AT Ridgerunner '16, '21, '22

The candlelight flickers in rhythm with the rain as the downpour hits the concrete just outside the open cabin door. All the window shutters are open as well as the front and back screened doors. The generator is off and it’s dark so I light the candle my cabin-mate uses when he feels like a lighthouse keeper, all isolated in the woods. He’s off on a run through the park and I’m here alone on my day off.

I’m tucked away in the woods a mile off the scenic drive, down a gravel fire road. In it’s former glory it was used as a ranger’s cabin but after years of abandonment it now houses us Appalachian Trail ridgerunners. It’s rustic yet it has running water and electricity via generator. Still, after camping along the trail for work, I’m grateful to have a retreat complete with shower and (bunk)bed to return to.

If you would have asked me 5 years ago after my Northern Virginia Ridgerunner job if I wanted to do it again, I would have said no, well maybe not until I was in my 60s or something. I even wrote a semi cynical, realistic exposé on the job for an article on thetrek.co, Appalachian Trail Ridgerunner: Dream Job or Not as well as Appalachian Trail Ridgerunner: Frequently Asked Questions. But here you have it, I’m back as a temporary ridgerunner in Shenandoah National Park for a month.

“Everything the light touches is mine!” photo by Jim Fetig — “Everything the light touches is mine!” *photo by Jim Fetig*

I had thought I’d be off hiking the PCT SOBO this summer; I applied for a permit back in January before knowing if vaccines were even a thing. I figured a later Southbound start would give me more time to get the shot and for COVID cases and general pandemic levels to decrease. But I didn’t get the start date I wanted and over the next few months I never felt pulled 100% in that direction, even though I’ve wanted to hike it since before my AT thru-hike and figured the 10th anniversary of my AT hike would be as good a time as any.

I had a few epiphany moments where I decided to go for it, but then fear and doubt would creep in. I went off hiking on the Benton MacKaye trail and within the first mile I thought, “why am I doing this? I don’t love backpacking. This is not enjoyable.” Of course that’s the normal shock that comes with transitioning from cushy conveniences back to on-trail living. But I didn’t see anybody for days and I was sick of spending hours-on-end in my head, daydreaming and reflecting. I had already spent so much of the past year reflecting and in solitude; I wanted to be around people. I didn’t want to go on another 5 month trek solo, even though I’m sure I would have been around others, and spend everyday, all day in my head. I wanted to be surrounded by others. I wanted to talk. I wanted to listen.

And that’s why I was so much looking forward to hiking a section with my hiking partner Shayla on her 2nd AT thru-hike. I wanted to have long talks with my good friend and connect with others, and that is exactly what I got-see my post here about that magical week. And at the same time, I connected with my former ridgerunner boss since I would be in the area. Then he asked if I wanted to work as a ridgerunner for the month of July since they needed someone last minute. That made me have to decide once and for all about the PCT. I read blogs about Southbounders and came away with the feeling that I would immediately have to start doing big miles at the get go and I would be in a rush the whole way in order to get through the Sierras before it snowed. And, I don’t like time constraints and pressure so it felt right to say “this isn’t the time”, plus there’s the drought and the wildfires and on and on. So I’m thinking next year..

I feel like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be. I meet and interact with so many hikers everyday, whether it be talking to a day hiker for an hour at a summit viewpoint, learning about new gear from section hikers at the shelters, discussing other trails with Trail Angels at the picnic grounds, or chatting with thru-hikers about their journey to get here. Everybody has a story to tell and I’m enjoying listening. I never know who I’ll meet just down the trail or at the next hut. I’m grateful to be here.