Appalachian Apparitions***

I'm seeing many hikers posting their Katahdin pictures on Facebook.  They are all finishing up.  Some have even made it back to their prospective homes.  It occurred to me what a phenomenon traveling home really is.  Here we are - a few thousand people with backpacks all converged on a path 18 inches wide in the middle of nowhere.  People sometimes see us, at road crossings or the town laundry or in front of the beer cooler at the gas station.  But, we're really quite ethereal.  We fade back into the woods.  We cross the road, the lucky car to be there when we appear does a double take, and then we're back in the woods.  "Honey, did you see that?  Was it a person?  Was it Sasquatch?"

Apparitions.  Shades of reality.  Now you see us, now you don't.

And as we all end our treks, we fade back into the world.  Our moment of glory, our months of hard work, the buggered few we hiked with and fought with and slept with - we all go our separate ways, by plane, train, bus, or thumbing it.  Some had families waiting at the end.  Most had a beer and a Facebook post.  Some stayed for several days, not ready to fade into urban obscurity.  And as quickly as we had begun the Trail - just started following white blazes - that is how quickly it ended.  Put away the pack, take out the purse.  Put away the pants and socks you wore for 6 months straight - no one wants to see (smell) that here.  Speaking of which, don't forget to put on deodorant; oh, and shave your pits if you're going to wear a sleeveless shirt.

It's not that I disagree with any of these social mores.  It's just that... I'm not used to them.  It's not automatic anymore to grab a new (clean) pair of underwear.  I find it strange to actually own more than 1 pair.  I only started wearing underwear again on the Trail when I put a hole in the crotch of my pants and didn't have a sewing kit to fix it.  That's unheard of here in middle class suburbia.  I have to remember not to inspect my feet while sitting in the kitchen having breakfast.  That's uncouth.  Unhygienic.  And just kind of gross.  Yeah, I get it.  I just have to think through it.

I was at a high school volleyball game - and there was a lost and found.  I saw a cool hat.  Score!  I put it on.  Then someone reminded me that the hat wasn't mine and someone may be looking for it.  I couldn't just take it - that was stealing.  It never occurred to me like that.  I just figured the lost and found was like a hiker box - take it if you need/want it.  Put something back in if you don't need/want it for someone else.

And so as the Northbound class of 2013 thru-hikers graduate back to reality and forward to the next chapter in their lives, we all fade away from an elite class of bad-asses who climb mountains before breakfast, to simply... just another person on the bus.  One moment you see us, the next you don't.

Sometimes, you end up in a cave - this was part of Mahoosuc Notch

The view from this shelter was AMAZING!  But I'm giving you a glimpse of us hikers.

Patchouli sighting!

AWOL and me.  He wrote our guidebook.  This is at McGrath's Irish Pub in Vermont.

This is Miss Janet - mama of all hiker trash and has the BEST unmarked, white cargo van ever.  Love her!

Sometimes, you find yourself rock climbing when you mean to be hiking.  At least I had the ropes!

Mt Moosilauke - the precursor to the White Mtns.  Beautiful.

Wouldn't you want to be here?

This picture just looks like a ghost bird.  I feel a kinship - we're all apparitions.

Sifting sh... erm, compost from the privy.  Doing a work-for-stay.

I'm about to die according to the sign.  Why am I smiling?

Again, who wouldn't want to be here?  Y'all are missing out.

Evidence of lots of hikers.  This garage was pretty rank, I must admit.

***FYI, I stole this phrase from an article in some long-distance backpacking magazine I saw at some hostel.  Credit to whoever came up with that, because it wasn't me.