“So…” Erin asked the next morning after Cara had once again dropped us back off at the trail, wishing us luck with the day’s hike.
“Sooo…. what?” I asked, feigning ignorance.
“Come on dude. I don’t need details but like, was it nice?”
“Yeah,” I said, smiling in spite of myself. “Yeah, it was really nice.”
I did tell her a few sparing details, reserved for only a best friend, and asked her how her night was. It was one of only two nights we’d spent apart in months. She told me that they’d had a few drinks, and she and Nasty had made out again. I asked her, “So, was Nasty nice?”
“Very funny. Dude, that was just a necessity after four months with no action.” It turned out Erin and Nasty weren’t the only ones making out in the Barn. Peaches, the woman Turbo had been hiking with before we’d met back up had come into Gorham the day before with her hiking partner, Cream. Apparently, they were also going at it in the loft.
“Poor Pilgrim and Sug!” I laughed, “Awwww, I’m going to miss Turbs.”
“He said he’ll catch up before we summit, but... you know…” Erin said wistfully.
As we hiked up and over the beautiful alpine peaks of Goose Eye Mountain, I looked back to see the Presidential range of the Whites looming in the South. It had been a gorgeous stretch, but I was so happy to be finished and back to a wilder and less populated part of the trail. We climbed up again to Fulling Mill Mountain, and I thought about the night before. My cheeks get hot with the memory, but I also noticed the absence of something. I didn’t feel any of the usual guilt, regret, embarrassment, or uncertainty. I watched Ben striding up ahead, his mass of curly, sun-streaked, brown hair peeking over the top of this pack, and felt only happy.
* * *
We were all buzzing as we descended Fulling Mill, not just because we were excited to finally be in Maine, but we were about to go through the Mahoosuc Notch. We’d been hearing about this one mile stretch of trail since the beginning of our hike. This glacier-worn boulder field is deemed “the longest mile on the Appalachian Trail” because it takes longer to traverse than any other stretch. The notch is full of rock formations that you have to crawl through, climb over, slide down. There’s no going around it, the mile-long gulch is surrounded by sheer granite walls on either side.
We reached the notch mid-morning and I knew that the mile was going to be slower for Erin and I (her with her knee and me with my fear of heights) than for the guys. We told them to go ahead and that we’d see them at the shelter later that night. As we prepared to start, we made sure to take anything hanging from our packs (our water bottles, hiking poles, sleeping pads) and cram them into our already full bags. Squeezing in and out of rock crevices could easily knock items off and down into unreachable holes. As we slowly made our way through, we saw plenty of evidence of hikers who’d lost precious items along the way.
The air was cooler in the Notch and we could hear water trickling underneath the boulders as we carefully made our way over, under, and through the rock. We talked each other through tricky parts, pointing out handholds or hidden caves. At times we had to stop and laugh at the absurdity of the precarious positions we found ourselves in. When we finally made our way to the other side, it was over an hour later. We would generally hike 3-4 miles an hour, so the Notch had definitely lived up to its nickname.
I took a pack of celebratory cigarettes out of a side pocket and handed one to Erin, saying, “I think we earned it.”
“That was actually kinda fun,” Erin mused, “like a giant obstacle course.”
* * *
Four days later, on July 4th, Erin and I were alone together again. This time we were in the middle of the dense Maine woods, looking for a good clearing to set up our bug bivy and tarp. It was our first time using the tarp since we’d abandoned our single tents over a month ago. We had only ever used the tents once, always finding shelter or clear skies to sleep under, and couldn’t justify the weight. I connected the poles that gave structure to the bug bivy, turning it into a dome that could cover both of our heads and keep the black flies and mosquitoes away, and then Erin and I covered it with a lightweight tarp that we set up with our hiking poles and a few tent stakes to keep us dry.
“Do you miss Ben?” Erin asked, looking serious. She was holding the hiking poles and tarp upright while I tried to stake out the sides.
“Dude, shut up. It’s you and me, baby. We’re going to Maine!” I said echoing the words she’d said when she’d passed out on the trail in Virginia. The phrase had become the rallying cry of the group.
* * *
After we’d made it through Mahoosuc Notch and up to Baldplate shelter our first day into Maine, a general unrest had seemed to spread over the group. Ben and I were somewhat immune, being in the throes of a fresh romance, but the other three were completely, as we often said, “anti.” Erin was in constant and increasing pain, Sug had never recovered his enthusiasm for the trail after he spent those nine days at home, and due to his frequent “why are we even out here?” comments we joked that Pilgrim seemed to be in the middle of an existential crisis.
On July 3nd, Ben and I had been hiking together in the morning. We were happy for what seemed to be a relatively milder start to our hike. The day before had been exceptionally hard hiking, there were climbs that required metal hand and footholds dug into the sheer rock cliffs. Sug and I had questioned why everyone talked about how hard the Whites were but no one warned you about the beginning of Maine.
