Katahdin, Part II

Today I awoke with the normal spur to routine which has controlled me for the last five months. I pick up my feet and walk. I was unintimidated by the fear that surrounds my last climb, overwhelmed instead with the feelings of invincibility and pride. After several hours, however, I realized that even my stamina was being chipped away by the legendary ascent. The mountain is known as a Monadnock- a steep upthrust of granite, rising sharply from all the earth below. For the 2.5 miles above treeline, I followed an utterly rugged and relentless path up boulders, scrambling up rocks mightier than any creation of mankind. The climb taxed my mind and body, but I could feel the gravity of the summit pulling me higher, and I only began to accelerate up the steep rocks. I felt butterflies in my stomach at the first glimpse of the sign atop the peak- a moment I had imagined every day and night for almost five months.
The mountain is controlling- it is the dominant thought of many steps and many minutes, through joy and sorrow it carried me through this trail. I had no premeditated ideas of how I would react, I could only feel the smile on my face coming up the side of the mountain. But when I reached the top, I touched the sign and cried instantly. In the midst of a crowd of day hikers and baffled tourists, I sat down on the rocks and cried. It was perhaps the most glorious moment of the last five months. I lingered on the summit with the only other thru-hiker within days around, my friend Trill, as we absorbed every view and soaked up the elation. As Trill says, "This trail will change your fucking life. Every step north you take, you are a different person. The farther north you are, the harder it is to explain to people who you are."