How a group of strangers on Roan Mountain taught me a lesson that would changed the course of my Appalachian Trail thru-hike – and ultimately my life.
The storm raged as I slogged up the washed out trail leading to the summit of Roan Mountain, one of the Appalachian Trail’s tallest peaks. Lightning flashed, thunder boomed, and rain dumped as the music in my headphones did its best to drown out the chaos so that I could focus on getting to the shelter. I had been cold and damp for days as the summer storms were finally hitting the trail, and by the time had reached where I currently was, I had had enough.
I live four hours from here. I thought to myself as I shivered from days of wearing wet clothes. I could call my mom as soon as I get service and by this time tomorrow, I could be in my own house, eating good food, and sleeping in a warm, dry, soft bed.
I had been hiking for the past four days essentially alone. There had been familiar faces at camp each night and stopped along the trail for breaks, but as far as consistent friends who would easily cheer me up – especially in a time like this – I was at a loss.
Just get to the shelter. You’ll be ok once you dry off, get warm, and go to sleep. Surely there will be someone at the shelter you’ll know who will lift your spirits. The more positive voice in my head tried to assert.
I, however, was mentally and physically done. I was tired of being alone. I was tired of how difficult every day of hiking was. I was tired of feeling like I didn’t belong on the trail. The more I met people, the more I doubted myself. Everyone seemed to have their gear dialed in, their tramily’s set, and their attitudes in check. Me? Ha. I was having a horrible time with my gear, I had been in and out of several tramilies, and my attitude was all over the place. I was having a great time sometimes, and other times, I felt like I was a totally outsider. I wasn’t like a lot of the other thru-hikers, and while I knew they didn’t care, it was starting to wear me out. How much longer was I going to be able to pretend like I was meant to be out there?
The storm never let up even as I crested the top of the tree covered mountain. Hallelujah, I was getting close. The closer I got, the further away I felt. I was itching to get dry and warm and to make a good dinner that every minute felt like an eternity. Until at last, I came upon the Roan Mountain shelter. I had already decided that I would get a good nights sleep and walk out to Carter’s Gap the next morning to call my parents to come get me.
Did I feel a little disappointed in myself? Yeah. Was I embarrassed that I had hyped this adventure up for months to quit now? Definitely. Did I care? Without a doubt, no. Far better to go back home than be miserable here.
But then…
They were there.
I slowly made my way up to the enclosed shelter at the top of the mountain as my feet kept sliding around in my rain soaked hiking shoes. As I approached the front covered patio of the shelter, I began to hear voices, and not just talking voices but laughter and singing. I was a little nervous. Was the shelter already full? Was I about to crash a tramily party? Whatever. I thought. I’m heading home tomorrow anyway, and besides hikers are pretty nice so I’m sure they’ll be friendly.
I slowly pushed open the door so as not to barge in like I owned the place.
“Hey, another hiker! Come in!” said a girl wearing a yellow hiking dress and Chacos.
As I made my way into the shelter, four hikers were already sitting in a circle sharing stories, making dinner, unrolling their sleeping mats, playing music, and just enjoying the evening together. They immediately invited me to sit down and hang out. I was very appreciative of the invite, but I had to make sure I got some chores done before I started making myself at home. I ran down to the water source to make sure I had enough water for the night, changed into some dry clothes, got my gear situated how I always did at camp, and finally joined in on the conversation.
A breath of fresh air filled my soul as I sat with these strangers swapping trail stories. Each of us was just as curious and eager to ask and listen to each other tell funny stories or make a trail connection. Eventually the girl in the yellow dress, who’s name was Buff, pulled a traveling Ukulele out her pack and began to strum softly while we kept chatting. Buff had been hiking with two others sitting in our circle, Dragon Ball and Wheezy, and they were planning to hike down to Highway 19E to stay a nearby hostel where they were meeting up with several of their tramily that was ahead. The other member of our circle, Roo, was a hiker from Australia who had always wanted to do some kind of adventure like the AT.
A few minutes later, Phil arrived. I had met Phil a few days before and we had hiked off on and on since our initial meeting. Phil was a section hiker from Indiana trying his best to notch another 100 miles off the trail this particular year. Even though I was having a great time with my new friends, it was great to see a familiar face.
