The document describes a hike through the Roan Highlands in Tennessee. It was a difficult five mile hike along exposed ridgelines with very strong winds that made it challenging to walk without being blown over. The descent was equally dangerous, requiring hopping quickly over jagged rocks and crevasses. The hike continued through grassy valleys and alien forests before ending at Elk River, where the hiker found serenity in the cooling mist. The hiker realized that long-distance hiking is about accumulating places, people, and sights over many miles and days, rather than any single perfect moment. The accumulation builds up the hiker until they are filled with wonder.

1. 18 Miles
The Roan Highlands:a delightful five mile stretchof trail alonganexposed,grassyridgeline
windingoverBigYellowMountain,thenLittle HumpMountain,andthenfinallyHumpMountain.
Beautiful,butdangerousevenona70 degree andsunny day like today.StrongerwindsthanIhave ever
hikedinbefore.One stepforward,thenone stepsideways,andtwohastypole plantstokeepfrom
blowingoverbefore anyprogresscanbe made.Leaningthe entire time 15degreesintothe wind.And
the inabilitytohearanythingbutthe constantroar and the occasional whoopsof bothdelightandterror
of fellow hikers.Windbreakerfillinguplike asail behindme.Hotandsweatycore,butwithfrozenwind-
burnedhandsand face.Wantingdesperatelytostopon thistall,grassymound,to sitdownand take a
break,cool down,warmup, and enjoythe view—butterrifiedtodoanythingbutcontinue walking
forwardlestI lose thisprecariousbalance betweenthe elements,lestIfreeze orfall orsimplyblow
away off the side of the mountain.
The descent:a constantrock hop.Hop, hop,hop.Don’t letyourguard down,notfor an instant,
or riskcatching yourtoe ina crevasse,pitchingforwardontothe jaggedground.Go,go,go, momentum
carryingdown,feetinquick successionone afteranother.Sharp,precariousedges,carefultokeep
balance—hop,hop,hop!Whizzingthroughtrees,pastone afteranother,blurringtogether,onward
towardTennessee—thensuddenlystop,stop,stop!Don’tsteponthe blacksnake!
Bear Branch Road: a returnto climbing.Uphill throughgrassyvalleysandlowlandsfull of
grasshoppersandwildflowers,amblingonbetweenthe mountains.Alongfour-wheelerroadsand
throughbarbedwire fences,pasttreeswitharmsoutstretchedtowardthe skythatlooklike theybelong
inthe AfricanSavana.PastIsaacs cemetery,aremote burial groundfallenintodisusewhere astone
Jesusstandsguardwatchinghikerspassbehindarun-downonce white-steepledchurch.Andthen
across anotherroad andintoan alienforestwhere straight-trunkedtreesare plantedinequallystraight,
evenlyspacedlines.Theirbranchesgrow outwardslike terracedspikesrisingtowardthe sky.
Otherworldlyandindescribable.
Andthenfinallydownagain,pastJonesFallswhereIstandbaskinginthe coolingmistwitha can
of chocolate frosting.AndontoElk River,where Iamble throughfieldsof wildflowersalonggrassy
banks,watchingthe waterlaze along.Serenitybeneathasettingsun.
On the day I leave mysecondstate onthe AppalachianTrail forgood,I am finallybeginningto
comprehendmyownrational forthru-hiking.InherPacificCresttravelogue Wild,Sheryl Strayedwrites
that the reasonfor long-distance hiking“hadtodo with…whatit waslike towalkfor mileswithno
reasonotherthan to witnessthe accumulationof treesandof meadows,mountainsanddeserts,
streamsand rocks,riversandgrasses,sunrisesandsunsets.”Thisisthe thingI’ve realize aboutthe trail
today.It’snot aboutthat one,single,perfectAppalachianTrail moment.All thisjournalingI’ve been
doingso far,tryingto capture the moment.It’snotaboutthat. Well,itis…and itisn’t.If it were all about
that one AppalachianTrail moment,whywalkall 2200 miles?Half anhour wouldsuffice—providedthat
it’sthe besthalf hour onthe AppalachianTrail.Butwe’re notlookingforthat besthalf hour,that best
moment,either.If we were,we couldgohome once we foundit.Butwe keepwalking—evenwhenit
rains,whenitpours,whenthe ice crystalsbeatdownon our heads,whenwe’re strugglingupward,
whenwe’re drowninginthe heatof the burningsun—we walk.We letitall accumulate.Tobe a long-
distance hiker,we have toacceptthat not everymoment,noteverystepormountainorsunrise or
sunsetonthe trail will be the bestyet.It’saboutthe accumulation.How the momentsare differentand
howtheyare the same,howtheyintertwine;how one leadstothe nextandto the nextandhow they
buildandbuildandbuildandbuild,like layersonacake, like piecesof the world’spuzzle.Justat400
miles,I’ve alreadylostcountof the sunsetsI’ve seenonthe AT.Perhaps,Ithink,the bestsunsetwill
have beenthe veryfirstone I eversaw.Or perhapsthe bestsunsetwill be the one thatclosesthe hike
at the end.PerhapswhenIfinish,Iwon’tevenknow whichsunsetwasthe bestone.Butit’snotabout
that either.Because everysettingof the sun,everyconsecutive closingof anotherdaybuildsuponthe

2. last.Andso on theybuildandbuild;the accumulationof placesandpeople,of mountains,of towns,of
white blazes,of footsteps.Andeachone fillsme upfurtherandfurtheruntil apointat whichI can’t take
any more and suddenlyIfindmyself burstingandoverflowingwithwonderandthen,the nextthingI
knowI am sittingonthe shore of ElkRiversobbingtothe sky.