September 2006

Dear friends, as much as I hate to say it. I'm off the trail again; this time for good, at least for this year.

Shortly after getting back on the trail last week in Virginia, I noticed hot spots developing on the backs of my heels on my first 1,500 foot climb. I was in new shoes, and despite having walked a good 20 miles to break them in before leaving Orlando, there was no way I could have known how they would do other than by getting out and hiking. I stopped and removed my socks and trail runners and the spots on the backs of my heels were hot and very red. I applied some moleskin, which is like a furry bandage designed to help cut down on the friction, and after about a mile or so, it peeled off due to the heat and perspiration of my feet. I stopped again and tried some large bandages, and those too peeled off a short time later. Next, I tried a different lacing pattern to help keep my shoes tighter against my heel and when that didn’t work, I tried putting on a second pair of socks. All of these things are hiker tricks designed to help cut down the chance of blisters, or at least to help keep them from getting worse once you've gotten them. Unfortunately, nothing helped.

I stopped at the first shelter at Sarver's Hollow to let my feet rest after about 6 hours of hiking rather than continue on to the next shelter which was my original plan. When I took off my socks and shoes, by that time, I had quarter-sized blisters on both heels and the one on my left foot had already ripped partially open. The 50 degree winds cooled my feet quickly, but the blistered area was throbbing and still very red. I cleaned off the area and applied some antibiotic ointment and the last of my bandages. I was upset. I had already walked 700 miles this year with not one blister problem, while blisters plagued scores of hikers from from their very first days on the trail.

I assessed my situation. I was about 10 miles in and had another 40 miles to go before my next stop of Troutville. I was out of bandages already, having used 4 to get me here to this shelter, and I had only one more small packet of antibiotic ointment. I knew that if I continued on, my blisters would only get worse, and I was out of tricks to try and keep them from growing larger and becoming infected. I decided to get some rest and see how my feet were in the morning.

I was up all night, in part because I was not yet used to the hard wooden sleeping platform of the shelter again, and also because I kept kicking my heel on it all night resulting in a sharp, throbbing pain each time. I took the bandage off in the morning and it looked as if the swelling had gone down a little, but it was still decidedly red and tender. I decided I would go on to one more shelter and see how I'd fare.

I put my last piece of moleskin on around the blisters and put my socks on. So far so good. I put my shoes on and tight them tightly and almost immediately after taking my first step, I felt the back of the heel rubbing against the shoe back. It was a little sensitive but not too bad. I climbed out of the shelter area back on the trail. Within the first 30 minutes, the moleskin peeled off due to foot perspiration and the pain was intense. I hiked on slowly and with a limp to take pressure off of the area. I was only a few miles from the next shelter. I trekked on and when the shelter finally came in view, I hurried down the path and deposited my pack onto the shelter platform and sat down and removed my socks and shoes.

The blisters had become worse and the one on my left heel was swollen and dark red and was oozing puss and blood into the heel area of my sock. I couldn’t believe this. I was now about 15 miles from where I got on the trail and 35 miles from my next stop. I cleaned the wound area as best I could and tried to let fresh air dry it out a little. I had to decide at this point if I was to continue or not.

I spent the rest of the afternoon and evening contemplating my situation. My left foot was showing signs of infection and if I continued on it would only get worse. I didn’t have enough food to stay at the shelter for a few days to let my foot heal a bit and I was out of bandages and antibiotics and a cold front had started to come in bringing the temperature into the upper 40s. I only had my summer gear with me. I thought long and hard about my journey so far this year, the distance I had come and the constant foot problems I had endured from the beginning. I had nothing to prove at this point and thought about the time 8 years ago when my right ring finger became infected with a staph infection within 24 hours and I almost lost my arm. I was in the hospital for 7 days and had to carry around an intravenous pump which filled my body with antibiotics for six weeks. I had just gotten back on the trail, but I had made my decision. I was done and it was time to come home.

When I got up the next day, I had breakfast and used the last of my hiker tricks I had learned on the trail. I wrapped my left foot in duct tape. While it hurts like hell to remove, it does a great job to protect blisters from the constant rubbing of shoes that don’t fit properly. It also creates a pool of perspiration underneath it which is perfect for staph causing bacteria to thrive in and upon removal, conveniently takes with it any and all calouses and new skin which have developed. It was a technique for emergencies only and this was an emergency.

After about 4 miles on my way back, I felt a sharp burning feeling in the blister area. As suspected, the duct tape had peeled off, again from the heat. I removed my sock and shoe again, dried my foot and applied the last of the duct tape to the area in hopes of getting me at least to the shelter where I stayed 2 nights ago. I finally arrived there with the tape having held, but had to pull the tape off once I got into camp. The skin had completely peeled off the blister now which had grown to about a half-dollar size and was still oozing. I boiled some water and tried to make a hot compress using a 2x2 sterile gauze pad from my first aid kit. I winced as I held it to my foot. The burning sensation was a stark contrast to the cold winds which were blowing up into the shelter area.

By now, I was thoroughly discouraged. I had planned on finishing the trail this year at least to Harper’s Ferry, another 350 miles north and instead, I was stopping after only 20 miles. On top of that, this 4 day return to the trail had cost me around $600 and took me about 2 weeks to prepare for. It was then, when I noticed a plaque on the shelter wall which had the following quote by Jack Kerouac. “When looking for the light, you may be suddenly devoured by darkness and find the true light.” "What the hell did this mean," I thought to myself? And then suddenly, like magic, it all became clear. My reasons for starting the trail, my reasons for leaving the trail back in July and then, my reason for returning to the trail. It all made sense now.

