Time to Finish What We’ve Started

The Final Push to the Finish Line

As a family, we’ve spent a lot of time reflecting on how incredibly lucky we were to have survived Hurricane Helene. I’m filled with gratitude that we made it out of Erwin alive, yet, my heart feels heavy with the magnitude of the destruction and the loss that so many others are experiencing.

We lost more than three thousand dollars worth of hiking gear, which is nothing in comparison to the loss of a life or a loved one. Some people have lost everything. The lucky ones are the ones that escaped with their lives and the lives of their loved ones. We are the lucky ones. I will allow for the space and time to sit with these feelings as I continue to process this horrific experience.

After seeing the horrifying remains of the house we were staying at in Erwin, we made our way back to Maryland to regroup and plan the final leg of our Appalachian Trail thru-hike. With only 500 miles left, everything we’ve worked for feels suddenly very fragile. Six months—half a year of walking in and out of days, up and over mountainous peaks of the most unimaginable beauty. Toting our hopes and dreams through long days and difficult terrain, through months of grit and sacrifice, we pushed through pain, and cried tears of joy and sheer exhaustion.

We’ve come too far to give up now. We may be shaken, but we are not broken. This journey has been so much more than the miles we’ve walked. It’s become a part of who we are. We will press on—because this journey, no matter how hard it gets, is worth every single step. The finish line may look a little different now, but we will cross it. This journey has never been about the miles. It’s about the love, the strength, the joy, the challenge, the community of amazing individuals that make this trail so special, and the familial bonds we’ve forged along the way. It’s about the moments when the world felt still, and we were the only ones in it. It’s the nights we huddled together, cold and tired, but filled with a warmth that came from being together, from enduring it all together. The trail has torn us down and rebuilt us, piece by piece, in new and wonderful ways. Standing here, so close to the end, we will carry our light with us as we inch even further into the wild unknown.

In the coming days, we will be continuing our journey through Virginia in a southward direction. May portions of the Appalachian Trail, from Georgia to Southern Virginia, have been very badly damaged or in some cases altogether destroyed. We will be following the Appalachian Trail Conservancy (ATC) guidelines closely for closures, reroutes, and updates. According to the ATC website, there is a section of trail around the Blue Ridge Mountains in Southern Virginia, that we have not yet completed, which is currently closed due to impassable conditions. It is possible that those areas will open up in the coming month as we move forward. If it does not open, according to the ATC, our thru-hiker status is not in jeopardy if we bypass those areas out of necessity.

The ATC website states, “Thru-hikers who need to skip around closed or impassable A.T. sections in the areas impacted by Helene are still eligible for 2,000-miler status. Thru-hikers can also suspend their hikes and continue where they left off when it is safe to do so and still be considered a thru-hiker so long as they complete the A.T. within 12 months of when they restart their hike.” Additionally, the ATC states that, “In the event of an emergency, such as a flood, a forest fire, or an impending storm, blue-blazed trails or officially required road walks, shuttles, or find-your-own transportation options are viable substitutes for the white-blazed route. Issues of sequence, direction, speed, length of time or whether one carries a pack are not considered. The ATC assumes that those who apply have made an honest effort to walk the entire Trail, even if they did not walk past every white blaze.”

It wasn’t practical to replace our Big Agnes tent and lightweight down sleeping bags, so we improvised with what we had. We're resourceful, and with the finish line in sight, we’ll adapt. Instead of replacing everything, we’re using a heavier, larger tent from our car camping days, and we’ve swapped our lost sleeping bags for more affordable, though bulkier and heavier, synthetic ones. On the plus side, as we head into winter, we are going to be toasty and cozy as the temperature continues to plummet. We also lost most of our best hiking clothes, but we’ve replaced our socks and fleeces, and we’re making do with the synthetic clothing we scrounged up from home. Anyone who knows me, knows that all of our clothing and belongings come from thrift stores. The only things I splurge on are travel, gifts for friends and family, and good, lightweight backpacking gear—which is ironic, considering the lighter the gear, the more expensive it is. Otherwise, I’m a saver, and that’s how we were able to afford this adventure in the first place.

As our gear becomes exponentially heavier and bulkier, we're reaching the point where we can no longer sustain the weight. It's not just that it’s prohibitively heavy—it simply won't fit in our backpacks anymore. For instance, carrying just two of our new sleeping bags would max out the capacity of an entire backpack. Our replacement tent weighs 15 pounds, more than double the weight of our previous 6.5-pound tent. While our old sleeping bags weighed less than a pound each, the new ones range from 3 to 5 pounds, depending on size. Adding any additional weight would be crippling.

