Hiking Matt

Gooch Gap Shelter to Woods Hole Shelter (entrance)

Miles hiked: 11.9
Total Miles: 27.0

Gorgeous  day for hiking.  Stayed nice and warm in my hammock overnight and as a bonus, the forest didn’t burn down from last night’s neglected fire.

It would appear that I am still having a hard time getting going in the morning.  Bee Chucker had a nice head cold going for him and decided to head out early.  I tinkered with a bit of breakfast and packing up, all the while enjoying the blissfully weird Lil’ asking people if anyone has something to spare or to pass something of hers over to her from afar.. then there was the constant inquiries from a young SkunkApe.

Leaving them, I finally headed out a bit after 9am.  The weather has really been quite nice the past couple days and this one looked to be another awesome day.  Shortly after leaving the shelter, I had to pull off for a pebble in my shoe at Gooch Gap.  Phoenix Rising and Missing Person pass by but stop just across USFS 42.  As I approach, I see a cooler with a bag (for trash) next to it.  TRAIL MAGIC!  Pepper and Freckles (both former Thru-hikers) had left a cooler of different varieties of small sodas (thank god there was a Dr. Pepper in there) and beer, specifically, Yuengling.  Phoenix Rising said that it was hiker’s favorite beer because it’s cheap, good and a domestic brew from Pennsylvania.  Let’s see, it’s 10:30am, of course I can have second breakfast..Yuengling it is!  Oh yeah, there was a box of Krispy Kreme donuts there, unfortunately they were completely covered in bugs, no thanks.  I tried to share the beer with Phoenix but she only took a couple polite sips.  Guess it was either too early or not hot enough out.

Did I mention it was a beautiful day for a hike?  My pace seems to be a bit quicker than Phoenix and Missing Person had already pushed on at Gooch Gap, so I spent the morning walking mostly alone, which was cool.  Then, early in the afternoon, my day was about to get a hell of a lot better, I saw a sign duck taped to a tree, Trail Angels Ahead – Free Food – Nancy & George – Cheryl & Hal.  Two, in one day, c’mon, this is bordering on silly!!  I’ll happily take it.  Nothing perks up your step than knowing you’re about to get some “Free Food.”  Sweet!!

It was such a nice day that there were a ton of people hanging out in the road side park areas (both sides) of Woody Gap .  In fact, there was so many people, that initially it was kinda hard to actually find where the Trail Magic was located.  From the east side of the gap, I could see Bee Chucker, Bojangles and Missing person next to a truck with table of food with coolers all around.  Nancy and George as well as Cheryl and Hall welcomed me to help myself to any and everything.  One of their sons (Triple Deuce) had completed a thru-hike in 2007 and they were out to help give back to the community that supported him during his time on the trail.  There was cheese, crackers, cookies, chips, fruit and some really wonderful smelling chili.  I opted out of the chili for diet reasons but took full advantage of everything else they had to offer, including some Dr. Pepper.

Since Bee Chucker and the rest had been their awhile they eventually pushed on.  I myself decided to wait to see how Phoenix Rising was doing.  I didn’t think she’d be too far along.  While enjoying this smorgasbord and looking back towards the trail, I noticed a very familiar dog.. Pepper!  Sprite and Freckles were making their way across the road and we chatted for a bit.  I thanked her (and Freckles) for that awesome breakfast trail magic.  She enjoyed the little note I left her;
“You, me and Pepper.. we’re even now.”

