Tales from the Appalachian Trail: Caitlin on slowing down and letting go of the plan

It's easy to assume that the story of a young widow hiking the Appalachian Trail would be one centered around grief, but when Polarsteps user Caitlin MacSeamus, from Syracuse, New York describes her experience, it is far more layered. Taking on the long-distance hike had been a long-time dream of both 36-year-old Caitlin and her late husband Andrew, and although she carried his ashes with her on the hike, her time on the trail was also underpinned by deep friendships, learning to slow down, and reconnecting with herself.

Why the Appalachian Trail?

Caitlin recalls vividly when the idea to thru-hike the Appalachian Trail (AT) first came up. It was part of a five-year plan dreamed up on the sofa with her late husband, Andrew: when they were done paying off student loans, they wanted to take a year off and spend six months hiking the AT. Then, in 2021, Andrew was diagnosed with Glioblastoma, a terminal brain cancer, and everything shifted. "Throughout the two and a half years he lived with  Glioblastoma, my anchor and focus became to help him live and transition from this life,” says Caitlin. “After he died, I felt this profound sense I needed to redefine my purpose and identity."

It was then that the idea of the AT came back to Caitlin as something she could do for herself, something that would give her the opportunity to be in a space where she didn't feel like a widow. "Embarking on the trail was going to be this physical manifestation of me reclaiming my own life, my own strength, and proving to myself that I can do hard things," she says. The timing was never going to be perfect, and she admits that making the decision to actually go was one of the hardest parts — a feeling echoed by many people she met out on the trail. Nevertheless, on March 23, 2026, Caitlin touched the starting-point plaque on Springer Mountain and set off on the trail that would become her home for the coming months.

Life on the trail

The first week was filled with AT firsts and traditions. Caitlin got her trail name early on — she started out as "Roo" (short for Kangaroo) after a friend sewed a custom snack pouch into the front of her overalls, before respelling it "Roux" because, as she puts it, "I like cooking at home and I'm kind of saucy." 

On day seven, Caitlin took part in an AT rite of passage: the "pack shakedown" at Mountain Crossings, where expert outdoor outfitters help backpackers evaluate the gear in their packs and trim down the weight. In fact, Caitlin's issue wasn't so much the contents of her pack, but the bag itself — it was causing her tremendous shoulder pain. When she asked the Mountain Crossing staff for advice, they asked her, “First, why are you using a bag fitted for a man who is a foot taller than you?” 

Caitlin wanted to do the hike with Andrew’s bag, as a way to keep him with her. This was her first crux of the trip, and she had to let her sentimentality give way to practicality. If she was going to continue, it needed to be with her own gear.

Armed with a new, well-fitting backpack, Caitlin headed north, clocking up the miles while battling heat rash and a niggling pain in her knee, and trying out multiple pairs of shoes until she found ones with the support and comfort she needed. As the months wore on, she worked her way through the classic landscapes that everyone finds beautiful: the green meadows of the Balds, the ponies of the Grayson Highlands, and the wildflower blooms in the The Smokies. But for Caitlin, there wasn't one vista where she thought "this is it" — it was the collective experience and noticing the little things along the entire trail. She chased the mountain laurel bloom north, shared the trail with efts (bright orange salamanders), and spotted daddy long-legs with little red bodies that made her feel as though she was in a world created by filmmaker Hayao Miyazaki. 

Trail community

Like most AT hikers, Caitlin traveled northbound (NOBO). This direction naturally fosters close-knit groups, affectionately known as "tramilies" (trail families), which become a defining part of the journey for many. Caitlin explains how hikers build really intense relationships fast — you decide somebody's all right, and then all of a sudden you're living together. "There is a comfort in having people that you know and can trust out there," she says. She started the trail alone and was prepared to hike the whole thing that way, but she quickly discovered that "just because you can doesn't mean you have to — hiking, and life, is a lot more fun with friends." 

Her first real relationship was with Cheshire, a fellow solo-female hiker. The two hiked together for hundreds of miles. There were several other hikers who came in and out of Caitlin’s hike, including Spreadsheet, Feral, Bunny, and more. Caitlin's core "trail crew" was made up of herself, Pounds, Gearbox, and C Turtle. The four hiked together, off and on, sharing the highs and lows that come with spending months on the trail. When they reached towns, they would share hotel rooms, collapsing in exhaustion together. "It was like an adult slumber party — watching classic movies, eating several dinners to refuel, and smelling terrible," Caitlin says. "It was so joyful."

