Journal entry from 4/26, Day #35

Sitting on the front porch at Kincora Hiker's Hostel, resting, relaxing, pondering . . . simply being. There's a chill in the air this afternoon. It bites at my bare feet, but the feeling of not wearing any boots or socks, a day of liberation for my swollen toes and aching arches, far outweighs the uncomfortable coolness. Rain gently falls in misty veils while a couple of cardinals chase each other through the surrounding trees.

     Kincora is nothing short of a refuge, a safe haven, a hiker's solace from the daily struggle that is life on the trail. After hiking hiking over 400 miles from Georgia, time at Kincora can replenish, rejuvenate, and re inspire even the weariest of walkers. It's amazing how dry clothes, a hot shower, and an afternoon off your feet can totally alter one's perspective. Whether it's the recent college grad, the ex marine commander, the retired attorney, the drop-out, the drifter, or the nature lover, today Kincora will be our home. And tonight, sharing stories while sitting in worn, creaking recliners and laughing at the follies of moments past, we all will become family.

     As I look up and around and try to take in this place, I notice a saying posted on the wall. It is framed, yet hand written on a sheet of loose-leaf paper. As I read it, I begin to laugh and can feel a grin making its way into a smile on my face. "My hiking is getting in the way of my trail experience" the framed sign proclaims. Truth found in jest. I hope to remember this, both the saying and the moment. I hope I remember to relish every experience, especially the ones where I'm sitting barefoot on the front porch, resting, relaxing, pondering . . . simply being.