It’s here. The time has come. I’ve waited over ten years to finally say it: I’m hiking the Appalachian trail. 

It sounds strange to say it out loud, and I still don’t think the reality of what I’m doing will set in until I’m putting one foot in front of the other on my 2,198(ish) mile path. Ever since I learned about the AT in my late teens, I have been captivated by the beauty of the Appalachians and the culture of thru-hiking. I swore to myself that when I graduated college that I would be one of the badasses that hiked it.

But I didn’t. 

I then swore to myself when graduate school didn’t work out that I’d hike it – but I didn’t. I told myself just one more year of teaching, and then I’d hike it – but I didn’t. It became my pattern: I was going to do it, but I could never bring myself to commit. 

Now, I’m saying yes. I’m breaking the pattern, and I have never been more convinced that what I’m doing is right (although I think my 31-year-old body will be wishing I had hiked in my 20s). I’m ready for not only the highs but the lows. I’m even ready to fail (if that happens). 

So how did I get here? I’m Carly – and as one of the 2024 AT Trek Bloggers, I thought I could introduce myself by sharing how I finally committed to hiking the Appalachian trail. As a quick note, this is my first long distance thru-hike, and I am in no way an expert. However, I hope that by sharing some of my story, maybe I can also help others find their own path to going on an adventure of a lifetime. 

Here are the 5 ways I finally convinced myself to say “yes” to hiking the Appalachian trail.

I silenced the haters.

Starting with this one first, because it is a big one. For a little context, I’m from a small town in South Carolina where people seem to just never leave. My mom and dad are from there, and their parents, and their parents, and their parents (you catch the drift). I’ve always described my hometown as a little black hole, and I’ve been sucked into it for the past decade. People kinda treat you like you’re weird when you leave. Tell them you’re going to hike the entire AT for six months? Now you’re crazy. When I told one of my best friends what I was doing, she (understandably) responded, “You could be eating lobster with me in Martha’s Vineyard this summer, but instead you’ll be wiping your ass with leaves.” They aren’t wrong – all thru-hikers are a little crazy! And although they may question my sanity, my close friends and family continuously support me, following up with comments like “I’m proud of you” and “You’re going to crush it.” I wish I could say this was the response from everyone I’ve told – but it’s not. It’s okay to not understand, but it’s not okay to be unsupportive and negative. I’ve found as I’ve researched thru-hiking the AT throughout the years that certain online communities can also be negative, derogatory, and downright cruel. I’ve stopped reading so much online apart from a few trustworthy sources (*insert shameless plug for the Trek here*) and silenced any outlets and voices that don’t contribute positively to the mindset that I’m trying to cultivate. In terms of my close friends and family, I’m explaining why I’m doing what I’m doing. The rest? I’ve got to let them go. Although the people in my life may never fully understand my thru-hiking desires, they want nothing more than to see me fly. I’m letting my support system become my roots – not tying me down but holding me up. 

I embraced fear.

“Embraced” may be a strong word – more like “faced kicking and screaming while hysterically crying.” Over the years, I’ve done my best to try to conquer some of my biggest fears. Yes – it was just as bad as it sounds. I’ve always been scared of heights, but I started rock climbing. The first time I went, I froze, paralyzed, and had a full-blown panic attack on the side of a mountain. Fast forward and I’m climbing up routes I never thought I’d be able to – even attempting a summit in California that required route finding and mountaineering boots. Did I cry still? Absolutely. But it got easier each time. I did the same thing with my other fears, such as public speaking, eventually became a high school science teacher and faced arguably one of the scariest audiences ever: teenagers. Don’t get me wrong, I’m still terrified to hike the AT. It feels scary, and that’s how I know it’s right. Since I’ve faced other fears, I know I can face this one too. 

I learned to be alone.

The number one response that I get when I tell people I’m hiking the AT is, “You’re going alone?!” Like overcoming fears, becoming comfortable in my own skills and abilities took time. I started small – a hike alone, then camping alone, and then backpacking alone. I wanted to summit 14ers in Colorado, so I planned a trip and went. I soon realized that if I waited on other people to go with me that I’d be waiting forever. The more I did alone, the more confident I became. The biggest turning point for me was when I finally broke out of my hometown bubble and moved to Montana for three months to work as an outdoor educator in Yellowstone National Park. Nothing can quite get you more acquainted with your own mind than driving 33 hours across the country. I finally feel capable enough to rely on myself and brave enough to have only my own thoughts for entertainment (at least for a little while). 

I got dirty.

And not in the sexy-fun way. I mean in the “I-haven’t showered in nine days” way. It sounds silly, but being away from all of the comforts of normal life put into perspective what I truly needed. The dirtier I was, the more fun I was probably having. 

I got old(er).

You may think this point has to do with me feeling more mature and wise, but honestly, most days I still feel like an “adult imposter.” What I’ve really learned as I’ve watched my hair turn gray and my skin begin to wrinkle is the sobering adage: life is short. I will never have a more perfect moment than I do now – I just sold my home, weeded out my material possessions, and quit a job I had for six years in order to reevaluate my career goals. If I don’t say yes now, I never will, and I know that I can’t live with that regret.

Surprise! I have one more quick reason for you… 

I entered my “fuck it” era.

Yep, I said it: fuck it. I’ve spent way too long worrying about what other people think. I’m hiking the AT because fuck it – why not?!

I hit the trail on March 23rd heading NOBO from Georgia to Maine. If you care to take this journey with me, you can subscribe to my Trek posts or follow me on social media (both shown below!). I can’t wait to share all of my highs, lows, and “fuck it” moments with my favorite thru-hiking community. 

I’ve got my roots set – now it’s time to spread my wings.