National Parks and Recreation

Long Trail miles: 8.4
Extra miles: 1.3
9.25.20
70s and sunny
Laura Woodward Shelter

Here I am! First day on the trail. My roommates dropped me off at Journey’s End road around 1pm and said their goodbyes. We joked that they would walk the 1.3 mile trail to Canada with me and we would decide if we wanted to flee the country or not. But they had places to go and things to do, so I took off on my own.

And boy was I glad I did. These first 1.3 miles were HARD. Very, very hard. It wasn’t particularly intense. It was only about 700 feet in elevation gain, but mentally it was rough. It was my first time actually walking with my pack on. I weighed it before we left my apartment in the morning and it came in at 34 pounds. They say you should keep it to around 20% of your body weight so I was aiming to keep it around 30 pounds, but figured with a full supply of food and water that 34 pounds would be fine.

It was heavy. Even walking on flat ground was hard. Slight inclines were nearly impossible.

I have read a LOT of books and articles and journals about people who have hiked the Appalachian Trail and I have always been blown away by the statistic that something like 15% of people give up on the AT within the first few miles up to Springer Mountain in Georgia. Before they even reach the technical start of the trail. That was absurd to me. How could you possibly not know what you were getting yourself into?

Welp, now I get it. I can’t even count the number of times I decided to quit in those first 1.3 miles. I came up with every excuse in the book. Things I could tell my friends and family for why it didn’t work out while still casting myself in the best light. I had to literally bribe myself with every step I took and promise myself all sorts of things if I would just keep going. And apparently it worked, I kept going.

Just before reaching the northern terminus, I ran into a 60-year-old man who had just completed the whole thing. He asked if I was going all the way and I said, “That’s the plan!” (as I would come to say to everyone who asked me over the next couple of weeks.) I shared my congratulations and continued on toward the Canadian border with a new pep in my step, feeding off his triumph. If he can do it, I can do it.

And then I came around a bend and the trees opened up.

There I was. The start of the Long Trail. 272 miles from the Massachusetts border. Staring out into beautiful Canada (and realizing that there was a pretty steep dropoff over a cliff as soon as you crossed the border. That made it easier to decide between actually beginning my hike and fleeing the country.)

I immediately felt better. Maybe it was because I was actually on the trail. Every labored step I took from here on out would at least be getting me closer to my goal. Or maybe it was my encounter with a real person who had actually done it. Or maybe it was just how stunningly beautiful it was.

But most likely, it was just the fact that I was able to take the 34 pound monster off my back for several minutes while I took pictures and got water.

But eventually it was time to strap that bastard back on and actually begin my hike.

I was finally hiking the Long Trail! The excitement was kicking in. And it actually did feel easier. I had to stop every ten feet or so on the uphills to catch my breath, but mentally I was feeling it. I remember hoping more than anything that those first 1.3 miles were going to be the hardest I would experience all trip. (And honestly, that pretty much did end up being the case.)

It was still slow going though. I had never hiked so slow in my life. My friends would be laughing at me if they could see me now, after all those times I had bounded on ahead of them during hikes and waited for them to catch up. How is this thing only 34 pounds? Is this how it feels to hike for people 34 pounds heavier than me? A lot of things were coming into perspective for me here. This was torture.

And there was little to look at during this stretch to distract me, just the green tunnel.

This was a cool little sign to pass. But sadly I couldn’t justify taking my pack off just to get this picture. So it was pretty useless to me. On I went.

(It’s crazy to me now to look back and see that I hiked nearly 10 miles this first day. I have no idea how I did it, especially starting at 1pm. Maybe I didn’t give myself enough credit as to my mental toughness those first few miles, because that took strength.)

I crossed my first road. I think my face here does a pretty good job of showing my mental state at this point. One mountain was already in the books, but I still had a ways to go. My mood did improve slightly though upon meeting a guy and his hound dog who were being dropped off at the trailhead here by his wife. I didn’t ask if he was planning to do the whole thing, but I remember thinking how jealous I was that he got to start here and I had already hiked 4 miles.

But again, the cute dog helped. He followed closely on my tail for the next several miles.

