I crossed the Tennessee line on a sunny Sunday morning. After a lovely few days with one of life’s great friends, Tory dropped me in Davenport Gap. She took a picture of me next to the AT sign, got a little teary eyed, and said, “I can’t just leave you out here in the woods!” I chuckled, pointed to a path of steps uphill, and said, “Well, you aren’t leaving me here, I am leaving too!”
With a refreshed spring in my step, my long walk began again. Maybe it is human nature, maybe it is my nature, but it doesn’t take long for life in the woods to revert me back to the blissful basics of humanity. It is simple, beautiful, peaceful. There is something fantastic about quietly waking up to the sun as it approaches the horizon, the birds chirping, the wind blowing through the trees. I have never felt the inward peace that comes with walking through the woods all day — listening to myself, listening to the world, in large part separated from the ugliness of civilization. All of this having become ‘normal,’ after nine days off the trail, I was more than anxious to get back to my walk.
I was walking alone, enjoying the the new signs of spring, weaving in-and-out along the North Carolina-Tennessee border. Pure contentment. I walked 17.8 miles that lovely Sunday. Greeted by a 4,000′ up to the summit of Snowbird Mountain, the trail quickly reminded me who is boss. The answer, not me. My knees were screaming, and before too long, I began to wonder if my years of soccer, boat accident induced knee damage, and a lifetime of spelling Gonzo with a capital ‘G,’ would get the best of me in this journey. Thankfully, every up must come down; self-doubt equalized.
In the end, it was neither the up, nor my knees that got me. Monday, began like any other day on the trail. I unzipped my bag and crawled out of my tent to a crisp spring morning. My feet and knees ached with my first steps, and I reminded myself that I really need to chill out with the speed and big miles. I ate a cold breakfast of strawberry Pop Tarts and went on my way. It looked to be a promising day — a rolling down out of Roaring Fork Shelter, a quick up, followed by a big-ish up to the top of Bluff Mountain, and a 3,000+ foot down into Hot Springs, North Carolina. I set out looking forward to meeting Paddy Cakes, Puddin’, and Sleeping Beauty in Hot Springs. Eighteen miles, no problem.
I set off at a cheetah’s pace. I felt good, and the weather was gorgeous. I was thrilled by sunshine and temps that required short sleeves, shorts, sunglasses, and a sweat-catching bandanna, a welcome change from the frostbite inducing weather of my last day on the trail. I made the first 7.3 miles in no time at all; all that stood between me and a happy reunion was 10.7 miles of downhill. These ‘short’ ten miles proved to be the longest ten miles that I have ever walked. Coming off Bluff Mountain, approximately one mile down from its summit, at my cheetah’s pace, I awkwardly stepped on a leaf-covered root. Crack. Broken foot. After said crack and break, I walked 10 miles to Hot Springs. I generally consider myself to be a tough kid, but I have never in my life experienced such intense, prolonged pain as I did on that wonderfully sunny day.
The details are mundane and frustrating, so I will spare you. This much I will tell you. I have seen two doctors and had six x-rays. Thanks to my fantastic father, I am once again in Ohio. I will be on crutches until it no longer hurts to put weight on my foot, and I will be in a boot cast until my foot no longer hurts. The doc estimates this to take 8 weeks. My thru-hiking journey of the Appalachian Trail is over.
I set out on this journey to learn about myself, life, and my place in the world. Spending only three weeks on the trail, I have learned more than I can say. In time, these things will become apparent. I know that all things happen for a reason, but I am still processing, analyzing, and thinking about what much of this means. Of course, I am frustrated, but I am doing my best to find positivity and peace in the moment. I find myself struggling to deal with the indoors and forced inactivity that this injury entails, but once healed, I look forward to the promise of a summer of AT section hikes with some fantastic people.
I have lost this match, but my adventure is far from over. My life has long been ones of ups and downs. Today, as I am in the low gap of a down, I am encouraged in knowing that the greatest successes in my life have come out of the must unexpected and seemingly negative turns.