4 Don’t discount dependence (or you might end up in a stew – Lance Creek to Baggs Creek Gap GA)

I think a lot of people go out on the trail expecting to experience independence and self-reliance, You must in fact, take care of yourself: feed yourself, deal with physical ailments, organize your gear, set up a tent, filter water, and so on. At the same time, you learn how much you rely on (and how wonderful it is to have mutual reliance on) other people. Sometimes we have difficulty imagining it, but these seemingly disparate concepts – self-reliance and mutual reliance – coexist. 

In fact, part of being self-reliant I would argue is understanding in what ways you need other people’s help (this was one of the topics I discussed with Sam and Hannah on our evening hike). People are the most beautiful part of this trail. The miles, the statistics become blissfully ireelevant when hiking with a group of other people and engaged in conversation. You share each other‘s gear. I enjoyed a hot breakfast thanks to Hannah and Sam’s stove and shared my foot care supplies to help treat a brutal blister that Hannah is dealing with – with astounding toughness I might add. Even when you’re hiking on your own, sometimes the knowledge that other people are going the same direction nearby is all you need.

Pack nature

This is, I think, an expression of our pack nature. We find and care for our pack quite naturally and defend it from threats (@ blister). Pack nature is a better term for this behavior than tribal nature because tribal nature emphasizes the sorting and division rather than the pack’s loyalty and love. I truly cannot comprehend the libertarian streak in our society that says we’re better off alone; leave me alone (don’t tread on me?). How can that be compatible with a flourishing society?

Whenever I get out of the city, I always end up thinking about this. In ordinary society, I infrequently think of the ways I depend on others (though they are many). Discounting one’s dependence on others must be an essential ingredient in the libertarian stew. On the trail, recognizing other’s contributions to our life is easier because life is simpler.

The other time I most frequently thought about dependence on others was on a boat. Thus, I have an article forthcoming tomorrow morning – mostly a journal entry from the boat – reflecting on mutual reliance in the boat setting. As a side-note, I plan on posting daily journal entries and 2x/week other things (poems, book reviews, and articles), though that could vary. This is my first on-trail article. 

Blood Mountain is a hunky chunk of metamorphosed rock. It’s the highest point in the trail in Georgia at 4444 feet (not quite, but it’s close and four fours would be such a cool number). I was ahead of my crew on the Blood Mountain clmb and descent, but I waited at Mountain Crossings, a big outfitter on the trail just after Blood Mountain. Thus the day was split into a challenging solo hike, a very relaxing afternoon at the outfitter with another wonderful meal from Magic Mama and a first resupply, and a late evening hike with Sam and Hannah filled with philosophy, stretching into the darkness. Why do we have a desire for vengeance? How do we control it? What are appropriate situations to exercise our anarchy muscle? What are ways we fall into either excesses or lack of things we need, and how are these manifested? I will not describe our answers to these questions but will only suggest going into the woods with friends, asking similar questions, and seeing what you learn. Truly, we realize what is right through conversation. 

A Mountain Crossings hypothetical dilemma

When I first heard in preparation for the trail that traditionally, many people choose to leave the trail at Mountain Crossings, only 39 miles from the Amicalola Falls trailhead, it baffled me. Why would so many people leave before really giving the trail a chance? Before even hiking 2% of its distance? (2% milk is not real milk. How far down the trail would be the distance equivalent of whole milk?) Now I get it. At Mountain Crossings, you have spent four days (plus or minus a few) on the trail, and you have a pretty good sense of what it will be like. You know if you’re able to sleep at night on the trail or if you’re terribly homesick or if you simply just don’t like it, even when it’s a beautiful day and the golden evening sun is shining on the hills. I harbor no condemnation towards those getting off the trail early. If this isn’t your thing, there are a whole bunch of other things to do with months of your life. Doing the AT or not makes you no more or less of a person. Doing it really just means you’re rather kooky. So no big deal if someone wanted to leave. Of course, I then thought of two counterarguments.

One, the folks at Mountain Crossings want to help you succeed. They are another example of the ways we (people) help each other on the trail. They taught Hannah how to prevent blisters in her boots, got Sam a new pack because his was on its last legs, and recommended some great foods for me (frozen burrito and Big Sur bars yum). Materially and educationally at least, they can get someone to a place where they are ready to continue.

Two, one of the sage pieces of advice that Corn Chip gave me on day two was to never quit on a bad day. Mountain Crossings immediately follows the rather brutal climb up and down Blood Mountain. It’s steep, very rocky, and generally demoralizing. It made my legs hurt. Quitting right after that challenge violates Corn Chip’s advice. I therefore think it would be better continue a little farther because the next section would be easier, and your body will continue adjusting.

The best news is that this silly hypothetical argument is entirely irrelevant. No one I’ve heard of is leaving at Mountain Crossings. Go us.