A year ago today my brother Rich and I summited Mt. Katahdin, finishing my Appalachian Trail thru hike. Completing a thru hike is pretty much an all-consuming effort during the hike and the completion of something I wanted to do for 50 years. So, what comes next?
I’ve been busy the past year. Maybe too busy. We moved to West Lafayette. We made several trips to Delaware, where I’m writing from now. A trip or two to St. Louis. I’ve spent a good bit of time getting the new house changed to being our house. Some time trying to get my shop up to speed. A lot of time fixing up the trailer in Delaware. So, I’ve been busy with physical activities, but not so much with activities that require an intellectual or emotional investment. I’ve gotten some woodworking and photography done, but not the amount I expected to be doing. And I’ve done pathetically little reading and writing. My lack of blog posts is a testimony to that.
A friend of Lise and Gretchen’s works at hostels along the AT. I met her in Millinocket, Maine, at the end of my hike. She is very familiar with the AT, and the culture of the AT. Recently she came and stayed at our trailer in Delaware.
She asked me an interesting question. Did I, or do I, feel post-trail depression? The question caught me a little off guard. Apparently, post-trail depression is a common thing, and she knows of several post thru hike suicides. She was putting together a workshop about the issue for The Gathering, before it was cancelled because of COVID.
I can see how depression could become an issue after a thru hike. The morning after summitting Katahdin we were eating in a Millinocket restaurant. Next to us was a table of thru hikers that summited when I did. All were considerably younger than I. Several of them I had known since early in the hike. We thru hikers just spent an all-consuming five and a half months slogging from Georgia to Maine. And now we were done. They were all feeling good; chatting and joking until someone said, “OK, now what”? The response was dead silence and blank stunned expressions. A couple of them went pale. What comes next never appeared on the agenda. I had a house and a trailer to work on, so I had plenty to occupy my time. It was obvious none of them had a clue as to what they would do next.
Depression is a rather harsh word for my post trail feelings, but there is something of a void. Something is missing. A lack of purpose maybe? The mundane just doesn’t seem that important. I wanted to do the AT for about 50 years. There was an emotional commitment to doing a thru hike. It was always hanging over me, and now I’ve done it. So, it does beg the question, what’s next? What am I working towards? Besides a one-way ticket to being on the wrong side of the grass. I’m staying busy, I have no problem filling my time. But I don’t feel an emotional commitment to fixing up a trailer or working on a house. It’s just something you do. Or anyone can do.
I don’t want to do the AT again, but I admit, there’s a pull. I miss the emotional commitment to completing a thru hike. I need something like that to keep me mentally engaged and sane. While on the AT, I met several people that have done multiple thru hikes. Sometimes back-to-back. They thru hiked in 2018 and were doing it again in 2019. I thought there was something wrong with them. Something was missing, they had no life. Now I’m starting to understand. It’s not that they don’t have a life. The AT is their life, their home, their friends, and their family. That’s not what I want. I have a home and a great family and friends that I have always been emotionally committed to. That’s not a problem. What I must do is make myself put some intellectual and emotional commitment into other directions and pastimes that will fill the void left by completing a 50-year quest.
Following are a few photos tken recently.
Ed's and Lise's Biggish Years 