Reflections On The Shakedown Hike

It's been a week since we returned from our 44 mile loop hike in the Smoky Mountains National Park. In that time, I've had a good, long time to analyze the reaction when the dreams of adventure meet the terra firma of reality; specifically where the adventure is the Appalachian Trail. I guess you could say I've experienced a failed thru-hike without having cast a shadow atop Springer Mountain. It wasn't the physical stress of hiking 7 to 13 mile days. It was difficult, yes, but I'm not kidding myself that the Bear Creek or Lakeshore Trais have anything on the ups and downs of the AT in Georgia (our largest elevation gain was 2000 feet on the Shakedown). It wasn't the blisters which, in spite of teflon liner socks, sprouted in wild abandon after Day 3. They were a surprise, however, since up to this point my trusty Merrill boots had delivered 15 mile days before this hike with nary a hotspot. It wasn't the lack of creature comforts, such as a comfortable bed, a daily shower and an plate of Szechuan waiting at camp. My hunger diminished drastically during the hike and I lost 15 pounds as a result. Eating became a ritual, a chore almost. And as for the lack of showers, well, I've heard it said that you don't notice others after being on the trail a few days. I certainly hope that is the case as my scent could have send grizzlies into premature hibernation. Still, I was not bothered by this. Hey, it's backpacking. It wasn't the isolation. Buddy typically hiked anywhere from 30 mins to and hour ahead of me. I enjoyed the solitude, though I can imagine those of a more social bent going nuckin futz. I returned to the office with a clearer mind than I have from much longer "vacations". The thing that put the nail in the hiking boot? Monotony - the one thing I wasn't expecting to be a problem. It's hard to imagine such a thing being an issue when surrounded by mountains exploding in the colorful riot of Fall. 15 years of anticipation laid waste by five days of slogging up one switchback, only to find yet another ridge to climb. The seemingly unending repetition of climb, descend, climb, descend. This was hardly my first backpacking trip, but certainly the longest. Many have suggested that the mental aspect of a thru-hike is the toughest obstacle to overcome. I agree wholeheartedly. Guess it was good to learn that lesson now, rather than on some ridgeline in the middle of February. I've beat myself up over it enough, though. Time to brush off my pride and work on Plan B. Plan B as in bus. I had planned to take my '66 VW camper on a cross-country road trip after the AT hike, something akin to William Least-Heat Moon's "Blue Highways" crossed with my Route 66/Pacific Coast trip back in 2000. No set destination. No set timeline. Just take in whatever unique opportunities I can find in towns large and small. I'm open to suggestions, so please drop me a line. In the meantime, I need to get Wendy (the bus) in some sort of reliable running condition. That could turn out to be a bigger challenge than any rock-strewn ascent!