Why the AT?

75% of those who start the AT will not finish (link). This is unsurprising for six-month odyssey where injuries are certain and blizzards are not out of the question. The same article discusses practical methods to mitigate failure (see also my FAQ), yet highlights mental tenacity as the greatest factor of success. But “determination” is more than a sheer exertion of will-power: it’s grounded in a mission, a reason, a purpose. Exodus 90 taught me an intentional “Why” is critical to endure an ordeal. Finding and sticking to a “Why” is the most critical and unrelenting struggle of the hike. It’s the inspiration for the trip to begin with, the touchpoint that will launch my first step, the force that will drag me though day 100, the hope that will lift me to the top of the last slope, the question I’ll answer to on the plane ride home, and the lesson I unpack as I recall this journey in later years. 

Up to now I’ve been contemplating my reasons for the trail, pursuing and forging an ironclad motivation. Thus, I aim to detail it here so you have a clearer picture of my experience (and to help me crystalize my thoughts a bit, too). I can’t cleanly point to a singular incident or reason that lead me to consider and commit to the AT, so I invite you to a walkabout tour of the key stepping stones. 

The Trail to the Trail 

From family evening walks etched into my earliest memories to snowboarding the Rockies in 2023, a love for the outdoors is carved into my upbringing and personality. I’m no boy scout or athlete, nonetheless my life has seen me explore walking, running, hiking, backpacking, biking, snow sports, swimming, snorkeling, and SCUBA diving to varying degrees. I certainly have two loving parents with a similar passion to thank, as well as two huskies that are always ready (read: begging) to go on an adventure. The child within me always wants to go exploring, and a glimpse of the mountains surrounding Virginia Tech’s campus or interstate 81 provokes me to exclaim “Yes! That is why I’m doing the AT”. In your interactions with me, you may have noticed that I will often pace the room to help me think. I have always found walking to be a therapeutic aid when debugging pernicious software errors, reasoning through rhetorical arguments, or overcoming distractions when praying the rosary. 

My interest in the AT began in October of 2019, my sophomore year. A friend of mine, Raden, was looking for a group to hike the Triple Crown, a famous section of the AT just 45 minutes Northeast of Virginia Tech. So it was that I embarked on my first-ever backpacking excursion – a brisk 30 miles in 2 days! I was genuinely unsure if I could physically endure hauling 30 lbs over 3 peaks, but my concerns gave way to elation. It was my crash course into everything grueling and exciting about backpacking. 

The next few years, I returned to the Triple Crown for the same hike. Even after doing this section five times, some new challenge or excitement would emerge that kept drawing me back. Every time I started the trail, I would think “I know how much suffering will come, why am I back again?”. And every time I finished, “That was amazing, let’s do it again”. After Raden graduated, I began organizing and leading the trips. I began to hone my outdoorsman skills, taking in knowledge from more experienced campers in the group. Could I say backpacking was a hobby at that point? I hadn’t bought my own gear yet, but that was about to change. 

On the 2021 trip, we camped near Dragon’s Tooth alongside a through-hiker with the trail name “Bags”. He was halfway through and got to sharing his experience and reasons for doing the trail. He had just finished his university studies and was checking the hike off his bucket list. He inspired me to do the trail, citing how a five-year-old child completed the hike. I’ve never been athletic and, until this conversation, was quite convinced something like the AT was well beyond my physical conditioning. 

With this notion gone, my regular trips to the triple crown and the desire to do something between college and work lead to a simple conclusion. The idea hit me like a spark, and I was struck with the sense that doing the AT would be the culmination of so many aspects of my upbringing and my ventures on the Triple Crown. My enthusiasm was so high that I called my parents as soon as I was home and told them, if the logistics made sense, I was going to hike the AT. Once my research revealed no major dealbreakers, the goal was firmly set. 

Packing my Bags

Even before browsing REI for deals on gear, I began this process of discerning the trip’s purpose. Reflecting on my backpacking experiences, a few facets of trail life stood out:

