I now call myself Ishmael. He was an orphan of the seas; I am on orphan of the woods. We have begun our journeys at the same time, embarking in to the nebulous world with only a vague vision of the world. But my voyage is what matters now—for I am in the present.
After a sentimental parting with my mom and brother I set out on the great American footpath. I think that my throbbing excitement and curiosity carried me easily through the first day. Including the additional 0.9 mile hike south to Springer Mountain, I hiked 8.4 miles in about 4 hours, an excellent beginning time suitable to 20-mile days in the future. Meeting fellow thru-hikers brought about the same awkward anxiousness as the first day of school. In the beginning we gathered around the table with terse pieces of conversation before dinner. But after progressing past names and origins, it is interesting to discover people’s separate pasts. I have already forgotten most of the other’s trail names, but I was interested in a rambler called VooDoo, and an old weathered thru-hiker who told solemn stories of his hike. Hiking time is controlled by the sunlight. I have to adjust to early dinners and bedtimes. My fragmented thoughts include: gratefulness for Vaughn Thomas’ sleeping bag; assumptions that the men smoking outside right now will not make it to Katahdin. I now use my copy of Moby Dick as a pillow.”
Love, Ishmael
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