We're Not In Kansas Anymore-Mt. Katahdin | And then I walked — sarah robison · on the appalachian trail & a life unconventional

I made it to the highest point in Georgia yesterday, Blood Mountain. Elevation 4461 feet. I believe that I said to Katie, “this is the first mountain that we’ve summited that’s actually looked like the emoji.”

A far cry from the perma-goblet squat that I found myself holding on my first morning (Friday, 3/19) that I woke on the AT, as I attempted to relieve myself while being smacked in the a$$ with hail. The first a rose, the latter a thorn, but both an equal piece to this puzzle that I’m crafting. For without the thorn, the bloom doesn’t taste as sweet.

As long as you have access to a commode, especially one that’s housed indoors, it could always be worse for you. Read that again.

My first day on the trail was met with some...adversity. There is an approach trail that begins in Amicolola Falls State Park under a very iconic stone arch that spans 8.5 miles as it only leads you to the actual Appalachian Trail. It’s legend that only the non-purists skip this 2,000 foot elevation gain that doesn’t even chip away at the 2,190 mile task ahead of you. Of course I had to do it. Duh.

I was so anticipatory of stepping foot on the AT that I misread a very simple, well-explained sign. “Hike Inn” ➡️ clearly meant, turn right to hike IN to the Appalachian Trail itself, right? A single “N” has never held so much importance. I proceeded to hike IN towards the Len Foote Hike INN, and failed to see the directions that fell below which read, Appalachian Trail ⬆️. Despite tacking on an extra and unwelcome 2 miles, I learned that I could trust my gut while out here. Something simply didn’t feel right, which prompted me to reach for my map and Guthooks app and was quickly rerouted and heading towards those white blazes that I craved.

We made it to the Southern Terminus of the AT at exactly 4pm on Thursday, March 18th which is marked by a quintessential copper plaque coated in patina. Was I actually standing HERE?!? Yes. Yes, I was.

We found shelter for the night less than a mile ahead and after wrestling the tent into proper formation while quite literally boxing the fierce winds, we settled at a communal picnic table for dinner. It was there that I nearly ruined any chance of melding with a “tramily”. I was explaining to my new friends that I had returned my first fuel canister stand for being faulty- it wouldn’t properly seat the canister. And wouldn’t you know it??...the second one did the same exact thing, “look!”...oh no. No, no, no!! The thighs of Mike from upstate New York escaped the throws of my entire pot of boiling water by inches, nearly ending his attempt at a thru hike before it had begun. My remorse must’ve been palpable as he proceeded to show me the correct way to seat my fuel canister into the very UN-faulty stand. I then threw the stand away. He and I ran into one another at Hawk Mountain Shelter the following evening and he bravely sat next to me while I boiled my ramen. Our friendship must have survived the “incident”.

Everyone that I had met seemed to know more than me, and my confidence began to wane. I hadn’t sewn my own rain kilt (what’s that?!), dehydrated my own homemade Pad Thai that will be mail dropped to me as I travel North, crafted a pot cozy made of Reflectix, nor had I been going to the gym with my pack and mastering the stair stepper. The more that I listened to those around me, the less that I saw myself on Katahdin. With the inspiration cred to Nicole, the “A” students and the “C” students still graduate with the same degree. Raise your hands to THAT! You need determination to make it to Katahdin, not homemade jerky, and I have an endless supply of that.

I’m learning what to do by learning what not to do. Trial by error.

I now wear my underwear on one side day 1, the backwards side day 2, flip again on day 3...you get the point. This extends their life and allows me to don my second (fresh) pair later in the week. Another one of those roses. “New underwear day!!!”

When I squat to urinate, I now face downhill if on a grade. This became clear after soaking my trail runners in urine. Use gravity as your friend.

I sleep with my water filter in my sleeping bag. It’s dropping into the 20’s at night and snuggling with it keeps it from freezing and maintains its functionality.

I swallow my toothpaste. I know, I know- GROSS!! It’s unsound to spit it out onto the ground at the campsite, as it would attract bears to the very spot that my fellow hikers will be camping on subsequent nights and the alternative is to carry around a ziploc spittoon. No thanks. I choose option A.

Tick checks. I have to check down there?!? How in the world? “You have a mirror, Sarah?”...”Well, yes..” When in Rome...

I’ve developed this cyclically transient stabbing right hip and lateral knee pain. So sharp that it momentarily takes my breath away. I have a choice in these moments. I can go down the mental rabbit hole of, “What if I’ve torn something? What if I have to quit? What if I can only get a couple of miles in today?...” OR I can treat these pains as a part of me, rather than my enemy. I picture hands literally massaging the pain away. I stop, and I stretch. I take 800mg of “Vitamin I”, AKA Ibuprofen. I ask it, “How can we get through this? What do you need?” I once read an excerpt that suggested actually naming these ailments during a long distance hike, forcing them into a friendship of sorts. I’ve named mine Pinocchio (Tom NorTON!!), as its discomfort is lying to me. It’s not going to stop me.

I’m not losing my mind, I swear.

“Whoa, oh, oh, it’s magic...you know...” Trail magic is defined as “an unexpected occurrence that lifts a hiker’s spirits and inspires awe or gratitude.” This could be as simple as a cooler of ice cold sodas at a trailhead, a hot breakfast served in a backyard that abuts the trail, or a ride into town. Chilly Billy, Boy Scout Troop 203 out of Gainesville, and The Appalachian Long Distance Hikers Association have already shown us our share of hitches, hot dogs, and Budweiser!

For my anesthesia colleagues, this has been analogous to your first days as a new graduate. It took us more time than it takes to roast a turkey to perform your gas machine safety checks, reconstitute your Norepinephrine, draw up 5 sticks of Propofol “just in case”, and check the pilot balloons of all 17 endotracheal tubes that were ready for ANY airway mishap. This is currently exactly me setting up and breaking down my tent each morning and evening, filtering my water and hoping not to spill my work, cooking over a burner smaller than a bottle of Mannitol, navigating... The list goes on.

I am confident that I will grow into mastering these processes as instinctively as I set-up for a Zenonos aneurysm clipping (Hi Georgie!!).

This has become my job. When my fingers are so cold that they ache through my gloves, I still have to manage to stow away my tent and curl them around my spork to eat my oatmeal. A girl needs the calories to climb the mountains. This is my new job. Period.

Katie left me this morning to return to Pittsburgh, and this comes with mixed emotions. I’m losing my security blanket, someone to laugh with as we drift off to sleep, someone to wake me up with a hot cup of coffee (yes, I’m a princess), a Sherpa (she’s carried my tent and extra food supply over the recent days so that my hip can heal), but I’m also gaining my independence. I will now make this hike my own and face the fear of solitude and complete and utter self-reliance. I’m cautiously EXCITED. The journey starts today. Next stop, Hiawassee!

To all that have called, texted, messaged, and emailed, I so very much appreciate you! It’s been a challenge to respond in a timely manner due to time, weather, and reception. I WILL get back to you if you’ve taken the time to support me, keep the love coming!

And lastly, happy World Down Syndrome Day to Katie’s youngest son, Nicky! It falls on March 21st as Down Syndrome is hallmarked by having 3 of the 21st chromosome. Your light gives me strength, and I love you sweet boy.

And now, I will walk alone. I’m scared as f&!$.