I just ordered two paperback titles, quickly and with as little logical impedance as possible. I am now a thru-hiker, and post-trail we are a nearly destitute breed. I do remember reading a quote of H.P. Lovecraft years ago, in which he argued the validity of eating less to afford books. I console myself with such eccentrics.

The first purchase was Bernard Moitessier’s Vagabond des mers du sud or rather the English version; Sailing on the Reefs. I heard about this man through the documentary Hold Fast. Mentally I’ve bookmarked him as someone I need to know more about.

Similarly, I made the second purchase based on a single quote from Rainer Maria Rilke. It’s one I’ve incorporated into a previous blog post.

“For one human being to love another; that is perhaps the most difficult of all our tasks, the ultimate, the last test and proof, the work for which all other work is but preparation.” –Rainer Maria Rilke

His words resonated to a very deep chord within myself, which sounded after a failed relationship. A romance, which seriously damaged my desire for future interconnectedness at all. It was this quote which reminded me of the truth that such bonds are the yoke of human existence.

Why books over web searches? Why longer works over succinct secondhand articles? Intimacy of conversation.

Books are the most direct line we often have from one mind to another. Especially when the author is no longer inhabiting a human body. Beyond the depths of the first few chapters, which are often bulwarks set to filter out the unworthy, we find the speaker’s true message. A transmission passed only to those willing to weather dozens of preparatory passages.

To believe that audiobooks suffice in place of visual reading is delusional. There is an additional layer of mastery offered to those who set aside the time and attention required of pages, be they physical or digital.

This was proven to me recently by re-listening to my Audible library while hiking. There were gaps in information, which simply wouldn’t have occurred after reading a hardcopy. Instead of memories filled with the authors words, I recalled images of driving my work truck. Still, audiobooks are better than nothing.

I finished the trail on the 29th. A bear caused me to spend my final night in a fire tower. There will be more explanation of my final days in North Carolina to come. Yes, also the last miles in Maine too. As I write this, I am in a foreign place in the middle of the night. I am here to address the increasingly less foreign reality, of hospitalization in my mother’s life.

I am grasping at what peace the woods provided, while it is still upon me. Life wasted no time in testing my new mile-hewn resolve. It chose to ambush me before I could even make it home.

The reality is that what strength I’ve gained in the past five months, time has manifested equally in frailty on the part of my mother. The change is shocking.

Love is the most difficult task indeed. As if failed romances could ever even compare with the sorrow of watching a parent’s physical form fail. To watch it alter so cruelly that it changes even the perception of who she is. I’m at a loss.

Thankfully, both of my sisters are here. Having had exposure to this months ahead of me, they’re in a clearer mental space about it. After writing this, maybe I am too. For now, rest.

This morning I am embarking on the last 69.1 miles of my trip. This section from Erwin, TN to Hot Springs, NC should take three and a half days. I’ll be staying at Laughing Heart Hostel Tuesday evening, where I am hoping to have more conversation with “Solo” who is one of the caretakers.

When Jelly and I finished up our section earlier this year, it was Solo who first greeted us at Hot Springs. Initially, I wasn’t sure the guy was “all there.” He was carving a wooden owl on the porch, and spoke painfully slowly. That was only until we happened upon the correct subject, however.

Jelly and I were waiting on our laundry, and Solo proceeded to tell us about his most recent trip to the arctic circle, where he has been studying indigenous populations for years. As it turns out, he is a cultural anthropologist. He disappeared for a moment and came back with an adze that his uncle had crafted for him. The handle is a caribou antler, which Solo had found during his travels.

In further conversation I learned that Steve, from the Hiker Hut in Rangely, ME, often stays at Laughing Heart for a few weeks before he heads to India each year. Steve was the one who attempted to change my trail name to “Buddha Boy.” I’m hoping to run into both of these characters again.

Throughout the southern leg of this trip, I have been considering a thru hike of the Benton Mackaye Trail, which also ends at Springer Mountain. This is a 288 mile trail, which very well represents the Appalachian Trail of forty years ago. Far less people, far less infrastructure, but it shares many of the same mountains and wilderness areas as the AT.

Last night I downloaded a very outdated guide for the trail, as well as the current Guthooks module for it. Yes, I turned the the dark side… The updated thru hiker guide for the trail is out of stock, likely pending a revision, as the trail changes year to year. Having hiked about half of the BMT, I noticed several discrepancies in the 2011 guidebook.

Ultimately, I’ve decided it best to spend some time with paper maps and do some real mission planning at home. The Smoky’s are really the only section I am worried about. Even with Guthooks, which has zero resupply information, I cannot make basic judgements. Essential information like how much food to carry, remains cryptic and unclear. The permitting system in the Smoky’s also requires that all campsites be reserved in advance.

Admittedly, I am trail weary and ready to get home. Additionally, being unemployed for ten months is taking a toll as well. While the BMT is short, I don’t have as much money to throw at it as I’d like. Money for things like overpriced resupply points, of which there are bound to be a few. Also, funds for shuttles, and other unplanned eventualities, is much thinner than I find comfortable.

