Six Months Post-Katahdin – The Trek

It took 6 months to save and prepare for, 6 months to do, and 6 months to recover from…

it sounds like a riddle, but it’s true. Thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail was a life-changing endeavor that took me six months to save and prep for (less time than most, from what I’ve heard), six months to hike (about average, maybe slightly more than average… but who cares?), and six months to “fully” recover from (will I ever actually fully recover?).

I’ve already made a post about my preparation stages pre-trail (Let the Countdown Be… Halfway There?!), so here is a post about life post-trail. The post-hike depression/blues, the slipping back into reality, the jobs, the moves, the plans, etc.

The first couple months after trail were just a really long, dreadful Taco Tuesday.

I had just chopped part of my finger off while working at Taco Bell. It ended up being my last day.

The first lurch back to reality was getting a job. I had a couple weeks to hang out before my bank account ran dry, so that’s what I did. Kaboost came to Indiana with me… the furthest west he’s ever been! A wild concept to me, as the Midwest really isn’t very west. My most recent post goes into tons more detail of those first few months back, but working at Taco Bell for two of those months and moving to Raleigh, NC were the highlights.

I’m a routine girl living in a not-so-routine world.

I love a good routine. Thankfully, thru-hiking helped me become a little better at not having full-on panic attacks at every small change in plan, but I still thrive on a schedule. I also love tracking things to see my statistics later. I once told Kaboost that I’m not sure where we go when we die, but I hope when our lives flash before us, we get a stats list like in video games telling us things like how many hours we spent at stop lights, or showering, or laughing? How many good and bad dreams we had? How many tacos we ate? How many times we’d kissed our partners? How many total miles we’d walked? I’d love to know those things.

Anyways, routines. Love ‘em.

I’ve got a note saved in my notes app called List of Lists, and on it is my morning routine, night routine, daily schedules (usually a week out), grocery list, gift list, to do ASAP list, and my to do when bored list. Having these lists has made my shift back to reality significantly easier, but also makes me long for the trail, when no list could save me from the changes that would happen hourly. I love a routine, but I loved the spontaneity of the trail even more.

Doing the best job I could ask for – nannying for the sweetest lil baby!

Kaboost and I finally got our own place, and the living room is obviously Appalachian-Trail-themed. We’ve got a map on the wall with our locations at different dates marked, and several pictures hung up as well. We both are working again, and I’ve found a wonderful nannying job that I adore. I love what I do and am feeling so good about life… so what’s missing?

Why do I still get the blues about not being on trail when I’m happy with my life as it is? I love my job, I’m fueling my body with food that’s good for me and that I enjoy, I’m moving my body every day either doing yoga, rock climbing, fitness classes, running, or just walking. What’s missing?

Rock climbing is a new hobby for us, and we’re loving it!

Well, Starlight. That’s what (or who) is missing. In the real world, I’m Kaiyah. On the trail, I’m Starlight. It’s like a really weird form of body dysmorphia, not quite like the kind I got when I was a gym rat pre-trail, but similar. Perhaps it’d be better described as imposter syndrome.

I feel like I’m in the body of the woman who hiked 2,200 miles from Georgia to Maine… but I’m not her.

It’s been hard to shake that feeling. I recently finished watching season two of Severance on Netflix, and in some ways, that feels like Starlight and Kaiyah. Two different people leading two different lives, except unlike the show, I remember what my “innie” did. It just doesn’t feel like I did it, and I wonder if it was just such an unattainable achievement in my mind that my brain can’t wrap itself around the fact that I really did do it. Or maybe it’s because it took six months to hike but felt like six weeks. Either way, I’m hopeful that someday my brain will put two and two together that I, Kaiyah, hiked the whole Appalachian Trail.

What’s next, Starlight?

I’ve been getting this question a lot from friends, and not often from family, who probably wish I’d stay put and settle down into my adult life. But… what’s the fun in that? 

Out of all the people that have been asking us this question, Kaboost and I have asked ourselves the most. What is next?

Maybe we should do a shorter thru-hike.

Maybe we should thru-hike the A.T. again.

Maybe we should be done thru-hiking and just do section-hikes.

Maybe we should triple crown. 

April 10, 2024 – The day I touched the first blaze on the Appalachian Trail.

These are amongst the ideas floating in our minds, and we’re still thinking it through. All I’ll say is… we’re saving every dollar we can for the possibility of another thru-hike next year. I’m trying to see what I can do in terms of online income. If I can get more views on social media, or get sponsored by a backpacking brand, or finish and somewhat publish my A.T. book in the next year (surprise!!!), I can save enough money for this endeavor. If I prepped in six months last time, twelve months should be plenty, right? 

I’m writing a love song right now that’s secretly about thru-hiking, so I’ll end with a sneak peek of the lyrics.

– “It’s only over when we’re thru. And are we ever really thru? You know we never will be-”

This website contains affiliate links, which means The Trek may receive a percentage of any product or service you purchase using the links in the articles or advertisements. The buyer pays the same price as they would otherwise, and your purchase helps to support The Trek’s ongoing goal to serve you quality backpacking advice and information. Thanks for your support!

To learn more, please visit the About This Site page.