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Kirby Morrill hoped that climbing Katahdin might provide some of the closure she lacks.
Kirby Morrill hoped that climbing Katahdin might provide some of the closure she lacks. (Photo: MEFlynn/iStock)

She Survived a Stabbing, then Climbed Mount Katahdin

In May, Kirby Morrill was nearly murdered during a thru-hike of the Appalachian Trail. Four months later, she climbed Maine's highest peak, the route's terminus.

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Kirby Morrill hoped that climbing Katahdin might provide some of the closure she lacks.
(Photo: MEFlynn/iStock)

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When Kirby Morrill called her husband, Allen Beck,听on the afternoon of听May 11, 2019, to say she鈥檇 been stabbed nine times on the Appalachian Trail, she could not yet tell him what state she was in, let alone the name of the hospital or how best to get there from their home in Dartmouth,Nova Scotia.听But she did vow听one thing: despite a right hand that barely worked, multiple wounds to her left leg, and gashes across her face and fingers, she would get听back on the trail to hike the remaining 1,640 miles in a month or less.

After being attacked the night before by hiker James Jordan, who was later charged with the murder of听Ronald 鈥淪tronghold鈥 Sanchez and the assault of Morill, all she could think about was finishing the AT. 鈥淢y first thought in the hospital was, Damn, how long is this going to set me back? How soon can I get back on the trail? Do I have the money to stay in a hotel?鈥欌 Morrill says. 鈥淏ut as the drugs wore off in the next few days, it became clear I wasn鈥檛 going to be able to continue.鈥

Morrill survived more than 40 lacerations, held together by 51 staples. Doctors glued her neck and one finger shut and sewed听layers of sutures into her face, which had been slashed to the bone by Jordan鈥檚听blade. Her attacker had missed her vital organs. She would live, and she would not require surgery, but she would need months of rehabilitation. Still, when she realized she wouldn鈥檛听complete the AT in 2019, she made another vow: this time, to climb Maine鈥檚 Mount Katahdin, the trail鈥檚 imposing northern terminus, when the group she鈥檇 hiked with for nearly 500 miles鈥攈er trail family, or 鈥渢ramily鈥濃攁rrived there. On September 10, four months after she played dead in the Virginia woods to buy herself time to run from Jordan, she made the summit.


Morrill loved the AT. In听the听six weeks she hiked听552 miles, she became 鈥淭uque,鈥 a moniker acquired when her American pals were mystified by the Canadian term for her stocking cap. She found both freedom鈥斺淚t鈥檚 the idea and lifestyle of walking as far as you feel like going every day鈥濃攁nd the best sleep she鈥檇 had in years. At the end of 2018,听four months before she left for the AT, Morrill, 28, had successfully defended her master鈥檚 thesis, a survey of sea lettuce species in Canada鈥檚 Bay of Fundy.

And in May, she hiked north听through one of the trail鈥檚 most majestic sections at the perfect time, walking听the stately balds of Tennessee鈥檚听Roan Highlands and听the rolling greens of Virginia鈥檚 Grayson Highlands, where feral horses roam the wide meadows slung between听mountains. As she crossed the southern border of Virginia,听the browns and yellows of the late-winter woods were giving听way to spring鈥檚 verdant sweep.

Spirits were high, too. Though Morrill听had lost her supply of food to a prowling black bear two days before being attacked, she鈥檇 nearly finished the first 100 miles of Virginia, the trail鈥檚 longest state. Before setting up camp on the balmy, clear night of May 10, she had crossed the quarter-way mark only a few miles back, a major benchmark along the march to Katahdin.

But for weeks, Jordan had harassed hikers in North Carolina and Tennessee, wielding a guitar and a 17-inch knife and making violent threats, prompting his arrest near that state line. For him, it was just the latest in a lifelong . Despite efforts to buy him a bus ticket and send him home upon his release from a Tennessee jail, Jordan鈥攚ho had dubbed himself 鈥淪overeign鈥濃攔eturned to the AT just south of the Virginia border.

Morrill survived more than 40 lacerations, held together by 51 staples. Doctors glued her neck and one finger shut and sewed听layers of sutures into her face, which had been slashed to the bone by a blade.

