7. The solitude and society of the hiker (Tray Mountain to Hostel Around the Bend GA)

Natural frequency

“Where are you headed?” “Maine,” I respond. The old man smiled and gave me a high 5. On the receiving end, it fills the confidence tank. I want to be the sort of person who gives strangers that random interaction and encouragement.

Sam and I talked the night we stayed up late under the stars about holding things in your heart. Rather than focusing on completing a checklist or solving a problem, just hold something as significant. It’s contrary to a do-something culture. But rather than making us feel powerless and guilty, the holding, the remembering changes the way we approach life. That creates a frequency. It’s a vibration that ripples out from us. It’s unlike the butterfly effect, not like action-at-a-distance. Instead, it’s molecular transfer of force. It ripples the fabric around us, affecting the people we interact with.

I think that man held the value of people as highly significant. Especially on a cold, foggy morning, I remembered this encouragement. 

Eyes up

Because my hood often covered my head on this morning, shielding my eyes, I also remembered the advice of Happy, one of the hikers I talked with a few times. “Keep your eyes up,” he would say. “Look up.” One could hike this trail solely focused on the endgame, accomplishing the full length of a trail. Instead, I will treat this hike like a pilgrimage, where I define as ‘the journey matters more than the destination.’

So when I did look up, the world offered much to experience. The fluorescent green moss climbing on the base of the oak tree. The short pines interspersed in clearings. The periwinkle haze of the thick fog. The gap in the fog looking south from Rocky Mountain, Georgia revealing a distant, rounded ridge, like a series of waves rippling across the horizon. The hard work of a trail crew who had just repaired the water bars in that morning’s soft soil.

Ah! There was the trail crew, and it turned into another example of trail magic. I felt I should give the crew something to thank them for their volunteer work. Instead, they pressed a Snickers into my hand and provided water, apples, and a trashcan at their car- a trashcan is an underrated service. No one enjoys carrying trash. A few minutes later, I ran into a southbound hiker who calls himself The Mayor (because he talks to everyone). He wanted me to back up to take a portrait by one of the white blazes marking the Appalachian Trail. “This is an incredible photo,” he said. “Put it in black and white. It’s called ‘The Solitude of the Hiker.”

This is the frequency rippling out from those generous people out here, holding humanity in their heart. It reminds me that rather than just bringing enough food or water for myself, I have many opportunities in my regular life to, like Magic Mama or the trail crew or The Mayor, bring more to share. Wonderful relationships – or maybe just gratitude – emerge from that simple act.

Solitary though I was for much of the day, I arrived at my first hostel at the end of the day’s journey. Back to society – the land of massage guns, stovetops, showers, towels, automatic garment cleaning devices, grocery stores, and a host of other luxuries that we rarely think of as luxuries. 

Produce! I could not restrain myself in the grocery store after a week of (mostly) bland starches. I bought avocadoes, oranges, a giant bag of kale, sweet potatoes, carrots, and onion. Most of this was for a big pot of curry. A bit of leftovers, both of curry and raw vegetables I decided I would take on the trail. No more living on pure pureed potato, tortillas, and oatmeal. 

A man played guitar as I cooked, as others listened on. Led Zeppelin’s Over the Hills and Far Away.