Where the hiker feed was today has a bit of history to it in the “Appalachian Trail Guide – North Carolina-Georgia.”  It’s a book with information regarding water sources, shelters, various trails crisscrossing the AT, profile layouts and more.  One additional feature is the history of some of the trails, roads, mountains and in this case, Woody Gap (3150′).  I’d love to paraphrase the history of this particular spot but the book does such a good job at it, I’ll cite it instead;

Arthur Woody was the state’s first ranger (often called the “barefoot ranger” because of his tendency to leave off his shoes).  It is said that he saw his father kill the last deer in the forest, during a time of little respect for wildlife and deteriorating conditions of mountains and forests.  Woody vowed that he would some day put back what the mountain men of his time had taken away.  In time, he began to restock the forest with deer and the streams with fish.  His outstanding achievements in forest-fire prevention, game restoration and preservation, land reclamation and timber management paved the way for today’s advanced methods used by the Forest Service.  Woody was a large, round, mountain man; the story is told that he asked the federal government to build a road over the mountain from Suches to Stone Pile Gap but was told the government did not build roads, they only improved them.  So Woody “scraped out a trail through the mountains” and then told the government, “I have my road.  Now, you come and improve it.” Ga.60 is that road.

Using his own monies, Woody started buying and rounding up deer, some which he even had names for, in 1927 only to have the state re-open deer hunting 14 years later.   In 1946 “Ranger’ died, having suffered serious depression from the state’s decision.   Hard to imagine such a dynamic character these days.

Soon a weary but well-spirited Phoenix came rolling into the feed with Groove just behind.  She was doing okay, but wasn’t worried as she was actually moving slow to try to protect her arm.  Good.  I pushed on after tossing my trash from my pack away.

There was a nice little climb up Big Cedar Mountain (3737′).  Passed quite a few day hikers going up the mountain and in one case, two guys with two large dogs (breed unknown) who had their own packs.  They said that they were trying to acclimate them to the rigors of hiking with packs.  I wish anyone luck with trying to hike anywhere with any animal.  Once I arrived at the top, an older gentleman had just finished a “really cool story” as Bee later told me, about how his German Shepard (dogs are everywhere anymore) was of Royal decent.  As soon as I get the whole story, I’ll edit this.

Bee Chucker and I hiked together for the rest of the day.  Our paces seem to match quite well and he’s an interesting guy.  Apparently he just moved with his girlfriend to Baltimore, MD.  However, they do not even have a place there.  His girlfriend is staying with her brother and his wife while he’s out here hiking.  Sound like a very cool girl to be able to understand his needs while she does her own thing too.  Very cool.

We pull into Jarrods Gap (3250’) and take a quick break and while there two guys approach us from their little camping area.  They ask if I have any Aqua Mira or some way to treat water.  They were weekenders and had forgotten to bring a water treatment system.  Bee Chucker and I chatted about hiking the AT, Atlanta (where they were from) and other silly topics while I retrieved my ‘emergency’ tablets for them.  After chatting for 20 minutes we moved on, still had another 1 and 1/2 miles to go to get to Woods Hole Shelter for the evening.

Not sure why, but for some reason this last little section seemed to have really done me in.  By the time I got to the shelter entrance (3600’), all my body wanted was more water, so I went to fetch some.  We had earlier decided that if water was near the entrance to the shelter, we’d just camp there to avoid walking the .4 off the Appalachian Trail to the actual shelter.  Apparently lots of other people thought the same thing, including a church group with young kids.  They were nice and ‘well-behaved,’ but I wanted nothing to do with that, too many camping trips with kids around have taught me better.  Bee pulled in just as I’d returned and had started setting up my hammock some 20-30 yards away from the group.  Since Bee is a ‘ground dweller,’ he opted for the easier route and parked himself just north of them.

Once I erected my hammock, I just laid inside for about 90 minutes, dozing in and out of sleep.   I was pooped!  Granted, this was definitely my longest day at 11.9 miles but wow, feeling like this, no good.

Bee came over and told me that I could use his bear line (cool, less work for me to do) and that a Boy Scout troop had pulled into the camping area..so that’s where the noise was coming from when I awoke.. HA!  He was a bit bummed but said that he was just going to put in his MP3 player and go to sleep.

I waited and waited to see if Phoenix and Groove were going to make it.  I had even held off making my dinner (15 bean mix) until dusk so that when they pulled in, I’d have a nice hot dinner ready to go.  They never showed.  So, here I am feeling awful trying to eat about 3 cups of cooked beans.  Again, this process took forever as every couple bites I had to lay down and relax just to keep them down.  Officially, this sucked.

