One month, living in the forest, hiking the AT, complete! What a fun journey it has been so far. As promised, here are some assorted ramblings from my first 30 days on the trail:
When I first started, I honestly had no clue what I was doing. Admittedly, in hindsight, I was ill-prepared. I left my shoes outside my tent to get rained on, I invited mice into my tent via my food, I hadn’t learned to use my water purifier prior to flying to Georgia. I had camped in the yard a handful of nights, of which I went back inside to sleep in my bed 3 of them. I hiked 7 miles (flatly) with my pack (packed much lighter than what I carry now) another handful of times. I did however fill in a lot of the experience gaps with tips, tricks, anecdotes, and straight-up lies about the trail. That gave me a false confidence that I knew what I was getting myself into, but also a real confidence that I’d be able to figure it all out anyway, like countless hikers before me had. Belief in my own adaptability outweighed my lack of sureness (and skill), and the gamble has paid off thus far
I’ve been asked how I can afford to do the trail. There are a bunch of factors, and I’ve made a lot of sacrifices (and have had a lot of help), but after being out here a month, it’s clear that I couldn’t afford NOT to do the trail. Getting to do this is a wonderful privilege, and this is truly one of the most unique and fulfilling chapters of my life. Knowing what I now know, and in anticipation of the rest of the journey, I would have sacrificed even more if needed to give this a try. Not to say I’m going to adapt my lifestyle to become an avid long-hiker now, but in the present, it is a very rewarding lifestyle to live. I no longer see it as I am putting my life on pause to hike the AT. In some ways it has felt like my life has been on pause for a long time, and by starting the trail I pressed play
For a while, I was carefully planning each day the night before. I have since backed off on that, and now make decisions more or less on the fly. Letting go of the reins has been a relief; I was overexerting control on the trek and treating it as I would a project with a strict deadline and many critical milestones (still working on undoing this line of thinking – when I push myself enjoyably, the progress takes care of itself), whereas it is really more of an open-ended journey in which I can leave logistics up to fate and how I am feeling at a particular moment. Outside of figuring out a way to obtain more food when I start to run low, this trail offers the convenience to be able act in this way, and I have found it to be extremely forgiving of missteps. It’s not an invitation to act carelessly or to lack vigilance, but I have gathered that it is perfectly okay to go with the flow. I’d happily take that with me when I leave the trail, please!
When a stretch of trail feels difficult, I reorient my thoughts quickly, by asking myself rhetorically:
-This feels difficult, but relative to what? (A double-session football practice, a Sunday long run while marathon training, doing long hours of computer work?)
-What was I expecting this to be? (Easy? Surely not. The physical demands of the trail was one of the factors that drove me to it).
Not as ways of invalidating the suffering, but by embracing that this undertaking is categorically different than anything else I have experienced. Thus, I believe that seeing the trail as ‘difficult’ is a choice (my wonderful and wise neighbor Donna helped me understand this), especially when framed against all the other things that are ‘difficult’. The trail is an objectively big undertaking in its scope and gravity, but it’s only subjectively difficult
Furthermore, fostering a high tolerance for discomfort and keeping a positive attitude no matter the circumstances are two of the most important traits worth embodying on the trail. I had a jumpstart with both given I’m an adrenaline junkie and have a couple of tattoos, and from all my time playing sports, running, and doing hard physical labor (and navigating hurricane aftermath), but the trail has tested and certainly sharpened each value as well. Although avoiding discomfort and unfortunate circumstances entirely is skillful in and of itself, or at the very least, just plain lucky, it’s not always possible to do so out here. The trail is ever-changing and physically demanding, our bodies are simultaneously strong and fragile, Murphy’s Law loves visiting from time-to-time… so being flexible/tough and eternally optimistic are butt-savers, and well-worth the occasionally-needed mental gymnastics
In addition to the personality traits above, “controlling the controllables” is really the name of the game… Terrain, elevation, weather, shelter/tent site/town locations are all well out of anyone’s hands. Attitude, routines, planning, executing, fueling yourself, hydrating, etc. are well-within everyone’s grasp, and that’s where I attempt to focus all of my mental energy. I run everything through that simple Serenity Prayer filter: is this something I can change or control? If the answer is no, the thought or worry goes the way of the dodo
Speaking of things you can control, early on someone said that out here (On It said it was Dreamcatcher), you have so much time to think that it’s beneficial to give thoughts and musings a definitive end, so they don’t stew forever. I have enjoyed employing that method, and like Elsa, I find myself deciding to let things go A.K.A. accept or surrender them (some things I’ve held onto for a long time! But out here you realize the mental toll letting things fester rent-free can have on you). It’s okay to kick the can down the road, or to kick it off the road entirely. I found that I was dragging too many proverbial cans down the road, like I had just gotten married or something, and on the trail that’s loud and disruptive. If only you could return your wasted thoughts for a $0.05 deposit, I’d have a clearer explanation on how I afforded the hike (I hope the metaphor landed)
Hopefully these thoughts are coherent enough to provide more insight into my world out here. I’d be happy to answer any general or specific questions about the journey or the trail, but in the meantime, a month in, I am going to continue playing it cool and keeping it fun. I’ll leave this update with my attempt at poetry for the day: Letting rain, tough terrain, and ankle pain roll off your back like a mane keeps the thru-hiker sane, and trail life far from mundane
![I [did] walk 500 miles…](https://ahikinghooper.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/05/IMG_7377-1024x768.jpeg)
![I [did] walk 500 miles…](https://ahikinghooper.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/05/IMG_7409-1024x768.jpeg)
![I [did] walk 500 miles…](https://ahikinghooper.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/05/IMG_7396-1024x768.jpeg)
![I [did] walk 500 miles…](https://ahikinghooper.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/05/IMG_7398-1024x768.jpeg)
![I [did] walk 500 miles…](https://ahikinghooper.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/05/IMG_7400-1024x768.jpeg)
![I [did] walk 500 miles…](https://ahikinghooper.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/05/IMG_7415-1024x768.jpeg)
![I [did] walk 500 miles…](https://ahikinghooper.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/05/IMG_7386-1024x768.jpeg)
![I [did] walk 500 miles…](https://ahikinghooper.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/05/IMG_7373-1024x768.jpeg)
![I [did] walk 500 miles…](https://ahikinghooper.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/05/IMG_7389-1024x768.jpeg)
![Still [White] Blazing!](https://ahikinghooper.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/05/IMG_7020-1024x768.jpeg)
![Still [White] Blazing!](https://ahikinghooper.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/05/IMG_7034-1024x768.jpeg)
![Still [White] Blazing!](https://ahikinghooper.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/05/IMG_7047-1024x768.jpeg)
![Still [White] Blazing!](https://ahikinghooper.com/wp-content/uploads/2026/05/IMG_7024-1024x768.jpeg)