I finally made it to the first shelter on the trail, Shooting Star Shelter. I wasn’t hungry and I knew it wasn’t late enough for me to actually stop hiking yet, so I just took a quick reprieve from my pack and then continued on my way.

The rest of the day continued relatively viewless. Just mile after mile through the green tunnel, convincing myself to just keep putting one foot in front of the other while feeling like the slowest and most pathetic human being on the planet.

The sky started to dim a little and I tried to remember when the sun was supposed to set. I pulled up Guthook (an app that shows you exactly where you are on the trail and tells you where all the shelters, water sources, and places of note are) and noticed that I still had a couple of miles to go. In normal world I would’ve had plenty of time to reach camp before the sun set, but I was not moving at my normal pace. I wasn’t too concerned though, I had my headlamp.

(In retrospect, I’m surprised I wasn’t more nervous with how dark it was getting. I guess my experience of having hiked in the dark before made me feel comfortable with it, but I had still never set up camp by myself before and I had certainly never done it in the dark. But I genuinely wasn’t scared. I’ll probably talk about this quite a bit, but I never felt afraid even once on my entire trip. I expected to and I was pretty nervous going in, so I find it pretty fascinating and [to pat myself on the back a little here] impressive that I powered through this entire experience fearlessly.)

I reached Doll Peak just as the sun officially set. I turned my data on quickly to text my mom and boyfriend that I was still alive and “so far so good” (hah!). And then began the mile descent into camp. (This would become somewhat of a routine. Pretty much every shelter is at the base of a mountain, making cell service hit or miss, so every day I would turn my data on at the last mountain of the day to update my family.)

At this point, I know I’m staring at my Guthook app too much. I understand why a lot of people choose to do these trips without their phones, using just maps instead, but I’m too anxious to not be able to see how much further I have to go. Especially when it’s my first day, it’s pitch black out, and my legs and body are exhausted.

But I made it! A very nice woman who was just getting into her tent saw me coming and helped me find a good clearing where I could set up my own tent. Setting up camp was a breeze, even in the dark. I still wasn’t very hungry and I was feeling way too lazy to cook something, so I just snacked on some trail mix, cheese, and jerky and called it a night.

(I want to take a second to discuss food. I knew going in that this would be an issue for me. I’m not a good eater in normal life so I knew it was going to be a struggle to eat the necessary number of calories every day on the trail. In the normal world I rarely eat before noon and I generally only eat one full meal a day. Blame seven years of working in food service for these bad habits. Bad habits that obviously weren’t going to cut it when hiking double digit miles a day with 34 pounds strapped to my back. I meticulously planned out my meals every day to make sure I’d have enough to fuel me, but actually forcing myself to eat everything was another challenge that I struggled with the entire 15 days I was on the trail. [Don’t worry, since getting off the trail, I have definitely made up for the weight that I lost. But more on that to come later.])

Upon opening my personal bag, I realized that my bottle of Dr. Bronner’s soap had exploded everywhere. Not a great start. I resolved to deal with it in the morning and instead just hung that bag with my food bag since the smell was so strong. (I would end up ditching the soap altogether at my first reup and never used it even once). Unfortunately, I forgot that my contact case was in that bag until after it was hung and I was back in my tent. I was definitely not about to go back out and get it so I just slept in my contacts and it was fine. I was pretty proud of my first bear bag hang. It was one of the things I’d never actually done before and my first one in the pitch dark was pretty good! (I’m really mad I forgot to take a picture of it in the morning because I was really proud of it. In fact, I think it was the best bear hang I did all trip.)

I’ll wrap up this first post with the last things I actually wrote in my journal that night lying in my sleeping bag:

“I feel good about the next few days. The first 1.3 miles were the hardest BY FAR (mentally, at least). I will only get stronger and I will only get more in shape. I just need to get through these first few days of soreness and blisters.

I don’t feel tired at all. I don’t know if I’ll be able to fall asleep for awhile. Shouldn’t I be exhausted? Why do people always say they were SO exhausted their first day of thru hiking that they immediately passed out? I guess my inability to sleep in the real world is also going to be an issue out here.

I can hear cars and motorcycles in the distance. I kinda like it.”