The Butterfly
I awoke, skin clammy.
The milk in the refrigerator was warmish.
The clock on the microwave, flashing.
The planters housing my lemon trees, shattered.
And an oak lay in the driveway.
A storm. There had been a storm.
A biggun.
And my vehicle without functioning brake pads, was across town.
On foot, and unjuiced, I walked.
2 miles.
To Dunkin’ Donuts.
No, Denise was not on shift.
I charged my phone and battery pack over an Americano, utilizing a public electrical outlet, anticipating an elongated power outage on the homefront. And a fellow patron, on shift for Duquesne Light, asked how my day was. I told Jason that it was quite good, aside from my handicaps. He offered to drive me for ice, should I want to fill coolers at home to chill the perishables that were actively soiling in my unnelectrified refrigerator.
Jason.
Wait… An act of kindness paid to a complete stranger? After walking to a Dunkin’ Donuts? While I sat with my Anker Power Core married to the wall outlet next to a public restroom?
Was I on trail?
The symbolism was fierce.
The lessons of that beast are ingrained. I didn’t react, I responded to these inconveniences with gratitude for what was, and I invited the tales that the mystery of this upside down day would bring.
Instinctively.
“Radical transformation requires radical trust in the unknown.”
Delicious ambiguity, as Gilda Radner would say.
Life is our playground.
Play on.
This way of living is new for me. Tailspins replaced with acceptance.
A butterfly symbolizes change and transformation. The shedding of the old in exchange for new beauty. A metamorphosis.
“The experience that you need is often the one that you didn’t expect.”
I wasn’t going to return to Trail Days this year. Been there, done that. 12 hours round trip for 36 hours of chaos. Nah, maybe next year. But when Wandering Cowboy made it too easy, I listened to my intuition. My guide. It said, “Go, Sarah.” He’d drive through Pittsburgh on his way to Damascus, Virginia from Columbus, ohio- scoop me up on Friday and replant me on Sunday.
An analytical mind only creates limits.
And there he was.
Dancing.
In the thick of the festivities of Trail Days, nonetheless to the Grateful Dead. He was alone. Unemcumbered. And not giving a shit. Just as I had left him.
We spent my 7th night on trail together. March 24th, 2021. At Low Gap Shelter. He exuded grit and confidence. Badassery. He had a story…but what was it? I didn’t know. I was intimidated of him. Of his trail wherewithal. All while my hands ironed out my bandana to use as a placement before placing my miniature corn muffins atop its clean cotton.
We silently judged one another for our blanketed differences. Perhaps he assumed that my placemat represented an entitlement, my aloofness. And I assumed that his nomadism, his precariousness.
But my interaction with Traveling Man had changed me. For he birthed a mindset within me that partnered me throughout each one of my miles north to Katahdin. “Your life is yours to carve, Sarah.”, his voice carried.
And I never saw him again.
Until Trail Days, 2022. At the foot of the stage that he was frocking upon.
I was sheepish to approach him. He flies high in the trail community. But I needed him to know that I finished. That I did it. Expecting him to have no recollection of our brief time together, I engaged him at the bonfire, “Traveling Man, I Serendipity. We…we met just past Gooch Gap last March…”
“Serendipity… I have asked about you, searched for you, in fact. I do remember you.”, he interjected.
He got it.
He’s been a teacher. He’s taught me that success is happiness. That the worst truth brings more peace than any artfully crafted lie. For it’s not the content, but the transparency that matters. That makes you feel safe. To keep my head where my hands are. To live.
That I was a butterfly.
“Once in a while, you get shown the light in the strangest of places if you look at it right.”
Fate is defined as “the development of events beyond a person’s control.”
But we are active participants in our fate with our hands at play in each decision that we make. If we listen to our intuition, that is. Therefore, we may be ultimately responsible for our “nexts”.
Get quiet. Quiet is loud. Just listen.
I was shaking, perspiring in fact, as I approached the podium on May 21st, that I was sharing with Heather "Anish" Anderson. I was looking to her to guide me through my virgin experience in telling a crowd filled with strangers of my story. My truths. My vulnerabilities. My insecurities.
Sometimes we create our own disappointments through our expectations.
“Was I a joke? Why was I here? Is this laughable?”, I thought.
I was the opening act. The warm-up.
And immediately before I was called to take the mic, Jenny surfaced. “Sarah, I am a friend of your sister’s. She shared your blog with me last year…”, she introduced herself. Jenny went on to tell me that she had driven from South Carolina to hear me speak. Me. And no-one else. From South Carolina to Pennsylvania. I had changed her life through my shared experience, she explained.
And through my tears of gratitude, I advanced toward the stage with a confidence that only the universe could have provided. Through Jenny. And through Michelle, “I read your last blog post, and I said ‘Yes!!’, Sarah!”, she wrote. Michelle drove to Pine Grove Furnace from upstate New York, as a perfect stranger, in her commitment to saying “Yes” to fear. And Michelle camped in solitude for the first night in her life on the evening that I spoke.
