The peace of the Path

For several years, the AT Dream (my dream of hiking the entire Appalachian Trail) has both propelled me forward and held me fast in its grip. It wooed me with its promise to fulfill my heart’s desires. But, dropping everything else of the life I have, for several months, has never been an option. Add in the facts of my inexperience with backpacking, lack of physical preparation, and an extremely self-limiting view of my own abilities and capabilities, and it has made me question why on earth I would ever want to do something so demanding. Still, the dream has lingered.

Somewhere in the realms of digital media, I learned about the Sheltowee Trace Association and its yearly hiking challenge. I first heard of this challenge from a woman who visited my yard sale a few years ago, when she mentioned that her husband was involved in it. It sparked my interest, briefly, before joining the AT Dream in that remote part of my mind reserved for “Things I Really Would Like To Do, But Most Likely Will Never Do”. The Sheltowee Trace hid itself behind the AT Dream and would have stayed hidden, had social media not illuminated it and drawn it forward.

The Sheltowee Hiking Challenge is pretty straight forward…and side to side and up and down. The trail, more than 343 miles, begins above Morehead, Kentucky, and travels thru the Daniel Boone National Forrest, into Tennessee. It was laid out by a remarkable man named Vern Orndorff, who took on the challenge of making the existing trails in the DBNF more accessible by connecting them with one central trail. This trail has been called “Kentucky’s AT” by some. The Challenge splits the trek into more manageable sections, which are hiked one weekend per month (except for March, which has 2 hikes). By the end of November, participants who have stuck with it will have hiked the entire trail and earned the satisfying status of “End To Ender”.

After much prayer (to God) and persuasion (of my husband), I decided to really do this thing. It promised to check off all the boxes :

• Prayer time with the Lord, check.
• Enjoying nature, check.
• Pushing myself beyond my comfort, check.
• Either satisfying the original AT Dream or proving its validity, check.
• Proving to myself that I can do hard things, check.

And so much more.

My husband, not being quite as enthused with the outdoors as I am, agreed to support my wild idea. Instead of joining my jaunt, he bought my equipment, and has been my biggest and best encourager. He was greatly comforted when my son chose to accept the Challenge, as well.

For weeks, I prepared with morning hikes throughout our Brooks Place community. I arrived an hour early almost every morning, put on my pack, and walked up and down every cul-de-sac twice. I finished by taking a lap or two around the Big House. Most mornings, I dropped my pack in the car, but sometimes I was in a rush and had to carry it into the front office, before starting my workday.

I received so much encouragement from both our cottage owners and apartment residents. In the early morning hours, before daylight, nothing put more pep in my step than seeing the smiles and waves from lighted windows. Sometimes, a beautiful soul would even step outside into the cold just to cheer me on. Our apartment residents routinely stopped by my office window, staying updated on my progress.

Rose Mary C. Brooks Place really does have the best residents.

Skylar and I hiked our first weekend last month.

Wow.

We set out with several other hikers and had some really good conversations. Then, little by little, everyone found their own rhythm, with Skylar I ending up alone. He could have bounded up the path and made it to camp in record time, no doubt, but he stayed with me every step. He did not hover, he encouraged. We talked. We listened.

The rain hushed the birds, but methodically putting one foot in front of the other woke some sleeping part of me to my soul’s song. The atmosphere induced introspection, resulting in the beginnings of what I think will be a year-long exorcism of anxieties and impure ideas about myself, this world, and my Lord’s grand plan.

We hiked nearly 10 miles the first day, in sporadic light rain showers, hardly hearing even one birdsong. I did some things I never thought I could do at my age. I walked over logs, climbed up creekbanks, and stomped through mud. We set up camp that evening in the rain (something I had never done before), and we endured our first night keeping warm in the woods. Not only was it a rainy night, but a stormy one. Lightning flashed and thunderous rolls shook the very ground beneath my tent.

Come morning, we packed up in a misty rain, leaving our drenched tents to be carried ahead of us by our gracious guides. (During the cold months, the STA will carry 5 lbs. of your equipment for you if you choose. We chose to take advantage of that gift.) We set out on the last 14+ miles of our first section hike. The entire day was a series of ups and downs, muddy paths, and dismal drizzle. Even so, an underlying exhilaration pushed us on. I had to stop at the bottom, in the middle, and at the top of every hill, to catch my breath, while Skylar waited patiently. At some point, his left leg began hurting him with every bend of his knee. He insisted on proceeding.

During the last 4 miles, I nearly broke. Raindrops interfered with the map app on my phone, and it looked as if we were miles off track. All I could think of was being lost in the woods, overnight, without shelter. I vowed to never be without my tent again, under similar circumstances. Skylar did his best to comfort me, assuring me that we had followed the trail blazes and were not in danger of becoming lost. I felt my chin quiver more than once but held back the tears. (After all, we were told by the Sheltowee Trace Association Director, Steve Barbour, that there is “no crying on the Sheltowee.”) We went up and down hill after hill, hoping to see Morehead from the top of each one. Panicked nearly as much by my own exhaustion as the notion of being lost, I asked Skylar not to wait on me, but to keep going to the top of each hill. I wanted so badly for him to reach the top and shout back to me, “I see Morehead!”

Whenever it felt like I couldn’t take another step, and fear threatened to overtake me, the Lord brought to my mind the struggles being faced by others. I lifted up prayers for those people – people for whom He has called me to pray regularly. I pushed on, encouraged that He would be with them through their every trial, just as He was with me in those hard moments.

We did reach Morehead just as the sun’s last rays drew behind the hills. Oh, the relief of mind! We ended up hobbling to our destination with another couple, placing us among the last 4 to finish that first hike, but we did not mind that one bit. We had done it. We finished!

That evening, neither of us said it, but we were both thinking, “That was hard! Are we really going to do this every month? Do I WANT to do this every month?”

By the next morning, that had changed to, “Yes! Let’s do that again!”

The next section is this weekend, and I’m still processing the takeaways from the first hike:

• My son is someone of whom I am well pleased. The fear I felt affected him, but I would never have known, had he not told me later. He was so calm and so compassionate with his chin-quivering, spine-shivering mom.
• I can do hard things.
• I will finish this challenge, not by relying solely upon myself, but by relying on God and the people with whom He has surrounded me.
• This dream has never really been about nature, after all. God’s creation lured me with its beauty, into deeper intimacy with Him. That deeper intimacy doesn’t always feel good at first, but it massages His goodness into my heart. May it forever make me a more pliable vessel for the love of my Father.

To be continued…