Jean Deeds
Note: From the Outdoor Neophyte....
In the spring of 1997, a co-worker dropped a single page torn from Living Fit Magazine on my desk. Circled in blue ink 3 or 4 times was the title of a concise, two-paragraph article: "She Climbs Every Mountain." Staring back at me from the page was the image of a small blond woman described as being 51 years old, wearing "ugly" hiking boots, blue shorts, backpack and ace bandages around each knee. The expression on her face, as she leaned on her hiking stick, was a mixture of being slightly scared, tired and genuinely happy.
Having returned, only a few months earlier, from my own great adventure in the Himalayas, at age 50 years old, my co-worker thought I would enjoy the information. Jean Deeds, as it turned out, had also come from a neophyte status and decided to tackle the Appalachian Trail -all of it- 2,159 miles - alone.
First, I read her book, There Are Mountains to Climb (Silverwood Press, 1996). The book is so humanly written, that I felt Jean had personally taken me by the hand to accompany her on that monumental, nearly 6-month long journey. Since then, I have maintained a sporadic communication with her; finally, mid-March, almost exactly four years after reading that initial article, we will be meeting for an interview in Jean's home town of Indianapolis, Indiana. Since I first glimpsed her picture on that magazine page, and read her book, I have always felt a strong bond with her kindred spirit towards adventure.
She has come to be known as Indiana Jean, and gives motivational speeches to women who view her, appropriately so, as a role model "Women my age are ready for the grand adventure," she says. "They're looking for inspiration, something out of the ordinary. All they need is encouragement." In addition to speaking, she has, over the past few years, guided more than 50 "outdoor neophyte" women along the Appalachian Trail for a week of hiking.
An Interview with Jean Deeds...
Q. Most of us, even the most experienced hikers, marvel at your grit and accomplishment- 2,l59 mile thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail. Set the stage for us: What exactly was your level of experience and what particular event triggered the desire to attempt such a feat?
A.
Over my lifetime, I had very little camping/backpacking experience before
I decided to attempt the AT. However, I did have a couple of significant previous
encounters with the out-of-doors, and I do believe they set the stage for
my journey. When I was 45 years old, I signed up for an Outward Bound trip
in South Carolina (a step in my emotional recovery, I’ve always thought, following
a divorce). The week consisted of two days of rock climbing and rappelling,
two of backpacking, and two of white water canoeing. It was the most frightening,
grueling week of my life! Unlike anything I’d ever done before. I honestly
thought that if it were possible to die of fright, I would do so as I perched
on top of a cliff, trying to screw up the courage to take my first step rappelling
into the great abyss below. I came home with 23 bug bites on one hand alone
(I counted them on the plane on the way home), and my whole body was bruised,
battered, and bitten. When a friend stopped by my home to see if I had survived
the week, I made her promise that if EVER I said I was going to do something
like that again, she would lock me in a closet until the urge passed. (Where
was she when I decided, six years later, to hike the Appalachian Trail?) Like
many challenges of that nature, with passing time the negatives faded and
the rewards rose to the surface of my memory. For my 50th birthday, I decided
to give Outward Bound another try. I entered the second half of my century
by signing up for a white water rafting trip in Colorado. That week was much
easier. For one thing, we were riding in rafts most of the week instead of
carrying a backpack and scaling cliffs. And, I had experienced the group dynamic
that occurs and knew that I would, indeed, survive and would appreciate the
experience--later, if not at the time. In both of these groups, I discovered
that my fellow novices as well as the group leaders were adventurous, supportive,
caring people. I became a big fan of Outward Bound. Six months after my white
water rafting trip, I read a newspaper article about the Appalachian Trail
along with the story of a young woman who had hiked its entire length. Everything
about the experience sounded just awful--carrying a backpack up and down steep
mountains month after month, sleeping on the ground night after night, hiking
in the rain, heat, and humidity day after day. Blisters, biting bugs, sore
knees. It sounded like a trail of torture. Ahhh, but the challenge called.
What if I could do something so far outside my comfort level? Wouldn’t that
be amazing? Evidently, the timing was right for me to take on that challenge.
Within a week of reading about the AT, I made a firm decision to go. I had
already discovered on my Outward Bound trips that, in a group situation, I
could do things I never dreamed I could. A giant leap beyond that was to find
out whether I could do something HUGE on my own. All by myself. Without an
experienced outdoorsman to lead the way. I will always believe that I would
never have had the courage to hike the AT without taking the baby steps (which
didn’t seem like baby steps at the time) of doing Outward Bound.
Q. Do your feel your inexperience and naivete played a role in your willingness to undertake an endeavor, which you now know, only 200 out of 2,000 complete each year?
A.
From the moment I read the newspaper article about the young woman who had
hiked the AT, I knew this would be the most difficult challenge of my life.
The article did not paint a pretty picture; it confirmed all the reasons I’d
never had any desire to spend a night, let alone six months, in the woods.
