I feel a change in the wind, says I, and something about March always seems to want to change mine. I'm not proud of the fact that I turned back, and maybe I should be ashamed of turning back, I don't know. The problems with the gear aren't the reason, and my leg was just fine once I got in my stride. I had extra food and plenty of water, and I definitely could have covered the mileage. But it wasn't about that. I don't have to prove anything to anybody by putting more miles on my boots. I had to prove something else, to myself. The whole trip just seemed to reinforce everything I went up there to get away from. I don't like relying on other people, bu that's what had locked me into doing a certain mileage by a certain time to get picked up. And the reason I committed myself to that was so I could cover a 30 mile section instead of hiking up 15 and coming back the same way. Why? Because that's more impressive, more pins in the map, so to speak. But I'm done with trying to prove something. That's not the reason I should be up there. I had to take charge of the situation. I had a decision to make:
- I could continue as planned: camp where I was, about halfway between where I put in and where I was getting picked up
- I could hike onward, getting as far as I could before dark, but that really wouldn't solve anything.
- I could hike back along the trail, getting as far as I could before dark, and continue back to the car early in the morning before my ride would get to the previously planned location.
- I could hike back along the road to my car.
I was literally breaking down at my campsite. Whenever I couldn't get my stove to stay lit, for whatever reason, everything just came down on me and I fucking lost my mind. What bothers me more is that something that simple just pushed me over the edge like it did. I didn't like what that said about the state of my life. I had to get out of there. It wasn't dark yet, so I would have to kill a lot of time before I would be able to sleep and get going in the morning, and I would go insane sitting there. But it was late enough and I was too tired that I couldn't really cover any significant mileage.So I packed up camp and headed back towards the road, about a mile downhill. From there I had to make the decision of whether to go back along the trail or the road to my car.
There was a shelter not too far up the trail, that I probably could reach and camp for the night. If I chose the road, it was about the same total distance, but I wouldn't be able to stop and camp anywhere; I would just have to keep going through the night until I reached my car. However, the road is better lit than the trail because it's a wider opening in the trees, and it's a fairly well-populated area, with house lights. The road also isn't as steep as the trail, and on the road surface itself I wouldn't have to worry about hiking the rocky, rooty, uneven terrain in the dark. And of course there is the possibility of eventually getting a ride. It was probably about 7:00, the sun had pretty much set, and so I took the road. I weighed the choices, and I made a decision. Making this decision, I had to commit to it fully, and I was prepared to hike all 9 miles to my car if it took me all night. I had to do this. And there I was, this skinny little city-slicking kid hitch-hiking through the Appalachains by himself in the middle of night. It was about 9:00 when somebody actually stopped and offered me a ride. As best I can figure I had hiked about two or three miles on the road. I told him where my car was parked, and it only took about 15 minutes in the car. I don't know what would've happened if he hadn't picked me up, but I hadn't expected anyone to actually stop, and I was probably crazy enough to hike all through the night.
Maybe I did lose my mind up there, because I broke just about every rule there is, but it didn't scare me half as much as whatever I was running away from. I didn't even eat anything. I was probably just running on adrenaline, but whatever it was seemed to make me okay. Just making that decision and taking charge made me okay. Like I said, some people would be ashamed to turn back like that and run away, but I look at it as taking charge. From where I was, staying on the trail and continuing as planned was the cowardly option, just letting the forces dictate me. Instead I stood up, as men do, and did what I felt necessary, despite how incredibly insane it probably was. So I didn't do my 30-mile section, but I hiked a solid 13 miles or so, plus I got a much better story out of it. So be impressed, cause I'm so fucking badass, you can't even fathom it.
His are some pretty impressive shoes to fill. Funny how once I stepped out of my father's shadow, I became more like him than I ever could have tried to be.
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