My pack has consistently weighed 45 pounds throughout this trip, sometimes exceeding 50 pounds during long food carry sections. On solo hikes, my base weight is around 17 pounds, typically hovering just below 30 pounds with food and water. I remember when 30 pounds seemed too heavy—it’s all relative now. The Tramp’s pack, on the other hand, has been a steady 65 pounds and has maxed out at an insane 78 pounds during the longest stretches. These weights reflect the absolute bare minimum gear for a family of five.

In my pack, I have five sleeping pads, four sleeping bags/liners, clothes, socks, hats and gloves for four, four headlamps, the first aid kit, water bladder, water bottles, snacks for the family for the day and four sets of rain gear. The Tramp carries his sleeping bag, clothes, headlamp, book reader, phone chargers, water filter, cook kit, water bladder, water bottle, tent and food for the entire family. While our base weights are actually impressively low for five people, the sheer amount of food and water required to sustain five people in the backcountry pushes our pack weights sky-high. Even if we could somehow fit this heavier gear, carrying it would be an impossibility.

Since we can’t carry all of our replacement gear, we’ve decided to finish our trip as a slackpacking adventure. Slackpacking allows us to hike the miles without carrying the full weight of our backpacking kit. On a typical slackpack, we carry essentials such as a first aid kit, headlamp, rain gear, hat, gloves, a long-sleeve shirt, water, water filter, and food for the day. Our plan is to base ourselves at a campground along the Appalachian Trail, staying for about four nights. From there, we’ll slackpack in both directions, hiking two days out on either side of the campground. Using both of our cars, we’ll hike between trailheads, returning to camp each night. After we’ve covered the trail in that section, we’ll move to a new campground further along the trail, continuing where we left off.

Since being home, our time spent in Maryland has been a whirlwind of beautiful moments, reconnecting with family, friends, and our beloved pets. While we didn’t have time to see everyone, we look forward to the times we will share after our adventure comes to a close.

If I had my way, I would extend this adventure indefinitely. Unfortunately, our time on the trail can’t last forever. We will need to reincorporate ourselves back into society sooner or later. Thankfully, we have wonderful parents and have built our family from the beautiful friendships that we cherish.

One of the most memorable highlights of our unexpected stop in Maryland was celebrating my dear grandmother's 90th birthday—a milestone overflowing with love, gratitude, and joy. Another unforgettable moment that deepened the happiness of reconnecting with family was getting lost with my dad on our motorcycles, exploring the winding backroads of the countryside. The brilliant autumn leaves, illuminated by the sunlight, swirled and danced around us as the crisp fall air rushed by.

The boys have been busy making the most of their time with their grandparents, carving intricate pumpkins, exploring pumpkin patches, and spending hours riding bikes and scootering in the park. The Tramp and the boys spent an evening with The Tramp’s mom contra dancing the night away.

As part of their homeschooling, they attended a fascinating science presentation at the local library. They spent time working on computer-based schooling programs as well as independently reading as we reacquainted ourselves with our overflowing bookshelves.

I treasured a much-needed day with my mom, catching up over lunch and then playing cards together in the evening. Before we head back to the trail, the boys are looking forward to a fall party with friends from their former school. I’m also looking forward to watching a friend perform in a play and spending a cozy evening at a craft night with dear friends.

Perhaps the most meaningful part of being home was being able to care for our dog during a flare-up of her medical condition. Nursing her back to health reminded me of how grateful I am for the opportunity to be present at times like these. This time in Maryland has been a refreshing pause from our hike but my heart is still fully on the trail. My heart always has been and always will be in nature, but the heartwarming connections at home are something I am truly grateful for.

Being home has given me clarity on the source of my greatest unhappiness: the overwhelming weight of clutter and too many possessions. These material things drain my time and energy, constantly needing to be cleaned, organized, and maintained. Life on the trail has shown me what truly matters and what doesn’t, and it’s become very clear how little we actually need to live fully.

When we return home, I’m committed to simplifying our life. I want our space to reflect the freedom we’ve felt outdoors, a home that supports joy and connection rather than demanding constant upkeep. Every closet and drawer feels suffocating right now, but that’s going to change. I’ll be donating all of our excess to those who need it most—people who have lost everything. This isn’t just about decluttering; it’s about creating space for what truly matters and giving back in a way that reflects the lessons the trail has taught me.

We’re looking forward to getting back out on the trail—we’re ready to finish what we’ve started.

Happy Hiking!