One of the greatest gifts I received from working in outdoor and environmental education is wonderful lifelong friends who share similar values and continue to work in the field of education. One day, during an online meetup with a small group of core friends, one of them shared a catchy, easy-to-remember debrief question she uses with her co-workers at her school. It is called Knew, New, and Renew: What did you already know before? What are the new things you learned? Based on the learning, what knowledge do you think you would renew? – something like that.

I liked it a lot. Since she taught me, I have used it professionally and personally. During this section, I noticed that I used quite a bit of Knew, New and Renew.

“一期一会” (pronounced I-chi-go I-chi-e) is a Japanese proverb. It means that every encounter is a treasure, so embrace it. Last year, I met Mr. Fukuda and Chizuru san, his wife, at a birthday party of my friend’s friend’s kid’s. While we chatted and connected in Japanese, he invited me to come stay at his home when I come through AT’s New Jersey section. He came to Green Lake to pick me up from the trail and drove me to his lovely, comfortable home. Chizuru san greeted me with a Japanese meal and bath salts. As Mr. Fukuda dropped me off at the trailhead the next day and we were saying goodbye, he said, “This is ‘一期一会” with you.” I knew the phrase and meaning, and as a thru-hiker, my world is full of “一期一会,” meeting caring and interesting people. What’s new for me this time is that even though we have met before, I knew little about them, their life story of immigrating to the U.S. The one night with them was special and unique, and I thought how interesting the universe brings certain people together, renewing the value of “一期一会,” meeting everyone with kindness and every moment with mindfulness.

When I was leaving Greenwood Lake, I was aware of the extreme heat warning from July 1st to July 3rd with the high up to 96°F. I assumed it would be around 86-89 degrees in the woods, thanks to the shade. Still, with humidity, I knew it would be brutal to hike in such high temperature based on my previous experience as a cyclist, riding in the lower 90°F in the East Coast. When I was biking, there was at least a breeze that I created myself. This time, I’m hiking, and it feels like a more accurate temperature.

When I left Greenwood Lake in the late afternoon, it was a day before the heat warning was in effect, and it was 82°F. I was hiking okay, and I noticed that I was breathing harder than usual, like I was out of breath. I had to stop more often, drink more water, and eat more often since my hunger level went up as well. It was a new insight for me- exercising in a high temperature with high humidity is like working out in a sauna, which should be avoided in normal circumstances. I am thru-hiking. Going into three hot days, I renewed my approach to the trail: slow down, eat more often, double the water intake, and end my day with water to cool off. The most important adjustment I made was hiking at night and resting/sleeping in the shade during the hottest hours. I’ve done an alpine start, meaning getting up at midnight and being done by midday, when I was hiking the PCT desert section. I have not done a nocturnal schedule up until this time, being active at night and sleeping during the day. I thought it would be a completely new experience for me.

To ease into a completely opposite schedule, I started the day before the first hot day, not too much earlier than usual. As I was preparing my breakfast, I watched the full moon over the Island Pond. Before leaving the camp, I went down to the shore, watched the Full moon in the dark, and slowly faded into the indigo blue sky of dawn. It’s my favorite time of the day. Everything is quiet and calm. It is sacred. The morning walk was beautiful, and I saw the sunrise through the trees.

I was out of breath many times throughout the day from the heat, even though it wasn’t hitting 90°F. I reminded myself to slow down and drink plenty of water. The Trail took me up to Bear Mountain, one of the closest spots for people to enjoy nature from New Jersey and New York City. From the overlook tower, I could see Manhattan far away and the Hudson River close by. After I crossed the river in the early afternoon, I started climbing up a steep hill. I felt dizzy sometimes, and I couldn’t tell if it was from the heat or hunger. It turned out that I needed to eat more. The last two hours between 3 and 5 pm was the hottest time of the day. When I made it to the Graymoor Spiritual Life Center, which provides free camp in the baseball field and showers for thru-hikers, I was glad to be over for the day. The cold shower felt so nice and refreshing. I chatted with a thru-hiker at the camp, and she left the camp at 7 pm with a plan to hike till midnight. My plan for the next day, the first hot day over 90°F, was to leave the camp at 3 am and hike till 1pm. I dozed off in the evening cool temperature, watching fireflies in the baseball field.

