Mile 344. The watering hole.

In every work environment, the watering hole is the gathering place.   It’s where gossip is shared, truths are revealed, and relationships are formed.

The Appalachian Trail watering hole is no exception - aside from the extra work it takes to actually gather and filter the water from the mountain springs.   Details.  I digress.

My intention for the day is to reset my internal dialogue.  It’s time for the echos of VomitFest to fade and for me to embrace my now.  

I linger at the watering holes today. 

I learn that Sweets is a nurses aid to an incredibly talented woman with cystic fibrosis, two advanced degrees, and a staff of seven.   I learn that Cool Daddy has a 17 year old son who looks up to him and plans to hike through Pennsylvania with him.    I learn that Village Tart hiked approximately 80 miles from the Smokies through Hot Springs with an acute case of pneumonia - she’s now temporarily  off trail seeking medical help, thank goodness.

I run into Viking as he breaks down his stealth site.  He jumps across the fire pit to embrace me with his strong, bold, red-haired embrace - he was so glad to see me; and we caught up on our friends Woodstock and Pirate.

My buddies The Professor and Flight Risk are miles ahead.   Yet they both check in to say hi and they are missing me.   We’ll meet up again at Trail Days in Damascus.

My friends Hello and Otter both are getting their much needed acupuncture and shoe inserts to nurse their aching tendons.   Big Z is staying in town for a few days to commission a graffiti art piece for a new client.  And River is hitting the trail again after relaxing in the hammock overlooking Sam’s Creek with the peacocks cooing in the distance.

The Appalachian Trail community is diverse, it’s raw, it’s real, it’s accepting.    It’s humanity at its finest.  

I wrap my friends around me like a warm, soothing blanket

The world is right again.