Becoming Odyssa - Jennifer Pharr Davis [127]
After White House Landing, we had one last full day on the trail before reaching the base of Katahdin. Nightwalker, Mooch, and I were on the morning’s first ferry back to the trail. We hiked separately for most of the day, which gave me plenty of time to reflect on the past four months.
Questions ran continuously through my head: Would I miss the trail? Would it be hard leaving the boys? Was Nightwalker my boyfriend? What would happen once the trail was over? Where would I go? What would I do?
When people had asked why I wanted to hike the Appalachian Trail, one of the answers I had given was that I wanted time to think about where I wanted to live and what I wanted to do for a living, and the trail would give me plenty of time to do that. But now that I was at the end, I didn’t feel any closer to knowing the answers than when I started. Hiking the trail had proved too difficult to let me look ahead and make future decisions; it had demanded my entire focus.
The only thing I felt more certain of at the end of this journey was myself. I was no longer defined by my résumé or my activities, and I didn’t give answers based on what I thought other people wanted to hear. For the first time in my life, I knew who I was—and I was okay with who I was.
I definitely believed in God—that probably stood out the most after twenty-one hundred miles. Every day on the trail I felt God’s presence, His promise never to leave me, and His power in all creation. And for the first time in my life, I didn’t feel like I needed to hide that or apologize for it. My affection for Mooch and Nightwalker, and their acceptance of me, helped me realize that regardless of faith and background, if you get to know people—not what they are, but who they are—then you will experience love and friendship you might otherwise have missed.
I also knew that something deep within me connected with nature, hard work, and simplicity. I learned that I was both stubborn and tough, a lot tougher than I thought I was, especially when I let other people help me. I knew that I was beautiful, despite what other people said, and I appreciated my body based on what it could do instead of how it looked. I also knew that I was truly blessed, blessed with a wonderful family and wonderful friends.
Another thing I knew for certain: after four months in the woods, I knew exactly what, or rather who, I was going back to. I was going back to my family.
Even on good days, my family often experienced strained relations. My mother and I in particular, despite being the same height, had rarely seen eye to eye. Yet there were some aspects of this trip that made me miss my mom, my dad, and my brothers more than ever. I had certainly gone longer periods of time without seeing them before, but there was something different about this experience. In a strange way, the challenges and miles of this trip did not distance me from my family, but made me feel closer to them.
I knew that right then, my dad and brother were driving up from North Carolina to meet me at Katahdin, and that knowledge, even in my tired, rugged, dirty state, left me glowing with anticipation.
Lost in thoughts of seeing my family and searching for answers, I hardly noticed the tall, dark creature grazing next to the trail. I heard a twig snap, and I looked up to spot a hairy brown moose twenty yards off the trail. I was elated—another moose! And this time he had antlers.
The animal was so preoccupied with eating the low-lying leaves that despite my proximity, he didn’t even notice me. Not wanting to approach too quickly or appear threatening, I kicked a rock to get his attention. Looking up at me, he trotted a few yards farther into the forest and stood at attention. I kept walking down the trail, but my gaze remained focused on his antlers. And as I drew nearly even with him, his antlers began to move and he began to walk—not farther into the woods, but parallel to me and the trail.
We must have traveled about