From Rockfish Gap, I entered Shenandoah National Park and hiked the next 100 miles throughout the park. About 3 miles into the park, I saw a deer fawn and their mom. Surprisingly, the fawn ran over to me to check me out. I had never seen a fawn so close to me. The mom didn’t care, and in fact, she ran away, leaving her baby with me. Sometimes I wonder if I smell like wildlife and they think I am one of them. Whether I smell like wildlife or not, I know I am one of them. I’m here to connect with our shared home and learn more about my friends who live in the forest.

So when I came to a sign at mile 897.5 and saw the word “escape” on the information panel titled Escape Route, I felt disconnected and uncomfortable. It read:

…… Benton MacKaye, Myron Avery, and other hikers created the A.T. in the 1930s so that Americans could escape busy modern life for a minimalist adventure in nature. Whether hiking for one day or many, today’s A.T. visitors enjoy the trail for the same reason…..

When I learned a little bit of history about the AT before I began hiking, the word “escape” appeared in many resources. It implies that nature is a destination- we need to go visit to get away from our life, rather than nature being part of our everyday life. If it is a destination, we need to designate national parks, national forests, and wilderness areas, setting a boundary between human society and nature. On the other hand, Native Americans call these places home. White American conservationists excluded humans (natives) to protect nature from people, whereas American Indians co-exist with nature as caretakers of the land. I clearly don’t see any separation between nature and myself.

I was upset when I read the statement about us visiting the trail for the same reason- to escape. I’m here to connect, not to escape from something. Then I wondered how many people are hiking the AT to escape from their lives. What will happen to these people when they are done hiking? Will any minimalist way of life on the trail go away once they are back home? What are the learnings? What is the growth? Will they see themselves as part of nature and as a caretaker of the earth? Or will nature remain a place to go, a thing to exploit resources and extract their experience from? Will people walk away knowing the names of those who live in the woods as much as they learned people’s trail names? Ultimately, do people feel connected to the land?

I have learned a lot about myself and the land since April and feel at home in the Appalachian Mountains. My friend Kristy, who is an ornithologist, introduced me to the Merlin App, a free sound identification tool that tells me who is singing. Now I know better who sings part of the beautiful vocals that echo in the dense green forest.

I have memorized the songs of several birds, including the Ovenbird, Eastern Wood-Pewee, Wood Thrush, Scarlet Tanager, Red-eyed Vireo, Blue Jay, Eastern Towhee, Carolina Chickadee, Eastern Whip-poor-will, and American Redstart. When I can match their songs with their names, I feel closer to them, much like knowing the names of our human friends. I am excited to learn more and expand my knowledge of the birds, even though I can’t always see them in the thick green forest.

Since Shenandoah is a national park and I hiked through it over the weekend, I saw more day hikers coming from many places on the trail, whether they were escaping from their lives or not. I was delighted to see many BIPOC and families on the trail. Based on my not-so-scientific research, roughly 70% of day hikers were BIPOC in Shenandoah compared to 5% of thru-hikers being BIPOC. It is astonishing to notice such a huge gap- the longer the time on the trail, the fewer BIPOC hikers you see. It clearly shows who has time, resources, and perhaps an idea to thru-hike our national scenic trails.

Among all the day hikers I said hi to, I had a chance to connect with Joe and his family who live a few miles away from the AT in Pennsylvania. Since I’ve been looking for friends who can support me in Pennsylvania, I asked Joe if he would be willing to be my trail angel and host me for a night when I come through. He said, “Oh, that’s so easy! I’d be happy to.” His kids said, “We have a hot tub.” I was thrilled! He gave me his numbers, and later he texted me with his address and said, “My family had dinner, and I shared your website and the article in Outside magazine. Family enjoyed the story and running into you. Be safe.” How amazing is that to make such a new connection! I’m very much looking forward to reconnecting with them in a few weeks in the Blue Ridge Mountains.

Speaking of reconnection, I had a chance to meet up with one of my dear friends, Jo, and her husband Edu in the park. It was spontaneous, and they drove 7 hours from their home in North Carolina to come see me with fresh food and smiles. Jo opened the trunk of their car and said, “I’m not a trail angel. I’m a trail butterfly,” putting on her butterfly outfit and hugging me. With her incredible outfit, she placed a cardboard box in the parking lot and made a small table for us to feast on an Asian noodle dish they picked up on their way. The daylight was long, but the time together was way too short. Right when fireflies started to light up, I had to say goodbye and disappear into the woods in the dark. I knew there was a spring, not too far from the road. When there is water, there’s usually a camp nearby. I had a feeling I would be able to find a camp. Sure enough, about 0.5 mile from the road, my headlamp pointed to a flat, pre-impacted site. The dinner was done. Both my belly and heart were filled up. All I had to do was set up my camp and settle in for the night. I dozed off in peace.

