Especially in proximity to a town, where the density of day hikers increases, people often ask if I’m hiking the trail alone. “No,” I always respond. I am not hiking alone but rather, independently. I move among groups of people on the trail and get to know, at various levels, everyone I encounter. I certainly spend over half of my time alone, hiking by myself. Many people, even those hiking with a group, find this to be the case because two people rarely hike at the same pace and stop at the same place. Even so, I am not alone. Especially in the mornings and evenings, because I often camp with others, I spend time with people. In brief interactions or longer conversations on trail, much of my time and attention ends up invested in interaction with others. Yet I have not stuck with a particular group or person for more than about a week. Independent but not alone. How American.
Talking with strangers
The frequency of interactions I enjoy caused me to consider more carefully how to talk with strangers. Any reader of this piece probably possesses a proficiency at this surpassing my own. What I share here comes directly from observing others. Talking with strangers is an art both beneficial and difficult. It requires flexibility and listening. The two main things I have learned are to not grow tired of asking the same basic questions (like “how are you feeling?” or “where are you from?” or “what brings you out here to the trail?”) and to ask follow-up questions to delve deeper. The superficial questions are not annoying but are keys to unlock further conversation, if desired – and they also indicate whether further conversation is desired. Then, by listening closely to the responses, it’s possible to ask an open-ended follow-up question to move past the introductory material. Or to make a specific observation or complement. The fun part is that every interaction is different. No formula will ever exist.
As interactions accumulated, I naturally observed certain patterns emerging. For the most part, thru-hikers are either recently retired or young, in our early or mid-20s – on one side or the other of a career. The recently retired people tend to have a more developed sense of humor, are pretty apolitical, offer a whole lot more unsolicited advice, and have a stronger sense of the “right way” to hike the trail. The young people, in conversation, generally consider themselves of liberal, tolerant, and irreligious persuasion. This group’s uniformity in this regard I have found striking.
Of course, categorizing people, such a natural human tendency, can suppress so much fruitful interaction and glosses over important differences we have. Several particularly interesting people fall outside of these categories and their above characterizations. I met, for example. a number of people in the midst of a career, taking a sabbatical or making a change, like Rhetoric, One Gear, Camel, Scapegoat, and Beaker. And I hiked quite a bit the past week with Dr. Jones, a rare outspoken Christian on the trail. As an aside, I find it strange how few religious people I have met on the trail. I think of a long hike, including for myself, as a religious journey – a pilgrimage of sorts. For most others, discovery of self and world is central to the journey but rarely in a religious context. Perhaps the independent and free-spirited nature of those led to the trail fuels a skepticism of organized religion.
Anyways, weeks ago, I also spent the day with a trail runner who thru-hiked a few years ago. He had worked in the Silicon Valley tech scene for about two decades before burning out enough to spend a summer hiking the AT. After finishing, he moved to western North Carolina, close to the trail and in an affordable enough location to buy a home (in contrast to the Bay). This was another unique story: the trail itself as a spontaneous instigator of major life transition. My point is that the above categories of people and more importantly, their descriptions, vary enough to render my categorization of limited application.
When I meet someone new, I want to avoid initial assumptions. Each person out here is interesting, and we have much to mutually learn from each other. This is why initiating a conversation, even though it requires working through the same repetitive small talk, is worthwhile. But if I put people in categories prematurely or avoid people different than myself (we all do this to an extent, and I see people doing this on the trail), I miss out on the diversity of lives and perspectives that converge here, meeting for this pilgrimage together.
Independence and Damascus
In the end, I remain independent because my flexibility to set my own schedule, stay where I want to, take breaks when I want to, go the miles I can at the pace I desire, is hard to relinquish. Still, I do adjust to accommodate the group I am with on a particular day or week. It’s a balance. Heading into Damascus, for example, I accelerated both because the section was easier (affectionately called the Tennessee turnpike) and to keep up with Camel, Scapegoat, Rover, Dr. Jones, Captain Chaos, Frodo, and Oz. All of these hike fast, and it’s a good crew. All of us are rather independent, so we may not stay together for long. But we found ourselves camping together, in various combinations, before and after Damascus and enjoyed it.
A note on Damascus. Damascus tries to represent itself as the premier AT trail town. It is the second town directly on the trail, slightly bigger than Hot Springs NC and often compared to Hot Springs but different in character. I enjoyed Hot Springs a lot more. The human interactions, the coffee shop, Elmer, the diner, the friendliness of Hot Springs felt deeply inviting. Damascus felt somewhat less welcoming and dynamic. I stayed much less time there as a result, and in order to stick with the aforementioned crew. After all, I may be independent, but I stay with a group when possible. I do not hike alone.
