Me & The Rattler. Summer, 2002 , Appalachia.

March 12, 2025

Summer 2002 I was scheduled for ten days in deep Appalachia with my Nanna. Five days in and I’d both settled into a daily routine walking the woods with my 40lb pack and adopted a ‘trail name’ which every AT hiker does at some point. The sooner the better I’d heard, so by day two I was calling myself Little Rock. My Nanna was Running Brook.

I learned the first day that walking at any pace slower than your natural one caused considerable pain. So though it saddened me at first to realize I would not be doing much hiking with my Nanna, I soon discovered the peace of true solace–simply being alone with one’s thoughts, the earth, and the trees, only needing to pay attention to ‘blazes’ the white marks on various trees that ensure you stay on the trail.

I did have a watch with me which is how my Nanna & I decided upon our daily system. I would walk no longer than 2 hours alone and then I would wait for her and her friend Phyllis to catch up. We’d all share a snack, then repeat. This rhythm flowed thrice each day, with our last meal together being at the chosen encampment for the night. When I would arrive at the chosen trail shelter I’d immediately set down my heavy pack and just breath on my back for a while before writing at length in the shelter’s logbook.

This particular habit made me some friends. I met many people who hiked at a faster pace than I who had been reading my entries and enjoying them that caught up to me–and told me so. It was when I first knew that I wanted to be a writer, and actually had a fighting chance at being successful at it. They couldn’t believe I was only 15, saying my words & writing style made them think I was at least 10 years older. The trail provides. Truly. Eventually my new friends & I would say goodbye as I had to wait for my Nanna & Phyllis.

I loved every minute of it. Never before had I been given such a golden chance of getting to know myself. The sunlight streaming through the trees, the bird song, the heart wrenching beauty of the wildflowers and that strange feeling you get when walking a narrow rock path on the edge of a cliff all combined to help me process some really difficult moments I had experienced in my 15 years thus far at that point in time.

And I made peace with so much of it. There is a very big part of me that wishes I had been able to stay in those woods, living that hiker life for another two years, for what awaited me outside of those woods when the trip was over was more pain & challenge, not less. I know for a fact I needed the therapy of God’s innermost natural sanctuary for much longer than those ten days at that time in my life. I know that had I been given it, there are so many wounds that took me years to heal which never would have been possible to create. Still, it remains to this day one of the most meaningful experiences I have ever had.

Building fires each night, meeting amazing people on the trail, writing at the end of each day walking 8-10 miles in deep nature. It was incredible.

One of my most memorable moments–and there were many, was when I had been hiking with the quirkiest, kindest, most wild bearded man I had ever met. He was in his early 20’s and talked to me about many fantastical concepts. I soaked it all in. He seemed to know most of the latin names for the plants we passed, as well as loads of other fascinating information–it was from him that I first learned about quantum physics, string theory, and the interconnectedness of everything.

I was listening deeply as he lectured happily when suddenly he came to a dead stop.

“That’s a rattler right there. You’re going to have to wait for your grandmother here so you can warn her, because he is quite hidden.”

I knew he was right, so though I was incredibly disappointed to say goodbye, I put my pack down and waited.

And waited.

And waited some more.

Finally curiosity got the best of me & I decided I would try and take the rattler’s picture.

Slowly I pulled out my camera, inched closer, and snapped a shot.

He didn’t like that. Immediately the snake hissed, drew up his rattle, and began to shake it at me.

“Okay, fine, fine, you don’t like having your picture taken.” I said while slowly backing away, knowing it was all a show but still feeling my heart beating extra fast & hard inside my ribcage.

Not long after this Nanna & Phyllis arrived. I calmly warned them of the situation and my Nanna was incredibly grateful, saying over & over again she likely would have stepped on it and died had I not waited, how good of me it was to do that.

But it had simply been the right thing to do.

The next day my Nanna hurt her knee and I had to enlist the help of a boyscouts camp to help get her to a nearby motel where we ended up staying for the remainder of our trip. This was before the days of uber.

I did not like returning to civilization. It felt incredibly foreign, loud, and far too fast. Except for the hot shower. I stayed in for nearly an hour!

Nanna & Phyllis set up taxi’s for our last few days on the trail. Nanna had managed to get some sort of a prescription that allowed her to keep walking, she was so determined to make the most of the trail, as she was a section hiker. Her goal was always to make it to Katonah by the end of her life–which sadly she never did. All those marathons she ran late in life really tore up her knees in my opinion.

She apologized numerous times for slowing us all down the next few days but I didn’t mind. The whole experience had taught me so much, introduced me to a world I had no idea even existed but which felt more like home to me than ‘home’ ever had. I made a promise to myself that one day I would return, and hike the whole AT all the way through start to finish.

I have yet to achieve that goal, but I know one day I will, and when I do, my Nanna will be with me in spirit, walking with me every step of the way.