Fortitude.
Like most of my blog posts, this post was inspired by a question.
Did you ever want to quit?
The answer is: once.
Every thruhike begins with questions. A lot of questions. More questions than I thought I would have. What gear do I need? Is it going to rain a lot? How do I eat? Should I bring this item? How much money do I need? What if I get injured? One question, often overlooked, is deceptively simple: Why do I want to do this hike?
In addition to doing semi-regular blogs, I kept a small scratch piece of paper stashed away in my guidebook. This was my journal, a small little 5x5 inch piece of ripped up notebook paper. I carried it from Georgia to Maine. When things got difficult, I wrote my something down. A thought, a feeling, maybe something I saw that would remind me of the day. By Katahdin, it was nearly full with scratched out words, doodles, and even a little burn scar when I tried to hastily start a fire, which obviously failed spectacularly.
When things got tough and I thought about that nice comfortable bed at home, I looked at that piece of ripped up paper. I stared at it long and hard. "Look at everything you've endured, you can make it," is what I told myself every time I looked at it.
Now, back to the original story. It was the second week of May and I was toward the northern end of Shenandoah National Park. For most thru hikers, SNP represents heaven. A magical place where road and trail intertwine and there's more food than one can imagine sitting only a few steps nearby. For me, it was hell. It was week 4 of near constant rainy days and I wanted to crawl up in the campground bathroom and die. Wet clothes, wet feet, wet jackets, wet food, and the worst of all, wet socks greeted me everyday.
If you'd like to try this sometime, take a cold shower with clothes on, get out (preferably with your AC set to 45-55), get naked, put on dry clothes (without drying yourself off), then get into a slightly damp bed, sleep, and then finally get out of that warm bed, and put on those completely soaked wet clothes you had on and start your day with the AC still blasting. Mmmmm, squishy socks and shoes, my favorite!
It was probably somewhere around mile 950 that I contemplated for the first time how I could get home. I remember it vividly. I was sitting at a shelter with a very fine mist coming down and the wind gusting. The annoying kind of mist that gets everything wet, no matter how hard you try. I was huddled up in the corner of the shelter eating the saddest almond protein granola bar in my entire life. At this point, I didn't have a stove and this was one of the few days I regretted going stove-less. Every other day when it wasn't raining and I didn't have to schlep that extra pound up that mountain was great. It was at this point that I looked at my guidebook, looked at that little sheet of paper, and debated it all. I sat there for almost 2 hours debating everything. Will I be a failure? Will I be able to look at myself? What will everybody think? In addition, I thought about the less than stellar idea that I would have to get a job again. I sat there and was eventually snapped back to reality by howling winds and rain. I decided to stop there with only a few pitiful miles in for the day. I sat some more and kept thinking.
I woke up the next day, put on those wet clothes, and did it all over again. Three months later, I summited Katahdin. Sadly, I lost that piece of paper somewhere in the final hundred miles of the trail.
Fortitude on the trail comes in many shapes and sizes on the trail. Some people look towards partners, others to the challenge, and others in themselves. Having both mental and physical fortitude is critical in making it north, or south! Find what drives you and keep on pushing.
Big O