I am very fortunate to have many wonderful friends who mutually want to stay in touch. Some are close to home, and we see each other often. Some are far away and rarely meet again. I am okay with either. Just knowing that I care about them and they think of me sometimes is enough at this point in my life. If it’s meant to be, we’ll connect sometime. If it’s not, I still think of them, and they still think of me. I cherish the invisible mutual bonds with friends.

Since I am rarely on the East Coast, I reached out to some of my friends there. Among those are Emily and Sadie, whom I had not seen for almost 10 years. They work during the week, and I was moving much faster than my original ETA; I thought I was going to miss them when I reached Harper’s Ferry- a place known to be the psychological halfway point of the Appalachian Trail. Emily told me that she would be in Frederick, an 18-minute drive from the trailhead in Harper’s Ferry during the workday. I put in extra miles every day to make it there to see her.

I crossed the Shenandoah River and reached Harper’s Ferry. On my way to the Appalachian Trail Visitor Center, I walked through Camp Hill. I stopped by the NPS exhibits and learned that I was standing near what had once been an international border. During the Civil War, my left was within the Union state of Maryland. Loudoun Heights to the right was claimed by the Confederate state of Virginia. Slavery divided the nation, and here at Harpers Ferry the two sides clashed over the meaning of freedom.

Another exhibit panel had a photo of black and white men at the second meeting of the Niagara Movement, a Black civil rights organization, at Storer College, a historically Black College (HBCU) that was established for people of all races. The panel had a quote from W.E.B Du Bois, the Niagara Movement Founder and Secretary:

We claim for ourselves every single right that belongs to a freeborn American, political, civil and social; and until we get these rights we will never cease to protest and assail the ears of America. The battle we wage is not for ourselves alone but for all true Americans.

I stood there for a while. The reason why I am here today, freely walking on the Appalachian Trail, feeling so much joy and peace, is because these people who came before me fought, sacrificed, and died for us to have equal rights and opportunities. I was standing on a significant landmark of our brutal history of slavery and a battlefield of freedom. I was grateful for these men and those who are not in the photo. Men who were photographed in the exhibit surely had strong women beside them, and we need to remember these women as well.

The Appalachian Trail provides an opportunity to connect not only with our beautiful planet but also with American history, our struggles and hopes, which are significant for people who look and have life experiences like me. I am hungry to learn more of our story from the perspective and experience of BIPOC and connect to the truth of who we are as American people and what we’ve done- both cruel and humane. Knowledge is a power, a vehicle to move us forward. The more I know, the more I strive to be the change or to be part of the movement towards peace and justice.

I crossed the Potomac River and walked the last 5 miles to meet Emily. It was flat and easy walking. I started singing John Denver’s song: Take Me Home, Country Road.

Almost heaven, West Virginia
Blue Ridge Mountains, Shenandoah River
Life is old there, older than the trees
Younger than the mountains, growin’ like a breeze

Country roads, take me home
To the place I belong
West Virginia, mountain mama
Take me home, country roads…..

I kept singing the song because it felt right. West Virginia isn’t a place I was born or grew up. And yet, I feel at home in the Appalachian Mountains- not a place for escape. I belong here.

Right then, I saw familiar fruits all over on the trail- mulberries. I was taken right back to my home in Tokyo. The mulberry trees grow along the creek near my parents’ home. At this time of the year, birds and people enjoy this abundant gift from Mother Earth. I kept walking to find low-hanging fruit. I found one!

I grabbed a branch full of mulberries. I picked a dark one and said, “Eta-daki-mas!” and tasted the first fresh mulberry since I moved to the US. It reminded me of my dad, and I could hear him say, “Always leave enough for the others and birds. Don’t be greedy.” I used my hiking pole to reach tall branches to pick more. There were so many fruits on one tree, enough for everyone!

I picked and ate until my hands turned dark purple, probably had juice all over my face too- just like how I used to eat mulberries when I was a kid.

I was home- a place I belong, not a place to escape. No matter where I go, as long as I keep making connections, I know I will always find my home.