Day 109: Resolve

Not Again

We had a rough night. We’d driven into Kent for groceries, cell coverage, and a parking spot in the sun to let the solar batteries charge. Just before we left Kent for our trailside boondocking spot, our son called to say that he was headed to the ER with possible heart problems. Some context:

• This son is the doctor. Doctors don’t go to the ER unless they really, really have to.
• My brother just died of heart failure.
• Northstar absolutely hates to see her children suffer.

When we got back to our boondocking spot, we discovered that the cell coverage vacillated between SOS mode and 1 bar. This displeased Northstar (massive understatement), but our son assured us we could do nothing but pray until morning. He said he’d be fine. Northstar remained displeased. I fell asleep, but not for long.

A Force of Northstar

When it comes to the health of her children, Northstar is a force of nature. In fact, I once spent an evening around a campfire with a hurricane, a typhoon, an earthquake, a tsunami, and a flood. One of them, I forget which, told a story about an irresistible, inevitable outcome that couldn’t be stopped, no matter how hard they tried. They called it a “Northstar.”

Northstar woke me to inform me that we were driving to find better cell coverage. My questions about why were met with firm resolve. We drove. Resistance was futile.

Boondock Hunting After Dark

Finding legal boondocking sites with excellent cell coverage near Cornwall Bridge, Connecticut after dark isn’t an easy as you might think. Highways with no shoulder have good coverage. Parking lots do not. We ended up at a small motel, knocking on the office door at 10:45 pm, asking to rent a room with Wi-Fi for the night.

Eventually, one of the permanent residents came out to tell us that the owner was out of town and that they weren’t renting rooms. But he took pity on us, gave us permission to park in the driveway, and provided the Wi-Fi code. Problem solved. In a matter of hours, I’d relaxed enough to fall asleep again.

Yogi Checks In

Somewhere in all that, Yogi responded to my message asking if he’d summited Katahdin yet. He hadn’t. In fact, he’d quit the trail at Great Barrington and gone home to Minnesota. He’d had it with the heat and had hit New York, Connecticut, and Massachusetts in the middle of the flooding that took the life of the hiker in Vermont. He’d had enough.

The Aftermath

Yogi’s departure hit me hard.  He’s a strong, experienced hiker who had been crushing the AT. I woke up after a bad night of sleep thinking if he can’t make it, what hope do I have? I left the van in a funk, carrying a full pack of dark thoughts up the climb out of the Housatonic Valley. Maybe I should quit. We should go take care of our kids. I can always come back next year to finish.

Somewhere along the climb up Breadloaf Mountain my attitude began to change. St. Augustine’s famous quotation drifted back into my mind, “Solvitor Ambulando,” it is solved by walking. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve walked myself out of a funk. I don’t know if it’s the endorphins, the zen of movement, the quiet woods, or just getting off my butt and doing something, but it works.

Go With What You Know

Then I remembered something Northstar used to say when she was battling cancer, “You feel your feelings, but go with what you KNOW.” So, I began listing all the things I know about my thru hike. I know:

• I’ve always wanted to thru hike.
• If I quit I’ll be miserable. I shouldn’t be, but I know I will be.
• This is the best time to do this hike in my life. I’ve sold my firm, annoyed my clients, set aside other projects and goals. I bought a van. I did all the planning.
• I’ve spent four months hiking so far. I have to respect that and not toss it away.
• The scenery will get better (and the hiking harder).
• The heat will end (and it will get cold, but I like hiking in the cold).

Mostly, I know I want to finish this. “Alright,” I told myself aloud, “You old white-haired whiner, you’re going to Maine. I don’t care if every day is Type II fun. Until you get carried off the trail on a stretcher, you’re going north.”

I texted Northstar to tell her we’re going to Maine. She replied, “I never thought you weren’t.”

Hiking North

I don’t remember much about the rest of the day except that I enjoyed it. I felt like my first love had returned. The woods were pleasant. I passed some “view” points and recall thinking, “These overlooks need Fall” and imagined them blanketed in fall colors. I bet they’re magnificent.

Meeting Moses

On a short climb, a smiling southbounder stopped to let me pass, asked if I was thru hiking north, and asked my trail name. He said he was called “Moses” and nodded slightly toward the large wooden staff in his right hand. I asked if he’d been using it to part the waters in Maine’s flooded river crossings. He gave me a funny look and replied, “I carry the stick, God parts the waters.”

This kind of exchange is the Christian equivalent of the secret Masonic handshake. We exchanged blessings and went our separate ways. It’s always nice to meet a brother. And I definitely needed a blessing today.

Eventually, the trail dropped back down the ridge and followed the Housatonic River for the last stretch through Falls Village. I stopped to admire the whitewater paddling course and then rounded the bend to find the 1,500-mile mark on a bridge abutment. 1,500 miles. 700 to go.

Another Force of Northstar

Northstar had read my mood this morning and whisked me off to a pizza feast in Lakeview. And there was nothing I could do about it.

Daily Stats:

• Start: Cornwall Bridge (Mile 1485.5)
• End: Dugway Road (Mile 1500.8)
• Weather: Chilly early. Sunny, then partly cloudy.
• Earworm: Touch me (The Doors). Ugh.
• Meditation: Lk 7:50
• Plant of the Day: Dyer’s Polypore (fungus)
• Best Thing: Resolve
• Worst Thing: Yogi quitting