Morrill had been hiking near him for weeks鈥攈is whereabouts and sporadic behavior were the talk of the trail, bits of information passed like bread crumbs between hikers鈥攂ut she only encountered him for the first time that afternoon. She spotted Jordan from the window of a roadside restaurant, and she Googled听his mug shot to confirm his identity. 鈥淚 totally just saw Sovereign heading NOBO from the window here, beware guys,鈥 she wrote in the trail register of the greasy spoon where she鈥檇 had a late lunch. A few hours later, she caught up to him on the trail and went, she says, 鈥渇ull Canadian,鈥 pouring on pleasantries and petting his dog, Felicia. She texted her husband, who was in Nova Scotia, to say Jordan was nearby.

鈥淚 texted her back and said, 鈥楻un away. Have fun. Please don鈥檛 get murdered,鈥欌 Beck says. 鈥淟ooking back, that was a poor choice of last words.鈥

Jordan arrived at camp later that evening and built an enclave for himself by stringing dental floss between spindly trees and strewing his belongings along the banks of the brook beneath camp. He threatened four hikers staying there, including Morrill, telling them he would set them on fire. Later that night, he attacked. During the assault, Morrill听fell backward. Jordan听climbed on top of her, slashing at her skin. When he paused and stood, she played dead 鈥渇or the longest few seconds of my life.鈥 And then, as he searched for his dog, she gathered her glasses and headlamp, lost in the scuffle.

Hobbling toward the trail, she turned on her light and ran six miles south across creeks and up and down steep switchbacks, cradling an arm that she could barely move and limping through the agony of a badly lacerated leg. Her face poured blood. Maybe three hours later, she spotted a pair of hikers camped near a major highway and pled for help. Morrill was shortly whisked away by ambulance and then helicopter out of Virginia and to a hospital in听Bristol, Tennessee.

Two other hikers at her camp had escaped by running north. Sanchez,听a former Army combat engineer who had set out on the trail to confront lingering mental and physical wounds from Iraq, was dead. Jordan was arrested the next morning.


Long before she was attacked, Morrill鈥檚 mix of toughness and tenacity was central to her character. A champion听forward for her college rugby team, she鈥檚 the kind of person who breaks her nose (as she has twice playing rugby) and brags听that it was broken downward and not upward, since the latter tends to leave you with a lifelong lump. She referred to her second concussion in as many weeks as 鈥渁 light injury.鈥澨鼿er mother suggests that rugby鈥檚 lessons in powering through injury might be what kept her alive. They鈥檙e听almost certainly what helped her recover in time to climb Katahdin.

When Morrill and Beck flew back听to their home in Dartmouth听on May 18,their first stop was an emergency room鈥攐ne wound on her left leg had become infected and badly abscessed. Physical therapy began immediately, and she learned an听extensive battery of exercises meant to stretch and strengthen听her right arm, where the radial nerve had been mangled. As many as three times a day, she spent an hour turning her hand over and over or straightening her wrist while holding a dumbbell. Once a week, a massage therapist dug into her scars, helping to desensitize the tissue and push the muscle and skin apart. It was, she says, misery.

The worst part of the recovery for Morrill, though, might听be her relative lack of physical activities and abilities. As much an athlete as an outdoor enthusiast, Morrill is a powerlifter who also loves to kayak the rivers and lakes of听coastal Canada and cycle her province鈥檚听trails.听But her right hand now prevents her from loading the kayak onto her car, and holding onto handlebars is too painful. Aside from her wrist exercises, lifting weights is out of the question, as is her postcollegiate rugby team. She knocks things off the kitchen counter and knows that working in a laboratory, where she鈥檇 planned听to continue studying aquatic biology after completing her degree,听requires manual dexterity she just hasn鈥檛 regained yet.

鈥淚f you can鈥檛 trust your body to do what you want it to, what can you trust?鈥 Morrill says. 鈥淚鈥檓 watching my biceps melt before my eyes, but I鈥檓 doing whatever physical activity I can. I鈥檓 going to go insane if I don鈥檛 move.鈥

So even when it hurts, she goes听running. Exactly a month after she was stabbed, Morrill laced her sneakers for the first time. As she began to run, the wounds in her left leg screamed almost instantly, as if a bruise were being continuously jabbed with a needle. She persevered for five miles but听could barely walk for the next three days and only returned to running again a week later. She鈥檚 since joined a trail club in the capital city of听Halifax听and runs alone several times a week.

