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On The Trail
I went over the contents of my pack one last time. Tomorrow morning, I would begin one of my bucket list adventures. I had requested two weeks of vacation from my job to hike the 100-mile wilderness section of the AT trail in Maine. I was an avid thru-hiker and an outdoorsman. When I was not hiking or doing something outdoors, I doubled as a Territory Sales Manager for Safeco insurance. I hated my desk job and anytime I had an opportunity to hike, I did.
The name of the trail said it all. It was an arduous hike over mountains, past lakes, in the remote northern section of the Appalachian Trail. I had spent months training for this adventure. I gave himself 10 days to complete the hike but planned for 14. Arranging all of the proper preparations, I was not keen on carrying two weeks' worth of food, so I had arranged a resupply about halfway through. I wanted to go ultralight. Besides, I was bringing my camera and fishing gear. Some of the best fishing Maine had to offer was along this trail. I planned on taking photos for my social media and fishing along the way.
The sign at the beginning of the trail was ominous and it made me almost second guess this adventure. It basically stated that if you didn't have 10 days worth of food on you, do not enter the trail. Having done all his research, I knew how serious this hike was. It is the most rugged stretch of the Appalachian Trail. As far removed from civilization as one might get.
Hiking along the first miles of the trail was beautiful. I stopped at Little Wilson Falls, a beautiful slate waterfall, and had lunch. Most of the first half of this adventure was going to be a grueling alternating up and down an adventure. I wanted to soak it in. Most hikers averaged 15 plus miles a day. I planned on stretching the adventure out by doing about 10 miles a day to stop and appreciate it all.
The days went on and on like this. As I was taking his time to fish and photograph the adventure, I was overtaken by hikers who wanted to do the trail in half the time for various reasons. I enjoyed most of their company. All but two British hikers who seemingly couldn't get past the novelty of a solo black hiker. Eventually, they parted company and I was left to the solitude of this rugged wilderness and my own thoughts. As I intended.
Hiking through such untamed beauty gives one plenty of time to ponder one's life. I reflected as the miles and elevation passed. I was a native of Maine via circumstance. Originally born in California. I was born into a family of trouble. An absent father and a drug-addicted mother. Needless to say, their failure to parent, took me and a brother I could not remember, out of turmoils custody, and into the foster care system.
My brother and I were split and I have bounced around from foster home to foster home. This never bothered me as I eventually landed with a loving family in Maine. Typical of the paradigm, I never thought to seek out my birth parents or family members. The hike was proving to be everything I had hoped it would be. The open wilderness, his connection to nature, and his sense of adventure spurred him each day.
I resupplied on day 6 and was pleased that I was on schedule. After another day of ups and downs. I arrived at a dark flat tent site. I was exhausted. Expertly setting up my tent, I noticed one other hiker via a smoldering fire. Keeping to myself as I always did, I strung up my food using my bear rope, leaving just what I needed for a quick meal out. The day was grueling even at my slow pace. Settling into my bag after devouring the meal, the sleep an exhausted body gets, quickly greeted me.
I awoke to a commotion and a yelling at the campsite. The other hiker seemed to be yelling and screaming a fury. Bursting from the tent to get a grip on the situation, I was just in time to see the bear shuffle off with the other hiker's pack. Staring in absolute disbelief, one at the bear, two at the first black male I've seen on the trail, Immediately my trail snob kicked in. "Are you okay, didn't you have your gear secured?" I am actually pissed off, I know the answer to this rhetorical. Mainly I'm concerned about the bear. "Problem bears, " have a tendency to be put down.
The careless idiot, as far as I was concerned, replied with petulance, "I… forgot my bear rope at a campsite or two ago. I didn't want to bail on the trail." As pissed as I was at this novice, I understood him. For most of us, this is the hike of a lifetime. Barring catastrophic injury, they would have to drag me off this trail. It was late. I made sure what little he had left was secured and we both returned to sleep.
The next day, I rose earlier than my unlucky new friend. Fixing a double breakfast, I waited for the dunce to awake. When he did, I graciously offered some food and coffee. As a hiker, another hiker in trouble deserves your help. It's one thing, I love about the community. Most folks are willing to help. I found out his name was Reginald. Some other hikers had shown up after our bear encounter. The story was passed around with coffee and light humor.
