If you decide not to hike the rocky Ridge trail, the summit of Old Rag can be reached with this 8-mile out-and-back hike (and 2,200 feet of elevation gain) on the fire road and Saddle trail.
Before completing the circuit, we found a large boulder in Brokenback Run just off the fire road. We took off our shoes to soak our feet in the cool mountain water. We were treated to a cascading massage and a tickle by fish.
Waiting in the car were two big bottles of ice water in a cooler as our 2-litters of water for each of us were demolished way before we reached the end. We celebrated our time together and the competition of our hiking challenge with a large pizza at Rudy’s in Sperryville.
Recommendations For Hiking Old Rag With Your Kids
- This 9-mile, 2,200 feet elevation gain circuit hike (via the Ridge trail) is strenuous for children. Shenandoah National Park doesn’t make any age recommendations for parents. Therefore, it is important to know your child’s physical and mental limitations and abilities.
- Be prepared and pack the 10 Essentials: water (at least 2-litters per person), food to last 8 hours, whistle, headlamp, rain gear (layers in cooler temps), map, hiking boots with good tread, knife or multi-purpose tool, sunscreen and a first aid kit, all put into a backpack (one preferably with waist and chest straps as it becomes one with your body which is important when rock scrambling). I also packed baseball caps to keep rain off our faces, a cell phone for photos (I got cell service at one view, otherwise there is none on the hike or drive), a garbage bag to pack out trash and a poop kit (there are privies at the Old Rag Shelter and parking lot but with kids you never know when they need to poop; therefore, I always carry this homemade poop kit on hikes with my kids).
- Look at the weather before you drive to Old Rag. I never recommend rock scrambling on trails (Billy Goat Trail included) while or after it rains – the rocks are slippery and kids often don’t know the physics of reduced friction and their body mass. Never hike Old Rag when a thunderstorm is predicted for the time during your hike. Your family is a sitting duck on the rocks during a thunderstorm.
- Read Shenandoah National Park’s Old Rag webpage and watch the safety video.
- Practice Leave No Trace – the most important being “Plan Ahead and Prepare” for your Old Rag hike. This is the most important principle to follow for your family’s safety and to reduce the impact on the mountain’s natural resources which are affected during a rescue (many occur each year).
- Have cold water, gatorade or sodas plus a fun snack waiting in the car for your return.
- Be flexible, always have plan B (and sometimes plan C). You never know with kids, the unexpected always happens. Therefore as parents, fast thinking and problem solving are the name of the game for a successful adventure (success defined differently for each family).
- Pack your patience, check your attitude and enjoy the journey. Plan for this hike to take all day – start early. The hike is not about the destination, the summit of Old Rag, but about the challenge and discovery enjoyed by everyone during the hike.
About a year ago while having dinner, my family discussed our vacation bucket list: Yosemite/Sequoia/Point Reyes, the national parks in the southwest and Nova Scotia. Last summer, we explored and adventured in Yosemite/Sequoia/Point Reyes and this summer Nova Scotia.
As a kid, my dad frequented Prince Edward Island to duck hunt. I remember his stories, in particular the beauty and wildness of PEI. Plus, my uncle and cousin shared stories with us about Nova Scotia and family that live there. We were intrigued to explore it on our own.
I didn’t do much planning for this trip unlike past ones to national parks out west. I scoped out ocean rental houses on VRBO, did research on driving versus the ferry and learned about three Canadian national parks on our driving route. We rented an ocean home for the first week, providing us with both relaxation and adventure. Then, we winged it for the last five days, which isn’t my husband’s nature. We did have two destinations in mind though, which are our top two favorite adventures of the trip.
Our top 5 adventures in Nova Scotia…
- Walking the mud flats at low tide in the Minus Basin of the Bay of Fundy at Five Island Provincial Park. Whether you walk in shoes or barefoot, it is fun to slip and slid beyond the shoreline to rock outcroppings you can’t get to during high tide. The Minus Basin has the greatest tidal difference in the world. Visit the Fundy Geology Museum to learn why.
- Hiking the Coastal trail in Cape Breton Highlands National Park. This exquisitely beautiful 7-mile out-and-back trail hugs the rugged coastline entertaining families with rocks for scrambling, bouldered coves, expansive ocean vistas and wildlife, such as moose (if you are quiet and lucky!).
- Hiking Kejimkujik National Park to hidden beach coves to watch harbor and grey seals play and be lazy amongst the small rocky islands that dot this park’s coastline.
- Camping in a Canadian national park. I’ll admit the campground facilities in Canada’s national parks are better than in the US. Similarly priced and campsites placed close together, the Canadians beat us with better bathrooms (with showers and dish washing sinks), interpretive program facilities and an added bonus of kitchen pavilions with picnic tables and wood burning stoves.
- Playing at a beach. Most of Nova Scotia’s coastline is rocky and rugged; therefore, there aren’t a lot of beaches. When you do find one, most are remote with few people. Furthermore, many are bisected by a river draining into the ocean.
