Therese Marie

The following is the story behind a random photograph from my Northbound adventure on 1,189.8 miles of the Appalachian Trail. This is Nahmakanta Lake, tucked away in the Hundred Mile Wilderness in Maine. It is here that I experienced a combination of longing, happiness, and melancholy all at once.  

Nahmakanta Lake, Maine

Behind the camera, I am laughing out loud.

After I ate dinner with Shaaades, everything felt terrible. I could feel the end of the hike coming and I could feel everyone disappearing. All my friends were summiting and then going home. The community was falling apart and there was nothing I could do but sit and watch from a hundred miles away. I felt left behind.

I hiked on, furiously, alone, looking for somewhere to camp with Shaaades. Tears welled up in my eyes and I told myself to shut up. It’s going to be ok.

I got to a beachy area with picnic tables and threw down my pack. The dusk was thick and it was starting to rain. A path led me straight ahead and the trees broke to show this. Well, how could you not laugh? In that moment of panic I had completely forgotten where I was. Sheer fucking beauty stretched out at my feet.

Have you ever completely given in to something?

There’s no other way to exist out on the Trail, and I think that’s something important to remember throughout life.

Out there I was at the mercy of the clock and the world. Anything could happen to me, to Shaaades. And we would take it. We would take it with open arms and open hearts.

Maybe it sounds simple, but that’s something I learned this night: accept it. Accept anything that’s thrown your way, and when it’s over and run it’s course you can make your opinions about it.

I welcomed the tender sadness with open arms as I looked out on the quiet lake. This lake would still be here after I left. Whether I left in tears or in laughter or in anger, it would still be here. It would still lay stretched out into the mountains when the skies rained, or when it got too cold to function in the winter. It just exists here.

I longed for the hikers I was missing. Yes, Shaaades was always fearlessly by my side. But still I missed the people who had summited, those who had moved on. I was stepping in their old footsteps. They’d been through here and now here I am, too late.

And there was nothing I could do about that. I was steadfastly bound to my time.

Nahmakanta Lake reminded me to be present.

 

 

I hope you remember to find peace in your place.

Amidst all the distractions, all the stressors, I hope you take a moment to laugh and smile at what is being thrown at you. It’s kind of funny, the things we put ourselves through, if only we remembered to look up at the sky more often and see the beauty right in front of us. 

Fly on,

Lil Wayne