I did my best but didn’t come close to even being able to eat half of my dinner, so I bagged them up, just in case Phoenix and Groove did show.  Cleaned my bowl and hung my food over by Bee where the campers were quite loud for 9-9:30pm, running around and shouting.  Can’t say I felt good, but I fell asleep rather swiftly.

mattbob

It’s quite funny how in a shelter full of new people, no one wants to be ‘that guy,’ the one who wakes up and gets going and in the process, makes enough noise to disturb others.  Since I was on the top level, the bottom people got up and going first while we just lay quietly, listening to all the stirring going on. 

What a weird, noisy, slow production.. People were everywhere trying to make breakfast or repack their oversized packs.  I decided to take a back seat to the whole affair.  I sat up in the shelter and journaled for awhile, soon.. I was the only one left in the shelter… even tenters came and went.  Just as I was putting my pack on, another hiker, swung in for a quick snack.  He said his name was Bee Chucker and that he’d gotten his name from always throwing a frisbee around.  We chatted for a few minutes and he expressed a little frustration that he had only three people at Springer Mountain Shelter the night before and that he came out here to meet other people and whatnot.  I told him not to worry, Hawk Mountain Shelter was packed last night as well as a bunch of tents set up everywhere.  Not only that, the number of people who were just ahead numbered in the dozens.

Headed down the trail, it was a beautiful day.. the fog lifted and the sun was out.  Cruised past a few rangers out and about as well as the medic crews sitting on a heavily used forest road.  Passed a handful of hikers (don’t remember names very well) watching a “thru-hiker” walking along the USFS road when I came upon a small terrier dog.  He was headed south.

What to do.

I recall seeing this dog from the night before, belonging to a lady who’d made it to the shelter later in the afternoon, in the rain..but where is she now?  If you can only imagine the number of names I went through to try to guess this animal’s particular name, you would most certainly laugh but I am not going to put myself through that now.  The dog was in obvious distress and was whimpering to continue heading south.  I thought, the owner must have been heading north, I mean, how many people go south during one of the busiest periods on the Appalachian Trail?  Only crazies would be that silly. 

Sigh.

I got my water bottle out and gave him a leaky hand fed drink.. he tried to drink out of my bottle, but see, I don’t like dog cooties, so, no dice!  While watering the dog, Bee Chucker comes back south (he’d passed me on a snack break) and said that he’d already gave him a bunch of water and was trying to figure out what to do.  We went back and forth over what logically happened and figured that the owner was indeed headed north and that worst case scenario, we’d take the dog to Neels Gap where they could pick him up.  Bee Chucker set off north to find her and let her know that the dog was okay and moving north..if only he could find her.

Problem.

The dog wanted to go south.  I wanted to go north.  I spent numerous minutes just to get him to go a couple feet.  Finally another guy came along and said that I should ‘heavily encourage’ the dog and he’d learn to follow.  Sorry, I don’t drag animals just because they don’t wanna comply.  A ‘Bob Ross’ moment came (lingo for “Happy Accident”) when that hiker started walking north.. the dog followed.  SWEET!  For about a mile or so, I had it easy, the dog thought that this was the way to go.  That is, until the guy needs to make a break of his own.  Back to trying to encourage the dog to follow.  How was this going to work.  I channeled Cesar Millan and told myself not to hurt the dog, but to be “calm and assertive and to dominate.”  He didn’t like this new Matt.. but what was I to do?  Finally, I decided that with all the whimpering, maybe this little guy was hungry.  I had a bag full of nuts.. good ones to boot.  The bad news is, there was no one around to consult.  I’ve learned through a few dog owners that some foods are really, really…really bad for them.  What about cashews, macadamia and almonds?  Quick look around.. still no one.  Well, if this ends badly, at least no one will know it was me.  He seemed to take to cashews right away.. and the macadamia nut, wow.. he loved them (and he better at this price!) but the almonds.. not so much, he couldn’t even break them down.  While he was getting some good plant protein I pulled out my bear rope (a 50ft rope used to hang bear bags but actually used for climbing) and a carabineer and made a lead for him.  We were going north, like it or not.  Talk about making my life easier.. wow.  This was awesome.  I snapped a few photos because I can only imagine what people who know me would think when they heard this story.  A couple miles after all this started, I heard someone calling.  “Peeeeeppppper, Pepper!” “PPPPEEEEEPPPPPPPPPPPEEERRRRR!”  This silly dog started south again, in a tear.  He was digging hard trying to move but the leash was preventing him going another inch.  The dog was hearing his name bouncing around the leafless valley when in fact, the voice was from the north.  Finally got him turned around and had to let go of the line, he was in a full sprint.  Dog and Master, reunited… awhh.

