TRAIL DAY 107
Mon, June 6, 2016 It would be a day of gently rising corrugated mounds with the occasional climb of several hundred feet. A bright sunny day, birthday behind, home state ahead. I told my family on departure, “Don’t forget, in a few weeks I’ll be in the neighborhood.” It was nice to know that family would be closer.
Early morning light caught the extended tufts of tall grasses illuminating them in a bath of life-giving energy as they sang soft and sweet silver-white notes in response.
Morning’s glow, green grass and a thin dark-brown ribbon, led me up a gentle rise into a field where the morning concert continued in full orchestra – and there – there – was a park bench by a dead tree destined to become soil for the great opus to continue.
I sat on the bench, grateful, and called my wife – just to connect and reflect. Then we both carried on with our lives, mine so simply defined and hers filled with the stuff of daily life in a busy household.
The thin brown ribbon led me onward, over fields, through woods, closer and closer to history and the greatest bloodshed on American soil. The war between the north and south would become more and more evident as the ribbon twisted toward fields of battle.
I was back on the trail – back to my commitment to walk to Maine. My sights had been on my family for hundreds of miles. Now they would have to shift. I had climbed the mountain to my birthday and it was no longer in view but behind. What would take its place? There has to be a goal. A target. Something out there to focus vision, collect purpose, unearth resolve. There must be a battle to win – not as in the late 1800s but something in the self to conquer. Something outside the self. A place of dedication. A place of self-forgetting. Perhaps and I AM – out there.
Are there not those moments where indecision and uncertainty vanish and all doubt falls away – when there is no breath on earth that can give them voice. I will go. I am destination. I am what is and it is mountain: KATAHDIN!
Oh divine purpose!
And then – on to the intermediate steps – on to the goals within the goal. One at a time.
It was time to just keep walking – for days – and weeks – and months – one day – one step at a time.
And so it was that 2nd day back on the trail – until I found myself on trail maintained by the Potomac Appalachian Trail Club. It was “Tidewater” who told me about the PATC.
The thin brown ribbon turned to a jumble of large rocks and logs then the sun shone through the canopy from a bright blue sky beyond. The forest was thick with relatively new growth.
Eventually, I came to Rod Hollow Shelter. There was a young, inexperienced hiker there who had a sleeping bag that was heavier than he would have needed in winter. He was not well versed in trail needs and I and a couple there from Pottstown, Pennsylvania tried to help him out with tidbits of information we hoped he could use. He seemed discouraged and maybe a little foolish but he pushed through and I admired him for his acceptance of his lot. The woods provide no alternative.
I met Smoky and the Bandit here. He had his tent set up to the left of the shelter, looking in. I’ll have some pictures of his pack and dangles farther on.
I slept in the shelter. Theo stayed outside.
Day #107 Jim & Molly Denton Shelter > Rod Hollow Shelter 18.4 miles