Trail Mix

I have loved the outdoors for as long as I can remember. Even during my years at Azusa Pacific, I spent countless hours in the San Bernardino mountains in order to quench my thirst for nature and escape the asphalt zone. I first heard of the Appalachian Trail as a missionary aboard a hospital ship in Nicaragua where I was translating for the medical staff.

Some time went by and the trail came up again when I was working on a cruise liner. My contract with the ship was about to end, and soon I would have no home, car, or job, and I was not sure what to pursue next. Little did I know I was bound for the journey of a lifetime — following Him into the wilderness. The Appalachian Trail had my name all over it.

My journey began April 7, 2000, and from the first mile, I knew the Lord was with me. Atop the trail's beginning at Springer Mountain, Georgia, I encountered two couples and their children. They noticed I was not outfitted for just a day hike and inquired about my plans. I told them it was the first day of a very long walk to Maine and that I was going to make it only by the grace of God. They were also Christians and kindly asked to pray over me as I embarked on my journey. What a huge blessing at the start! I did most of my pre-trip research by reading books and talking to hiking gurus in quaint outdoor supply shops. I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that I would hike all 2,167 miles from Springer Mountain, Georgia to Mount Katahdin, Maine.

"The trail was as much a spiritual journey for me as it was physical. I found myself craving alone time with God and searching for the quiet whisper of His voice. I spent countless hours in prayer as there was little else to do when hiking alone. He spoke to me through His Word as well as in the quietness of the wilderness."

I had to believe this before I even stepped foot on the mountain, otherwise I would never make it. Finally, after much research, planning, preparing, and praying, I was as ready as I was going to be. As Kobi Yamada wrote, "Sometimes you just have to take a leap, and build your wings on the way down." It was going to be a giant leap — with an awfully heavy backpack.

One of my main concerns throughout the trek was food. Thru-hikers (those that are hiking the entire trail) love to talk about food, dream about it, and most of all, consume it. In preparation for the hike, I ransacked Costco and made up a dozen boxes filled with supplies such as Top Ramen, Snickers Bars, macaroni and cheese (Kraft is worth the extra 12 cents), gorp, Lipton dinners, instant oatmeal (sticks to your ribs), hot cocoa, potato flakes, string cheese, rice, Power Bars, peanut butter (breakfast, lunch, and dinner of champions — it went with everything), and Little Debbie snacks.

Whenever I was in town, I sought Ben and Jerry's ice cream. My goal was to consume a pint of every flavor created before I reached Mt. Katahdin. I failed, but had a great time trying. It is tradition on the trail to participate in the official "Half-Gallon Challenge": The thru-hiker must eat an entire half-gallon of ice cream upon reaching the half-way point of the hike. It took me one hour and 43 minutes, and I drank the last four cups.

The trail was as much a spiritual journey for me as it was physical. I found myself craving alone time with God and searching for the quiet whisper of His voice. I spent countless hours in prayer as there was little else to do when hiking alone. He spoke to me through His Word as well as in the quietness of the wilderness. What a blessing it was to be totally surrounded in His creative work for such a long period of time.

Yes, I did get bored, very bored. And lonely, very lonely. I craved being around other people — if for nothing more than to take my mind off my own thoughts.

I met some of the most intriguing and inspiring people along the way, and they will forever leave a mark on my life. I was even fortunate enough to have "non-trail" friends visit me.

Did I ever want to quit? I suppose the thought crossed my mind a time or two. Not every day was sunshine, breathtaking views, and blissful hiking. A quote from my journal on August 24, Day 140, Mile 1,828.5 reads: "What a night I spent! I don't think I went to sleep at all due to constantly worrying about the state of my gear being completely drenched and the inch-deep pool of water in my tent.

I was so thirsty, I drank the collected rainwater from my dirty pot, still crusty with last night's macaroni and cheese. I've got another 15.3 miles to go in cold, soaking boots, socks, and shorts." During those tough times I often clung to 2 Corinthians 12:9: "My grace is sufficient for you, for my strength is made perfect in weakness."

The last month was the most physically and emotionally challenging of the six. I was ready for things to end, but the best part was knowing that my sister would join me for the last five miles.

The day I began my ascent to the summit was cold and foggy, but soon the clouds peeled back and the sun began to peek through.

I was about 100 yards from a sign marking the northern terminal of the trail when I looked up and caught my first glimpse of it. Immediately, I broke down and cried. I had made it. My journey was over. Springer Mountain was 2,167.1 miles the other way. I kissed the sign reverently and whispered a prayer to God — a word of unsurpassable gratitude and a praise of victory.

Not a day has passed where I do not think of the trail. I hiked it for several reasons, but mostly to seek wisdom as to where God was directing my life. It has changed me forever, in ways I cannot even identify. Richard Stine summed up my emotions best as he explained, "We are most alive when we do something, go somewhere, accomplish something we thought impossible. At that moment, that exhilarating moment, there is only joy — blessed unadulterated joy! Fear has been conquered, at least for now."

Posted: February 1, 2002