January 24, 2001
Morehead City, North Carolina
End of the Trail
Mile 2,165
Well, this journey has finally come to an end. I woke up at 5 am to hike the final 2.5 miles to the top of Springer Mountain on 1/11. I reached the top in plenty of time to watch my final sunrise of the trip. Even after seeing many sunrises in the past six months, nothing could prepare me for the sweet beauty that I was fortunate enough to witness that morning. To sum up everything, I reached the top where there are two plaques signifying the southern terminus of the trail and pretty much just fell apart. The last few days were much like that. Either I was laughing to myself, grinning, or getting a little misty eyed at the prospect that I’d be finished soon. Here’s a little stuff from my journal that I wrote immediately after I reached the top.
“At 5:40am I left Stover Creek Shelter. I’ve just come across the plaque on top of Springer. Right now I’m just savoring the moment, watching the sun come up in the east. In this moment between day and night everything seems to be perfect. When I got to the top I just broke out into tears, not of sadness but of joy. The walk this morning was awesome. Just a great stroll in the woods, not in a hurry anymore. Slipped and fell in the ice to keep me human. Something I’ve really come to love is watching sunrises and sunsets, and walking just by the light of the moon. The moon this morning gave me just enough light through the trees to walk by. So many memories flashing by right now. Summitting Katahdin with Anne”
It’s been almost two weeks since I stood atop Springer Mountain and I’m just now starting to feel like I’m gaining some sort of perspective on this whole thing. Sometimes it still doesn’t seem real to me, like this trip on the Appalachian Trail had been a long, long dream which I’ll eventually wake up from. Dream or not, the whole experience has been simply the most incredibly rich experience that I’ve ever had. Trying to encapsulate everything without constantly repeating “incredible”, “awesome”, “overwhelming”, or any other superlative adverbs isn’t coming very easy to me as well. Here’s my stab at it though.
The 67 miles remaining from the last time I wrote went off pretty much without a hitch. There was still a bit of snow and ice on the ground from the previous few storms, but no more of the foot-deep variety to wade through. The last couple of days the trail was clear for the most parts, with just a few patches of thicker ice that’ll probably be there God only knows when. The north side of Blood Mountain was one big chunk of ice about a foot thick in places, but the view coming up from Neel’s Gap was incredible. (There’s that word again, you have to forgive me.)
The last two days fortunately was warm enough to relax and really enjoy the moment without having to wear 17 layers of clothes. Very nice. I did get a little bit of freezing rain coming down from Springer on the last day. Seemed to be appropriate though. It was like God said (insert Mr.T voice) “I pity the fool who hikes out here in the winter! SMACK!! What you doin’ out here fool? You didn’t like that that snowstorm in the Smokies? SMACKl! Here’s something to remind you who’s the boss! SMACK SMACK!!!”
One of the locals said that it was the coldest winter in 40 years for their area. I wasn’t in any kind of position to argue against that. My body is just now getting completely thawed out, much to my relief. I can’t say it’s not nice to just be warm whenever I want to without much effort on my part. Getting a little chilly tonight? Pull up a quilt. Nice, very nice.
I thought the transition from the trail to back in the “Real World” wouldn’t be that big of a deal. For the most part it’s gone ok, but some things are still a bit weird for me right now. This whole transition process actually started on Springer. When you get to the top of the mountain, you’re still about 8.5 miles from anywhere so my hiking had just started for the day. When I got my pack on to go, I looked around to find the next white blaze when I realized that there were no more white blazes to follow as I was no longer on the AT. That’s kind of how I feel about life in general right now.
The simplicity of the trail has been left behind to delve back into the kind of chaos that we sometimes make our lives. As I was packing the clothes I had not seen in months to move to Morehead City, the whole absurdity of the situation hit me. The whole time I was on the trail I could fit all my clothes into a bag about the size of a bread bag, and now I could barely fit my belongings into three huge boxes! Ridiculous. I don’t know if I’m all that crazy about that whole prospect, but I’m damned determined to not put myself back into the craziness of everything without a fight. It would be a complete failure on my part to not utilize anything I’ve learned from the trail in my daily life.
The big question – What Now?
I mentioned before that I’ve moved to Morehead City. Anne had moved down here to accept a job while I was gone so to me coming here was a no-brainer. I hadn’t seen her for about four months so there was no way I was staying in Greensboro! I’ve come to this realization that my surroundings really have a huge effect on me. I either need to live in the mountains or at the coast. This whole in-between stuff isn’t going to work for me right now. Right now I’m just getting to feel the lay of the land, but am actively looking for a job. Looking at my ziplock bag that I used as my wallet on the trail (and still do – can’t find the wallet) I’ve have about $2.48. OK, maybe not that bad, but I may have to sell a kidney or spleen or something on Ebay if I don’t get back to work soon.
What I’ll probably do for the first few months will be something that doesn’t require any sort of résumé’ (Would you like fries with that?) while I make my contacts in the area. Who knows? At some point I’ll be jumping back into the academic world I’m sure. Maybe I’ll give this writing gig a spin. As far as what the next little jaunt Anne and I go on, we’re playing with a couple of different ideas. Maybe the Pacific Crest Trail (think the west coast version of the Appalachian Trail, Canada to Mexico -2700 miles). Maybe a cross-country bike trip. Maybe a sea-kayaking trip from North Carolina to the Florida Keys. It’ll take a couple of years at least to be in the position for us to do anything but it can’t hurt to dream now, right? It only took 10 years to actually get on the AT.
Looking back, the mile I’m most proud of on this whole trip was the very first one. I remember watching Anne’s mother and grandmother driving off in Maine and thinking, “I can’t believe I’m finally out here.” Yeah, that first step was sweet. Well, I’m going to roll. It’s been a pleasure writing this article and sharing my experience with everyone. I hope that you’ve gotten something from it. Everybody’s trip is different and I’ve just tried to relate what I went through. I’ve had my highest highs, my lowest lows, and everything in between in the past few months. The heat, snow, ice, mosquitoes, rain, hail, sunshine, joy, sadness, and everything else combined to make this journey something I’ll never forget.
Until next time,
-Johnny Swank
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