As Ben and I walked that morning he’d surprised me with a question. “What do you think about me moving to Cincinnati after this is over?”
I’d decided on University of Cincinnati for law school, so I knew what he was really asking was if I would be okay with him moving there to be with me.
I immediately tensed and thought of all the reasons I should say no. His question made me incredibly nervous. I was already scared about this new chapter of my life, starting law school was going to be a huge change from working and hiking and on top of it I was moving to a new city. I was already having a hard time imagining a life after the trail that was so different from the one I had envisioned with Kevin when I started.
“I don’t know, Ben,” I started. “You know Cincinnati is in Ohio, right? Like, what would you even do there? And like law school is going to be super busy...”
“I’ll find a job, think about grad school. I don’t know. But it’s not like I have somewhere else I need to be.” Once Ben had broken up with his girlfriend in Wisconsin earlier in the hike, his plans of moving to Chicago after the trail had been dashed. He’d been tossing around maybe moving to Wilmington, North Carolina, but he didn’t have any obligations.
He stopped hiking and turned to face me, and said gently, “Look, I don’t want you to answer now. But, I really like you and I feel like maybe we owe it to ourselves to see where this thing goes. And I don’t know anything about Cincinnati, but you’ll be there, right?”
“Right,” I said. “Okay... I’ll think about it.”
“Good.”
“Hey... I, uhhh... I really like you, too.”
We walked along in silence for a few minutes when we reached a clearing on the peak of a mountain. We found Pilgrim laying on his back on a large rock, absently nibbling on a rice cake.
“You alright, Griz?” I asked.
“I’m just so fucking tired. I feel like shit... I’m all weak,” he answered, not sitting up.
Erin and Sug came up the trail behind us.
“What’s with him?” Sug asked.
“I FEEL LIKE SHIT,” Pilgrim answered.
Erin took a look at him. “Well, maybe you should eat more than a fucking rice cake.”
Pilgrim looked offended, “I like rice cakes.”
“Nobody likes rice cakes. They have zero nutritional value. What are you, on a diet? What else have you eaten today?” I demanded.
He slowly sat up and smiled, “Pine nuts.”
“GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE! PINE NUTS,” Erin said, shaking her head. “That’s like the least fatty nut.”
As we talked more, Pilgrim admitted that he thought he was “over hiking.” Erin and I looked at each other with wide eyes. That was the same thing See Blue had said before he got off the trail in Massachusetts. Pilgrim, although prone to dramatic emotional swings, was also sensitive to the emotions of others, so when he saw Erin’s and my worried look, he assured us, “I’m not going to quit, I just want to complain about it for a little while. We’re going to Maine, right?”
Ben, who had been quiet the whole time, looked up from his trail book, “I have a plan.”
Ben’s plan was to hike a few more miles to a road crossing and get a hitch into a restaurant in the town of Rangely to eat at a place that had subs and pizza. When in doubt, feed the angst.
Buoyed by the break to our routine, we all hiked together down the mountain, playing a game we often did when we were together. We’d each pretend to be racecars and try to overtake each other while speed walking. One of us would narrate, “Sweets in the red car is taking the lead... Oh wait, here comes Sug down the stretch, he’s bumped out of the way by Not Yet, but it’s Pilgrim that emerges in the number one spot!”
There was no point, just as there was no point to any of our games, other than to pass the time and make each other laugh.
When we’d arrived in town and ordered our lunches—we made Pilgrim order the biggest sub on the menu—Ben announced that he had another plan. There was a guest house on a lake nearby and the guidebook said the owner would come pick up hikers from Rangley.
“The last couple of days have been hard, and I think we all deserve a break. It’s practically a holiday,” he said, referring to the date, July 3rd.
The mood at the table made it clear he was right. The other three had already been in a funk and now I was also in internal turmoil over Ben’s proposal to move to Cincinnati. He hadn’t said another word about it, but I couldn’t stop thinking about what to do.
Ben made the arrangements, and we all teased him for being the “hiking dad,” for his knack of taking charge when everyone else was floundering.
“Somebody has to take charge of you idiots,” he laughed.
It turned out Gull Pond Lodge was a perfect respite. The setting, right on the water, was beautiful and the owner, a sweet man named Bob, welcomed us in and made us feel instantly at ease. He showed us upstairs to two rooms with bunk beds and told us we were some of his first hikers of the season.
Pilgrim decided that what he needed to get him through the rest of the hike was a shake-up. “I’m going to shave.”
“Shave what?” I asked, dubious.
“My hair, my beard, EVERYTHING,” he answered, going off to ask Bob if he had clippers.
The rest of us sat around the table and started to talk about our plan for the rest of the hike. We had over 220 miles left to go. Ben was saying that we might need to start hiking big miles. He’d planned to meet his dad for the last part of the trail. They’d hiked the first three days together and his dad wanted to come to hike the last few days together, too. His dad was supposed to receive a big award from the ACLU on July 15th so Ben needed to be finished in time to be back in Delaware for the ceremony. He’d originally wanted to be done by July 10th, but that was seeming less likely with each day. He thought maybe he could make it to the 11th or 12th at the very latest.
