Naked and Afraid
Well, now that I have your attention…
First things first.
To answer the 2 questions in most popular demand:
1.) My hand is…umm…healing? Maybe? “Evolving” is what I feel the most appropriate description. It’s healthfully scabbed, oozing blood when stressed with my fist, but also mildly spreading lesions to my other fingers.
2.) No, I did not see a bear in the Smokies.
Moving on to the nakedness and the fear.
The forecast was calling for rain. Storms, in fact. I responsibly chose to wear my ultra light 6” Nine-trail shorts in these forecasted conditions. Quick-drying and without the requirement of underwear, as they come equipped with their own liner.
They and I quickly became soaked to the point of the threat of hike-ending type chaffing. I had to commit to a wardrobe change. I embraced the downpour as I first noshed on my salmon packet and Laughing Cow cheese triangle sandwiched between the everything bagel that I had packed out. Now it was time to swap the shorts out for my rain pants in the setting of utter fatigue. I could easily slip out of my shorts without removing my gaiters, socks and shoes and then seamlessly unzip the bootlegs of my rain pants and slide them over the same. I had this.
Off came the shorts as I stood upon my seat pad to protect me from the ensuing mud. And the pants, on, they did not go. The opening of the zippers wouldn’t accommodate the girth of my trail runners. I stood there, pant-less, in calf-high socks, my puffy coat and beanie, in my birthday suit from the waist down. It was pouring down rain. I was paralyzed.
Naked.
I yelled, “Help!! HELLLLLP! ”.
And afraid.
Unintentionally facing 2 gentleman from afar, enjoying their tuna packets atop Triscuits. “Nothing to see here!!”, I said.
Lucky them.
Jobless, homeless, and now nude in the woods. I’ve officially made my parents proud.
Deja came to my rescue, taken aback by my bare A$$ staring her in the face. She and Big Agnes dressed me while I was too frozen and undignified to clothe myself. My trail family was called to duty, and they delivered.
Clothed, and fearless, I walked on. Commando in my rain pants for the remainder of the day.
I knew that she had planned to visit with me in Hot Springs, but I was floored when Pam came hustling up the steep ascent opposite me as I descended into the quaint trail town. Toting homemade pepperoni rolls, dried mango slices, and even her very own trekking pole, she called out, “Serendipity! Is that YOU?!?”.
She knew that I had let go as soon as she saw the metallic blue nail polish.
Pam trained me as a Nurse Anesthetist and has been my colleague for the past 13 years. A mentor turned friend, turned family.
Pam nurtured me in ways that still have me at a loss for words. The only hotel room in town with a private jetted jacuzzi tub- booked for 2 nights. 3 genres of Epsom salts. A bathing suit. Hair masks. Face masks. A myriad of razors with my pick of shaving gel. Or did I prefer shaving creme? She brought that too. Wine. Charcuterie. Fresh fruit. Her homemade chocolate chip cookies and Tom’s homemade stromboli. My favorite cereal. Downloaded movies. MACARONI SALAD. She even insisted upon resupplying for me so that I could relax in the whirlpool bath…for the 3rd time, without interruption, and write to all of you.
She eagerly immersed herself in my new world, accepting my new friends as if they were her own. Pam ate her french toast with Deja’s ace-wrapped sprained ankle propped up on her knee at the Smoky Mountain Diner. She comfortably meandered around the hostel, paid for 4th quarter’s lunch, and shared in my laundering and meal-prepping chores. She asked questions. She wanted to understand, as understanding my new way of life is the best way that she can love me right now. She made me feel like a queen.
And she is one herself.
I asked her, “What did I do to deserve you?”. She replied, “What did I do to deserve you, Sarah?”.
We receive the love in return for which we have given.
Pam and I were serendipitously seated next to the Susan and Billy Dempsey at Vaste Rivière Provisions as we caught up over spiked ginger beers. They took notice of my horse-sized backpack and dirt laden knuckles and had many questions themselves. Always eager to spread the gospel of the trail, I started spewing. They had traveled south from Massachusetts for a motorcycling tour of the Smokies but left with a piece of Sarah. They’ve invited me into their home once I reach the Boston area for a shower, clean sheets and a home cooked meal.
Let me say this again- we receive the love in return for which we have given.