Reginald was devoid of the food he needed to make the rest of the journey. I went through my remaining stores and calculated that if I added daily miles, I could ration food and finish the trail in 2 days. I can't leave this guy hanging. I went over the plan with him. I can tell he is ecstatic. Thankfully, some of the other hikers also pitched in. With the contribution of food, we might be a little hungry, but we would make it in two days.
Quickly thanking everyone for the group effort, we had to get on the trail immediately. We were going to be pushing some miles. Our journey was actually not bad. The first day found us in light conversation and making the time and distance we needed to finish the journey in two days. As the rain poured all around us, we navigated the trail. I learned that Reginald was a New York native, a cyclist, father, and a lawyer.
Bedding down for the night and resting for the final leg, we talked about other hikes we have done, our careers, and some surface personal details. Reginald mentioned he was a defense attorney and that he mainly worked in defending underprivileged black youth. As a black man, I found this honorable. I guessed, Reginald had a rough upbringing and felt that was a way to give back. I have to admit, the guy turned out to be an incredible trail companion. Something else was somewhat interesting. Another set of hikers who passed us, going the opposite direction mentioned. We looked like we were brothers. I laughed this off.
The final days and final miles had us chatting up a storm. At this point, we were fast friends. We were already making plans to meet again to hike some more of the AT. Feeling overly comfortable, I wanted to know more about Reginald's past. He spoke about it in a blurry manner that made me wonder. He began to tell me about actually being born in California to a troubled family and being placed in a foster care system. My heart nearly stopped at this absolutely one in a million coincidence. Luckily, my heart didn't stop, but my feet did. Noticing my surprise he asked me why. I mentioned that I was a foster child and that I was also born in California. Now we were both dumbstruck. I knew what I was thinking was absolutely not possible, I asked anyway. "Do you remember what city, your original last name, and if he had any siblings at the time?"
When the answers came back as I had a feeling they would, I began to cry. I walked over and hugged my long lost brother. Reginald still had not caught on to this miracle that was happening. I released him and told him my side of the miracle. Reginald also began to tear. With 10 miles left to walk, we finished a dream hike and an unforgettable journey as reunited brothers.
© Rising Darkstar
The name of the trail said it all. It was an arduous hike over mountains, past lakes, in the remote northern section of the Appalachian Trail. I had spent months training for this adventure. I gave himself 10 days to complete the hike but planned for 14. Arranging all of the proper preparations, I was not keen on carrying two weeks' worth of food, so I had arranged a resupply about halfway through. I wanted to go ultralight. Besides, I was bringing my camera and fishing gear. Some of the best fishing Maine had to offer was along this trail. I planned on taking photos for my social media and fishing along the way.
The sign at the beginning of the trail was ominous and it made me almost second guess this adventure. It basically stated that if you didn't have 10 days worth of food on you, do not enter the trail. Having done all his research, I knew how serious this hike was. It is the most rugged stretch of the Appalachian Trail. As far removed from civilization as one might get.
Hiking along the first miles of the trail was beautiful. I stopped at Little Wilson Falls, a beautiful slate waterfall, and had lunch. Most of the first half of this adventure was going to be a grueling alternating up and down an adventure. I wanted to soak it in. Most hikers averaged 15 plus miles a day. I planned on stretching the adventure out by doing about 10 miles a day to stop and appreciate it all.
The days went on and on like this. As I was taking his time to fish and photograph the adventure, I was overtaken by hikers who wanted to do the trail in half the time for various reasons. I enjoyed most of their company. All but two British hikers who seemingly couldn't get past the novelty of a solo black hiker. Eventually, they parted company and I was left to the solitude of this rugged wilderness and my own thoughts. As I intended.
Hiking through such untamed beauty gives one plenty of time to ponder one's life. I reflected as the miles and elevation passed. I was a native of Maine via circumstance. Originally born in California. I was born into a family of trouble. An absent father and a drug-addicted mother. Needless to say, their failure to parent, took me and a brother I could not remember, out of turmoils custody, and into the foster care system.
