Date: 2014-10-17
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Miles today: 0.0

So I¢m officially a thru hiker, if you¢re just looking for something to read, here¢s kind of an afterword for this journal where I reflect on the last few weeks. I haven¢t written anything between reaching Katahdin and now. Once I truly get settled and back into the routine of things, I will do the journal consolidation I was talking about since New Hampshire. There will probably only be a couple more posts after this one. I¢ll be sure to post a link for my consolidated journal that will be edited and set up to flow like an ebook with pictures or something when I get around to it.I was number 601 at Baxter State Park going up to finish at K-titty (Katahdin). At the ATC center in Harpers Ferry I was number 751. Don't know what number I was on Mt Springer but I started on 4/3/2014. Don't think the numbers means anything though because there's also South bounders and Flip Floppers in there. Well, it does mean one thing at least. There were A LOT of people hiking this year. By the time I got to the North East, I already met more hikers than I can remember. My Dunbar¢s number was reached before even coming to the trail so it seems like I¢m always forgetting more people as I meet new people. Now that I¢m back in San Diego, I¢ve been running into people I faintly recognize from this long distant past time and struggle to recollect who they were.It was strange to think about this because now that I¢m looking back at certain people, each person that I had little interaction with but remember vividly had a very specific object or experience I associated them with. Other people who I may have had a long conversation with or worked with brought zero recollection. For example, Tripp, a New Zealander (now a triple crowner) gave me a very tiny little rock. I gave him a 4-leaf clover because I tended to give away a lot of those on the trail and he reciprocated by giving me a particular little rock which I can¢t remember what was so special about it. He¢s a geologist, but maybe he was just messing with me by convincing me to take a tiny little rock and add it to my heavy pack. Just found it a few days ago while cleaning and I instantly recognized it despite its inconspicuous nature. Why can I remember someone because of a little pebble but not someone else despite an overly in depth conversation about how many calories are in a bloody tampon?Now that I¢m back in San Diego and going back into rock climbing, I¢m about to gradually re-run into a hundred + people I don¢t know very well but have met 7+ months ago and have not seen since. Will be interesting to see who I remember besides the ones I regularly saw.As for readjustment to living in a city, it hasn¢t been particularly difficult. Just disappointing. Maybe nostalgic is the much better description. We all want more trail. More adventure. More life.After summitting K-titty, I gave myself time to let the accomplishment sink in and kind of acclimate, I didn¢t go straight back to California. After completing my thru, I stayed in Milinocket for a couple days. This is where the lack of exercise parade began. Travel mode was still engaged but now instead of trekking mountains; it was planes, trains, automobiles (say that again but with a raspy Lil¢ John voice - YEEEYAAAAH!) My intent was Bangor to Portland to Boston to whatever happens and then visit my brother and his fiance before heading back to California. But I didn¢t want to fly back¢¦ I was looking for more adventure.Hitching to Bangor, ME was really easy with my pack on display at the side of the road. Of course before I got a hitch, a man pulled over and stepped out of his car as if he knew me. Turned out to be Jalapeno who I did not recognize being groomed and in civilian clothes. He was thru hiking with his family but he had a injury that really pestered progress. It was great to see him after meeting him in the South and I gave him a big congratulations because his wife and daughter were soon finishing. A minute later a man pulled over and gave me a lift to the interstate putting me closer to Bangor. Not long after that, a very nice married couple who had thru hiked together in 2006 were more than happy to make room in a packed car for me. We talked about what will never change about the trail and the things that are rapidly changing.When I did get to Bangor, I got my first bit of quiet alone time to myself. The kind like when you¢re on a crowded subway but everyone is in their own world, on their own personal mission and its almost taboo to be social. I waited for the big realization to come that I had just thru-hiked the Appalachian Trail. It didn¢t happen.From Bangor I got a Greyhound bus to Portland, ME. I had finished hiking nearly a week ago and my anticipation for an ecstatic feeling of accomplishment was quickly deteriorating. I recognized that all my ecstatic moments had already peaked when I was on the trail. Why would I be excited now? Home doesn¢t excite me¢¦ I already know what¢s going to be there. I lost myself staring out the window enjoying the beauty of Maine at a 65 mile per hour pace. Everyone on this bus needs to get somewhere but I¢m just chilling. There was a good book on my lap but all my interest was fixated on what was outside of the window. Fall had started to show. I suddenly wanted to get off the bus halfway to Portland. I didn¢t want to be in a comfy chair with wireless internet and a movie playing above my head. I wanted to be outside. There wasn¢t any freak out though. I stayed put calmly looking out the window the whole time. If there was one thing I wanted more than being outside, it was to get inside of a float