Eating Elephants

As I sit on the beach of Lake Michigan, I ponder the right way to end this whole journey. Shoving my feet deep into the sandy shores that I’ve been devoid of. I have to admit that I don’t want to write this blog. I have to admit that through all the struggles and hardships the trail presented me with, settling back into the noisy world that hustles and bustles around me may be the most difficult task this journey presents. In a few short hours I’ll watch the sun set on this massive body of water, wondering what tomorrow will bring when it rises again.

It’s hard to wrap my mind around the accomplishment of hiking 2,200 miles in 6 months and 4 days. Most people will be clueless as to such an adventure when I procure my stories of the trek. I can picture the questions now. “Did you bring a gun? How many weeks did it take? What’s next for you? You went out alone? How didn’t you lose your mind in the solitude etc..” I was never in any real danger on the trail neither from wildlife nor humans. The most dangerous bit came from the brutality of Mother Nature as she bent me to my knees and tested my will, appreciating the fact that I was always at her mercy.

I read a total of 8 books on trail, restless for literature and endless flow of my imagination through the stories I marveled over. Paul Rosolie struck a chord in me in ways only he and the trail could. A conservationist and environmentalist, Paul spoke of the havoc that our species wreaks upon the world. We call it progress as we replace trees with Tesla Chargers, labeling this an environmentally friendly movement. Trust me, I’m not here to give a lecture on how to take care of the earth and if I ever became an environmentalist I would certainly be a hypocrite while doing so. The past 6 months, however, opened my eyes to how destructive we can be in our lives and how lucky I was to feel the wild. To walk through the wilderness and to fall asleep to flowing brooks and streams whilst awaking to the call of a loon across a pond. Millions of creatures humming, buzzing and zipping along through the darkness of night. How fortunate I was to be apart of such a beautiful cycle.

The human mind is a powerful thing. We can submit ourselves to the lowest depths of humanity, constantly repeating that we are not good enough, not worthy of something special. We can also accomplish great feets by forging a way forward through positive inclinations. Much a kin to life, there are so many microcosms related to the trail and how many of us go about our day to day activities.

I summited Mount Katahdin on Sunday, September 10th marking the end of what will most likely go down as one of the hardest things I’ve ever done in my life. I returned home a new uncle as my sister gave birth to Rorik Lou Spear, both of us going through one of the most grueling journeys we’ve ever been through. The day that I entered into the 100 mile wilderness she called me at about 6:30 in the morning. It was refreshing to hear her voice and on many occasions she was the spark that got me through some of the harder days. As we spoke we both became emotional wrecks, babbling on trying to formulate sentences through tears. That call was the last spark that I needed to finish out the trail and will forever be a fond memory of a conversation that moved me in such a way.

I want to say thank you to everyone who congratulated me, all the beautiful people I met on my journey and to all of you who followed along reading the blogs. Blogging was an amazing outlet for me on the trip and while I am completely clueless as to what comes next I can say that my imagination is running wild with endless possibilities of the future. Hopefully you enjoyed my experience on the Appalachian Trail and maybe even became inspired by the trek. So long for now!

“Though I understood the privilege it was to live in a stable place so far away from the world’s troubles, I wanted out. I didn’t want to be safe; I wanted to have the shit scared out of me.”

-Paul Rosolie: Mother of God