There is something triumphant about choosing your own path, even if it means going against the flow (the "flow" in this case referring to the MST - not exactly a white-water-rapids flow, but a steady trickle of hikers at the jostling rate of 2/year). There comes a time on every trip when it's time to go home. Home, sometimes an ambiguous term, refers in this case to a "homing instinct" - the type of instinct that pets use to find their way to their owners, or trout use to find their way to their natal ground when they're ready to breed. Is home comfort? Maybe. More than that, it is effortless. For me, it's sometimes on the trail. Maybe it is more a way of following your instinct to the place where you can be most balanced.
Whatever the reason, something flipped that switch 90 miles short of Clingman's Dome, and here I am: finished with this segment of the trip.
My brain gears are spinning, trying inevitably to tie a pretty bow around this trip and conclude with a brief, witty moral to take away from my MST experience. Wouldn't that be nice? Scramble me up some thoughts, make a breakfast-tale out of the ordeal! But summaries compromise too much, so I will end this blog post as I end all of the trail posts:
Total MST miles: 595.7 (426.4 foot, 169.3 bike)
Total trip miles: 715.4 (477.3 foot, 238.1 bike)
1 comment:
I do not doubt that you will see Clingman's again someday whether on the MST, AT, or just wandering.
Good show making your own way. Either way, please keep writing about the adventure that is your life.
Fascinating.
Not to mention that you are a strong author.
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