Remember Sarah, “The experience that you need is the one that you didn’t expect.”
I trusted this in my moment of insecurity. I wasn’t supposed to be mentored by Heather. I was supposed to hold my own hand.
Because being strong is admitting that you feel weak.
Ask yourself, “What does it mean to be courageous in this moment?”. This particular moment. It can be as simple as admitting that you’re uncomfortably cold. As simple as saying, “I need to leave the party.” Or as complex as telling someone that you love them. Or that you don’t.
Be the change.
Don’t miss the opening act.
Be a butterfly.
Please add andtheniwalked@gmail.com to your contact list and mark my emails as “safe” so that they don’t end up in your spam folder.
My Grandmother, my Aurora, shedded her life here on earth for a new beauty with our hands intertwined on May 26th. If you knew this angel, you were better for it. She’s my butterfly.
My father and his mother, Mother’s day, 2022.
Trail Days, 2022. Damascus, VA.
Miss Janet, an iconic trail angel.
The drums surrounding the bonfire.
I first met Solo in Unionville, NY last summer. He noticed that I was feverishly typing on my bluetooth keyboard over beers at the local watering hole, off-trail, while others were free of obligation. He saw me. Now a mentor and forever friend, he’s just published his newest book, Final Notes From The Field. Grab yourself a copy, you’ll be better for it.
Wandering Cowboy.
Steve “Mighty Blue” Adams, interviewed me on the 303rd episode of his podcast, Mighty Blue on The Appalachian Trail, in December of 2021, and I was lucky enough to meet him in person at Trail Days.
Deja Vu, Glitter, and I.
Nimblewill Nomad is the oldest person, at 83, to have completely hiked all 2,200 miles of the entire Appalachian Trail, a record that he set in 2021. He and I crossed paths in Virginia, Pennsylvania, and New Hampshire.
Hermes.
Hermes and Bushwack, walking once again through the arches of Damascus, a year after each of their successful thru hikes.
Hogman and Country Boy, brothers from Florida, and my supports through my first days alone on the trail. Having last seen each other in Northern Georgia, we bumped elbows at Trail days, embracing with sheer joy in our accomplishments and reconnection.
Tent city.
Hands down, my favorite trail town meal over 2,200 miles- Damascus Diner’s egg sammich, scrambled egg with mayo and tomato on homemade grilled sourdough.
Amethyst.
Main Street, Damascus, blazed as the trail runs right through town.
Wandering Cowboy and I treated this hungry hiker to breakfast at the diner after giving him a lift from Abingdon.
Mom and Dad drove to Pine Grove for my talk!
Bryan and Front-Back-Fanny-Pack on my AV crew!
“Anish”.
Heather takes the podium.
Ang, the first friend that I met at The University of Pittsburgh, lives a stones throw from the Appalachian Trail museum. My time spent there has allowed for us to have much time together after 20 years of living across the state from one another. The trail continues to provide.
Meet Nan, a fellow museum volunteer, and the oldest woman to hike the Appalachian Trail in 2014, at the age of 74.
Becky and Julie at the after-event.
Ben, owner and proprietor of Big Hill Ciderworks, Gardners, PA.
Addie (you rock!), Michelle (virgin tenter), and Jenny (South Carolina trekker), all perfect strangers who I’ve gotten to know through their following of my blog. Incredible to have spent time with each of you in person ladies, and thank you for showing up for me, XO!
I needed you.
Debbie and Buddha.
Meet “Cider", who woke up that morning as Graem, but after accepting our offering of trail magic in a lift to the ciderworks and tortellini alfredo, we giveth his trail name!
The AT museum sits in Pine Grove Furnace State Park, the half-way point of the trail. Here, at the General Store, the “Half-Gallon Challenge” takes place as hikers pass through- an attempt to ingest a half gallon of ice cream, at the half-way point, in a half hour.
A typical resupply at the General Store.
The trail passes through the lawn of the museum.
I met Sheppard as he was passing through Northbound from Georgia during a volunteer shift, he is now approaching New England!
The Benton MacKaye exhibit opened in the fall of 2021. Benton was an American forester, planner, and conservationist, and is best known as the originator of the Appalachian Trail.
The AT museum is a non-profit that depends completely on memberships and contributions. Consider joining The AT Museum Society or making a contribution!
The original Earl Shaffer Shelter, built in the 1960’s, resides on the museum’s second level.
Trace beer and Tikka Masala with Delucia.
This mug, from Salvay, New York, belonged to my great grandparents.
“A” for Aurora.
Congratulations to Mackenzie Minney as she leaves the nest for Indiana Wesleyan University to continue her soccer career!
Kelly and B.J., twinning!
First cousins, minus James, celebrating Gram’s life.
Diesel, my college roommate turned sister, drove in from Columbus, Ohio unannounced to share in all of Gram’s services and toast to her beautiful life.