Sprite, Pepper’s owner, told me that she had stepped off the trail to answer her own call from nature and Pepper was around her but had somehow gotten her scent back south and was ‘racing’ to catch up, which would have never happened.  She’s a former thru-hiker that likes to come out in the early part of the year for a couple hikes and also enjoys giving trail magic.  She was very nice and very happy to have her dog back.  Off I went to Gooch Mountain Shelter.

The day was brilliant, all day long, just the way hikers like.  Plenty of water to be had, less-than-difficult terrain.. Eventually came to Justus Creek.  Sprite had told me that it was a great place to relax and get some water and to camp if you wanted to.  She was right on all counts.  It was very nice indeed.  Took off my pack and purified some water to be made into Gatorade.  Life was good.  Right as I was about to head up Gooch Mountain to the shelter, I saw her and Pepper arrive on the other side of the creek.

The last 1.3 miles was the best so far, the climb was moderate but the weather was perfect. About and hour and a half later, I could make out a clothesline down in a gap and looked up to see the shelter.. I was almost there.

Pulled into the shelter where Groove, SkunkApe, Lil, Bee Chucker, SeattleSailor, BluesTraveler, and Phoenix Rising where hanging out.  I liked the idea of being able to try some items out so I too made my clothesline, then dinner and had the rest of the evening off.  What to do.  Asked if anyone wanted to help with making a fire.. and fortunately SkunkApe was down.

Slowly but surely put together a nice fire to which this group was able to enjoy great conversation over a roaring campfire.  Funny enough, and I knew someone would say this, but Phoenix Rising said “you know, this is how people get trail names.”  I said “maybe” and left it at that.  No need to provoke.  I mean, c’mon, how original is ‘Firestarter,’ ‘Firebug,’ ‘Flame,’ etc? 

Just before dusk set in, a guy named Missing Person came in and was this shelter’s, ‘late guy.’  Sucks, no one wants to be that person, but here was ours.

We chatted over the fire, until the wind kicked up to hard for the actual flames to be any use.  Since I started the fire, I guess, the masses decided that I was the one to make sure it didn’t burn down the forest.  I waited 5-10 minutes and went to bed.  It had rained for days.. any fire would only help dry this place out.  I was asleep in minutes.

mattbob

Woke up this morning, with the light pitter-patter of rain striking my tarp. Talk about being rested, warm and very happy.  After getting to bed late last night chatting with Phoenix Rising & Canada Wet, I wondered what time it was, I felt refreshed but the light outside was still a bit dim. Hit the indigo light on my watch, 2:32am!  What??  Four and a half hours of sleep and I’m raring to go.  I quickly disposed of any plans to get back up,this was just silly… 2am, pfft.

Continued to wake up periodically thereafter, not sure why.  When 8:30 came by, and most of the rain had stopped, I thought I ought get moving.

Phoenix Rising came over to say “hi” in person, not in that weird nighttime silhouette mode.  She said she was off to Hawk Mountain Shelter, 5 miles away.  Said I would probably see her there.  Packed up the rest of my gear and went to go make tea.  Canada Wet was still at the shelter, doing some journaling.  Nice chap, he’s hiking the IAT (International Appalachian Trail) for charity.  While he journaled and I finished making my Chai, two guys hiked in for a quick stop, Matt and Steve.  They had stayed on Springer and were headed for Hawk Mountain Shelter.

