A Month and a Wall Map

I ordered a massive cinnamon bun, heap of eggs, mound of pancakes, and pile of hashbrowns from a perky middle-aged woman with greying hair. She called my order out to the cook, who was standing several feet from her and had likely heard my order anyway. I looked around Pete's Place, taking in the small-town Maine atmosphere - an eclectic mix of decorations and people who live in Maine. The decorations consisted largely of hiking paraphernalia and the old Coke signs people associate with garage sales and reality TV shows about garage sales. After ordering, I sat back down at my table with a new friend from the trail, Gold Rush, named so due to his striking resemblance to a man on a reality TV show about gold mining. Gold Rush had hiked half the trail already, but "flipped" to Maine and was now southbounding to where he had previously gotten off the trail. As we waited for our food, I spotted a map of the AT on the wall. To be frank, I was feeling pretty good. I had just emerged from the 100-Mile Wilderness of Maine feeling confident and on top of the world. I had cruised through the first 115 miles of the AT, the most remote stretch of the trail, with few problems. I mean, I had only fallen into one log-studded mud-pit while night hiking in a thunderstorm and stood up and started walking the wrong way on the trail once. And I had only woken up and had to hobble the first 7 miles of the morning for 4 of the 4.5 days due to old-man soreness. And I only had to tape my blistered feet for like, 3 days. That's pretty good in my book. I was now ready to check out my tremendous progress on that there wall map. Oh yeah baby, 115 miles and 4.5 days in, this champ was ready to see the chunk of trail he'd knocked off.

So either the cook dropped ten pounds of pancakes on the flour, or my heart and soul had fallen out of my gaping mouth and hit the floor in a bloody crash reminiscent of the fall of the Roman Empire (y'all know that made a noise)...The cook was silent. Sizzle sizzle. Cool, definitely my heart and soul, good to know. I didn't need those anyway. My mind was wiped of all emotions for a few moments. Then a wave of dread washed over me like I have never felt before. I stared vacantly at the map. My God....I had not moved. I had done 115 miles. I still had about 2065 to go...was the map broken? Nope, that terrible red line sinuously traced its path for three more feet down that damn wall map. I would be being generous if I said I'd gone an inch. This was the moment I realized just what the hell I had gotten myself in to. Then the woman at the counter called out my order and I buried my feelings of self-doubt, trepidation, and mind-numbing horror with several pounds of breakfast foods.

It has been one month since that day. One month and many more pounds of breakfast food (and ice cream and pop tarts). I must say, I have put forth a fine effort to smother my wall map fears with heaps upon heaps of the dream diet of all 11 year old Americans. Snickers are the new granola bar! But, a month has passed, and so too have I progressed a few inches on that wall map. I no longer wretch away from the sight of those ubiquitous maps, but gaze at them in a kind of amused stupor. Damn, there's a lot of adventures packed into those inches. Right now, I'm 871.3 miles from Katahdin. That's like, enough inches of map that I no longer recoil in fear at the sight of a snaking red line and the outlines of every east coast state. But the other few feet do still scare me a little...

My location on the wall maps from hell tells me that I am now I n New Jersey. As someone from Pennsylvania, I contain within myself an intrinsic repulsion for New Jersey (but not the Jersey Shore, that doesn't count as New Jersey). Henceforth, I am baffled by my apparent love for this section of trail. Rolling pastureland, trail side delis, and the fact that I remembered I was carrying a Burger King crown have caused me to actually enjoy the armpit of America. So as I grapple with the realization that my life may in fact be a lie, I shall walk one more day through dirty Jerz and then tumble into the outstretched arms of my home state. I will see my family in 3 days, and hopefully no more wall maps between now and then

Sincerely,

Burger King

Miscellaneous Fun Facts:
- I ate 8 pop tarts in one day for breakfast
- Today I ate 2000 calories of Nutella after going to Dairy Queen
- I hiked until midnight two days in a row to get a package before the post office closed
- The aforementioned post office had lost my package
- Today I ate two raw packages of Ramen Noodles
- I am wearing a Burger King crown right now

Mail is always welcome! Send it here and my momma shall put that mail in my next mail drop package.