I’ll save the BMT for another time. I also have my eyes on the Long Trail, which is the bigger prize in my opinion. I’ll get both of these trails planned and funded. Then, should I find myself between jobs again, I’ll knock them out. Two sub-300 mile trails are much easier to make time for than a six-month thru-hike.

Currently, I find myself missing my desk, my French press, and my zafu. Small comforts, which bring me so much joy. I miss my family, which will soon be gathered for Thanksgiving, my favorite holiday.

My hope is to help shuttle some SoBo friends to the airport in a few weeks. Maybe I’ll be able to give them a place to stay for a night after summiting Springer? Either way, I’d like to stay connected to the trail, and help the others as I have been helped.

Now to pack and get moving!

I woke at Laurel Fork Shelter this morning, which puts me 146.9 miles from Hot Springs, NC.

I resupplied in Hampton, TN last night, and didn’t make it out of town until 8:30pm. The road walk back to the trail is sketchy enough in the day time, and down right dangerous at night. I decided to walk against the flow of traffic, and utilize my headlamps flashing red light for the first time.

I was up till 2am writing, attempting to capture some of the big take away lessons of the past 2,045 miles. I’m still too close to the situation to see things accurately. Though I am making notes along the way.

When I arrived home after my last long hike, I realized that the lessons I learned were seeds, not fruit-bearing mature ideas. Some time in the fertile environment of family and friends, will no doubt germinate the new crop I am bringing home this year.

For now, I continue in solitude. It’s absolutely bizarre to be on this path without so much as a hiking partner for over 600 miles. It has pushed me inward, and given me the freedom to expand beyond my perceived limits. I am a much stronger, tougher hiker for it.

The deep pit of gut-wrenching loneliness has only reared its head once this trip. Thankfully, the trail threw enough shit at me, that actions towards survival eliminated any time for self-pity. The sun is out now, and I am cruising across this ridge line.

I’m ready to be home, and ready to start a new chapter in my life. I miss my friends and family dearly.

I rolled into the Wapiti Shelter around 6:30pm yesterday, after being rained on for a few hours. The forecast had the rain starting at noon, but three hours was plenty.

Thoroughly soaked and cold, I set about the usual nightly camp tasks. I fired up my homemade cat food can stove, now on its seventh year of service, and placed the pot of water on top. Then I stretched out my sleeping pad and began the twenty-two breaths necessary to inflate it. Four months ago, the task required twenty-nine breaths. I blew air into my inflatable pillow, and spread out my custom 950 fill down quilt.

I hung my rain jacket on a nearby nail, and pulled my beautifully dry fleece on, right over my soaked shirt. Instead of putting on wet clothes every rainy morning, these days I try to bodyheat-dry them before bed. Putting dry insulating layers over wet ones seems counterintuitive, but it works for Navy Seals, and with enough cheese in my belly, it works for me as well.

I stirred cous cous into my cookpot, along with the parmesan packet, a healthy portion of sharp cheddar, and coconut oil. The oil I found in a 12oz squeeze pouch, with a screw cap. It is perfect for backpacking, and coconut oil is more versatile than olive oil. In addition to helping bump up my caloric intake at dinner, it makes a great oral rinse, and it is great on burns and wounds. I’ve also been adding it to my morning coffee.

The shelters have been empty these days, and I’ve found comfort in performing these tasks with music in the background, or a podcast playing on my phone speakers. It makes the small three-sided cabins a little less lonely, and a bit more cozy. After dinner and stowing my food, I fell into a deep sleep. My slightly damp body finally warmed up in my sleeping bag.

The rain continued all night and into the afternoon. With so few days left in the trip, and so many good resupply options in the coming miles, I couldn’t justify leaving the shelter in a downpour. I had literally no reason to rush. I could do a full zero here and eat a whole day’s worth of food if I wanted to. As it happened, I slept until 9am

A section hiker named Short Break stopped by, and laughed to find me still in the shelter at 10:30am. Other than the usual morning relief, I never left my bag. He caught me mid-sentence. Another hiker had left a trail journal and a guidebook here, and I was nearly on the last entry. I put the journal aside and welcomed him into the space.

Short Break was soaked head to toe, but intent on making it to a new hostel about eight miles away. Weary Feet offered the comforts of both burgers and warm showers, a winning combo after hiking through a rainy day. I had seen a couple of their advertisements posted on the trail.

He assembled a few sandwiches in the shelter and we discussed Woodshole Hostel, where he stayed the night before. Then I mentioned the journal, and sure enough he found an entry on Guthooks from the owner. He read off the phone number to me, and I added it to my phone contacts. From reading the journal I could barely discern anything about its owner. Only direction of travel, southbound, was clear.

Guthooks is a paid app I still refuse to use. In this drought, some of my fellow hikers think I am running a major risk by refusing to use the water reports Guthooks provides. They’re a bunch of pussies though, usually the same people who carry Spot devices out here. In my mind, taking a .4 side trail and finding the water source is dry, is part of a thru hike. Not having all the answers and information is a blessing. Finding out is called “experience!” Otherwise I’d just sit at home and be content only to read books about this trail.