“Okay, yeah, we can bust out some big miles,” I said, trying to wrap my head around finishing within a week.
Erin gave a wry laugh, “I mean, I guess you guys can.”
“What are you talking about, ‘you guys?’” I asked, matching her sharp tone.
“Did you forget about my fucking knee? I can’t hike 30-mile days every day. So maybe you guys should just go ahead,” she said, her voice firm, but her eyes welling with tears. She stood up abruptly and walked outside.
Ben and Sug looked stunned, and I pushed my chair back and followed her out.
I found Erin sitting on the steps, staring out at the pond.
“I’m sorry,” I said, sitting down. “I’m just feeling... a little torn in two directions.”
“No, I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m just so frustrated. I’m always in pain and I hate always feeling like I’m the one holding everyone back.”
“I know…”
“But dude. I can’t hike those big miles. I just can’t.” Her eyes started to fill up again. Mine did, too.
“I know, and it’s okay. We don’t have to,” I told her.
“But I know you want to finish with Ben and everyone, so I think maybe you should just go and I’ll finish on my own.” She looked resolute now.
“Are you fucking out of your mind?” I asked. “I’m with you. I started with you and I’m finishing with you and I’m not going to make you kill yourself to get there.”
“But what about Ben?” she asked.
“Ben who?” I answered, grinning. I paused and then told her, “He wants to move to Cincinnati with me... like, after the trail.”
“WHAT? When did he say that?” Erin shrieked. “Wait. What did YOU say?”
I told her about my hesitation. We talked for a bit, agreeing it “was huge” but coming to no conclusion as to what I should do. Eventually we stood to go back inside.
I laughed, remembering Ben and Sug’s expressions as we’d walked out. “The boys definitely think we were out here fighting.”
“We should really play it up when we go back in, call each other bitches and stuff,” Erin said, opening the door.
We found Ben and Sug upstairs and tried to convince them that we were truly upset with each other, but neither of them were buying it.
“Look,” I said to Ben, “I know you need to finish by the 11th, but we can’t do that. So, I think you guys might just need to go ahead.”
“Nah,” Ben answered.
“Nah?” I repeated, looking at Erin and Sug to make sure I’d heard right.
“Yeah. Nah. I called my dad while you guys were out there ‘fighting’ and told him I couldn’t be done by the 11th and he said he didn’t care if he missed his awards, that he’d wait.” He said it like it was no big deal, like of course he wasn’t going to finish without us. He looked at Erin, “Sorry, Dude Fuck, you’re stuck with me until the end.”
I was so relieved and went to hug Ben when Pilgrim bust out of the bathroom. He looked so startlingly different with his shaved head and no beard that Erin and I both screamed.
“Nononononononono... it’s too weird.” I said, covering my eyes.
“Who ARE you?” Erin said, laughing.
“Cool... thanks, you two,” Pilgrim said, looking just a little annoyed. “Just what you want to hear, that your face is too weird to look at.”
“I don’t like it,” I said.
“Jesus, Sally,” Ben shot me a look.
“No, I agree. It’s no good,” Erin said, backing me up. “Your face is fine, it’s just you look like a totally different person.”
* * *
After we got over our shock, we all sat down again and decided to hash out a mileage plan for our finish. We settled on a summit date—July 15th. We planned our stops for the remainder of the mileage, making sure to include as many town stays as possible, knowing we would need them to keep morale up and make it to the end. We all vowed once again, to stick together. Everyone who had someone coming to hike the summit with them—Erin, Pilgrim, Ben—called their family and let them know our plans.
The boys really wanted to stay at Gull Pond over July 4th, to go watch the fireworks around the lake. Erin and I decided that we would hike ahead, so that we could do two easy days over what looked like pretty big climbs, while the boys could take a zero day and do one 30-mile day to catch up. Now that we knew we wouldn’t lose them, it felt okay to split up temporarily.
That was how Erin and I found ourselves in the middle of the woods, alone, on July 4th. It felt good to talk and laugh, just the two of us. We marveled at the beauty of the mountains we had climbed over that day. The three summits of Saddleback Mountain—the main peak, the Horn, and Saddleback Junior—had been thrilling to hike over. The clear skies had allowed us to see the whole ridge laid out in front of us as we walked. We talked about what it was going to be like to enter the real world again, how we were a crazy mix of excitement to be done and never wanting this to end. We talked like we were back in my childhood bedroom, laying side by side on twin beds, both tired, but neither of us wanting to be the first to fall asleep.
“Isn’t it weird... this might be our last night camping, just the two of us,” I said sleepily. “I love you, Ernie.”
“I love you too, Sal.” She may have said more, but I fell asleep first. Just like always.