I resumed existence somewhere in the backwoods of Tennessee, summoned to feast with friends, new and old.
The gathering was an annual tradition, though it was my first time attending. Hosted by Root 66, the same friend who once led me down a forgotten, snow-laden trail from a frozen mountain, where we stumbled into town and I got to celebrate my birthday with all my toes intact.
We ate and drank, huddled by the fire, tucked away in cabins without a sliver of cell service. Days melted into nights over rounds of rum punch, laughter echoing into the dark woods.
After several blissful days, I drifted back to the road alone, pointed south with no plan in mind.
I’d failed to resupply food, forgotten safety orange gear for hiking during hunting season, and misplaced my bag and rope for hanging food in bear territory… and worst of all, I had no aspirin for a headache that wouldn’t quit.
There was no plan, and yet, even the fog lingering in the cobwebs of my central nervous system couldn’t hide the joy felt from being fully immersed in the unknown.
#wandering #bentonmackayetrail #BMT