The Long Trail : Day 5 : Part 2 : 9/25/20 . We left the rock garden and pressed on. The next of our many breaks for the day was at a beautiful stream. I ate a pop tart the only way I know how as a thru hiker. One tiny broken piece at a time and then I tipped back the powdery remains like a shot. Shortly after my pop tart snack a SOBO AT hiker stopped and talked with us for a few minutes. As he prepared to continue south he called us “legit”. . It’s funny to hear descriptors like that of myself. They make me feel exposed and uncomfortable. Even after 6000 + miles of thru hiking I still feel like an imposter. If I’m quiet enough and sit in the back just maybe the rest of the “real” thru hikers will let me stay. Will I ever feel like I’m “legit”? If I’m honest, sometimes I do, but usually only in the safety of my own mind. Saying it to someone else feels too risky, like they’ll find out I’m a fraud. I need to know more, do more, hike faster, hike further before I’ll reach this elusive status of thru hiker I’m aiming for. . Just maybe, I need to find confidence and respect for the hiker and human I am today. To find space to appreciate the experiences I’ve had and quit labeling them as “inadequate”. To be grateful and proud of the challenges I’ve overcome and truly believe my trials can be an avenue to help and support others. This lack of belief in myself hurts the whole community. How can I believe in and support you if I can’t do it for myself first? . I managed more thoughts like these as my strong legs powered me up one final climb for the day. Before long, we found home, a flat(ish) stretch of dirt near the shelter. The evening was warm, dinner was filling and my only concern was avoiding the acorns falling from the treetops like missiles.

The Long Trail : Day 6 : Part 1 : 9/26/20 . We left camp early hoping to get as close to our next resupply as possible. We silk blazed our way down the Clarendon Gorge. If you’re unfamiliar with silk blazing, it’s when you’re the first hiker on the trail for the morning and you get the privilege to break all the spider webs that have crossed the trail overnight. Usually I’m lucky enough to have a few land right across my face. . Memories of the town of Rutland colored our conversation as we slowly crept to the road, one gingerly move at a time. My poor knees always at the forefront of my mind. This year, Rutland would just be some town down a random road we crossed before climbing steeply up and out of the gorge. . The climb out was hot, steep, and difficult. Heat filled my body to the point where my shoulders turned bright red as if I was battling a rough sunburn. Over time the terrain gave way to a gentler grade, my lungs thanked me and we started to move at a good, steady pace. . In the forest every rustle of leaves gives you a second of pause. Every chipmunk or squirrel for a moment is a bear. At least in my mind. But then you hear uneven thrashing through the woods and you no longer need to take a beat, question, or scan the area. You just instinctively know the noise is definitively bear. Only one species has that distinct sound as it bounds through its home turf. . There were two of them that scattered in opposite directions. I would assume a mother and her older cub. I was a little leery not knowing where mom was but mostly mesmerized by yet another magical moment in a quiet forest. We marveled, took photos and appreciated the simple gift before moving on. . These are the moments I wish I could bottle up and share with you all in real time. A little taste of why this lifestyle is so important to me. Life is slow, it’s simple yet wildly challenging, and you regain a sense of childlike wonder we could all use a little more of.