tank - sensory deprivation. I¢m not going to talk much about that because honestly I can end up going on a very long tangent about sensory deprivation. I just figured that I would be able to find one in Portland, ME and then I was going to check out Boston, MA.Turned out there aren¢t any businesses with float tanks in Portland yet and hotels are really expensive! But I couldn¢t even get a hotel because everything was booked when I arrived after 7pm on a Friday night. Considering how I had my pack and just spent most of this year living like a hobo, I was not worried. After much wandering around exploring the city I decided I was going to catch a train out first thing in the morning. Portland is cool and all but I wasn¢t feeling it. I actually felt like a real hobo and this wasn¢t a hobo welcoming environment. Decided to take a walk to the airport and slept there.By 4:51am I was on a train to Boston. Ended up staying in a hostel there. Again, everywhere was packed but the Backpacking Hostel was very accomodating and I actually felt kind of comfortable there. I was not comfortable in Portland at all because I think I was having withdrawals from the wilderness. Found myself doing touristy stuff in Boston for about 4-5 days meeting mostly international travelers since hostels in big cities are like a hub for them. Was a lot of fun just getting to know very diverse people then saying good bye as the next wave of travelers came in. No one was doing backpacking like the trail so I stuck out a little bit looking like hiker trash. Since I wasn¢t as hiker trash as most thru hikers (I constantly shaved and stuff), I fortunately did not look entirely dirty/homeless but there I was with bleach stains on my pants, holes in my shirt, and grimey gear among people with luggage and high heels. Sometimes it was a good conversation starter. Other times not so much. I kept low key about the Appalachian Trail for the most part though since most people were doing a 2-6 week travel blitzkrieg all over the US and wouldn¢t know about it. I was much more interested in inquiring about what they were up to, what they wanted to do, where they wanted to go next, and so on. Turned out to be a good time but there was no float tank in Boston either which really surprised me. This was disconcerting because the number 1 reason I really wanted to get into one was to indulge in a moment of pure parasympathetic relaxation. I mean sleeping is one thing, but the float tank takes that to a whole other level.There were 2 places in Boston where I found somewhere that felt like a sanctuary though. The first was the Planetarium in the Science Museum. And you know what, I think Planetariums are like the perfect detox tools for thru hikers having trouble readjusting to city life. It gets totally dark in there like it would be in the woods. You don¢t notice the unnatural mob of people around you. And you get to stare at stars. I mean its all artificial and there¢s someone narrating for you but it was great to go into a Planetarium after feeling overstimulated with the billion things in a bustling city. I actually instantly felt sleepy in that darkness like it was clockwork. In a completely natural environment, human beings go to sleep when it gets dark at night and become active during the day. That¢s what you do as a thru hiker every day. The Planetarium simulated for me what it was like to be cowboy camping at 10pm in perfect conditions when hiking. It was awesome. So awesome I actually fell asleep snuggling against one of the cute Spanish girls I went exploring the city with. I went into such a peaceful state that she didn¢t have the heart to push me off of her. Even when the lights came back on and everyone was getting up to leave.The second spot was in an art gallery with a water theme. There was a focus on how important water is to life and how everything depends on it. It wasn¢t just looking at the paintings that relaxed me though. The artist hooked up the entire gallery with a looped recording of interviews she did with people all around the world about water. What really got me was that the interviews were recorded right next to a real water source. So you could hear the gentle flow of a stream, the drip of a spring, the rush of a river, and a bounding cascade. I sat down for about an hour with my eyes closed just listening. It was so soothing. I felt like I needed it. Which hit me ironically because the art was about water and we all need water. Certain artists make me wonder if they were intentionally trying to mindfuck me in that way. The longer I stayed, the more everything sank in too. Everything in the gallery was set up deliberately to show the broad spectrum of how awesome water is. Some of the stories were very intense. One person told a powerful story of what it was like to nearly drown. Another about nearly dying of dehydration until coming across a life saving oasis. Nostalgia hit again as I thought about the spring water I drank all along the trail. It¢s really weird to be able to taste very distinct differences in drinking water after being in the woods for awhile. I went through an emotional roller coaster while in that gallery. I came in intrigued by the beauty. I stayed for relaxation. I left feeling frustrated about how humans are collectively harming our one and only very fragile yet powerful lifeline. It was kind of like driving to the beach from Los Angeles. The ocean is stunningly beautiful, the beach very relaxing, and then the people drive you mad.I guess part 2 of the afterword will come next. Here's a quote that's been stuck in my head since getting back to California. ¢Birds born in a cage think flying is an illness.¢ - Alejandro Jodorowsky