Our top 5 tips for traveling in Nova Scotia…
- Driving vs. Ferry. We drove 3,700 miles from our home in Washington DC to the south and then to the north of Nova Scotia and back with a diversion to New Hampshire. There are two locations, Portland, ME and St. John’s, NB, where families can put their car on a ferry to Nova Scotia. The ferry from Portland to Yarmouth, NS departs in the morning and takes eight hours to cross the Gulf of Maine costing a little over $400 for four passengers and a car. The ferry from St. John to Digby, NS is three hours across the Bay of Fundy and a little over $300. Even though gas is more expensive in Canada, $1.20 per liter, we chose to save money and extend our travel time in the car by two hours more than the ferry.
- Lobster. The lobster season varies in the Canadian maritimes depending on the location. For southwest Nova Scotia, lobster season is from the third Monday in November to the end of May. However in Cape Breton, the lobster season is from May 15th (the approximate time the ice floes leave the coastline) to July 15th. Knowing the season will guarantee you a fresh lobster.
- Passports & Traveling with a dog. For the last 10 years, Americans have needed a passport to enter Canada and return to the US. When traveling with a dog to Canada, dogs must visit a vet for a health screening within 10 days of entering Canada to receive a signed health certificate which must be presented at the border crossing.
- Bugs. Nova Scotia does experience a black fly season which varies depending on winter and spring weather. However, it can occur from the end of May to the end of June. We were there during black fly season but we didn’t experience a problem because of being on the ocean. However, the mosquitos are a nuisance in the late afternoons and evenings if you are not adjacent to the ocean. At the Cape Breton campground, we built a fire, used bug spray and covered up (wearing hoods or hats, tucking pants into socks and wearing thicker clothes or multiple layers – thankfully it was cool enough).
- Currency. The exchange rate was in our favor, $1.20 Canadian to $1.00; however, it varies everyday. We didn’t exchange money. We used credit cards mostly that automatically account for the daily exchange rate. When we needed to use cash, we used US bills but didn’t receive the exchange rate from the retailer.
The Canadian (Nova Scotian) hospitality was fantastic. In fact, my teenage daughter said numerously, “the Canadians are so much more friendly than Americans”. Maybe that is because we are from Washington, DC where the typical “keep your nose to the ground” mentality exists. I am glad that my kids experienced the warm and friendly demeanor of Nova Scotians. Thank you Canada!
As children, our voice develops. We have two voices – the public one and the private voice. The public is active at a young age. However, I don’t know when the private develops but I do remember that is was active for me as a pre-teen. Some people have more than one internal voice – I have two, the cheerleader and the self-doubter. Growing up, the self-doubter always won the internal fights in my head. Hence, I was meek, a non-risk taker (hell for seven years in ski club, I skied the same two “green” slopes, never venturing to more difficulty), who always wanted to be “liked” and feared failure or doing things “wrong”. I enjoyed safety and comfort.
At almost 45, I still carry those two voices with me everyday. Some days (or even weeks), the self-doubter dominates the conversation in my head. It takes brute force (I visualize an arm wrestling match) for the cheerleader to step in front and mask the self-doubter. As I have stepped into my big girl pants and continue to wear them, the cheerleader challenges the self-doubter to be brave and step out of my comfort zone, whether it is taking on a known weakness, being a leader or conquering a physical risk. However, the cheerleader gets tired sometimes; the self-doubter then leads the head conversation as this is a familiar recording.
This past weekend, I reflected upon these struggling voices as I solo hiked 55 miles of the Appalachian Trail. This was my first solo section hike. I didn’t think much about the trip’s plan, nor did I want to because the self-doubter would have dominated the conversation. It wasn’t until two days before setting off on my journey, that I had to think and plan. The self-doubter’s voice was very present as I used physical will power to buy the groceries, look at the maps and prep my backpacking supplies.
It’s easy to back out of a commitment to oneself – excuses are simple and no one is disappointed. The self-doubter thought about those excuses – don’t feel well, rather spend time at home, too much work to do. The cheerleader flexed her bicep and overpowered the self-doubter to stuff the backpack, rise in the morning and drive my anxious mind and body to the trailhead in Harpers Ferry.
Once I hit the trail with boots on and a loaded pack, there were no voices in my head struggling with each other because I was present to what I was doing – putting one foot in front of the other and hiking a journey through lush green landscapes full of the sounds and smells of life. Don’t get me wrong, the whole 55 miles wasn’t all peaches and cream. The self-doubter returned with a force on the second day when faced with a self-imposed goal of hiking 18 miles through the notorious AT roller coaster. At lunch with a beautiful vista in front of me, the self-doubter was screaming at me “OMG, that 8 miles was so slow, my feet hurt, my knees ache, how am I going to get through the worst part of this trail in the next 10 miles.” I set a goal with a time limit at a point of no return 2.5 miles down the trail – do or die. I reached it. The cheerleader was present pushing me further.
After 10 hours of hiking with a realization that I had ONE MORE F%$#ing hill and 1.5 miles to the shelter, it was time to vocalize the cheerleader, “Come on feet and legs, get me through this 1.5 miles – you can do this”. I was never so glad to smell the campfire smoke than after 11 hours of grueling, knee-wrenching, feet-swelling hiking. The self-doubter lost and the cheerleader won.
I have set many goals in my life, some of which are on a bucket list. Backpacking solo was one of them. However, what I discovered about my solo journey on the AT is that my hike was more than just a check mark off my list – it was a cathartic experience to reflect on the four decade duel the cheerleader and self-doubter have had in my head and to understand and accept each voice and know they play a role in my life.