What great timing I had getting up a bit later than one probably should, the hiking day was great.  Granted, it wasn’t 69 degrees with blue skies and a light breeze but I enjoyed it very much.  There was a slight “ut-oh” moment about 2 miles after leaving Stover Creek Shelter.  The trail suddenly had woodsy debris scattered about, obscuring passage and behind it were downed trees, but I could still see the notorious 6 x 2 inch white blaze painted on trees down the this path but to the right was a nice wooden bridge.  Unfortunately there were no markings on trees that a turn in the path was ahead nor a wooden sign stating such a trail diversion, so of course I went over the bridge and followed that path.  About 50 yards down a tree which once had something painted on it, was definitely scrapped off..what’s that supposed to mean?  I kept going anyway..I thought that I had to be going the right way, had to.  After some time without seeing a single white blaze, the path took a downwardly direction. Still, no white paint to be found anywhere.  The path keeps going down, and by this time, you say to yourself that you definitely do not want to go back up, but that you know you’ve gotta be on the right trail, have to.  As you keep decending, you start thinking about what threshold must be met, what criteria is going to make you stop and reconsider this decision.  You figure, somethings gotta be around the corner..but there isn’t.  Then, some weird form of acceptance comes over, that the decision you made was wrong by saying “well, this trail must go somewhere, I’ll catch up to the AT up here.”  Or after you realize how utterly silly that is, you just think to yourself, “I am really going to hate walking back up all that”  As you say that, your feet continue taking you further and further down the mountain.  Just as you start to formulate a plan, voila..right there in front of you is a very clear, very white and spanking new white blaze.  You’d been right, all along.

That happened today, right before entering Three Forks.  I would later find out, I wasn’t the only one that felt like that.

Entered into Three Forks and it appears to be a nice but popular place to camp, large area for tenting and even better, awesome trees for hanging.

Ran into Reddog, who was hiking south, he had stayed (hanger) overnight at Long Creek Falls and recommended that I check it out.

The weather had started to change to a very light drizzle.  The falls were nice with lots of flow due to the amount of rain this area has gotten the past few weeks.  Chatted with a guy who was there with his two kids, very nice..he even offered to boil me some water as he had a ton of fuel.  Wish that offer still stood two hours later.  He also mentioned that they were calling for severe thunderstorms tonight, lovely.

Upon just leaving the falls trail, a group of four guy looked to be passing by until I recognized one from the MARTA Train.  Told him and the others that the path was short and worth checking out.  As I was walking out of there, it occurred to me that there were going to be a lot of people trying to make Hawk.  I best keep moving.  Eventually met and passed a hiker named Groove.  He moved well on the downs, but lagged considerably on the ups, primarily due to a 52 pound pack.  A short while after over taking him, I noticed my right foot starting to bother me.  My heal was aching a bit too much and since I wasn’t completely certain, although I knew it was close, where the shelter was, I stopped and adjusted my shoe.  Before I did anything, it dawned on me that the only reason why my foot was having any problems was due to the addition of Superfeet inserts earlier yesterday morning.  DUH!  While breaking in/testing my New Balance shoes, I never used the inserts and now, my ankle sits higher up in the shoes and therefore rubbing my heal against the top part of the heal cup.  Anywho, I quickly changed out the “designer” insert for the OEM/original one, which felt 100% better immediately when I started off again.  Unfortunately, all the guys who went to the falls were now overtaking me, and doing so  in a hurried pace.  I had only been about 100 yards away from Hawk Shelter!  grr!  As luck would have it, there was some space..the last remaining sleeping slots were quickly acquired by a few other hikers right behind me.

So, what to do, it’s 2pm, raining and a full shelter.  I asked Phoenix if she had a deck of cards, she started laughing.  Last night in one of our discussions, we said how funny it is to bring items that you’d probably never use, cards being one of them.