As a 5th grader, we worshipped the middle school kids. Then came the high school seniors- what would it feel like to be them?? As that graduating senior, there were the college kids. That’s when we would have it all figured out. Right? Wrong. As a nursing student it was the ICU nurses…as the ICU nurse, the nurse anesthetist…as the anesthetist, it was the trauma/transplant practitioners. Nope, not yet. Once I could master the anesthetic for a cerebral aneurysm clipping, THAT’S when I’d feel like “they” looked. Another strike. Now the thru hikers…they were the cream of the crop. Made of nothing but grit, capability, and unshakable confidence. They knew their gear inside and out. Navigating geniuses with unmatched strength and endurance. Modern day heroes and heroines. They knew what was up.
News flash:
We’ll never feel like “they” look.
No one has it figured out. We’re simply all trying.
We are us in our own uniqueness.
I am a thru hiker. I have to remind myself of that daily. And I was “YOU” a mere 3 months ago.
I am a thru hiker who still struggles with confidence, who fumbles with tent assembly on windy nights, who made some poor gear choices, who burns her Knorr pasta sides, and who can’t catch her breath on the uphills. I am still a thru hiker.
No one feels as you think that they look. And they’re lying if they tell you that they do.
You can grow into whoever you desire.
Be your own author. LIVE.
In the words of a Nike campaign add from years ago, “Save an endangered species- YOURSELF.”
There’s only one of you.
JUST DO IT (insert “swoosh” here)!
Charlies Bunion, take 1!
Bunion, take 2!
Bunion, take 3!
Uprooted
Salty ramen bomb for dinner + sleeping at an ever so slight “head down” angle = balloon face, A.K.A. Elephant Woman.
Davenport Gap shelter. Bear activity is so dense in this area that the A.T. Conservancy has CAGED the lean to shelter, as it would be to dangerous to camp here without such fool-proof protection.
Deja and I, the exhibit, rather than the spectators. Should’ve charged admission! “5 dolla! 5 dolla! Step right up!”.
Adios Smokies 👋🏼
Naturally, we walked 50 yards off trail…
…to find ice cream, courtesy of Turtle!
Turtle
Blazes on the TN I-40 underpass (Hi Roz & Lauren!!)
“Nero-ed” at Standing Bear Farm. A-DOR-A-BLE!
“Dr. R.!”…(clearing my throat…).
A tried and true washboard minus actual laundry detergent is better than…wearing dirty underwear for the 5th day in a row. Remember this pearl.
Link, with the help of 4th quarter, for the WIN!! MAC SALAD!! I. Ate. The. Entire. Container. Ask, and you shall receive.
Noshing HARD
Communal shower at Standing Bear Farm, complete with “AT” scribed in the butts of beer bottles! Trashy stained-glass nirvana at its finest. And when I say “communal”, I mean 1 shower:40+ hikers.
Old school
S’mores coma-induced Deja
Quite literally witnessing the birth of Spring 🌼
Summiting Max Patch
Sunset, Max Patch
4th quarter
“Cowboy camping”, i.e.- sleeping with just your sleeping bag and pad, no tent. Pros- ease, unobstructed views of sunset and rise. Cons- unprotected from the elements (wind especially) and critters, zero privacy.
Sunset from my living room. I met this opportunity in the middle and opted out of cowboy camping but left the rainfly off of my tent which allowed for the unobstructed views but left me subject to strong winds at such a high elevation and no tree protection with only a thin layer of mesh between myself and the elements.
Sunrise, Max Patch
Holy morning coffee scene ☕️
Came across an old graveyard 3.2 miles before reaching Hot Springs, NC. The stone reflects the passing of Eva in 1940, 8 years prior to the first claimed thru hike in 1948 by Earl Schaffer. Therefore, she was most likely buried on her family’s property prior to the land being governed by its national scenic trail system.
“Surprise!!”, hollered Pammy!
Laughing Heart Hostel
The Dempsey’s
A mail drop from Mom & Dad, no detail ever left unattended ✨
The hands are…evolving… We’ll leave it at that.
Sheer thru hiker BLISS (understatement!!)
I mentioned to an adjacent patron that I admired her sunglasses, and without hesitation, Jessica took them right off of her face and told me to keep them. She had mad respect for my quest and the kindest of hearts, thank you Jessica! XOXO 🙌🏼
Pam ♥️
Descent into Hot Springs
“Mamma Bear” and me!
A meeting of the minds of Great legs, myself and Wandering Cowboy.
Deja owned open mic night at Big Pillow Brewery! Pictured is her acoustic rendition of Of Monsters and Men’s, “Little Talks”.
