Woods Hole Hostel 1567.6 (0 miles, 1567.6 total miles)
Passing out at 10PM with the lights on and waking up at 7AM to a dark, warm bunkhouse after having not stirred for nine hours was a real treat.
Making my way downstairs, I found the coffee set up outside, made myself a cup with cream in the mug emblazoned with a white AT marker that Neville had made, then headed inside the main house.
I said hi to Neville and Hugo sitting on the porch then went to the kitchen, where Mary and White Walker seemed to have a handle on breakfast and said they didn’t need any help at the moment.
So I sat with Peacock for a while, the only other early riser, and talked with him for a bit on the couches near the wood fire stove. It was raining outside, and sitting under a blanket with my coffee I felt very at home.
Breakfast was another amazing meal at 8AM when everyone was up and moving. This time we had fresh scrambled eggs with veggies, peach crisp, bread, oatmeal with homemade yogurt, peach jam, strawberry jam, fruit salad, and regular salad.
I ate a plate and a half, this time Neville joining us as well. Stories were exchanged around the table and food was polished off as everyone contemplated a relaxing zero day at the hostel while waiting out Hurricane Ian.
After breakfast, I hung with Slice and Hippy Gandalf by the fire again as wet dogs ran around, one cuddling with me for a while, a blanket mercifully separating his wet fur from my dry leggings.
Neville gathered volunteers to help with making tomato sauce, which ended up being Rudolph, Pearl, and myself in addition to Mary and White Walker.
We chopped several boxes of tomatoes into two enormous pots that bubbled away, almost full to the brim. I stepped away for a while to get a bit of work done before coming back, and saw Rudolph had taken the reins on the sauce, in his absolute element as he and Neville discussed basil, and she began making a pesto.
The kitchen was definitely the hub of the house, though Mary and I prepared salad and bread to bring over to the bunkhouse for the hikers for lunch.
I ate with Mikey and Slice, looking in the 2016 Hiker Yearbook to see who I could remember from traveling the trail by car that year, talking with the other two meanwhile.
After lunch, Iroh and Sydney arrived at the hostel, where Sydney seemed to be doing much better and healing from her strep throat very well, which I was happy to see.
I spoke with Iroh for a while, when it became apparent we weren’t going to be hiking together anymore. We were on separate journeys, and it had become time to part ways.
I’d been through a lot emotionally the last few days, having been triggered in certain ways that had caused me to feel very stressed and unlike my current self a couple times.
I decided I needed to leave the hostel, becoming incredibly claustrophobic to the fact that we were in unsafe hiking conditions, and all I wanted to do was remove myself from the space I was in.
Very quickly, I put together a plan of packing up, calling for a shuttle, and spending a couple nights at a motel in town. I’d just made the mistake of admitting to myself I was starting to believe I might have a hiking partner till Springer, which I knew from past experience was tempting fate.
I didn’t want to spend the money on a costly trip back to town, but knew for my own mental health I needed space away from the situation, quite upset as I was each time this had happened on trail.
While waiting for Neville to check me out of the hostel, I spoke with Slice for a bit, who was very supportive. I had an idea then that I could ask Neville if she had a private room in the main house instead, wanting to hike out tomorrow and stay around the really great group of hikers I was currently around.
Neville said she’d let me stay in a private room that usually went for $105 for $70, and I knew the shuttles alone to get to town and back would amount to around $30 anyway, so it seemed the right move to me.
Going to town would just isolate me, and that wasn’t my way of handling things anymore. Neville did, however, offer to have meals brought to my room as she’d been made aware of the situation, which was extremely kind and understanding of her.
I talked with Slice for a while longer on the porch before White Walker showed me to the room to drop my stuff. He’d been playing cribbage at the dining room table with Pearl, but went to help in the kitchen again.
When Iroh joined in the kitchen as well, I asked Pearl if she didn’t mind taking the game we’d just started up to the room I was in, which she kindly obliged.