Phoenix and I chatted for awhile, probably an hour or so before others starting chiming in and/or expressing an opinion or story or something.  Imagine how odd it would be to sit in a shelter full of people, practically packed in, and no one talking, except two silly people who’d just met hours ago.  That’s what it was like.

Finally people started making food and getting situated inside.  More and more chatter started about this and that, the weather, where people were from, the falls, who threw what off the approach trail.

The weirdest thing about sitting in the shelter for hours was watching the clouds come roaring by.. just sailing past the entrance to the shelter.  I don’t think I’ve ever really seen anything like it.  Very interesting.

After making my Mac and Cheese and taking a picture of Phoenix’s arm from what I call a ‘knife fight’ but she calls ‘pre-cancerous cells.’

Chatted a bit longer and then headed off to bed to some very needed and well-deserved rest.  Let’s see where we make it to tomorrow.

Matt

mattbob

A Quick Notice…

At 2 minutes of 5, I finally summited Springer Moutain, the southern terminus of the Appalachian Trail. This has been a goal of mine for over 5 years and I must admit, it’s somewhat surreal. I am waiting to wake up from yet another AT dream.

mattbob

At 2 mins ‘til 5pm, I finally summit Springer Mountain, the southern terminus of the Appalachian Trail. Making it to this point has proved to be an interesting twist of learning, accepting and understanding.

The day started innocently enough, I had been working in my spice shop trying to get the last bits of food prepped.  My friend Sara stayed until almost 2am, helping make meals that I will be eating for the next 2-3 weeks (you rock Sara).

After cleaning and packing up my car with all my food, including 2 drop boxes, as well as a number of packages to be mailed to people all over the country.

Raced home at 4-4:30am, showered and started packing.  Fortunately, I had all my gear in one place, but had yet to pack any of it.  As odd as it may sound, it took quite some time, a lot more than I would have ever thought to put all those contents in one pack.  Regrettably, sometime in the past week, one of my hammocks turned up missing.  Great..ready to head out for a 5 month adventure and I don’t have my ‘winter’ or thicker shelter.  Finally, after many minutes wasted looking for it, I acquiesced and started work on covering everything in my room with plastic drop cloths..everything.

Race out of the house, as I know my friend is waiting at her house to take me to the airport.  When I get there, she is not-too-happy (and rightfully so) about having gotten up two hours earlier than she had to, waiting for me.

Finally get to the airport and say our goodbyes.  This was something I’d dreaded for awhile.  Should I make it to Maine, I knew that I’d miss her and her family very much…

Got checked in, no worries, then.. then my hiking poles became an issue.  For the past eight years, anything that isn’t made by the Nerf Corporation could be  considered a weapon, so, my Lekis were going to have to be checked baggage.

“No problem, you’ve got those boxes used for odd items I’ve seen through the years?” I inquired.

“No, sorry.”  Ticket Agent replied

“Great.” I thought.  “Not only is my pack, well, packed.  There is not much room for anything else.”

So I decide to use all the extra straps to tie copious amounts of knots everywhere.  While sitting on the floor of the ticket counter space, imagine, a guy who, come on… looks a disheveled mess, trying to pack ‘ski poles’ to a big backpack.  HEY, at least I was still clean!!

Uncertain what to do, the Gate Agent came up with some packing tape and said that I should secure it around the middle and that doing so should work.  Since she couldn’t guarantee them making it to Atlanta, no thanks.  Knots were everywhere on this pack.

Go through security and briskly walk to my gate.. as I am moving up the escalator to catch my flight, I could hear the Gate Agent announce the “Final Boarding Flight blah-blah-blah and my name.”  I step off, walk over and say, hey no worries, I’m your guy.  But something was wrong… something was missing……

CRAP!  I’d left my Therm-a-Rest Z-Lite at the security checkpoint!  C’MON!!!  WTF??  I quickly ask the Gate Agent if I can race back to the checkpoint and pick up my item.  She said that she had to close the gate in 40 seconds.. I asked for 60 seconds.. 60.. to race in and out of security.  She then said well, you can just catch the next flight.  I told her that it was impossible because I had someone picking me up in Atlanta.  She shook her head in a ‘whadda gonna do’ kinda way.. I told her that I was hiking the Appalachian Trail and that I wasn’t going to be able to pick up a new “bed.”  She finally made a comment along the lines of, if you had just left and weren’t still standing here, you would have been back by now and you’d be on the plane.  I looked at her and said, “I’ll be right back.”

