The humidity hit me like a wall. I was soaked with sweat. Using my small, green and already soaked through towel was all I could do to keep the salty liquid from dripping off my face. I had been looking forward to entering the Mid-Atlantic states since the start of this trail, but now it proved more challenging than I thought.

– There’s a flood watch today.

Tang and I stepped into Dunkin Donuts for one last treat in Delaware Water Gap. We had just finished the state of Pennsylvania, taking on its famous boulder fields in pouring rain for two days straight.

With a suspected oncoming trench foot, gnarly red chafes that refused to go away, the worst smelling socks that’s ever existed on any trail (later safely stored in a Ziplock-bag so as to keep them from contaminating the rest of the pack) and hair greasier than any human should ever experience, town was more welcoming than ever.

Now, all dried up and clean, we were ready to hike out again after a well deserved zero. The last thing we wanted was more rain and bad weather. Or actual trench foot, gnarlier chafes, smellier socks and greasier hair.

But the prospect of being delayed to our deadline – and not finishing by the end of July – was even worse.

Unlike the three hikers at the corner table, who informed us about the incoming weather, there was no way we would stay in town for one more day.

Entering New Jersey with thunder and lightning

Although Pennsylvania had not been as bad as I expected it to be – it had in fact had a lot of cruisy and flat sections – the trail had slowly become more difficult with rockier sections and steeper climbs since the unofficial mid-point of Harper’s Ferry in West Virginia.

And once I crossed over the New Jersey border the humidity hit for real. But even though I was sweating like a pig, the weather was good.

Until it wasn’t. And when it wasn’t, it was really bad.

It didn’t take long before the clear blue sky and sunshine was replaced by thunder, lightning, and heavy rain.

I hoped the thunderstorm would pass quickly.

It didn’t.

Within the next 24 hours we got seven inches of rain and that same night I was awoken by lightning and thunder that seemed to set the sky on fire.

Hunting for shelter space

Like all other hikers, we tried to escape the flooding trail by ganging up in the shelters. After stopping at a crowded shelter – that a bossy lady hiker seemed to have turned into a self-proclaimed kingdom – we decided to keep going and hike out in the rain.

When we reached the sign that pointed to our target shelter for the night, it was getting dark. As soon as we had taken the side trail that led down to the shelter, we passed several tents with noisy occupants in the campsite right before the shelter.

And a busy campsite often meant a full shelter.

My heart dropped.

Looking for a space to pitch my tent in a crowded campsite, on a wet ground, in the dark, was the last thing I wanted to do after a long day of hiking in the rain.

I had very little hope of finding a space in the shelter when we approached it.

– You got space for two more?

Tang were a few steps ahead. It took me a while before I could make out just how many hikers that were in the shelter.

To my surprise there were only two. And in contrast to the previous shelter, this one welcomed us with open arms.

The two other hikers introduced themselves as Marathon man and Limpy leg (or something similar. Catching and remembering trail names is not my strong suit – I once confused the trail name Fearless with Phyllis).

So far, I had hiked more than 1300 miles on a trail that was famous for its shelters but without actually sleeping in a single one. My plan was to stay away from them altogether due to mice and lack of privacy.

Another rule I was glad to break.

Why did you decide to hike the AT?

After blowing up my sleeping pad and changing out of my wet clothes, I’d probably felt the happiest I’d ever felt of having a floor, roof and three walls surrounding me.

– Why did you decide to hike the AT?

Marathon man aimed the question at myself and Tang as we were having our cold soaked dinner consisting, as always, of ramen and tuna.

I looked at the rain pouring down from underneath the roof.

– I didn’t want to do it at first because I expected it to be exactly like this.

I’m not always right and often I have the wrong expectation. But this time I was spot on.

A ray of Sunshine

After a violent night, the weather calmed down and for a few hours the rain stopped. Marathon man informed us that it was supposed to be clear skies until the afternoon. Feeling happy about the outlook for the day, we hiked out of the shelter with our eyes set on a general store with a deli which we planned to reach around lunch time.

But happiness doesn’t last long on the AT.

Before it was even 10 am we had to seek shelter at yet another shelter as the rain was, yet again, pouring down.

And yet again we weren’t alone.

A woman named Sunshine kept us company. And as with most other hiker conversations, we covered trail names, how we got them, start date and other trails we had hiked before starting this one. 

– You guys are doing the Triple Crown?! That’s awesome! Congratulations, you’re almost there!!

The comment struck me like lightning. I realized just how starved I was for encouragement and how much I needed it. Doing a thru-hike is never easy, but doing a thru-hike on the AT is f&%#ing torture. Encouragement is needed more than ever before.

I remembered meeting two other hikers around the 900-mile mark who had the opposite affect when they told us they’d wished they “could say you’re almost there, but you’re not even halfway”.

With that memory fresh in mind, I expressed my gratitude.

– Thank you, you have no idea how much that means!

The rain was still pouring outside but hiker hunger is a powerful thing. Still set on having that deli-sandwich for lunch, Tang and I decided to get going. Yet again we had to hike out in the rain.

But this time I left with a ray of Sunshine.