Stretching
hiS LegS
B y G r a n t e . n i c h o l s
on the
AppAlAchiAn
trAil
A
fter nearly 10 years of sitting behind a desk, it was
time for me to stretch my legs. I had enjoyed the past
decade, spent as an associate at a Philadelphia-based
law frm and later at an insurance company, but the weeks, then
months, then years, were passing by with a sneaky speed and
invariability. In March of this year, my girlfriend, sensing a
growing unease in me, off-handedly mentioned the Appalachian
Trail (AT). I knew very little about the AT and even less about
camping, but the idea of hiking from Georgia to Maine somehow
lodged itself in the front of my brain. Without thinking about it
too deeply, I started to determine if it was feasible to leave my
life in Philadelphia and live in the woods for a while. Three
weeks, $2,000 in gear, a lease agreement with some quickly
found tenants, and a one-way plane ticket later, I was at the
Hiker Hostel in Dahlonega, Ga., wondering what I had gotten
myself into.