While Tramily is a core part of the AT experience, Caitlin also acknowledges how the social dynamics were one of the hardest parts of the trail, surprisingly even more so than the physical challenges. "The AT is social. You see the same people all the time," she says. "You build an intense level of intimacy without having built the trust and foundation first." These types of relationships meant bringing "your A-game as far as communication goes," and being ready to mess up and make it right. "Even though you're with a bunch of people doing the same thing, everybody doing the AT is on their own personal journey," she says. "Threading that needle was a huge lesson in how to be human."

A change of plans

Things don't always go to plan in life, as Caitlin knows only too well. On day 142, at 1,690.4 miles into her hike, a split second while hiking alone on the trail changed the course of her journey. Humidity had made the rocks "sweat," and she slipped and landed on her outstretched arm. "Obviously, you're in shock," she says. "My brain was like, ‘Oh, your hand is just dislocated — you just need to pop it back in place.’ She tried and almost passed out. "That was foolish," she says.

After what Caitlin describes as her little action-movie moment, she started calmly hatching a plan. Her Wilderness First Aid training came in handy — she knew she needed to figure out where she was, notify her hiking group, and then get off the trail as quickly as possible. She also took a photo of her arm, which was bent into the shape of a question mark, and sent it to her brother (an orthopedic surgeon). He told her to get to an Emergency Department immediately.

As luck would have it, another hiker (the aptly named Karma) spotted Caitlin on the trail within a few minutes of her fall and stayed with her as they slowly made their way down to a day-use area about half a mile away. Now she just needed to get herself to a hospital… Caitlin approached a family's car smelling exactly as you might expect someone who had been hiking for days to smell, and they were kind enough to give her a ride to Rutland Regional Medical Center.

The emergency department confirmed her fears. She had fractured her distal radius and would require surgery, rest, and physical therapy. Caitlin's in-laws collected her the following day, and she underwent surgery near her home. Only four months into her six-month hike, with around 500 miles still to go, Caitlin's trail journey was over, for now at least.

Life after the trail

Being forced off the AT with a broken wrist left Caitlin grappling with a complicated mix of emotions that she is careful not to describe as devastation. She knows what genuine devastation feels like after losing Andrew, but she admits she is sad. Caitlin had set out to walk the entire trail, and for four months that was her whole focus. Coming off it so suddenly meant losing not just the goal, but the routine, and the community that came with it.

Caitlin has been making peace with not returning to finish the trail this year. Her wrist is healing, but after her first follow-up with the surgical team, it became clear that getting back on the trail, at least for now, would not be wise. The bones aren't fully set, and another fall, even a minor one, could set her recovery back significantly. "I made the decision for longevity and future me," she says. "The wisest thing to do would be to go back to the trail next year."

She's found comfort in leaning on her AT community, including another hiker, Achilles, who had to come off trail due to a stress fracture. "We've been talking a lot about the emotional process of getting off the trail from an injury, and how at first it really feels like a failure," Caitlin explains. But she's come to see that pretending the injury hadn't happened, or pushing straight back onto the trail, "would be such a disservice to the experience as a whole." Reaching Katahdin was never the only point, she says. “Focusing on getting there and nothing else, you would miss out on everything else you pick up along the way."

A former thru-hiker, Spruce Goose, shared that "There are things working within you on the trail that you don't even realize." A few weeks into being home, Caitlin is starting to notice those shifts for herself — in her patience, her timing, her sense of what to prioritize. "The AT didn't go the way I wanted it to, and I had to accept that," she says. "Now I get to see what I took away from it. And you know what’s great? I get to go back."

What's next?

For now, Caitlin is planning to take things slowly. Prior to starting the AT, she had spent a lot of time traveling and, despite the constant movement, the trail ironically gave her a sense of being settled. "I still have some big decisions to make," she says. "I still live in the house that my husband and I built and shared, and I live on the opposite side of the country from my family of origin.” Whether to move back to them is something she's been grappling with for a long time.

As she decides her next step, Caitlin naturally worries about what the future holds for her, but is learning to accept the uncertainty. "I had a beautiful dream with my husband and it didn't end the way I expected. I had a beautiful dream on the AT, and it's shifting in a way I didn't expect either. Now I get to decide what the next step is. That dream might not end the way I want, but I’m confident that I'll still have a really good time getting there."