Our First Dates

Forty-five years ago, some members of the group planning to hike the Appalachian Trail (AT) went down to Times Square for the 1980 New Years Eve celebration.  At the time I had been dating a woman in the group for over a year.  Nancy was two years older than me and gorgeous!  She also insisted on an arrangement where we were simply dating until something else came along.

Nancy was not at the Times Square celebration, but Cindy was.  As the ball dropped I commented that being at Times Square was a tale I would tell my grandkids.  I had no one in particular in mind with that comment, considering my relationship with Nancy was to be temporary.  However, years later Cindy shared that when I said “my grandkids,” she was thinking “our grandkids.”

During the spring I had a long chat with Cindy on the phone.  As an experienced, long distance hiker I attempted to prepare her for the challenges she could face on the upcoming thru-hike.  Better to expect the worst and be pleasantly surprised.  Cindy confidently declared:  “Mind over matter!”  That was when the wholesome woman with the perfect strides had me.

We went on a date soon after where we were walking along Main Street of Willimantic.  We passed a sketchy bunch of young adults who started singing “Onward Christian Soldiers.”  I did not look as sketchy as that gang but I am me, a mountain man who would never make the cover of GQ.  That means Cindy exuded enough wholesomeness for two people.

Our first day of the thru-hike started in May and featured over twenty miles of hiking in intermittent rain.  I avoided hiking with either Cindy or Nancy that first day.  Nancy wanted our dating to be temporary because she intended to move on.  I wanted to spare Nancy the awkwardness from me doing that first. While hiking with almost everyone else I lifted rain dampened spirits by predicting I felt dry air blowing in.

The fourteen of us in the group camped at the same spot that evening.  We put up our tarps and tents because of the rain.  To my chagrin I discovered I was one tent peg short.  When I announced that to the group, Cindy demurely came up and offered me one of hers.  I did not want to invite Cindy to share a tent, but if anyone else in the group offered me a tent peg I would have.  As I imagined a glance from Nancy boring into me I offered a space in my tent for Cindy.

The next day called for another twenty miles to where our support vehicle awaited.  The dry air I predicted would blow in turned out to be a major tropical storm.  The second day in and my credibility as an experienced hiker already shot!  Fortunately, as a “lean mean hiking machine” I thought I would use the dreadful weather to my advantage. I hiked five miles further than the rest of the group to a lean-to, both to avoid setting up my tent in the pouring rain and the awkward dynamics of the evening before.

I looked forward to my solitude that evening. The roof of the lean-to kept me dry while a hot meal of mac and cheese warmed my bones.  The group was five miles behind and no one else would be hiking in such a downpour.  My blissful meal and reverie was disturbed by the sound of two voices njoying each other’s company as they approached.  Around the corner came Cindy and Nancy to share the shelter.  The three of us were the only ones in the shelter that night, with apparently only me wishing I was not there.

I had to abandon the intention of being neutral during the hike. By my reckoning then, hiking the whole Appalachian Trail amounted to our fifth date. I failed to have her back home by midnight, though her father did come out to meet us …