Free shipping on all orders! (U.S. only)

May 18 2023, Stealth Site to US Route 11 (Atkins):
I went through a river crossing early in the morning. There was a rope to use for balance.
Cute, I thought, as I flashbacked to the traumatic river crossings on the PCT.
Once I made it to the road, I started walking and hitchhiking at the same time. After a few miles, a vehicle pulled over and said they were leaving some trail magic at the parking lot, but that they would come back and scoop me up on the way back and take me wherever I needed to go. They asked if I wanted some trail magic, myself. Oh, the Appalachian Trail had my heart.
They planned on staying there for a while to grill the thru-hikers some chicken, so I asked if they could just take me a little bit down the road so I could hitch a ride the rest of the way to Damascus.
They dropped me off at a busier intersection, then I got picked up by a well known author named Mike Klumpp who wrote the book I Am: The Miracle. He gave me a lot of advice about writing my first book and about not being afraid to take the leap in writing from my soul.
I asked to get dropped off at the Fiddle to see Treehouse and pick up my package. Pusher happened to be there and I didn’t feel so excited to see him. It seemed as if I was being pushed to talk to him when I didn’t want to. He asked me to give him twenty minutes of my time and I just didn’t feel like it. Within a short times notice, I packed up my things and left.
I walked into Trail Days and suddenly felt super solitary and introverted. I set up my tent in the field next to Mischief and Starr, then I ventured into town.
Along the way, I met a girl named Slug. She started walking with me and naturally started a conversation with me as if we were best friends, so I invited her to the thrift shop. We bought some suspenders that made our shorts ride up our ass, exposing our butt checks. Then, the owner of the store gave me a lei after I expressed my disappointment in accidentally leaving mine in Chicago.
Afterwards, we went to go look at a mural that was being worked on by one of her friends. In the right corner of the artist’s piece, I stood in awe of the mountains she had painted in different shades of deep green and sea blue. A feeling was invoked in me through her art. I remembered how the mountains in solitude made me feel, and yet, receiving that again seemed so far away. Everything felt so loud and distracting. I looked at that image as if longing to feel a sense that seemed to be out of reach for me right now.
Slug and I parted ways, then I decided to go hang out in the common area and color mandalas in a coloring book that the church folk had provided. I felt so immensely called to just be with God and tune everyone out. I was there for hours. I even wrote a little letter, expressing to God my deepest fears and worries. I wrote about how desperately I wanted to understand what I was going through and why the thoughts seemed to appear so real and intrusive. There was a strong temptation to go find a man, but there was an even deeper calling to sit still with the feelings.
As I was headed back to the field, I ran into Jimmy Dean and the rest of the day it became our mission to find our beloved Pink.
I was growing tired and it was about to get dark, so I said, “Okay, one more round around tent city!”
He piggybacked me through the bushes so I wouldn’t get touched by poison ivy, then said we had to listen for his raspy voice, instead of look for him visually.
Good point, I thought.
Almost immediately, we heard his laugh along with his smoker’s cough in between.
“PIIIINK!” we shouted.
Jimmy Dean threw me into his arms as Pink kissed me and gave me a long, deep hug. I cried from excitement when I saw him. His voice and presence felt so calming to me, despite his personality expressing anything but that. Now, I felt complete and ready for bed.