It’s Log, It’s Log….No, This Isn’t That Song

The logging process has begun. Truth be told, I nearly started it after two days of being back.  The best part about doing a documentary on an Appalachian Trail thru-hike? Reliving all the awesome moments by watching the footage. I find at times I am homesick for the people on the trail and the beauty of the trail, and this process is really helping that transition process. The editing is going to take the better part of a year, but, I thought I would share some fun screen grabs from March – April for you all! Enjoy 🙂

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Happily Mal-adjusted

As time goes on, I’ve realized I am happier being “maladjusted”. I don’t want to go back to the high stress life I had before. There’s traffic? Duh, lots of people live here. I spilled tea on my white shirt, one less thing I have to own. It’s raining? Good, we need it, there’s been a massive drought and I have a dry place to go at night. All these things, and many others, used to stress me out. There’s so very many things to be thankful for and the biggest lesson is simplicity. I’ve been going through my things and sending them to good will. I don’t need 100 shirts, obviously an exaggeration, but being ruled by our “stuff” is a sure fire way to add stress. I can tell you from experience now that life is more full filling when everything you own is what you carry on your back. Your “things” are broken down into necessity. Wants are tangible and simple. On the trail I only ever wanted to shower, have a cold or hot drink and have the time to wash my clothes. I never want to become a consumerist again and that, I am perfectly okay with. So this is me, Kori (still feels weird when people call me by my real name…), happily maladjusted.

A New Journey: Adjusting

One full week since I climbed the amazing Mt. Katahdin. I was warned going into this that my life would change, that I would change and that nothing would ever be the same. Part of me wonders if I really listened to that advice. I spoke with a good trail friend last night and the word I came up with when talking to her was shock. Shock. That fully describes, as best as one word can, how I feel. EVERYTHING is different. I suppose everyone is the same, just how I view things has changed. I walk through this drab world now, hard, rough, beauty obscured by geometric giants. Every smell threatens my nose, swirling scents of a fake world. Tar, rubber, gas, oil, plastic, perfume, cologne. The sounds are harsh and too vibrant. I no longer pause to listen, I am bombarded with shooting planes, screeching tires, angry horns. I feel like I don’t belong in this world that tries to hammer itself over your head. Yet, I remain calm and focus on blocking it out as meditatively as possible. I’ve never been one to lie or pad my thoughts when it comes to how I feel and/or my opinions. That hasn’t changed, and so this is an honest offering up to the question I’ve been asked most frequently: how are you?

The answer: I am calmly shocked 🙂

Life and Decisions

Life is full of decision making and consequences. Let me start by clarifying something. What I have been doing for the past six months is not a vacation. It has been hard work and work that I have both loved and loathed. Waking up when the sun comes up everyday to walk anywhere between 15-25 miles a day is physically and mentally taxing. And it has been my job. I’ve learned that loving your job is as important as respecting it and taking a break from
It. I’ve had forced breaks, such as blisters and trench foot. I’ve had chosen breaks, or vacations, such as trail days and the fourth of July. I am explaining all this because the general consensus seems to be that I have been on vacation. And to then follow up with my decision to finish, despite some consequences could have those that think I’m living it up for six months slightly confused. The reality is, when you go away, life keeps living without you. I have one more year left of grad school. Unfortunately, it starts very soon and I have over 200 miles to go. Literally, an impossible feat in Maine when you are trying to complete it in 10 days. Most people out here have the luxury of time. They don’t have a deadline. I however, don’t have that luxury. From where we are, that would mean 30 mile days. That would not be fun work. It would be hell and it would make my rapidly deteriorating knees very worse. It has been a very hard decision, but, Skrambo and I are jumping ahead to the 100 mile wilderness to finish our journey. It matters more to finish the trail on an enjoyable note, doing much more manageable miles. We are coming back next summer to hike the sections we missed from time constraints and injury. But, either way, the lesson here, something I fully stand by, is that our journey went in this direction. This was how our thru-hike went and how it was supposed to go. I embrace it. I’ve loved it. And I am looking forward to enjoying the 100 mile wilderness and most of all, Katahdin.



One Year Later

A lot can happen in a year. I don’t think it’s very often we have the opportunity to reflect on that. A year ago from today I was finishing a three day hike in the whites, where I was testing my ability to handle multiple overnights in order to prep for the A.T. I was also going through a great deal of emotional turmoil. Flash forward to now, the exact day, one year later. I am hiking the same exact mountains. Literally, the same exact ones. This time, as I crossed South Twin, went over Guyot and lingered by Zealand Falls I felt completely new and different. I’ve realized the changes the A.T. has brought to my life along the way, but, this was truly an epiphany moment. I love myself, my life, my journey so much more. I am not left wanting for something better anymore because it already exists. I’m so very satisfied with the decisions I’ve made and the choice to only deal with the now and not the undefined future. On the trail, if you spend too much time over analyzing life the trail seems to remind you to focus on what is right in front of you. Such as tripping on a tree root (which happened twice on this day). The trail constantly reminds me to be in the moment, understand it and enjoy it for what it’s worth. And man, the whites, my home, are worth so much.