People often ask me if I am afraid out hiking alone. I usually tell them “no” though a more honest answer would be, “it depends.” In a lightning storm on a high exposed ridge I am frightened. I am definitely frightened when a moose charges me or when I slip and fall down a steep slope. Having a bear or poisonous snake cross my path brings on moments of fear, but for the most part I am seldom afraid when hiking, even when I pass by signs warning me of the dangers ahead.

These signs appeared early on my second day of hiking. I crossed a road and was happy to pick up the water Christal had left for me. Then I climbed what was to become a staple of the trail in Connecticut; short steep ascents with a lot of loose rock. Some of these ascents rose as much as 150 feet per tenth of a mile. That is steep! But none of these were very long and most were well under one mile. Then the trail made a series of short ups and downs interspersed with some fairly level walking along the top of a very steep cliff. After a few miles of ridge walking the trail descended just as steeply as it had ascended, bottoming out when it hit a road. Crossing these roads was sometimes scary, though most drivers slowed down for me as I hobbled across the road.

There were some really lovely views from the tops of these cliffs, even if they were close to houses and roads. I was pleasantly surprised at the amount of green forest I could see from the tops of the cliffs. Many of the trees in these Connecticut forests were spectacular. I saw stands of large beech seemingly free from beech bark disease, which has killed many of these stately trees. Unfortunately I learned that a new disease, beech leaf disease, now looks to be affecting and potentially killing these survivors. I saw oaks that would take a few people to get their arms around and even a stray chestnut tree. Most chestnut trees, which used to comprise about 25% of the forest in this area were killed off by a blight in the early 1900’s. I had no idea what it was about Connecticut that allowed for these stands of beautiful trees. Nor did I know why so many of these trees seemed to want to kill me.

When I was riding my bike around Vermont I thought it was a once in a lifetime event when a tree fell down five feet off to the side of me. But then when I was paddling the Connecticut River this summer a tree fell into the river just a few feet away from my kayak. And so far on this hike at least four trees have fallen within ten feet of me. I cant decide if I am really lucky that none have hit me, or really unlucky to have been so close to so many falling trees. It certainly has caused me to remember to look up to check for dead branches before I pitch my tent.

Ironically falling trees is not one of the main risks people think about when hiking, which highlights my belief that there are way too many possible risks in life to worry about most of them. What I have learned is that it is important to have some sense of the risks and when appropriate I make some bail out plan before I actually hit what feels like the edge of serious danger. If I wait until I am in the middle of the danger my rational brain is apt to make choices that are less than wise. Therefore I try to have some basic guidelines for when to turn around in different scenarios. I won’t hike too near a fire and always carry more food, water and clothes then I usually need. Of course it is a fine balancing act since I have to carry everything on my back. This is where trust comes in.

One thing I love about these adventures is the level of trust I am forced to have if I want to go about my days without being consumed by worry. On a hike like this I must trust that the blazes on the trees are really taking me in the right direction. I trust my trail app and my sense of route finding. I trust my gear, especially my hiking poles which I lean on heavily on steep descents. I trust my ability to adapt to changes in terrain and weather and to figure out necessary details as I go along. This year there is a severe drought in Connecticut and Massachusetts so I am I am trusting that the water the trail angels offered to leave for me will be there when I arrive. When I arrive in places where people have left me water I always send out a prayer of gratitude.

It is true that I am taking some risk by being out in the woods alone. It is also true that living in my house alone poses certain risks. Getting into a car or onto and airplane is risky and skiing down a mountain or getting out on any body of water poses some risk. In general I don’t spend a lot of time worrying about all the possible scary endings to what I do. I find that the fear of what could happen is often worse than most outcomes. And the thought of trying to live my life with no risk scares me much more than camping alone in the woods. One day I will die, but as my friend John Earl always said, at least I will die living.