a thousand words

The clock read 1:30AM. The clock read 2:30AM. I rolled over, convinced that my body was in a battle with that clock. It was almost as if it wanted to say “If you intend on waking me up at 4:30AM then you got another thing coming to you. I’ll just stay awake. Take that.”

And it was 4:30AM before I knew it. And it was dark.

I entered the kitchen and poured some coffee. My bag was already packed. I jotted down a few notes on a piece of paper (my GPS and trail map) and headed out the door.

There was a stack of unmarked cds in the glove compartment. I randomly selected one and inserted it into the cd player. When the first song (Even the Streets by Matt Wertz) played, I knew exactly what would follow...and I allowed myself to remember, which is something that I try not to do.

I arrived at the parking lot shortly after 7AM. There were two cars parked in the lot. I laced up my vasque breeze trail shoes and packed my yellow camelbak fourteener, which included an extra pair of socks, trail mix, an apple and my scarpa boots, just in case I had a change of heart after a few miles. I have learned from experience that dry, comfortable feet can make or break a hike.

I walked across the parking lot toward the (steep and rocky) red dot trail. It was 7:15AM and I was excited about the prospect of being the only one on the trail. The last time I completed this hike was in November. At the time, I was dealing with several health issues, which made for a difficult climb. All of those problems have since been resolved and I am healthy for the first time in nearly three years. I am very thankful for that.

After reaching the summit of Mount Tammany, I briefly followed a blue trail, which lead to a fire road that followed the ridge. It was overgrown (as in knee high grass) and wet (as in my shoes and socks were soaked).

As I walked, I took it all in...the sights, the smells, the sounds.

I saw the bluest bird I had ever seen. When I reached for my camera, it flew to another branch, as I turned it on and zoomed in, it flew to another branch, almost as if to taunt me. Unfortunately, I didn’t get a picture, but I did find out that it was an indigo bunting.

Two deer crossed my path, which scared the shit out of me and I talked to them until they were out of my sight. It made me realize how vulnerable I was out there, alone, on the trail.

It smelled really really good. At first, I didn’t think anything of it, but then I started to look around and realized that I was walking through patches of blueberries.

Walking for what seemed like forever, I became nervous as to whether or not I was going the correct way. What if I wasn’t on the fire road? Just then, a weathered sign that read “heli-spot” appeared to my left. I breathed a sigh of relief, knowing that I must be on some kind of trail.

Not too long after that I saw the turquoise trail (personally, I think that is kind of a random color for a trail blaze) and turned left onto it. That trail took me off the ridge and down into a wet, rocky area, which crossed over a stream and went back up. It was there that a small, orange lizard came one step away from meeting his demise. Lucky for him, I had looked down at the precise moment our paths intersected.

The turquoise trail was narrow, rocky and overgrown (but not as bad as the fire road). I followed it until I reached Sunfish Pond. I had not seen a single person yet, but could hear voices in the distance and met with two hikers at the intersection of the Turquoise and Appalachian trails.

I encountered several more people who were heading north on the Appalachian Trail. One man took a moment to chat with me. He was in the process of hiking a section of the trail, but said that he had hiked it in its entirely several years ago. I told him about my upcoming trip to Maine and asked whether or not I’d see any thru-hikers completing their journey at Katahdin. He said that it would only be possible if someone had gotten an early start.

The Appalachian Trail hugged the shore of Sunfish Pond and brought me to my favorite spot on the hike.

Just past this section, there was a large area of trees that had burned in a forest fire last summer. The burned forest sat to the right of the trail for the remainder of my walk around Sunfish Pond, where I met two men who had just arrived via the Dunnfield Creek trail. This was the trail I had intended on taking back to the parking lot. I changed my mind after they told me about the knee deep stream crossings they had encountered.

I continued south on the Appalachian Trail, politely saying “hello” to several other people along the way who were making the trip to Sunfish Pond. I always shake my head a little bit when I see people carrying a single, small bottle of water or wearing completely inappropriate hiking attire.

When I returned to the car, the parking lot was full and people had started making their own parking spots wherever they could find them. I grabbed a change of clothes and entered the not so clean port-o-potty. After a quick stretch, I hopped back in the car for the ride home. The coffee in my travel mug was still warm. I took the long way, on scenic country roads, which felt miles away from the places I see every day.

They say that a picture is worth a thousand words. These are my thousand words.