Today (Day 129) (Miles Hiked: 1520)

As we crossed the 1500 mile mark, there was a lot of talk amongst some of the other hikers about a mountain in Maine where we'll (hopefully) be in couple months. Some hikers really enjoy talking about Katahdin. I don't.

At the top of each of these posts, there's definitely a reason why I count “the miles I've hiked” and not “the miles remaining.” “1500 miles hiked” sounds cool. “680 miles left to hike” not only sounds incredibly overwhelming, it makes the whole trail seem like a six month commute toward a destination. It's not.

Yes, I want to get to Katahdin. Yes, it marks the northern most point of the Appalachian Trail. And yes, it sounds like there are going to be some great views if it's a clear day. But the sad truth is that nothing magical is going to happen when I get there. It's just a mountain.

On a day to day basis, I find it helpful not to think about Katahdin. I don't wake up and think about the 600+ miles I have left to hike.

I think about what I'm going to have for lunch. I look at my guidebook and try to decide where I'm going to fill my water bottle. I think about the mountain that is 5 miles ahead and hope there's going to be a scenic overlook at the top. I wonder if the field that's 11 miles ahead is going to be a nice place to stop and rest.

I don't think about Katahdin. I think about today. 

Katahdin is not the destination, it's just a mountain in Maine where I'm going to run out of trail. If there is a destination, I'm not walking toward it--I'm already here.

 

P.S. One of the many, many readers of this blog wrote and asked how I was doing on the "morale-meter." Well, in the past week, I experienced a brutal heat wave that only broke when the rains came and I got completely soaked. Due to the lousy weather, I'd say I'm lower on morale-meter than usual. On scale of 1-10, where 10 is as good as I can possible be, at the moment, I'm only at about a 9.6.

P.P.S. I was totally kidding when I said I had “many” readers. There's like 8 of you. This blog gets about 4 hits a day and I think 3 of those are from my dad.

These Vagabond Shoes (Day 118) (Miles Hiked: 1392)

Pennsylvania did a number on them, but these old pair of shoes made it all the way through Jersey. They were finally replaced in Fort Montgomery, New York by a new pair.

Old shoes:

New shoes (the exact same shoes with 1000 fewer miles of wear and tear):

Other than that, all is well. I'm trying not to get overconfident because I still have at least two months worth of very tough hiking left, including the two most challenging states (New Hampshire and Maine.) However, as I crossed the border from Jersey into New York, I was definitely starting to feel like this might actually be possible. As the song goes, "If I can make it here..."

Pennsylvania Rocks (Miles Hiked: 1264) (Day 111)

Fun fact: In the title of this blog post, "rocks" is being used as a noun--not a verb.

It's universally agreed upon by thru-hikers that Pennsylvania is the least fun state. It's hot, the bugs are brutal, it seems to go on forever, and the trail basically becomes a giant field of jagged boulders that wreaks havoc on your ankles and knees. The shoes you begin Pennsylvania with are destroyed by the end.

I'll enter New Jersey in 20 miles and because I'm choosing to be optimistic about this miserable rock pile called Pennsylvania, I will look back fondly on the one decent view this state offered and celebrate the fact that I'm getting new shoes.

Finally! A Facebook Picture I Can Be Proud Of! (Day 108) (Mile 1208)

After explaining how the washing machine worked to a sweet old woman at the Laundromat, she thanked me and asked, “Are you the manager here?”

“No,” I replied. “No, I am not the manager.”

It seemed like an odd question at the time considering what I was wearing, but the more I think about it, maybe it wasn’t so strange. What exactly is the proper attire for a manager of a Port Clinton, PA Laundromat?

Why yes. Yes, that is duct tape holding together my poncho. Thank you for noticing.