Those of you who asked me what I would do when I returned were told that I was hoping to have a sudden ‘epiphany’ while out the trail, but I had no such epiphany. At least, not until now. It was clear that this short return to the trail, despite how brief, would supply me with the answers I was looking for. Suddenly, many questions were answered and things were made clear. Among them was the realization that this epiphany about what I would do with my career would come to me whether I was walking in the wilderness or sitting in a restaurant somewhere in the urban jungle. I didn’t have to go out into the wilderness to find it. Ok, any 12 year old with common sense could have told me that, but some things we have to learn on our own.

Another important realization for me was that it was perfectly fine to be out in the wilderness without ‘having’ to trek across it. I had enjoyed my time out in the wilderness for those 3 and a half months this year, but the stresses associated with the hike in terms of torturing my body after years of sedentary lifestyle weren’t quite so fun. It's true I was in better shape now than I had been in many years, but every 1,500 foot climb was still a fight. It would take much longer for me to get into the really good shape I was hoping for.

Mostly, I learned that my reasons for going out onto the trail in the first place were for the right reason, and my reasons for leaving the trail back in July were for the right reason. But my reasons for getting back on the trail this time were for the wrong reason. I had created so much pressure for myself to complete this hike over the past four years that I had not even contemplated my not finishing in one season, and when I made the decision to leave the trail in July, I told myself that I would get back on this year because I felt that I had a dire responsibility to the kids of the Russell Home and to the people who had donated to them and to me to finish this hike. I was not getting back on because I really wanted to finish this year. I was getting on because I felt that I had to, and consequently, this created no end of stress for myself during my two month hiatus as I contemplated my returning. Was this realization the ‘true light’ that Jack Kerouac’s quote referred to? I had met hikers who were out there who didn't want to be there and they were miserable. This was not the place to be if your heart wasn't in it because bad things can happen to you out here. In truth my heart was in it...at least until July.

I pondered this philosophically for many hours that night and made some other realizations. First, the weather, while much colder than when I got off the trail in July, was now beautiful. The sky was very blue, the leaves were beginning to change their colors, the bugs were noticeably absent except for the pesky bees and I finally had time to really think about my experiences on the trail this year. When I got off the trail in July following the death of my mother, it was sudden and abrupt. The weather was in the low 100s, water was scarce, bugs were obscenely bothersome and my allergies were causing me to snore, scaring away bears for miles around……and other hikers. I hadn't had a good night sleep in weeks. Now, for the first time, I had the opportunity to just sit and stare off the platform of the shelter into the forest below and really ponder my trip so far and in a way it allowed me to bring closure to my journey.

I listened to a dozen or so calming songs on my ipod that ranged from Appalachian inspired folk music to relaxing New Age tunes. My blisters were throbbing, but I was at peace, comfortable with my decision and most of all, proud of what I had accomplished. I thought about the countless hikers I had met, the many trail towns I had visited, the dozens of friendly locals along the way who supplied me with food and drink, a ride or simply a word or two of encouragement to help me focus on my goal.

I had gone from a sedentary lifestyle of over 20 years driving a computer and knowing nothing about hiking and camping, to living three and a half months out in the wildnerness and walking almost 750 miles. Sure, it wasn’t the 2,175 I was hoping for, but it was a third of that, and decidedly more than most prospective thru-hikers had done. I had also decided finally that there was nothing wrong with being a computer geek, something I had strived to get away from as part of this journey. But in truth, I realize now that I am lucky to be one and am thankful for having the knowledge which began as a childhood hobby, and which developed into my own business which I ran for 11 years. And most of all, I was proud to have raised over $10,000 for the Russell Home for Atypical Children, money that goes directly to the Home and buys life-saving medicine and food for children and adults, most of whom would never know of the journey I took on their behalf.

When I arrived back at the road where I started the week's journey, I caught a series of hitches until I arrived back in Blacksburg, Virgina, and then took a bus to Roanoke where I caught a flight back home. While in flight, I pondered my journey and looked out of the oblong window at the mountains below. I pressed my forehead against the glass and looked down into the sea of dark green covered mountains and watched for half an hour as they moved along underneath me, knowing that I had walked through much of what I was seeing, and that hidden under the canopy of leaves was a path made of dirt, stone, roots and clay and that every 7-10 miles was a shelter which was my home at some point over the last 5 months.

I was thinking that just 10 hours earlier, I was chasing bees off of my backpack in the mountains of Virginia, and that now I was aboard a plane about 20 minutes from Tampa. (It costs three times as much to fly into Orlando) It was almost surreal, but despite the cost and effort to make this last return trip to the A.T., I felt it was worth every penny having finally made the realizations I was hoping for.

I will be pondering my journey throughout this winter and will be fully documenting my hike from my journal and photographs. I still think there is a book to be made from this. After all, the stories of those who don't finish are just as interesting as the stories of those who do. But we'll see how things look once I'm done transcribing.

I wanted to take one last minute to thank all of you who have been following my journey and who have sent emails of encouragement, or who have donated to the Russell Home and/or to me personally, or who have even sent warm thoughts to me or to my wife who managed our collective affairs while I was away. After all, one man can hike the Appalachian Trail, but it takes many people to turn the hike into a truly life-changing experience.

I took over 4,000 photos during my hike, but the one below is my favorite. It's in the Grayson Highlands and I was surrounded that day by dozens of wild ponies.

On behalf of myself, my family and on behalf of the Russell Home for Atypical Children, thank you so much for all of your support and donations! And if you would still like to donate to the Russell Home, please scroll back up and click the "Donate" button to the left. Again, thank you!

Muddyshoes
AT Ga -> Va -2006

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