Ben ran to the road as a vehicle approached. His thumb thrust into the air with a snap, and, as if by sheer will alone, the passing pickup turned on its blinker and pulled to a stop along the gravel shoulder. Ace and Caveman had been right. The trail provides.
Day 12, Monson, Maine: The buildings along Monson, Maine’s humble main street looked as if they’d been milled and raised of local lumber. The rough-hewn surface of the local buildings told a story of a rough-hewn past. The structures served as a relic and reminder of a harder and simpler time.
Day 1 Trail Mile 19 A lone hiker approached the lean-to at dusk. The setting sun and rushing brook made his otherwise haggard appearance seem somehow picturesque. The three-sided lean-to structure had a
Rain fell from the low-hanging clouds, not aggressively, but persistently in a way that communicated an unfortunate climatic resolve. Overhead, water dripped from needles and branch bows, beginning its steady, downward march toward the ocean...
Neither of us could imagine that in the months ahead, Ben would find his confidence and life’s calling, and I would find an unlikely and unconventional mentor to help sort out my confusion, leaving the Appalachian Trail with a completely new and lasting world view. All we knew, standing at...