My brother and I were split and I have bounced around from foster home to foster home. This never bothered me as I eventually landed with a loving family in Maine. Typical of the paradigm, I never thought to seek out my birth parents or family members. The hike was proving to be everything I had hoped it would be. The open wilderness, his connection to nature, and his sense of adventure spurred him each day.
I resupplied on day 6 and was pleased that I was on schedule. After another day of ups and downs. I arrived at a dark flat tent site. I was exhausted. Expertly setting up my tent, I noticed one other hiker via a smoldering fire. Keeping to myself as I always did, I strung up my food using my bear rope, leaving just what I needed for a quick meal out. The day was grueling even at my slow pace. Settling into my bag after devouring the meal, the sleep an exhausted body gets, quickly greeted me.
I awoke to a commotion and a yelling at the campsite. The other hiker seemed to be yelling and screaming a fury. Bursting from the tent to get a grip on the situation, I was just in time to see the bear shuffle off with the other hiker's pack. Staring in absolute disbelief, one at the bear, two at the first black male I've seen on the trail, Immediately my trail snob kicked in. "Are you okay, didn't you have your gear secured?" I am actually pissed off, I know the answer to this rhetorical. Mainly I'm concerned about the bear. "Problem bears, " have a tendency to be put down.
The careless idiot, as far as I was concerned, replied with petulance, "I… forgot my bear rope at a campsite or two ago. I didn't want to bail on the trail." As pissed as I was at this novice, I understood him. For most of us, this is the hike of a lifetime. Barring catastrophic injury, they would have to drag me off this trail. It was late. I made sure what little he had left was secured and we both returned to sleep.
The next day, I rose earlier than my unlucky new friend. Fixing a double breakfast, I waited for the dunce to awake. When he did, I graciously offered some food and coffee. As a hiker, another hiker in trouble deserves your help. It's one thing, I love about the community. Most folks are willing to help. I found out his name was Reginald. Some other hikers had shown up after our bear encounter. The story was passed around with coffee and light humor.
Reginald was devoid of the food he needed to make the rest of the journey. I went through my remaining stores and calculated that if I added daily miles, I could ration food and finish the trail in 2 days. I can't leave this guy hanging. I went over the plan with him. I can tell he is ecstatic. Thankfully, some of the other hikers also pitched in. With the contribution of food, we might be a little hungry, but we would make it in two days.
Quickly thanking everyone for the group effort, we had to get on the trail immediately. We were going to be pushing some miles. Our journey was actually not bad. The first day found us in light conversation and making the time and distance we needed to finish the journey in two days. As the rain poured all around us, we navigated the trail. I learned that Reginald was a New York native, a cyclist, father, and a lawyer.
Bedding down for the night and resting for the final leg, we talked about other hikes we have done, our careers, and some surface personal details. Reginald mentioned he was a defense attorney and that he mainly worked in defending underprivileged black youth. As a black man, I found this honorable. I guessed, Reginald had a rough upbringing and felt that was a way to give back. I have to admit, the guy turned out to be an incredible trail companion. Something else was somewhat interesting. Another set of hikers who passed us, going the opposite direction mentioned. We looked like we were brothers. I laughed this off.
The final days and final miles had us chatting up a storm. At this point, we were fast friends. We were already making plans to meet again to hike some more of the AT. Feeling overly comfortable, I wanted to know more about Reginald's past. He spoke about it in a blurry manner that made me wonder. He began to tell me about actually being born in California to a troubled family and being placed in a foster care system. My heart nearly stopped at this absolutely one in a million coincidence. Luckily, my heart didn't stop, but my feet did. Noticing my surprise he asked me why. I mentioned that I was a foster child and that I was also born in California. Now we were both dumbstruck. I knew what I was thinking was absolutely not possible, I asked anyway. "Do you remember what city, your original last name, and if he had any siblings at the time?"
When the answers came back as I had a feeling they would, I began to cry. I walked over and hugged my long lost brother. Reginald still had not caught on to this miracle that was happening. I released him and told him my side of the miracle. Reginald also began to tear. With 10 miles left to walk, we finished a dream hike and an unforgettable journey as reunited brothers.
© Rising Darkstar
