The Journey

They say it is often the journey that matters, more than the destination. The last section has been a rocky one for us, both literally and figuratively. But even when the road is difficult Sam and I have discovered that old wisdom to be very true of our thru-hike attempt.

Since about the 1,000 mile mark I began to feel the tendons in my left foot and lower leg stiffen, hurt and eventually bruise in the location of extensive surgery to repair teenage cuts to them. Over the next few hundred miles despite rest, ice, compression and elevation the discomfort became pain and bruising, until I was using trekking poles as crutches.

When my pace dropped to 1 mile per hour we decided that I needed to give my foot longer then the day or two of rest that our 100-miles-per-week schedule allowed. I arranged a ride to a town 60 miles down the trail, so that with a few days either side of the time Sam would need to catch up I would get a full week off trail.

Sam had also been applying the R.I.C.E. injury management protocol for shin splints that had been bothering her on and off over the same period. However, by leaving the tent and cooking gear with me she planned to move fast and light over her solo section; packing a little extra ibuprofen in case of further shin trouble.

But in the end neither shin splints or ankle tendons proved our biggest obstacle. A few minutes after waving goodbye to me and starting her solo hike Sam pulled or pinched something in her hip/lower back. A few miles later she was in severe pain, hunched and able only to progress in a particular shuffling half run. Afraid of completely seizing up she kept that run going to cover 60 miles in 36 hours.

That was how we came to be a pair of invalids together in Wind Gap. Pennsylvania. I’d gone for the cheapest accommodation, paying cash in advance for the weekly rate. Our neighbors were all lovely, and all long term hotel residents. We had joked before that hiker hotels are, to the rest of the world, places where only drug deals, murders and prostitution belong. Add to that stereotype a few cars on bricks rather than wheels and well used smoker ovens outside the hotel rooms and you have the idea.

In 80+ degrees we suffered through my planned convalescent week before moving to a University town with air conditioning. Much more our real-world speed.

After the second week, three or four Chiropractor visits, an emergency room visit, X-rays and a lorry load of ibuprofen we thought we saw a little improvement in Sam’s back, so a test hike was planned. We would “slack pack” (ie, carrying only the day’s lunch, no camping gear and staying indoors at both ends of the hike) a short day and see how everything felt.

By the five mile mark I could feel my ankle again, but Sam was going strong. By the ten mile mark, though, her pain killers wore off and the hip pain was back in full force. Oddly, I finished the 15 miles without real ankle problems, but it was clear that both injuries were still there. Sam’s in particular was not going to allow further hiking, but I also doubted there were 900 miles left in my foot.

So, heartbroken, we boarded a bus which turned off the Application Trail at the Pennsylvania-New Jersey border.

In the 1,300 miles to that point we discovered a tranquility of mind and heart that we cannot imagine any other experience would have inspired. There is something soothing about the repetitive rhythm of extended walking. From the literal rhythm of your gait to the routines of camp, day and night, rain and sun, the trail became a place of meditation and discovery much more than a way of getting from one place to another.

Along the road we met some of the kindest people we have ever known, been looked after by total strangers encountered doing trail magic along the way, and from afar by our dear friends Kirk and Deb who have been our Trail Angels throughout. We have discovered the hiker subculture, which is almost a commune in its unquestioning mutual support. Familiar faces and new ones alike would share advice, information about the trail, even prescription medicine as if among family. Successful or not, we are thru-hikers now. On trail or off, that is a state of mind that we hope will influence life back in the real world as deeply as possible.

Right now we are in New York City, and on Monday we fly to Australia. So the trail did not take us to the destination we expected, but when we think about what we have taken from it, it is clear that finishing was much less important than we had allowed it to seem. Time for some medical care, and then a new destination. I’ll keep you posted!