Reflections On the AT Three Months After I Returned

Here is an article I wrote a couple of months after returning from the Appalachian Trail when I began to realize that the so called "real world" was closing in on me. It was a strange feeling when I realized I could no longer just wake up and out hike any problems.



September 2010:

When I think back on the accomplishment that I’ve achieved I still don’t know if it has fully sunk in. 2,179 miles on the Appalachian trail. 2,179 miles of wandering aimlessly through the woods for almost 5 months. Not making any money and certainly not making any ground on paying back the vast amount of student loans I have outstanding. Five months of aimlessly wandering a well beaten footpath of the Eastern US for only the opportunity to say that I’ve completed the trail. I lived homeless, dirty, completely exhausted, and without the comfort of friends, family, or even a damn television (how did I ever get by without Sportscenter?). A modern day gypsy, scraping to get by with barely enough food or energy to get me to the next town. Day after day, the same exact thing. Isolated from the rest of the world and things I once took solace in. Would I do it again? Absolutely. Never before have I ever felt so free.

I’ve been home for almost three months now and while I have indulged in the things I went so long without, I still long for the simplicity I left behind on the trail. There is a certain sense of freedom you achieve when you have nothing but what you need to survive. Sure it was stressful to find the things I needed to make it, but it was nothing compared to the stress of seeking out the things that I am “supposed” to need and desire back in real life. I miss waking up every morning knowing that I had a completely grueling, physically tough day ahead of me, but at the end of the day I would be one step closer to Maine. Now I wake up knowing what is expected of me. I know that it will be equally as hard, but will only lead me one step closer to the routine that will be mine for the rest of my life. I want to be successful and make money and be a productive member of society just as much as anyone. But I miss the days on the trail when I didn’t have to be. Everyday now I am one step closer to that permanent routine. That is what society expects of me and I can’t argue with it. Many of my friends are there now. My parents have done it and without them I would not have even had this amazing opportunity that many could only dream of. They have given me a good life and I could only hope to provide my future children with the same opportunities and experiences that I have had in my life thus far. However, it is scary because once I’m at that point there is no turning back. With money and financial independence comes responsibility and obligation. I can’t foresee a future scenario where I will be able to continue working a decent job and have the personal freedom to take five months to aimlessly wander through the wilderness with no real worries. Still, it was a truly liberating and free time. I miss the cool mountain air and the stars at night. I miss the relationships built with the people killing their bodies along side of me for the same common goal. Mt. Katahdin was the destination we all sought, but in the back of our minds hoped was not actually a real place. As if the trail would stretch on forever. Because as much as we wanted to go back home and hug our parents, kiss our girlfriends, or drink a beer with our friends we all knew that we would never again be in that same situation. We would never be as free as we were in any one moment on the trail.