Sally smiling on the top East Biggelow
When I hiked onto a gravel road right after Caratunk, Maine, I came across a woman and her energetic golden retriever. “Hi,” she said. “I’m Tortoise.”
I said, “No way! I’m Turtle.”
We were immediately a team.
Tortoise (real name Sally) and I hiked together for several days. She is a retired professor of Nursing and a pretty spunky lady. Several years ago, Sally broke her back in a car accident. As a result of this (and a few other injuries), she can’t manage a full pack weight. Instead, she carries ultralight gear and her dog, Noah, carries part of her gear.
(As a side note, Noah’s dog is a two year old male who humps everything. And I mean everything. Tortoise told me to knee him in the neck when he tries to get frisky. We did meet a few people that were pretty rude to us and we whispered, ‘Noah. Go hump them. Hurry.’)
“Tortoise,” I say. “I’m not really sure what to do with my life.” We hiked together during the day and I cherished our conversations. Tortoise has me do an exercise out loud where I write an imaginary autobiography of myself at 30, 40, 50, and 60. With each chapter she asks me questions and helps me go deeper in my thoughts. I realize that I may not know what I want my career to be, but what I do know is that that when I see myself at 60, I want to be surrounded by a community of people of all different ages. This is something I am going to start working on when I get home.
She helps me with some practical advice about writing and encourages me to put myself out there more. It’s like having an
Sally hiking with Noah
on-trail cheerleader.
Sally is one of the few people I know who is completely happy with her life. She says, “I have worked very hard in my life and now I am enjoying the fruits of the mental, emotional, and professional labor I’ve done.” Her contentment is inspiring, and I find myself wanting to soak up what has led her to this place. I believe that suffering is an opportunity for growth, and so does she. As she has encountered challenges in her life with her personal life, health, and career, she has made the concientious decision to pursue healing.
All of this makes it sound as if our time together was very serious. In truth, we talked about sex and love, made fun of section hikers carrying too much weight, and covertly rolled our eyes when a bunch of guys started talking about how far and fast they go on the trail. One night, after I had been mobbed by mosquitoes during the day, Sally rubbed anti-itch cream onto my bug bites. She started counting, “1, 2, 3…” Once she got to 20 she said, “Well, let’s just stop counting.”
So, while it is sometimes hard that there aren’t as many Southbounders on the trail, I feel blessed to get to travel with section hikers like Sally.
