I thought it important, to sit down and write my thoughts before they become too distant from my current state.

I completed a thru-hike of the Black Creek Trail just south of Hattiesburg Mississippi outside of a little town called Brooklyn. I have to admit, the hike didn’t start the way I’d hoped, and some of the emotional struggles were not part of my planning. We started late, we had later starting times every day and I was in constant fear of not finishing. On every crossing and every hole, I saw the opportunity for failure with a twisted ankle, a slip, and at one point a bite from a diamondback rattler. But I finished, I finished with the original members of my party. Even through much disagreement and frustration with each other we crossed the finish line together, we did that because we committed to one another silently, that when we started this journey we would end it together.

I remember while hiking the trail thinking, “I feel miserable, and I wish I’d never started.” On the last day while we were heading toward my car (to which I now call, My Blue Heaven) every step felt as though, in the moment my foot hit the ground, a hammer hit the bottom of my foot. The blisters tell me that I am not ready for an Appalachian Trail Thru-Hike, the pain from my feet tell me that I have more work to do. And in the moment, I ask, “Is this even worthwhile, coming out to hike just trying to get home?”

However, the problem with deciding “to never do this again,” while on the trail is, that feeling pales, in hindsight, to the feeling of finishing, the feeling of euphoria that drives me to get into these “messes,” in the first place. The problem is, now I know I can hike 13 miles in a day, and I know the peace of sleeping next to a rushing river in the cold.

When I came home last night I sat quietly in front of an off television and a computer that had yet to be turned on. My mind clearer than it had been in a long time. I sat and looked my record player considering playing a record, but then remembering the silence of the wilderness. My phone that had been off for 4 days now sprung to life, and with every beep and message I was afraid I would lose the peace of not knowing what to do next. But I didn’t lose that peace… at least, not yet…

 

I understand why many philosophers and physicians agree that nature can be helpful to stress. Because in the wilderness the concern is not a board meeting, a financial report, or a reading list, it’s practicing the necessary self-care to simply, “Get to the next campsite.” By the last night, sleeping in the woods, I began to dream again. The night would fly by, I wouldn’t wake up multiple times, I had worn myself out during the day, and was in a tech blackout, the only light was from the campfire built by our camping guru, and the stars reminding us how small we are.

 

We all had our purpose on the hike, the peacemaker, the naturalist, and me, the logistician. I knew the map of the trail and had done more research than necessary but even in that time had forgotten the map of the human heart. Micah did that. While Paul made sure every sight in which we slept was warm and comfortable.

Today I sit on the far end of a goal I set for myself three years ago when I began to get healthy. I spent three years, the planner I am, gathering gear, reading trail guides and searching for partners, but now that day is over. Life in the modern world calls me. I hope I can carry this peace for a week before I am back to the ball of anxiety that everyone knows and love.

But even if I can’t, today I know peace, and that makes the misery of wilderness worthwhile.