Reflections on the AT

A reflective essay concerning my journey on the Appalachian Trail

Why does one embark on a 2,181-mile trek, traversing mountains, boulders, notches, ravines, waterfalls and ridges- on foot? What motivates an individual to decide that this is the right endeavor for them? What does one learn along the way?

Solitude.
Serenity.
Connecting with man’s primal instincts.
Discovering a minimal lifestyle does produce true happiness.

Why did you want to do this hike?
There are two answers, one that lead me to do the hike and the other justifying my decision to complete it.

1) My roommate (Jake) asked me if I would like to join him, after college, to hike the Appalachian Trail. With only a day of thinking I replied, “Sure!” Where is it?”

2) I absolutely love pushing the human body to its limits, especially when it comes to endurance activities. Having never hiked a mile before in my life, it would only make sense to start my hiking career with a 2,181-mile adventure… My initial rationale for deciding to do such a tremendous hike is true, though there is another reason for my decision. I saw subtle hints of this in my life, yet I had a difficult time embracing them. It is something I would often find myself preaching, yet hardly practicing. Minimalism. As my college career was wrapping up, I was, at a snail’s pace, reducing the clutter and obstructions in my life. I knew that a frugal lifestyle is what I wanted to achieve, yet needed a strong nudge in that direction. The Appalachian Trail would be that nudge.

What did I learn?
People (yes, I am assuming that everyone does this) take numerous trivial aspects of their life for granted. Often we reflect and give thanks for our good health and our friends and family. Little do we give thanks for having a roof over our heads and a table full of food. We are so use to these “societal norms” that we look past those small, inconsequential aspects such as clean tap water, readily available at a moments notice. Hot water for your shower every morning. A table to eat dinner on. Screens to keep bugs out. A bed that you do not have to inflate every night. Enough clean clothes to last a month. Having more than 3 squares of toilet paper to use.
On the trail, we were ecstatic to find a clean, natural spring that was flowing fast enough to fill a Gatorade bottle. Taking a shower was scarce, and hot water was unheard of. A picnic table at your shelter produced pure joy. Soft, level ground for pitching your tent was much appreciated (Jake and I would often end up rolling onto the other in the night if there was even just a slight slant). Putting on a new pair of socks after wearing the same ones for four days really does feel as amazing as it sounds.
With that being said, the small “victories” that we stumbled upon resulted in genuine happiness, gratitude and thankfulness.

Moreover, the trail taught me that there is a dichotomy of lifestyles: People who strive to accumulate more money, tangible assets and “things” to make them happy and others who live a frugal life, spending only what they need to and finding themselves living with less stress.

As much as I would love to live a minimalist life, I am often guilty of the first lifestyle. I own close to 25 pairs of shoes (which isn’t even a lot for some people!) though I do recognize this and have donated over half of the old pairs of shoes I no longer use. With that being said, I am not professing that everyone should give away all of their belongings and work for free. That is not true at all. In fact, I believe that we should all hold onto the most important things in life and make enough money to live comfortably. Some time ago I heard that money can essentially “buy” happiness- to a certain degree. Meaning that money can make one happier, up until a certain income level. Once that income level has been reached, money no longer contributes to ones happiness. I did a quick search online and found an article on CNBC titled Money Can Buy You Happiness, To a Point, which found that magical income level to be $75,000. Interesting.

There definitely was a bittersweet ending to the trail. Hiking 2,181 miles was a phenomenal experience, something I would never trade, regret or take back. It was worth every step, even the ones in Pennsylvania that were excruciatingly painful. With that being said, I was definitely looking forward to seeing my wonderful girlfriend who supported me 110% along the way, as well as getting back to running and cooking. There are many small comforts in life I missed, such as my bed, a hot shower, milk, my sanuks, coffee shops, cycling and my dog Charlie. I will never forget the friends I met, the priceless moments we shared and the only requirement I had to do – heard North.

Cheers!