Days 119-154: Today of All Days

441.5 miles left to Katahdin.

I know, I know. It’s been weeks. I spent every single week thinking I’d finally take the time to write an update. But honestly… I’ve just been having so much fun that I didn’t make the time for it.

Let’s start with where we left off.

After my last post, I had an incredible dinner with my uncle and two of my cousins before heading back to my ultimate vortex.

I truly don’t know if it’s possible for me to ever hike out of Branchville.

After a night at the Cobmin Motel (fantastic stay), I decided to backtrack ~30 miles to Delaware Water Gap. I’d gotten far too in my own head about the drama in NYC and decided to put myself in the way of joy, rather than make myself suffer through the thought spiral alone to prove a point to nobody but myself. Team Vortex was getting there that day, and I wanted to be around my tramily.

I got there a couple of hours before the gang hiked in. We got some ice cream and then headed to the hotel, where we basically holed ourselves up for the night. After some talks with Scatter, I learned that she and Stache wanted to skip ahead a couple hundred miles and clean up this section later, so we could actually enjoy hiking the way we like to without racing to summit Mama K. I, personally, was thrilled to hear this. It felt like the trail gifting me a wonderful opportunity as a reward for taking care of myself.

We decided to hike for a few days til we were farther into NJ, where we got vortexed in Branchville (again, I will never truly escape that town) and somehow made it to Vernon with the help of a couple local guys who drove us to a motel in the area. Unfortunately, I was devoured by bedbugs at the Appalachian Motel there, and became a bugbite-ridden, itchy little mess — but we soldiered on after treating all of our gear and clothes.

After we got our rental to head to Great Barrington, we made a pit stop.

I made us trail magic Achilles in upstate NY, because the poor guy needed to pick up his new shoes and insoles after 900 miles. (I feel him, after wearing my shoes since mile 700.) We took him to get some fresh food from a deli before dropping him off at a hotel because all his stuff was soaked.

We made it to the motel in Barrington, watched some TV, ate some food, and passed the heck out. The following day Scatter and I hiked out, Stache went to see one of his many friends, and Cheese drove back to NJ to continue his continuous footpath (for about a week, apparently).

Massachusetts is freaking beautiful.

My favorite state on trail, hands down. The woods and the views are wonderful, the trail is impeccably maintained, and we finally got to climb real mountains again!!!!

I hadn’t realized until then how much of my weird feelings about my hike had been affected by not having been truly challenged by an incline in so long. As I’d put it then: I missed when the mountains made me their bitch.

Scatter and I only ended up doing 6 miles each of the first two days we were in MA — my ankle was kinda messed up from going too hard after returning from my first trip home — but quickly stepped it up to 16 and 19 the next couple of days. Stache hadn’t met back up with us yet, but when we got to Dalton he decided he was gonna start back up in CT. Scatter decided to join him. I was upset about it at first, partly because I’d wanted to continue on from the skip as a group and discuss it as such, but honestly it was mostly that (as I’ve mentioned before on here) quick transitions are rough for me. But I was fine by that evening, and had decided to move forward solo until I could meet up with Ketchup — who was backtracking to meet me so we could finally hike together after weeks of saying we should.

This is where it gets interesting. Very interesting.

Scatter and I had met a new friend, named 501, our first night in MA. We hiked with him the couple of days before Scatter went to meet Stache. He and I ended up at the Cheshire campsite in town and ended up hiking out to the outfitters together the next day.

We were just going to hit the outfitters and go back to trail, but ended up shuttling ahead to Williamstown and taking an impromptu zero there after I got some much needed gear upgrades. We shuttled back and summited Greylock the next day, our first summit over 3,000 feet of elevation in hundreds of miles. Those first two miles of incline kicked my ass, but the rest was absolutely lovely.

After that, we made our way to Vermont. I know we all call it Vermud (although we personally call it Vermid), but the nickname really does no justice to the sheer amount of mud in the state. I mean, like, there’s literally two of the biggest mud puddles I’d ever seen (at the time) directly at the MA-VT border. I thought my shoes would be able to hold up through the whites, but two days into Vermud my Mutants were torn up in a way they’d never been before. All those roots hiding under the mud. Horrid, truly.

We holed up in the first shelter in the state. Before it became too full, a girl came up to the shelter to see if there was space. A girl we would soon learn is called Brokeback (but we call her Vermommy) ended up snuggling up between 501 and I and decided to hike 19 miles with us the next day through a hurricane. Oh, and it was her first day section hiking the Long Trail. She’s a beast.

We managed to get to our next shelter right before the Debbie downpour.

There were two spots left in the shelter, which 501 finagled into three. This one old man there made so much soup that we thought he was feeding the whole shelter, but alas he was not. Only feeding 501 his extra soupy farts all night.

Before Brokeback got to the shelter shortly after us, a dude I thought was a section hiker came to see if there was any more space. I adamantly protected her spot, though I now know that dude as Leftover — an amazing PCT grad who’s thru-hiking the LT. I immediately apologized as we hiked together the next day, but he understood. We all simp for Vermommy.

We’d also run into another AT hiker 501 had met before, named Poke. Us, Poke, Brokeback, and Leftover all hiked to the giant shelter after Stratton together and took over the loft space as a team. It had been yet another 20 — Brokeback’s second in the three days she’d been on trail, what a beast — and we were glad to all cuddle puddle up there as a newfound tramily. LM Incorporated. I can’t say what that is on here, but maybe if you follow my instagram you’ll find out.

