through his communities—his Air Force family, his Coast Guard family, and other friends and loved ones. People looked forward to Cowan’s campy photos and his calm, gravelly-voiced videos, logging details of people he met and sights he saw. Through social media, his friends and family sent messages of support and encouragement, and it buoyed Cowan’s spirit on the tough days. “It made a big difference to know people were out there, to know people care,” he said. “A little comment here and there, just to let me know they were there, it made it really possible to finish.” He kept his pace consistent, and shed extra gear whenever possible. His face became even leaner as the miles passed, and his white hair grew longer. The trail made him work harder than ever in the last three states. The rain was near constant in Vermont, and he said he fell so many times on the muddy terrain. He broke a finger, nursed scrapes, and his feet ached constantly. Eventually, he and Johnson split up after New Hampshire as their paces and schedules parted ways. He was never alone long, though, leapfrogging other hikers, finding new members of his trail family. His Instagram page was full of lush forest shots, waterfalls, sunsets, and hikers lounging at rest stops and hostels. In August, Cowan joined a group of four other men, and they commiserated along the way, sharing stories and food to the finish. He said the AT had a kind of equaling effect, generating fast friendships. “On the trail, you’re all hikers; you all have the same challenges, the same pains,” he said. “What stood out to me was how easy it was to get along and communicate when we all share a common goal—in this case, it’s hiking 2,000-plus miles. What I wonder is, in normal life, how good it could be if we could focus on what we have in common and work together to make positive changes?” On August 13, he summitted Mount Katahdin, Maine, finishing in 145 days. There, on Johnson’s recommendation, he recorded a final version of Shakespeare’s “To Be or Not to Be” soliloquy, tailor made for AT hikers. He returned to Utah with Teri just in time to meet a grandson born while he was on the trail, and his twin granddaughters, born two weeks later. As he cuddled his grandchildren and healed his body, he reflected upon his time on the trail. “One of the things I thought was incredible was the trail angels; [people who] would go out of their way to give food, drinks, and encouragement to complete strangers. I can’t overstate how much this small act of kindness meant,” he said. “If you extrapolate what trail angels do for hikers, if we could to that in our daily interactions, whether you know them or not, kindness—and lifting up others with your words and deeds—it goes a long way. And you may never know it, but it makes a difference in someone’s life.” Occasionally, he misses the simplicity of the wilderness—life downsized to only what one could carry in a backpack. However, as a chief’s chief, Cowan continues to look for new ways to challenge himself. He’s considering a cross-country bike trip next year. “As long as my knees hold out,” he joked. � 26 RESERVIST � Issue 4 • 2021