Jeff Mogavero (AT)
3036 Robin Lane
Havertown, PA 19083

Words To Live By

***disclaimer*** at the moment there are no photos in this post. I can't seem to figure out how to do that. Hold on a few hot secs (weeks?) and maybe I'll update this with pretty images. But until now, unfortunate reader, you are left with only my words.

I'd like to start my first update about my sojourn on the Appalachian Trail with several moving words that were uttered to me today. Today was a town day. I hitched into Manchester, VT and picked up a resupply box that my mom had mailed me. There is a Ben and Jerry's in this town. I knew that. For four days, I imagined myself gently caressing a waffle cone in my exceptionally clean hands, pressing my tongue against the dense, yet so soft, creamy goodness of Vermont's finest frozen dessert. To my great dismay, and I'm sure all of yours, the dispensary of heaven was...closed. Awash in angst, I stood at a cross roads. In actuality, I stood in the middle of a turning lane in a parking lot faced with a painful dilemma. Mcflurry, or a pint of BJs from the store? I opted to revisit the grocery store and quickly downed 1200 calories of God Himself. Feeling a surge of energy that only 110 grams of sugar can provide, I made my next move. I went to Starbucks.

It is important to note here that I am not a coffee drinker. Coffee shops tend to overwhelm me, as I manage to order incorrectly more often that not. But I have found a safety item over the years: the mocha. Just enough chocolate so I can't taste the coffee, and just enough coffee so I still go nuts. I was bold in that Starbucks today. After ordering, the woman that made my beverage proclaimed these life-changing words, "salted caramel mocha frappuccino!"
Why, why oh why, has no one ever introduced me to this concoction? It's as if a mocha made love to a milkshake and their child was so pristine in demanded to be topped with whipped cream, caramel, and salt. I will now be craving this beverage (food? Meal? Dessert? Nirvana?) for the next 1650 miles. It is also now abundantly clear to myself that I am still quite under the influence of caffeine as I watch the sun set and storm clouds roll in over Manchester.

But I think this is an update of my time on the trail. In a way, I have captured much of my life in the above two paragraphs. Due to the timing of my hike, I rarely hike with other humans. I see plenty, but largely just to say a quick "hello" and make small talk. Henceforth, I am able to very thoroughly think things over in my head. Just two afternoons ago I spent a few hours planning a future homestead, all the way down to the apple varieties I would plant to how my future partner and I would have to give up our cozy bed and move into the loft of the cabin when my elderly parents (can I say that? Let's be real by the time I have a home you two will be at least 90) come to visit.

As I reflect on my first 22 days of life of the AT, I can report in good confidence that the trail is going well. I have met countless incredible people, and some pretty weird ones too. I'm usually hiking by 6:30am and call it a day around 7pm if I'm at a good spot, or put on my headlight and do some night hiking until I get to a better one. Maine and New Hampshire were absolute joys to travel through on foot. Both states were filled with some fabulous scrambles, wide-open alpine traverses, and steep, wet slabs. Vermont so far is seriously producing some top-notch moments. Every road crossing I eagerly anticipate the potential to sample a probably-sour-but-maybe-not apple. Every climb means that at mid elevations, I may be able to feast on blackberries. And ya never know, sometimes you can detour to the summit of a ski resort and pay $8.00 for a cookie and ice cream sandwich (damn you Killington and your over-priced rubbish plastic-tasting cookies).

I'm starting to hear some thunder rumbling in the distance. Wait nope that's a plane. Yup, definitely a plane. Either way, this was an exhausting entry to tap out on my dang phone. The caffeine is definitely wearing off. But! I have some M&M's that must be consumed In several gleeful moments of chocolate ecstasy waiting for me by my tarp.

Sincerely yours,
Salted Caramel Mocha Frappuccino

p.s. I'll write again when properly over-caffeinated and sugar high
p.s.s. Thanks for the mail! Letters are always welcome :)