The End

I started walking north from Georgia. 190 days later, I climbed a mountain and when I got there, I didn't find anything but a big brown sign. Nothing was solved and I wasn't any wiser than I was six months ago. There wasn't any great revelations about nature, life, or my place in the universe. My calf muscles are a little bigger and my bank account is a little smaller, but other than that, I'm exactly the same person I was when I started. There aren't any answers out there on the trail--just trees. And that's okay. I was looking for nothing and that's exactly what I found. Long distance hiking doesn't fix all the broken pieces in your life. Whatever problems you leave behind when you put your pack on and walk out your front door are still going to be waiting for you when you get back. You don't "find yourself" out there in the woods and sleeping outside for six months isn't going to turn you into Yoda. The trail isn't like that. At least, it wasn't for me. Who knows? Maybe I was doing it wrong. For me, it was just a game. For just a little while, everything else in the world was put on hold and life was whittled down to one simple goal: walk. I walked amongst wild animals and over mountains. I walked through snow in the Smokies and 100 degree heat in Connecticut. I walked in late March when winter became spring and I walked in late September when summer became fall. I met generous people who gave me food and opened their homes to me. I received encouraging emails, texts, and phone messages from friends, family, and occasionally, total strangers. I befriended fellow hikers along the way and as time passed, we instinctively learned how to look after each other. And all the while, I walked. Some people golf. Some play the banjo. Others like suduko. The reason is recreation, but the purpose is nothing. I hiked The Appalachian Trail. And that's that.