Every Kind of Cold
Its hard to remember what I considered cold before starting this hike.
I remember regular cryotherapy sessions, cold plunges, and the occasional cold front that warranted checking porch steps for ice, and turning on the seat warmers on my way to work. Aside from that, Texas has kept us pretty toasty over the years.
The Appalachian Trail has redefined cold for me.
Theres the kind of cold when days of persisting rain soaks your gear down to the skin and has you waking up each morning to put on clothes that are just as wet and twice as cold as the day before. Theres the kind of cold when your hands are too numb, waterlogged, and colorless to use your trekking poles or fasten your pack. Theres the kind of cold you feel in your feet when hiking through miles of trail that have turned into ankle deep streams and swamps. Theres the kind of cold while hiking through snowdrifts past your knees in shorts and trail runners. Theres a kind of cold from climbing over some of the highest balds that Virginia has to offer while completely exposed to winds that took our feet out from under us and skimmed our skin with razor-blade rain. Theres the kind of cold when snow starts to drift into the shelter while everyone sleeps, slowly wetting out your down quilt. Theres the kind of cold when you realize that your sleeping pad has a slow leak on a subfreezing night. Theres the kind of cold that a blizzard brings throughout a 3,000-foot descent over steep, ice-covered roots and rocks. Theres the kind of cold when hiking in a hailstorm over the Smokies’ highest ridges with seven miles to the next shelter. Theres the kind of cold you feel in your soul when dropping your last peanut-butter-dipped Snickers bar into a pile of dirt and leaves. Then theres the coughing and fever-filled chest cold that you get from toggling between all the previously listed kinds of cold for weeks on end.
Learning to live with all of these different kinds of cold has also taught us a great deal about warmth. A majority of which comes from the people who are enduring all of the same colds.
Theres the kind of warmth when seeing the sun and blue skies for the first time in days and laying yourself and your gear out to dry. Theres the kind of warmth when everyone is still wrapped in their sleeping bags, sipping coffee from camp cups, and watching snow fall from within a shelter. Theres the kind of warmth when all are standing around a campfire each night, ultimately laughing at all of the obstacles we went through that day. Theres the kind of warmth when your family back home sends you an emergency pair of shoes after days of walking around with your big toe popping out of the side of your trail runners, or a month’s worth of your favorite protein and mushroom supplements. Theres the kind of warmth when you cross paths with trail angels like Quiet Paul or Brother Tom, who give you a homemade breakfast and a cup of noninstant coffee. Theres the kind of warmth when connecting with the locals in town who offer you rides, meals, and even hugs (despite how bad you smell). Theres the kind of warmth when, after four straight days of rain, youre all hiding in the shelter, making hot chocolate, burning incense, singing and dancing to CCR, and looking out into the sheets of rain saying to each other, Its cool. Its going to be a good day. Theres the kind of warmth when you remember that you can wipe the dirty peanut butter off your Snickers and put on a new, even bigger coat of peanut butter before eating it. Theres the kind of warmth you feel when, after getting sick, every other hiker offers you the medicines, teas, and cough drops that helped them when they caught a cold.
But now its early May, weve made it to southern Virginia, and spring is starting to take its hold on the mountain range. Slowly but surely, the shivers are being replaced by sweat, our warmer layers are being shed to receive the first sunburns of the season, and campfires are being made to keep the bugs at bay, rather than to regain the feeling of our hands and feet. Recently, each day has brought a new type of flower to smell, a new birdsong to hear, and a new bug to be bitten by. Soon, well be winding our way through the newly grown green tunnels weve all been dreaming about for the past two months, with the weight of our winter gear off our backs, and the excitement of seeing the trail in this new light.
Until next time,
Beamer and Nugget
This website contains affiliate links, which means The Trek may receive a percentage of any product or service you purchase using the links in the articles or advertisements. The buyer pays the same price as they would otherwise, and your purchase helps to support The Trek's ongoing goal to serve you quality backpacking advice and information. Thanks for your support!
To learn more, please visit the About This Site page.
Comments 4
Can’t wait to see you and congratulate you on this amazing triumph! I see so much of your mom’s heart through your words. You are just as fierce as she has always been. You are your mother’s daughter. I have loved you from a far. Come home safe and call your mom and tell her how much you love her… It makes her heart grow three sizes larger every time you do!
Safe travels to you, Connor and all your companions! Much Love!??
I am so proud of you Kelsy. I love reading your posts. I always knew you were capable of doing AMAZING things. Cant wait to hear all about it when you get back.
Love, bri.
Reading your update made me cry and laugh!! You guys will have so many more stories to share. Cant wait. Come home safe.
Embrace the suck!
You got this!!