Becoming Odyssa - Jennifer Pharr Davis [31]
Late that afternoon, I noticed Second Gear stop walking and remove his earphones. He stood frozen at a road crossing, and I soon saw the cause for hesitation. He was staring at a handmade sign that read TRAIL MAGIC above a large red arrow pointing to the right.
Hearing my footsteps behind him, Second Gear turned.
“The sign says trail magic,” he said.
“Let’s do it,” I replied.
There had been lots of trail magic in the Southeast. About every other day there would be a box of snacks or a stash of drinks left by the roadside for hikers. I now almost expected trail magic, which made me very disappointed when it more or less disappeared as I hiked farther north.
Second Gear and I walked down a road looking for a car or cooler or another sign of trail magic, but it took us by surprise when the next red arrow pointed up a gravel driveway to an attractive log cabin. Except for the Burrito RV, trail magic had always come in the form of provisions left beside the trail, but this sign was pointing toward someone’s home. We approached the steps cautiously, uncertain whether we were in the right place. When we were a few feet from the porch, the front door flung open and a kind-looking man with salt-and-pepper hair invited us inside the house. I had never been invited into a stranger’s home before.
“Come in, come in,” he said. “My name is Zeus and that’s my wife, Spring, in the kitchen.”
We stepped inside, took off our muddy shoes, and waved to Spring, who was standing over a pot that filled the cabin with a smell of rich, salty broth.
“Thanks for inviting us in,” said Second Gear. “This is a really cool place you’ve got here.”
“Thanks,” said Zeus. “We moved here two years ago after we thru-hiked the AT. We wanted to be close to the trail so we could hike all year round, and so we could encourage other hikers on their journeys. Here, let me show you around the place.”
As we walked around the bottom floor of the cabin, Zeus took particular pride in pointing out and explaining the numerous Appalachian Trail photos and maps that lined the walls. The home had enough trail paraphernalia to pass as an AT museum or gift store.
After Zeus finished showing us around the house, Spring invited us to the kitchen table, where our places were set with bowls of homemade vegetable soup. While we sipped the warm broth, Spring recounted stories from the thru-hike she and Zeus had shared.
“We didn’t think we were going to make it,” she said. “At least, not in six months. We were plagued by injury and illness. I had to take a week and a half off the trail to heal a twisted ankle in Virginia, and Zeus experienced flu-like symptoms for much of New England. For a while we thought that he had contracted Lyme disease. But on October eleventh, four days before they closed Katadhin for the winter, we reached Baxter State Park and finished our hike.”
“It was the best day of our lives,” said Zeus.
“Well, that and our wedding day,” laughed Spring. “But it’s true, after thirty years, the trail did make us feel like newlyweds again.”
Spring diverted her attention from refilling our bowls and turned to look lovingly at her husband. She stared at Zeus with raw emotion, and then, without averting her gaze, she said to us, “You think you’re just out there hiking, you think the Appalachian Trail is just a footpath. But it’s more . . . so much more.”
Zeus returned his wife’s loving gaze and then looked at us. “You must enjoy every day,” he said. “There are no guarantees on the trail. I don’t care how healthy you are or how good a hiker you become,