Similarly, my real beef with Guthooks, other than the $80 price tag, is the comments feature. I do not care about another person’s opinion of shelters, hostels, or resupply out here. If I want to know, I ask other hikes directly. The comments section undermines so many potential conversations. I’m old school, and ditching my hardcopy guidebook was difficult enough this year!

Regardless, it did put me in contact with the owner of the journal. I’ll be leaving it, and the guidebook at a country store tomorrow. A family member of theirs is visiting, and will pick the items up by car.

Short Break was getting cold, so he headed on. Somewhere around 1:30pm the rain stopped, and I decided to make some miles. The 14.5 to Jenny Knob Shelter went by amazingly fast. I rolled in here at 7:30pm. The hike was relatively dry, though now it’s pouring again. On the way I saw small flowing streams for the first time in weeks. All of my water has had to be collected from puddles lately. What a nice change!

I finished up a five hour Jocko Willink Podcast episode over dinner, and shot a few texts back and forth with Jelly. I’m very satisfied with the day. Tomorrow I am aiming for a 23 mile jaunt to the Jenkins Shelter. The day after that, I will be sub 300 miles to the finish! For now, I’ll let the drops on this steel roof lull me to sleep.

I have roughly twenty days left on trail. I’ll be leaving Pearisburg in a few minutes, to tackle the last 360.9 miles to Hot Springs.

Last night I stayed at Angel’s Rest hostel, and looked at a large wall map of the trail. The piece I have left is minuscule compared to the whole, and that feels wonderful!

I met Right Foot, a man who became injured during an 800 mile section hike. Instead of heading home, he decided to stay and work as a caretaker at the hostel.

“To give back to the trail a little bit too, it’s given me a lot more over the years.”

Right Foot has 4400+ trail miles on the AT alone. He’s a retired firefighter and paramedic, who once participated in an impromptu rescue of an AMC employee in the White Mountains. He and three NYC firefighters volunteered to cross Washington during a bad storm at 10pm, to extract a woman with appendicitis who works at the Madison Hut.

I can tell you from experience that the traverse from Lakes of the Clouds Hut, to Madison, is one of the worst on the whole trail. At night, in the rain, with winds well over fifty miles per hour, it’s downright dangerous. Maybe he’s given back more than he realizes?

We talked for hours about sailing, finances, navigating Labrador’s 24ft tides, and his son’s career as an aircraft mechanic. My ears perked on that latter subject, and I think that will be my next career path. I have a friend who builds C-130’s for a living, and I suddenly have many questions for him!

The skies are dark, and the forecast calls for two solid days of rain. I am stoked! Cooler weather, and water to drink! I’ll take being perpetually wet over the stress of dried out water sources.

Fall is here at last! Multiple days in the 90’s, coupled with water spaced every seven to ten miles has been difficult to navigate. Today brought a new challenge: hypothermia.

Well, almost. Since leaving Bailey Gap Shelter this morning, I have been assaulted by a 20mph breeze. By 10am I ascended the ridge where I am now bedded down for the night. At 3500ft the gusts began to hit 30mph, and the air temperature stayed in the low 50’s.

I didn’t stop for sixteen miles. Cedar taught me to use my rain shell in combo with a regular shirt in high winds, and that works well. My fleece does nothing to stop the wind, and in combo with the shell, I wet out with sweat in a half-hour. Low insulation, high wind resistance is the way to go.

I stopped at the Rice Field Shelter, because it was the only wind break I’ve had all day. I was starving, and downed a package of mashed potatoes, and three peanut butter tortillas filled with Fritos. Then I ate a Snickers for good measure.

I was chilled, as happens when your body pulls the blood back into your core for digestion. No big deal, I’d be walking soon. When I left the shelter however, I noticed a line of rain clouds headed my way. I wouldn’t be going anywhere.

I went back to the shelter and set up for the night. I changed into my base layers, fresh socks, and put my fleece back on. Even with a twenty degree sleeping bag, and my Xlite pad, it took nearly an hour for my hands to warm.

Hiking in 30mph winds, wet, at 50F is much more dangerous than it seems. It can lead to full blown hypothermia within three hours, and I had to learn that the hard way once.

No one fucks around when it’s 35F out, but in the 50’s we feel inclined to take risks. Everyone I know who has gone hypothermic has done so in weather which appeared too warm for it.

I’m happy for a break from the humidity though!

So this happened. Jelly had a job interview in NC, and decided to come visit. She drove three hours out of her way to meet me on a dirt road in the middle of nowhere Virginia. We had a picnic, spent the night and trail and hung out this morning.

I’m currently carrying 10oz of baked chickpeas and her signature rice and bean dinners. Her mom sent sugar cookies and brownies, which will not make it through the day. Feeling the love.

There’s been a lot of love on the trail lately. Many trail angels have made a critical impact on the past three weeks. Rob, I Believe, and Jimmy just to name a few.

I’m closing in on Pearisburg and some slightly more interesting parts of the state!