The more we got to know each other, the more we laughed, sang, and shared about our experience up to that point. Eventually Dragon Ball reached into his bag, remembering that he had food to share, and pulled out a gallon sized bag filled with every kind of gummy candy you could imagine. There were Sour Patch Kids, Peach Rings, Gummy Bears, Sharks, and more all mixed up in a bag. We began to pass the bag around filling our hands with as much as we could get at one time. To be fair, a gallon sized bag of gummy candies is a lot of weight for one person to keep carrying.
I quickly learned that as well as carrying way too much candy, Dragon Ball also loved to pick up random assortments of things that he thought were interesting. He had somehow acquired a water gun that he liked to prank people with and had collected a family of miniature mice statues that he swore kept the mice away in the night.
I had finally dried off, filled my belly with my dinner and a load of candy, and said goodnight to everyone as I slipped into my warm sleeping bag. I couldn’t help but smile to myself as I drifted off to sleep. What had been an overall terrible day, had turned into the most beautiful evening on the trail. I had forgotten all about the slog up the mountain and calling my mom to come get me. Trail life had in a moment breathed into my lungs and given me new energy to continue the trail. Thank you, God, for this gift of friendship tonight, were my final thoughts as my eyes closed for the night.
The next morning, we all awoke to the sound of rain falling on the tin roof of the shelter. It was going to be another miserably wet day, and all my hiking clothes were still soaked from the days of rain I had been hiking through. As we sat around eating breakfast, Wheezy asked what my plans were for the day. I knew there was a hostel at Highway 19E that I really wanted to stay at that supposedly had the best breakfast on the AT. Everyone else began to pitch into the conversation to persuade me that I actually needed to go with them to another hostel at the highway called The Station at 19E. Apparently they were meeting up there with a bunch of other thru-hikers, and they would be super disappointed if I didn’t come with them.
It didn’t take much to twist my arm.
Next thing I knew, we were all setting off together toward our next stop, 16 miles away, as a group of new friends. I was so appreciative of their kindness toward me, that even the torrential downpour of the rain couldn’t break my stride. No views at supposedly some of the best viewpoints on the trail? Not a problem today. Mud slinging up on my legs with every step? I’d wash it off later. Chilled to the bone after days of rain and cold weather? The warmth of new energy and good friends was keeping me headstrong today.
The miles flew by as we made our way down the mountain to the hostel. We easily got a ride to the hostel where, sure enough, a slew of thru-hikers greeted us in the front lobby. Everyone was hugging and introducing themselves to me. I felt like the long lost friend who finally showed up for the party rather than a complete stranger everyone was meeting. We were shown to our rooms before heading back to down for some lunch and a beer. Of the over 400 beers to choose from, my eyes were drawn to the PBR sitting on the refrigerator shelf immediately across from me. Even though it tasted heavenly after last couple of days, I was reprimanded rather harshly by Buff for having “no taste” in beer.
The day couldn’t have been sweeter. We ended by chilling and game planning the next few days to Damascus, VA – which would be our fourth state on our journey to Mount Katahdin. Some of us were hiking out early and some later, but the plan was to all reconvene in Damascus for a zero day to celebrate reaching another state and nearing the 500 mile marker.
I would never fully know how pivotal this experience was for me until after I finished the trail. In the moment, it felt like a gift to get me through that moment, but much later I realized, this moment, these people, was life changing. My mantra on a bad day became, “get to the shelter.” I knew that if I got to the shelter, then I would probably meet a great group of people that would calm my nerves. We would share in our suffering and encourage each other to keep going. And that was true every time. No matter how miserable the days became – and there were lots of miserable moments on the Appalachian Trail, I can assure you – the shelters were always a place to restore my spirits. They weren’t just a place to my head. They were a place for communal support. They were a place where we could all be at peace and reset ourselves for the days ahead. They were filled with friendship, shared meals, and great stories. They were the lifeline of the trail.
The night spent on the summit of Roan Mountain has long since passed and the details have faded over the four years since that day, but the lesson has never been fresher. Life tends to throw all kinds of chaos and struggle at you when you least expect it. But the shelter – home, good friends, family, where your heart longs to be when the days get hard – will always give you a moment to rest. A moment to calm your mind. A moment to prepare for the long road still ahead.
Find your shelter. Find your people. Keep hiking.
– Ralston Drake
Wandering with Ralston 
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