• There are several virtues that an endurance hike is especially good at cultivating. 
  • Prudence. While I wouldn’t call the AT anything close to survival training, it reinforces good instincts and awareness to your environment. Water source locations, campsites, gear selection, and weather are variables that must be carefully managed for a safe journey. I hope having to pay more attention to basic needs like food, water, and shelter with a limited safety net will help me become more vigilant and proactive. 
  • Fortitude. I’m the kind of person who shies away from a physical challenge, not necessarily due to a lack of conditioning (although I could certainly be hitting the gym more), but out of a certain dislike for that mode of suffering. I want to combat this weakness by encountering the demands of trail life day-after-day. Admittedly, this is most likely reason I would quit. 
  • Temperance. In modern times, the need to manage dependence on convenience has never been greater. I’m sure the time away from internet, video games, and junk food will be especially good for me. 
  • Simplicity. If you ignore the fact that I have a magic rectangle in my pocket that can summon anything I desire, it’s hard to live more simply than carrying everything you need for the day on your back. The more weight you carry on the trail, the more difficult it becomes.
• I don’t think the word “patriotic” quite fits the trip, but my love for this country prompts this journey in a few ways. 
  • Seeing the distance between Georgia and Maine on a map mutes the magnitude. I hope to have a greater appreciation of our nation’s scale from my own two feet. 
  • Aside from the sheer distance, there’s so much to see and experience about America’s landscape. The terrain of the trail is not a monolith. I often read about each section of trail having it’s own unique character. I want to encounter and explore that difference. 
  • Pioneers have a huge place in our nation’s history. Although I’m reliant on modern technology, I can’t help but think a “walk in the woods” will deepen my connection to my heritage. 

You may notice these items are perhaps a bit Romantic, too idealistic to hold under pressure. And I would agree with you. When I have to pitch a tent in the midst of a gusty rain after trudging 20 miles through mud on blistered feet, living in the spirit of a pioneer or growing in fortitude won’t seem quite so exciting any more. On the good days, these thoughts will lift my spirits, but there has to be a deeper foundation to anchor me against the blasts of the storm. For that, we need to switch gears entirely and visit the Judaean Desert. There, I can begin to identify the undercurrent of spirituality that pulls together the events of my life and the small motivations. 

Entering the Wilderness

“Then Jesus was led up by the Spirit into the wilderness to be tempted by the devil.”

Matthew 4:1-2

Chapter 4 of Matthew’s gospel recounts Christ retreating to the desert at the crossroads between His baptism and public ministry. Here in the wasteland, He prepares for his mission on Earth, culminating in pouring his heart out on the cross. This trial in the desert is a pause between His humble insignificance as a day laborer and the glorious unfolding of His true calling. The temptations are shortcuts to establish God’s kingdom – at the hidden price of rejecting His identity as a son of the Father. In His simple refusals that reveal the deception in these proposals, we see a Christ prepared to sacrifice everything for the Will of the Father. 

In demonstrating his purity of heart and master over human desires, Christ provides the model for each of us to avoid evil and accept God’s plan to bring us home, in small daily matters and the grand narrative of our whole lives. I see myself in my own Chapter 4 right now. My whole life has been as a student, with mere glimpses into both the mundane and profound aspects of living life in the “real world”. With my first job set to start in August, the jump into the largest section of my story – Working Life – is only months away. So, I want to come away with Christ into some sort of “wilderness”. I want the Word of God to speak wisdom into the lessons I’ve learned. I want to know the heart of The Suffering Servant by walking alongside Him. I want the Lamb of God to help me sacrifice my selfish desires for a higher purpose. I want The Way to prepare me for my mission in the world. 

Aside from drawing closer to Jesus, another gift of retreat is moving away from worldly things. I often examine myself through the lens of the rich young man (Matthew 19:16-30), whose love of possessions draws him away from Christ. While I don’t think it is part of my Vocation to give away all that I own, praying with this passage always illuminates the ways I am tempted to remain attached to what I deem “mine”. But deep down, my heart has a desire to own only what is necessary for my state in life, to be free from the burden of unnecessary belongings. The barren landscape of the “wilderness” frees me from my ordinary environment and comforts, reminding me of the true necessities and the beauty of living simply. 

Here is the rock that I will cling fast to in the midst of the trail’s suffering. Here is my weapon against the temptation to take the easy way out, backtrack a few miles to the road, and hitch a ride to the airport. Here is the context that my story and inspirations are unified into what I discern as a calling. When I face inconveniences from pesky flies to overwhelming storms, I will keep my peace knowing that my heavenly Father has guided me to that moment and will bring a greater joy and redemption out of the strife. 

In a Nutshell 

When people ask me why I’m doing the trail, I usually don’t have time to enumerate all of the above. And when I want to quit, I probably won’t read through this page (although, come to think of it, that’s not a bad idea). I think “To retreat to the wilderness, draw near the heart of Christ, and learn to trust God’s loving providence” is an adequate one-sentence summary, although dryly abstract. But I’ll leave you with an idea that captures the thousands of words on this page, an image that I will look to when all desire for the AT has evaporated: