The winter pilgrimage begins on New Year’s Day at the Southernmost Point of the United States in Key West, but I was already a day behind, and had only made it as far south as Marathon when I saw the first familiar faces hiking north.
Longshot, hiking with Peg Leg on her audacious border-to-border calendar year triple crown. Nana Man, Dirty Mike, Caboose, and Mama’s Girl not far behind. And just like that, I knew I’d never reach the beginning.
Instead, I fell in step with them, hiking into the night, until we ended up at a bar, downing tequila shots and butchering karaoke. We slept on picnic tables at the water’s edge in Curry Hammock State Park, lulled to sleep by the tide.
The next day, we did it again.
Feet pounding pavement under blue skies, we followed the Florida Keys Overseas Heritage Trail north, bound for the Florida Trail and the miles beyond. Only this year, I wouldn’t make it that far.
I’d knocked out a front tooth, a crown on a post, leaving me with a gap that made me self-conscious. But more than that, it reminded me of how this all started nearly a decade ago, when I felt broken and slipping away from society seemed like my only option.
And yet, here I was, still choosing this life. Hesitant to step away, even for something as necessary as dental reconstruction. Looking presentable mattered less than finding whatever it was I’d lost.
At night, the sky burned pink and blue, fading into darkness as the moon and Venus shone together. Saturn, hidden behind the moon in a lunar occultation, revealed my shifting perspective.
#floridatrail #hikertrashforlife