There’s a shelter on the trail called The Priest Shelter.
The log at this shelter has become a popular place for hikers to leave confessions. Most confessions are silly, such as “I don’t wash my pot out.” Yet, other hikers pour their souls out between those pages. I spent a long time reading the confessions and then left my own:
I started to touch on a recent fear in my last confession.
I have known many blessings in my 28 years, yet have found no joy greater than that of a constantly changing horizon. This lifestyle has me constantly dreaming of ways to downsize my 17 pound pack. What can I do without? Every town stop has left me with fewer possessions.
Today, a hiker gave me the ultimate compliment: “Acorn, your pack is so small.”
In a few weeks, I head back to Chicago to pack up my apartment, and (hopefully!!) sell a lot of my belongings.
I’m really, really scared.
The things that I worked so hard for hardly mean anything to me anymore. Why do I need all these things? For the past 2 months, everything I’ve needed, I have carried on my back.
Why does anyone need 15 spoons anyway?
PS. Virginia is stunningly beautiful. It’s been a very healing week for me.
PPS. In a few hours, I will walk into Shenandoah National Park. It will be a rainy week.. But I finally caught up to my hiker bubble last night!
Misery is best with good friends. I’m glad we are all together again.
My next update will be from 1000 miles / Harper’s Ferry!! Whew!