White Walker came in and out a few times as we played, and the game brought me back to playing cribbage with my mom and grandfather as a kid, and also reminded me of playing backgammon with Shrek at the campground a couple weeks ago.
Pearl and White Walker went down to dinner, and I sat on one of the three twin beds in the room, reading excerpts of a Thich Nhat Hanh book, and The Best American Travel Writing 2006, both of which I’d found on nightstands in the room.
It felt a little sad to not be eating with everyone, but knew it was better for my peace of mind right then to avoid Iroh and Sydney. This hike had been incredibly difficult at times, and these moments of separation had been the hardest for me.
Today was one of the days where I knew I’d never quit this hike, but momentarily felt as if the task before me was impossible, and questioned my own inner strength and resiliency. It wasn’t my body I worried for, it was my mind.
Rapidly approaching the point where I began my attempt in 2015, just 76 miles away from it in fact, it broke my heart to be going through heartbreak yet again out here, and the fear that I’d somehow never make it to or past that shelter where I’d first begun.
White Walker was very sweet to bring me pasta dinner with bread and salad, which I ate while reading a David Sedaris essay from the travel book, remembering Shrek said she liked him, and laughing aloud several times at his humor.
Pearl and Slice stopped by after dinner to finish the cribbage game and hang out, which was lovely. Surprisingly, I won the game, and it gave me a little boost to have a small win today.
After taking a beautiful hot shower in the upstairs indoor bathroom I now had access to, I laid on one of the beds in a towel, listening to two renditions of Sia’s Elastic Heart.
This song had now followed me the entire trail, and gotten me through the most difficult points of the journey. It touched my soul deeply, and I let the music wash over me, crying it out as I listened. I’d cried a lot the last few days, none more than today, but it was cathartic and necessary to heal.
Later on, Mary stopped by to check on me, and brought me a spectacular gift of a small container of homemade cookies to pack out with me. I’d just been wishing I had more cookies, and her kindness warmed my heart deeply.
Mary was very sweet, and her support was truly lovely. White Walker was my last visitor for the evening, when we had a wonderful conversation about the use of words, healing trauma as a spiral, and interpersonal relationships on the trail.
Around 10:00, I was enjoying the room to myself, only the second time I’d ever had my own room at a hostel or hotel on trail. I’d certainly been home a couple times and been treated to trail magic with my own room, but it was different when it was something I’d done for myself.
I was proud of how I’d handled things today. Past me would probably have sucked it up, and been highly uncomfortable, shut down, and upset for the rest of the evening staying in the bunkhouse and having dinner with everyone.
However, I’d taken positive action for myself, prioritized my own needs, been vulnerable enough to let others in and emotionally support me with their presence and kind actions, and moved through my emotions the best I could.
The rest I’d just have to hike out. Woods Hole had been a haven for me in multiple ways, and it had worked out perfectly to be here with a wonderful group to wait out the storm.
I was looking forward to getting back on trail tomorrow immensely, and to hiking my own hike again. The last couple days on trail had made me realize how I missed big days and pushing myself, reaching a zen that can only be achieved by hard exertion.
I didn’t know what was going to happen on this hike anymore. In the past, I’d always found other hikers to be with, and made that experience very important to me.
Yet the trail seemed to want to continue to push me toward a solo journey. I felt that I’d had enough solo journeying throughout my life to want company on this hike instead, but maybe I needed to examine that belief further.
Maybe I was meant to adapt to getting very close to certain people, then having to let them go with grace when that period of time was over. I certainly want a life with more and more travel and different phases, so perhaps the trail is trying to prepare me for that to become a reality.
Either way, this hike is about me and my own journey. I didn’t know any of the people I’ve hiked with before I came out here, when I decided to take this trip for myself to learn, to grow, and to prove to myself I could achieve this dream I’ve had for the better part of a decade.
When I finish this hike, and stand on Springer, then under the arch at Amicalola, it will have been for me, and to honor the memory of Frankie. That was all that mattered anymore, and I’d hike until I was finished, one way or another.