My greatest fear was the mosquitoes. How could I spend months in the woods
without any escape from them? In my research, I discovered that about 85-90%
of the people (most of them experienced backpackers) who attempt to hike the
entire trail each year don’t make it. Up to a fourth of the aspiring thru-hikers
drop off in the first couple of weeks. I knew when I made the decision that
it wouldn’t be fun, or easy. But on balance, the excitement of the challenge
somehow outweighed all the difficulties and discomfort I knew lay ahead.
Q. Having completed the 6-month journey, do you ever wish you had carried a hand counter to click off the number of times you second-guessed yourself along the way? What do you figure the final number would have been?
A. In all honesty, there was hardly a day that went by that didn’t present some moment where I wondered why in the world I was doing this. Sometimes that “moment” lasted all day. I don’t need an exact count to know that my determination was tested over and over again. But the truth is, today I wouldn’t remember there were so many difficult days if I hadn’t written my book about my journey. In rereading it occasionally, I’m fascinated to rediscover all the hardships I endured during those months on the trail. Those miserable, trying times have settled like an unwelcome residue at the bottom of my memory banks, while the more positive experiences have risen to the top. The pain never lasts.
Q. What was the closest you ever came to getting off the trail, stepping into a phone booth and making arrangements to "just go home". What caused that incident?
A. By the time I had reached the Shenandoahs in Virginia, my knees were hurting so much that by the end of each day, I was in tears. And I began to wonder if I would be able to continue hiking with the constant pain. But then I shared a shelter one night with a doctor I had met (Del Doc, who is described in my book). He suggested I may need to get off the trail and go to a sports medicine clinic for a diagnosis. However, he also told me that it would help to take ibuprofin--to reduce both the swelling and the pain. He suggested I take a couple of tablets each morning and then every four hours throughout the day. I began doing that, and it kept the pain under control just enough so I could continue hiking. I’ve always said that I couldn’t have made it from Georgia to Maine without that drug. (Thankfully, I had no side affects, and I was able to stop taking it when I finished the trail.)
Q. On average, how often did you take a rest day to re-organize and re-generate? What was your most favorite day off the trail?
A. My plan from the beginning of my journey was to take a day off at least every two weeks. That’s about how it worked out. I always took those days in a town where I had planned a maildrop so I could read my mail and go through the supplies I had mailed ahead to myself. Then I would repackage the supplies to send ahead to a town further up the trail. I would also write and mail letters home, buy groceries, do laundry, wash my kitchen supplies (a spoon, cup, and water bottle), and sometimes waterproof my boots and seamseal my tent. There was no time to rest on “rest days.” I remember one wonderful off-trail day, though: Three members of my bridge club drove from Indianapolis to Pennsylvania and picked me up in a small town that I was hiking through. We checked into a hotel, went to a mall and bought my “summer wardrobe” (one new t-shirt and shorts), had dinner, played bridge in the evening, and they put me back on the trail the next day. It meant so much to me that they drove all that way to support me during my journey.
Q. I'm sure you are still elated, years after the fact, to have the AT under your belt. At this point, what gives you the greater satisfaction: the accomplishment itself, or the on going work you do helping others discover the outdoor experience?
A.
In the years since my journey, the rewards of that experience continue to
present themselves. It quickly became apparent that my hike was inspiring
others to find their own mountains to climb. Some literal, some figurative.
I wrote the book about my journey because people asked me to. I have made
more than 350 speeches about my adventure and the lessons I learned for the
same reason. I have received hundreds of letters, all affirming that my story
has had meaning for others. Today I am a firm believer that messages come
into our lives just when we are ready to hear them. I happen to have a message
that some people have needed to hear, and it has been the most humbling and
gratifying experience of my life to be, for a moment, a messenger. That stands
out over every personal benefit that I gained.
Q. What do you share with women in light of a long haul like the Appalachian Trail...where is the balance between being goal oriented or hiking for the sheer enjoyment?
A. For me, hiking the AT was rarely about the goal--although I am a very goal-oriented person, and almost never for the enjoyment--although there were moments of sheer joy. I began my journey, and continued it month after month because it felt like something I was supposed to do. I didn’t question why, strange as it seemed, because it felt to me like hiking the AT was simply part of my life’s plan. In many ways, it was a rather Zen-like experience. I didn’t think of my journey as a quest while I was engaged in it, but I do now. And I read a wonderful quote that seems to sum that up: “When we are called to quests we know little about, those experiences are what create life and develop soul.” My soul shifted on the Appalachian Trail. Everything has taken on a deeper meaning. I learned so much from the woods and the mountains and from being on the path--about life and about myself. My belief is that we are each here on earth to become the best person we can be. We each need to find our own ways to discover the hero within. It’s never selfish to take time to take time for personal growth, for only by changing ourselves can we change the world. The quote I’ve used (displayed at the YMCA where I work out) that best speaks to my belief follows: God said, “Your task is to build a better world.” “How?” I replied. “This world is such a large vast place, and there is nothing I can do.” But God, in all His wisdom, said, “Just build a better you.” - Author unknown.
Read Jean Deeds story on the Next Page.