The Long Trail : Day 18 : Part 1 : 10/8/20 . What a hell of a day! We had big plans and ended up with way fewer miles than expected. The morning started by waking up in the cabin full of strangers. Dave and I were on the top bunk/platform/shelf, whatever you’d like to call it. I was doing my best to quietly get out my pot and stove to make breakfast when the pot slipped out of my hands and loudly fell to the ground. I was officially the person I hate in communal living spaces. The early start didn’t matter because soon enough our new friends were awake and we are enjoying the company of other hikers once again. . It’s surprising how easy it is to lose your flow of routine when the rules are slightly changed. In our tent, I’m efficient, I know where my things are and just how long I needed to go through my various tasks. All bets were off in the shelter and we got a much later start than intended. We finally said our goodbyes and headed into the Devil’s Gulch followed by a climb up Belvidere. . The climb skirts the summit of Belvidere but we decided to take the blue blaze trail to check out the view from the fire tower. In good conditions, fire towers are scary to me. Something about how they sway in the wind and have super steep stairs unnerves me. Today, this one, was also encrusted with ice. I made it up the first set of stairs then told Dave I was coming down as I had zero intentions of sliding to my death on a Vermont fire tower. My plan was to deter him from going up as well. It didn’t work. He was going to go up with or without me. I hate being left out of a good view so I swallowed my fear and went for it. . I breathed steadily and took slow focused movements up each stair while tightly gripping the ice covered railing with my gloved hands like my life depended on it, because it did! I emerged on the top and had a beautiful view of the frosty landscape. Sometimes I just need a little push out of my comfort zone. After the fire tower adventure we were feeling confident and set our sights on finishing the next day, a day early. What could go wrong, we asked ourselves?

The Long Trail: Day 18 : Part 2 : 10/8/20 . The confidence we’d gained at the fire tower quickly disappeared on the descent. The trail was a muddy creek filled with slippery rocks and roots and equally slippery mud. The hiking was tedious, slow, frustrating, and demoralizing. I knew I needed a break and planned to eat lunch and regroup at the next shelter. . It was a tiny shelter but gave us walls to momentarily escape the wind and cold. We hunkered down for far too long and stared in the distance hoping to learn to teleport somewhere warm and dry. When that clearly didn’t work we opted for hot coffee before willing ourselves back out into the elements. . We were no longer going to push for a big day. Our next best plan was to hike 5.7 miles to the next shelter with our limbs and spirits in tact. It felt Herculean but potentially possible. The trail continued to be tedious but instead of finding every step frustrating, it became hilarious. I felt a little delirious and slap happy. I slipped and laughed, I almost fell off a rock slab and chuckled, and I watched Dave slide ungracefully and fall. I did my best to contain my laughter. . It’s comical that this is what we do for fun. This is what we shape our choices around. This walking in the woods, carrying our stuff, slogging through mud, hopping over boulders kind of life. All this in whatever weather the trail throws at you. Today was an excess of water from the previous days rain mixed with freezing temps. Even with all this in mind at the end of the day we made it to camp, set up our tent and went to sleep satisfied. I have a love for this life I can’t begin to explain to someone who hasn’t experienced it. The lows make the highs sweeter, the people make the experiences richer and the hard work and solitary mountain top views make the miles well worth the struggle.

The Long Trail: Day 19 : Part 1 : 10/9/20 . It started with frozen shoes. I woke up or maybe hadn’t yet fallen asleep. It was 1 am and I needed to pee. One problem - my shoes were frozen and my only dry socks were on my feet and needed to stay that way. It was 25 degrees and I opted to run out to pee as fast as possible in my bare feet over frosted leaves. I bolted out and back and quickly jumped in the tent and swaddled myself like a burrito in my quilt. . Morning finally came and with morning came the sun. We let ourselves sleep in a little to allow the sunshine to work its magic. After coffee, breakfast, and tea, I needed to pee... again. I forced myself to change clothes quickly, shoving rigid, frozen shoes and wet socks on my warm feet. It was time to hike. The one antidote to cold is movement. We said our goodbyes to friends and headed out for the day. . This trail, the Long Trail, felt strange. As if it was just beginning and already ending at the same time. Like we we’re hitting our stride just in time to head home. I was more than happy to leave the cold rain and frozen shoes behind but I’d done this enough to know I’d miss the trail in the days and weeks to come. I’d miss the miles, the people, the cozy nights in camp, and yes, even the terrain - well, maybe. . These thoughts spun around my mind as we powered up Jay Peak in strong hiker form then proceeded to slip and slide our way to the shelter in beat up hiker form. The ebb and flow of the day can make you feel like a champion then a fraud within minutes. Before long the Shooting Star shelter was in our sights. It was empty so we decided to post up and wait for Caleb to show up. Dave’s brother was meeting us for the last few miles. . While waiting we enjoyed a celebratory Pork Pad Thai dehydrated dinner and hot tea. We heard the voice of Caleb shortly before hearing him slip and fall on the sloping granite, classic Long Trail! The rest of the evening was spent catching up and enjoying a sleepover in the shelter on the eve of our completion of the Long Trail. Life is a funny, magical wild ride sometimes and this day was one of the good ones, frozen shoes and all!

The Long Trail: Day 20 : The Last Day : 10/10/20 . It was the last day. I was having a hard time believing it was already here and finally here in the same breath. 4.4 miles would take us to a clear cut line in the forest that marks the boundary between the US and Canada. It would also mean another thru hike completed and about 6000 miles had been walked over the years. . We had coffee and breakfast then proceeded to pack our gear one last time. Change clothes, stuff the quilt, fold the NeoAir, pack my pillow, and place each item in my pack. Next in was my almost empty food bag, then miscellaneous items, then clothes to fill the gaps. Lastly, I put the pot in and folded down the top of my pack and clipped it shut one last time. It all felt so familiar at this point, like driving to work or putting away the dishes. Simple tasks made routine by daily practice. . The daily practice of walking up and down the mountains, over rocks, dodging roots, and skipping over muddy puddles. Those routine, everyday tasks took us to the end of the road where we faced the edge of the US and stared into Canada. . The last mile, the one leading up to the monument, I slowed down my mind and forced myself to reflect on the last 19 days. The highs and lows, the beauty of the fall foliage, the tough yet fun climbs, the people we’d met and all the work it had taken to reach the end of the trail and complete another hike. I wanted to make certain I realized the physical effort and strength it took to get my body to the end and the mental fortitude to push past the tough moments. . The end of a thru hike always feels like it should be super climactic and emotional. In some ways it is, the final exhale, the first moment of rest after a tough fight. But more often than not, it simply feels like any other moment, one to be proud of, but just another moment even still. It isn’t the final steps that make a thru hike momentous, it’s all the steps in between. . It’s staring down a steep climb and powering through when your legs feel like they’re filled with lead. It’s eating at a beautiful lake but leaving quickly because you’re so stinking cold. It’s breathing through the anxiety of going up not 1 or 2 but THREE fire towers. It’s forcing on frozen shoes and sloshing through cold, muddy trail. It’s laughing with strangers who become fast friends. It’s hot coffee in the forest and endless Snickers bars. It’s every single joy and struggle that makes those final steps so sweet. So here’s to 6000 miles on trail and hopefully many more to come.