鈥淚 am statistically more likely to die in a car crash than I am on the trail. It鈥檚 just pretty bad luck, a complete fluke, that I got stabbed.鈥

For Morrill, the prospect of climbing Katahdin in September was the dangling carrot during her hellish recuperation. After all, Katahdin is what drew her to the AT in the first place. Raised just a few hours north of the Maine border, in New Brunswick, she鈥檇 heard people talk about the summit her entire life. In her hometown, it鈥檚 not a question of if you climb听Katahdin, but when. Starting the AT without ending there felt like a letdown, no matter the reason.

In the hospital in May, Morrill promised Elena 鈥淏lack Widow鈥 Alves, who she鈥檇 met after a week on the trail and hiked with for much of the next 400 miles, that she would meet her there in September. They had spoken infrequently in the four months since the attack, but in early September, as Alves pushed through the 100-Mile Wilderness, Morrill drove to the base of Katahdin in Maine鈥檚 Baxter State Park, an enormous preserve without electricity or running water. She waited anxiously for Alves, fretting that she wouldn鈥檛 be able to keep up with someone who had spent the past four months logging 20-mile days.

The trek was immediately arduous. Due to听a damaged bridge, Morrill had to ford the swollen Katahdin Stream beneath a waterfall just a mile into the five-mile climb, a precarious maneuver even for someone with complete use of both hands. And halfway through the hike, when the trail hits a field of boulders that requires the body to bend听in unfamiliar ways, she grimaced as she pulled and pushed herself up a series of rocks and rebar holds.

When she made it to the summit of听Katahdin, the northern terminus of the AT, she didn鈥檛 simply turn听around and descend the mountain听the way she had come. True to form, she bid her old trail-family member goodbye and pressed on, heading east across Knife Edge, the infamously steep, thin, and exposed trail that traverses two more of the massif鈥檚 peaks.

鈥淐oming down the Knife Edge, I thought, Now this is Katahdin,鈥 she says. 鈥淲hen I reached the bottom, I was exhausted. My knee hurt. My right hand was barely functional. Yup, that was a good day.鈥

Despite the climb, Morrill isn鈥檛 naive about her recent trauma. The physical pain has relented but not retreated鈥攈er healing muscles remain听tight, resisting easy motion, and the skin above the wounds often tingles and itches.

Although physical therapy is mitigating those symptoms, her psychotherapy stalled when her first visit to a psychiatrist ended in frustration鈥攖hey were听talking about her feelings rather than developing strategies for sorting through them. Morrill wanted a plan of action. She鈥檚 looking for a new therapist.

She still reads every news report about the attack, and all the comments about it, too. Talking about Sanchez or digging too deeply into what happened that night trouble her, and she won鈥檛 call Jordan by name, referring to him always as 鈥渢he crazy guy with the knife.鈥 (鈥淚 know that鈥檚 not politically correct,鈥 she says, 鈥渂ut听in my defense, he stabbed me nine times.鈥) She鈥檚 not sleeping well. And the FBI still has her North Face Terra 55 backpack, which it has听promised听to clean and return.

Morrill hoped that climbing Katahdin and reuniting with some of her earliest trail friends might听provide some of the closure she lacks, particularly since Jordan was and may never stand trial. Instead, the ascent was an emotional wrecking ball, an acute reminder of what she鈥檇 missed.

Standing on the summit beside the iconic sign that marks the AT鈥檚 northern end, and trying to fight tears from flowing in front of strangers, she realized that completing the trail in 2020 is the only real option, even if it means delaying a career and student-loan payments another year.

After all, she already has a new trail name鈥斺淎rlo,鈥 a reference to the medical chart in her hospital room noting that听the blood-pressure cuff would work on her 鈥渞ight-leg only.鈥澨鼸very time someone says her name next year, she鈥檒l remember the work it took to get back to the AT.

鈥淚 am statistically more likely to die in a car crash than I am on the trail. It鈥檚 just pretty bad luck, a complete fluke, that I got stabbed,鈥 says Morrill, laughing. 鈥淚 wasn鈥檛 scared the first time, and I won鈥檛 be scared the second time. And even if I was scared, are you really going to let a little fear stop you from what you want to do in life?鈥

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