The next day, I had to stop hiking after noon, cutting my day short by an hour, 5 miles less due to the heat and a much slower pace than normal. I knew I would go slower, and it’s all new to me to move in such heat and humidity. I wasn’t disappointed. I was curious and amazed how my body responded and adapted or not to the weather. I found a camp spot in the shade near the shelter. It wasn’t perfect since the sunlight came through the trees sometimes, turning my tent into a hot sauna. I thought that was the best I could find, so deal with it. I was able to sleep and rest a little bit. At 8:45 pm, I left the camp as I watched thru-hikers hunkering in the nearby shelter and in their tent, with a hope that I would make it to Deuel Hollow Brook, 26.1 miles away, before 10 am the next day.

It was the first time I committed to the all-night hike. The idea came out of navigating the heat in the desert section of the PCT. There were places with no shade in the desert. Many people choose to hike at night and rest during the day. I remember seeing the track of headlamps in the middle of the desert on the PCT. The nice thing about the desert is that often it cools down quite a bit as soon as the sun goes down and stays cool until sunrise. I remember getting up at 2 am, hiking till mid day on the PCT to take advantage of the early morning, the coolest time of the day.

It was such a neat experience. At night, it was quiet and fireflies silently lit up in the dark, entertaining me with the lightning show like Christmas tree lights. The full moon was two nights ago, and I watched the huge orange moonrise in the dark. I knew I depended so much on my eyesight during the day to sense my environment. At night, I challenged myself to see things in the dusk until no more lights were available. When I turned on my headlamp, I decided to use the reading light mode to open other senses to feel the ground. At this point, my feet had developed a great sense of terrain, different types of ground, and what to expect. Sometimes, my body moved faster than I could see. I let my feet do their best even when I couldn’t see clearly. It was a very different experience without seeing the views and listening to the birds, but I didn’t feel like I was missing out much. The darkness helped me focus. The daylight is very long, so it was dark for only seven hours.

I passed by Nuclear Lake at dawn, and that’s when I noticed the humidity was so high- everything was covered with dew. I passed the Appalachian Trail train station and started going up the open grassland. I was glad that I finished the grassland at 7 in the morning! Then, something that I didn’t expect happened- I was suddenly hit by sleepiness. As I kept walking, I struggled to stay awake. I remembered that chewing helps focus, so I started eating my energy bars in small bites to keep going.

When I reached Deuel Hollow Brook, it was exactly what I imagined- lots of water with places to bathe in and plenty of flat ground under the trees away from the water to camp. I was so happy and relieved. I set up my camp a little after 10 am and went down to the brook for a skinny dip. The cool water immediately revitalized me, and the sound of water in the deep shade of green was soothing. I went to soak three more times that day, rested, ate, and slept.

Today, I woke up rested and refreshed at 2 in the morning. It was much cooler and more pleasant than the day before when I stepped outside. I looked at my legs, and almost all the salt rash that I had was gone. I was amazed by the power of healing from the series of bathing in the pristine water. It also cured the mild swelling I had in my right knee. It felt normal when I crossed my legs, and I didn’t even think about it. I knew the power of water. It was still new to me how fast water healed me. I needed to renew my understanding of the power of water.

In the dark, I started hiking, and soon I crossed the New York/Connecticut state borderline. There was a bulletin board, which had a lot of information. What caught my attention was a flyer that said “Attention thru-hikers.” It described the recent action of thru-hikers as threatening the future of Appalachian Trail access in Baxter State Park in Maine, asking for basic backcountry camping ethics. I’ve hiked almost 1,500 miles at this point, and I already knew how some thru-hikers practice very little of leave-no-trace ethics and just think of themselves without considering for the generations to come after us. Since the majority of hikers are white and the Western ideology of individualism manifests on the trail, I thought of a new idea for the organization, such as ATC, to take more concrete action to prevent negative/destructive impact on the environment and other hikers by education.

In the cool morning hours, I made it to Kent, CT, for resupply. I just so happened to walk through a residential area instead of the main street into town. A guy in the truck looked at me and said, “Are you hiking the Appalachian Trail?” His name was Bill, and he gave me a ride to the post office. It wasn’t that far, but it was already hot. It was only a few minutes with him, and it was pleasant getting to know him. He told me he hiked a long trail in New Zealand a long time ago, as the AC blasted on my face. When he dropped me off, I said thank you, and he said, “You can remember me, Bill from Kent, Connecticut.”

“一期一会” (pronounced I-chi-go I-chi-e): every encounter is a treasure. So I embraced it. I knew it, and there was another new encounter. Renew it so that I continue to appreciate and cherish the moments that the universe brings us together.