7/27/17 -- Miles are no longer viable markers of progress made in life -- Brooklyn, NY
Dear Andrew, I am writing this letter not by hand in the fading light of a slowly sleeping sun, but rather, on the harsh, clean, clear keys of a computer. I am in one of the biggest cities in the world sitting on a futon that my friends profusely apologized for being so uncomfortable. I reminded them that I have been sleeping on rocks and dirt for the past four months. As the above picture might suggest, I have done it. On July 21st, I woke up at 3am to hike the ten miles into Baxter State Park to the base of Katahdin with my friend Chicago. He's a tall, youthful, vibrant college kid who hates that people first identify him as tall. We met in the very first week and have encountered each other throughout the entire trail, so it only seemed fitting to finish together. Plus he stuck with me during the 100 mile wilderness when I had a dramatic bout of stomach flu and spent all day crawling an excruciating seven miles, and I can assure you, I was not pleasant to be with. As we neared the summit of the last mountain, the final few miles, I felt calm, blank, perhaps a little empty. "I have two miles left on the Appalachian Trail," I told myself. "I have almost hiked the entire Appalachian Trail. I walked here from GEORGIA. I have been walking every day for four months and this is the last one." But no matter how much I muttered to myself under my breath while day hikers stared at me in confusion, I couldn't really make it sink in. It was another mountain to climb, another day to hike, one foot in front of the other as it always had been. When I saw the summit in the distance, I started to run and tears welled in my eyes. I was relieved, if I could sob at the summit this whole thing about knowing what to feel would really be a hell of a lot easier. But I didn't sob. I reached the top and sat down with Chicago in silence. There weren't any words for the occasion. Instead we ravenously ate a pie; as always, food is much more tangible than the culmination of a lengthy spiritual quest which turned up more questions than answers. A few days earlier a fresh southbound hiker had asked me: "So what's your biggest revelation from being out on the trail?" I answered: "That there are no big revelations." Everyone chuckled. It is a chuckle-worthy way of evading the question, but it is also the truth. I'm still the same Laura I was when I left on March 17th, because I always will be. But now I'm also Lobo, and I've accrued countless tiny experiences, thoughts, and feelings that add up to what I suppose the professionals call: "personal growth." I thought about all of this while we climbed down the mountain. I thought about what I had learned, and who I had become, and where I was going from here -- and then Chicago said that his Mom could take us to Chipotle and I mostly thought about that. I woke up and walked each and every day for four months and four days. And then one day I finished, and I didn't walk anymore. My feet are relieved, my mind is confused, and my stomach demands bread products as constantly as possible. But even as I funnel bagels, donuts, and cookies into my mouth at regular two hour intervals, even now that I'm no longer known as "gross" by the children of America, and even now that I can sit and read and write and think about something beyond my basic survival needs--I think I might miss it. But I guess that's why life is long enough to take on plenty more crazy and ill-advised quests. Love, Laura
3 Comments
Jan aka Lamb Chop
7/28/2017 08:53:00 am
Laura, you have accomplished so very much over the last 4 months. When I met you at NOC you were smiling (with your adorable dimples) and you spoke with a soft voice. We both had no idea what the future held. Who knew my foot would be my demise but fortunately I met you and lived the hike vicariously thru you. You helped me get to Damascus after the stomach monster took up residence in me for a few days. Yuck. Thank you, that told me what kind of person you really are. Chris and I are really proud of you. We've only known you a few short months but it feels like you've been a part of our lives for years. Congratulations young lady "you did it"!!!!
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8/1/2017 09:31:59 am
Congratulations to you! Boy, you were fast. But most of all you were diligent. I loved your writing. After you rest and think about another adventure, remember from me that the PCT is so different and very rewarding.
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Marion Campbell (Train Wreck)
12/17/2017 09:26:25 pm
I enjoyed reading about your hike, and seeing your pictures. It was great hiking with you ,especially how we keep catching up with each other. It was good that you finished on Katahdin with Chicago,he's a good guy. Congratulations my friend.
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LettersThese are the letters that Laura has sent her brother over the course of her hike. They are faithfully and painstakingly transcribed in their entirety. They are meant to keep people updated on how many facts she has learned about trees. Archives
July 2017
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