The Center

We greet the three SOBO (southbound) backpackers seated on the outside bench as they munch on sourdough from the nearby bakery. 

Then, it was my turn for a greeting. The familiar scent of hiker welcomes me as I push open the door and walk inside; those perfectly combined notes of earth, sweat, and the type of distance and time that is worn like a favorite T-shirt. This is the aroma that fills the olfactory senses of my mind as I read tales of thru-hiker journeys. It’s the same fragrance that fills the forest as I traverse portions of that trail in my own abbreviated way that current life allows. 

But as soon as it hits my nose, it’s gone just as quickly. Crossing the threshold between path and center, between national scenic trail and iconic landmark, between the 1,025 miles hiked and the 1,167 that remain (or vice versa) can be felt, even if just for a moment. I envision the thousands of thru-hikers over the years that have crossed the threshold of the Appalachian Trail Conservancy Visitor Center in Harpers Ferry, WV, for their mid-point check-in and Polaroid photo-capturing. And that visualization partly comes alive as I peruse a couple of the photo albums. I smile as I notice my beloved Grandma Gatewood’s photo and story on a wall display. She may not be my grandma per se, but grandma to all American hikers. I chat with the friendly, informative staff member. I peek at the "hiker’s lounge" and its simple comforts. 

And I walk around that small building recognizing the connection it holds. This trail center at the almost-center of a trail, the "psychological mid-point" of a long, hard journey, connects those who’ve traveled it. We all have a journey; a path we are pursuing, a road we are running, a trail we are trekking. Right now, mine is cancer. It’s both the shortcut and the long-distance trail. 

As I walk with my husband and 8-year Multiple Myeloma warrior on an indefinite yet steady "white-blaze" journey of cancer and maintenance chemotherapy, a flareup of tumors is currently forcing him to "blue-blaze" for a bit. Our lives will look a little different over the next few months, but we adventure on. Trusting the Master Cartographer, as we place one foot in front of the other, we look forward to seeing those white blazes once again. 

Just like this trail center, with its common bond of unifying struggle stories and "trail magic" support, we too can be this kind of resource to other travelers. A shared language is spoken and a sweet aroma is detected when we bare our battle scars and reveal our dirt. 

We become a center of hope smack dab in the center of someone’s trail. We become "tramily." And trail family doesn’t journey alone. 

They don't eat sourdough alone, either. Yes, you can bet our next stop is that bakery down the street. And my amazing hiking hubby, with a recent intravenous chemo treatment wreaking havoc on his body, deserves every bit of that trail magic.

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