Layla.
During a volunteer shift at the AT museum, Steve entered. Steve shared with me that it was his second time visiting the museum. His first, last fall, when he met a thru hiker named “Serendipity” who was driving back from Mount Katahdin. She was from Pittsburgh, as was he.
“Steve, that was me.”, I exclaimed!
Serendipity.
Meet Jeff, Sandy, Jerry, and Ed, fellow museum docents.
Meet “Junker”, with over 14,000 trail miles.
My stays with Ang and her family between docent shifts make my stints in Shippensburg while volunteering at the museum all of the sweeter. Ang and I discuss work-life balance and the varied definitions of “success”, agreeing that time and experiences are the front runners.
This downed tree was preventing me from getting to the museum, only 2 miles North, in time to open its doors. When…is that a bird?…is that a plane?…no just two arborists that pulled up behind me, saving me from a 30+ mile reroute.
Sweet, sweet serendipity.
Dogfish, AT NOBO Class of 2022.
On June 9th, I walked into Dennis and Marie’s cheeseburger magic while day hiking in central Pennsylvania, just as I did on July 9th, 2021 as I was approaching the half-way point on my thru hike. My, what a year will bring…
I was able to find my signage on the register that they keep from year to year!
Felt good to be home.
I introduced Ang, Mason, and Hannah to my white blazes.
And in the quiet, there was Mountain Laurel.
Meet Jay, the treasurer of the Appalachian Trail museum. We shared stories of our love of the hike.
And in walked Brad Kohler, a fellow Montour High School grad, passing through Pine Grove on his very own thru. The night before, the General Store was vandalized and out of operation, keeping him from his monumental ice cream challenge! Serendipity would have it that Greg was also volunteering this day and had…ice cream in his van. So Brad scored a personal, and more memorable, challenge to remember. The trail provides.
Local children immersing themselves in the new 3-D trail exhibit.
Meet Greg and Rich, friends, but more like brothers. I was a sponge to their knowledge of writing, publishing, and personal experience.
And then I was off to the The Roundhill Appalachian Trail Festival, hosted by B Chord Brewing, where I had the absolute pleasure of representing the AT museum with fellow volunteers, Jessie and Mills. The conversation was fierce and real connection was had. Mills artfully hosts a podcast about the history of the Appalachian Trail, The Green Tunnel. Tune in, educate yourself to this uniquely well told story of our nation’s first footpath.
Which brought me to The Fisher’s for the night!
Meet Benton. This lil’ guy was named after Benton MacKaye!
And then to my happy place, my favorite hostel on the AT, Bear’s Den, Blumont, Virginia. In September of 2020, Katie and I sat in their bunk room before heading out on our long section of Northern Virginia, when I Googled, “How much does it cost to hike the Appalachian Trail?”.
I had an itch that I simply couldn’t shake.
Glenn (proprietor), Smiley, NashVegas, and Crow.
Meet Lance. Lance does work-for-stay at Bear’s Den, and we connected over pancakes last summer on my thru. I now had the chance to share with him, the impact that he had on me, when he told me that I had just hit the 1,000 mile mark and “knew what to do.”
Archives from 2021, proving to Lance, his impact on me.
Bullet forgot his coffee mug. Nothing that a sheared Coors Light can can’t handle.
NashVegas.
Bullet, Rosie, Wallflower, and I met at Snicker’s Gap for trail magic, supporting this year’s hikers, as we were supported last year.
Meet Baffles, hello Domino’s!
Daytona and Fisherman.
Meet Cargo, who started in Key West, hiking 1,300 miles before reaching the Southern terminus of the Appalachian Trail in Georgia. This hike will complete his Triple Crown!
Longhorn, from the U.K.
Bullet loves him some Wallflower.
Working with a view at Bear Chase Brewery. I’ve teamed up with Ray Cheselka, an SEO expert, out of Colorado. He works virtually to optimize your search engine capabilities and tailors your website to work for you. If you’re a self-taught web designer, I would highly recommend!
I was asked to speak at the South Fayette Library. Say “Yes.”
It’s Miller time!
The littles of my people.
Congratulations, Lexi Jones, on your future hockey career at Nazareth!
C, where did the time go? My bestie has beautiful babies!
Kelly Cannon and crew in the Shenny’s!
Gail Corbett, a mentor and close friend of mine, found her legs at Dick’s Creek Gap in Georgia. You fill me with sheer joy!
Dips has went vinyl! Thank you, TM.
Remember when I didn’t have electricity? Nor a vehicle? Then came Marissa.
Trust the process.
Pappa Duke motors on!
Take the time. The time to visit with the folks that mean something to you. Put down your phone and show up at their door.
And my gurl!
President is fiercely owning the PCT! Currently at mile 1090.8, she’s made it through the Sierra’s folks! Ice axe, sent HOME, and her light is shining brightly!