We got to Manchester to meet Ketchup right after that.

Ketchup. What a guy. Moments after he decided to meet up with me, he sprained his ankle. Bad. By the time we got to him, he’d been off trail for eight days.

We all set up camp at the VFW and had a little tramily party. We roasted marshmallows inside of Poke’s tent while there were 5 people in there. It was an amazing and incredible time.

After some resupply the next day, we hiked back out. We made a shorter plan than what had become the norm for us with Ketchup’s ankle in mind. With a brief pause on Bromley to snack, charge up, and catch the views, we made our way to our endpoint for the day.

By the time we got to the shelter that day, Ketchup was sure his hike was over. He was bummed, and I’ve never seen him so down about himself. He’d been so proud of how differently he approached this injury than he would have when he thru-hiked in 2021, he’d been so careful. We had finally gotten to hike together, too, so that was disappointing for us both. But nonetheless, he hiked out the next morning with the intent to head home.

But instead, he met us at the Inn at the Long Trail.

LM Inc made our way up and over Killington that day. For us AT hikers, our longest climb and highest elevation in over a thousand miles. Maybe since Tennessee. Except for Poke, since he’s a flipflopper and had only known the soft, forgiving inclines and plateaus of the mid-atlantic thus far.

Killi was a BEAST. I summited to “Such Great Heights” by Postal Service, which was magical. I was so sweaty, so ready for that gondola to take me down the mountain — we all were. We’d sung and complained and found beauty in our struggle up that mountain as a team, though I may have pulled an Achilles and raced myself to the top that last 0.2 miles. And what a view it was, to see all the other mountains dwarfed into rolling hills as far as the eye could see. Getting to watch my friends’ faces as they caught the view for the first time was a moment I’ll never forget.

And then… the gondo was closed. Maintenance, apparently, and would reopen the following day. We were pointed to a route to the K1 Lodge that would soon become known to us all as Hands Down The Worst Descent Of Our Lives (my knees have still yet to recover), and somehow made it there without throwing ourselves to the base. We said goodbye to Brokeback as she got into her shuttle, as that was the end of her section, and boarded The Bus to Rutland.

(We tried to get her to quit her job and come with us, but alas the girl does good things for a living.)

Then… Ketchup mentioned the State Fair was going on.

After making two separate bartenders cringe with my pickleback order (eat it cowards, some of us actually put it on the menu!) we made our way to it. I love a fair. I love carnival rides, carnival food, carnival activities. I. Love. This. Stuff.

I decided to torture Poke with as many rides as he’d let me drag him onto, including a Gravitron that even made me a little scared. We all did the ferris wheel (natch) and bumper cars (double natch). 501 and I hooliganed our way through a couple funhouses. But then it was time for the real reason we were there. The main event.

The pig racing.

I’ve never seen pigs race in my whole life. And I never wanna go a day without a pig race ever again. I now judge how good a day is by a number of pigs between 3 and 36. Honestly, any day above 0 is a good day. We have unfortunately seen no pigs since that night.

After another day of spending entirely too much money at the state fair, we hiked out again. 2.6 miles… in the wrong direction (before getting a hitch to the right place).

Since then, we’ve hiked a couple of days and finally escaped Vermid.

As I sit here, nearly 400 miles left til I summit, Achilles only a couple days behind me (I really did enjoy my lead while it lasted), I find myself wishing this could go on forever. That the hike would never end, and I could continue walking up and down mountains until my legs stop working. Keep meeting people, keep learning about myself and who I want to be, keep experiencing new things and seeing new places.

441.5 left to go. I was only about that far in when I got to Damascus. What a wretched night and depressing day that was for me. I was so distraught, unsure of my ability to keep moving, feeling left behind and useless because I wasn’t confident enough in my body. So depressed, so afraid of my own mind and being left alone with it. I think about that night often, about how me in May would look at me now.

They would be so proud. So astonished. It would be absolutely impossible for them to believe all that I’ve overcome since then. All I’ve found enjoyment in on my own, all I’ve accomplished on a physical level that I’d been so terrified would break me before. They were so scared of being alone in the woods without friends. Without Achilles. Comparing themselves constantly to what everyone else was able to do.

I don’t even know how many people we knew back then are still on trail, but I know that I am. I know that, while it may not be in a purist’s way, I’ve made it 1750 miles up this trail. I’ve shown myself how strong I am in every way I considered myself to be weak. Be it on trail or in “normal” life. I’ve taught myself not just ways to cope, but to enjoy myself when it’s hardest. I’ve made hard decisions that I was sure I’d regret that have made me happier and more confident than I’ve ever been. Every 100 miles is a newer, better, more complete version of myself.

I hope that carries. I hope that every 100 miles after this trail I continue to grow. Continue to find new things to love about myself. New ways to enjoy my life — to partake in it rather than watching from a window, longing for something greater than whatever life was before this. I hope I continue to meet the world the way I’ve met it here, through a balance of acceptance and determination to make myself do what I must to progress.

It isn’t over yet, and I still have many miles to hike after my summit. But the end is nigh, and I feel it coming like the far-off beat of a drum pounding nearer and nearer with each passing day. So I’m trying to make the most of it. Trying to remember to take note of what I’m in while it surrounds me rather than wish I had while overlooking memories.

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Throw yourself into the unknown
With pace and a fury defiant
Clothe yourself in beauty untold
And see life as a means to a triumph