A greyhound could not have picked me off.  I was gone.

Raced into the TSA Screening Area and saw my Z-Lite sitting at the end of the scanner station, picked it up and zipped back over to the gate.  Nothing like a madman running through an airport at 8am on a Wednesday morning to perk up staff and fellow flyers.  The looks.. ha, too good.

Get back to the gate where the Agent was just about to close the door.. and voila, I’m in.  Sweet!

I don’t know if you’ve ever had to run/dash/race to catch a flight or possibly a  connecting flight somewhere.. not only does it suck but it’s annoyingly frustrating because it’s guaranteed you’re going to be panting for the better part of 20-30 minutes afterward.  So, now I am a weird hiker looking dude with zip-off pants wearing a black hat, panting heavily, carrying a bright yellow foam thingy and a bring orange/yellow stuff sack with personal belongings in it.  I might as well had a shirt that said, “I am going to be this flight’s freak show, please stare.”

Land in Atlanta.  Backpack takes forever.. it’s Atlanta.  Lucky me, my poles are still secured in the web of straps.  Score one for Matt vs Airline.

Make my way to the MARTA Station, where I see other people with over-sized packs looking at the ticket/fare machine.   Living in DC with the METRO made this a snap..I actually was able to help a couple other hikers.

Rode the train to the northern most depot called, North Springs.  Chatted all the while with other attempting thru’s.

Met Survivor Dave, my ride, in the ‘Kiss and Ride’ section of the parking garage.  Very nice guy, likes to joke a lot..  While we waited for another hiker he gave me the lo-down on the weather coming up, terrain, expectations, etc.  Finally we were off.

About an hour and a half later we found ourselves at Amicalola Falls State Park.  Walked in and registered as a thru hiker.  I was number 473* with a pack weight of 36 pounds.  Nice.

Dropped off the other hiker at his cabin and drove up the dirt road to the almost top of Springer Mountain.  It was kinda weird to go from a  green and growing world in Dayton and Atlanta up to a very brown and gray world up 3350 feet.  Survivor Dave dropped me off at Big Stamp Gap/USFS 42 where MtSquid and Buttercup were welcoming and recording hiker data.  I’d always seen his entries online (Whiteblaze.net) so it was very cool to actually meet him.  Since it was still a mile up to the top of Springer Mountain from the Forest Road, MtSquid said I could leave my pack with them and pick it up on my way back down.  Cool.

About 20 minutes later, after doing my best to avoid all the mud and water as best as I could (wanted to keep my shoes nice and white for the photos on top) I made it to the top of Springer Mountain, finally.  Lucky me, it was also the  favorite spot of thousands of black flies too.  That was fun.

For a couple years now, since 2007, I’ve day-dreamed of the moment I would call my AT hiker friends Figgy and Stitch at the top of Springer letting them know that I’d finally started my trip on the Appalachian Trail.  I rang up Stitch, no answer.. d’oh!  No need to try to leave a message as the reception up there was bad and who knows what that voicemail would sound like.  So I rang up Figgy.. and guess what?  Voicemail!  DAMNIT.  Some things I guess aren’t meant to be.

Made all matter of phone calls to friends and family, thanking them profusely for all the help that they have given, facilitating this over-sized, potentially silly dream of mine.  MtSquid said that I’d probably be back to him in about 45 minutes from the time I left.  I was up there for about and hour and a half.. best get moving north.

Picked up my pack, chatted about weather, gear and finally said goodbyes and headed out.

What a great feeling.  Finally.  Walking.  On the AT.  Now I am just waiting to wake up, to go to work and dream another dream.  But since I am still in this one, I guess I’ll keep hiking north.

Light starts to wane and I haven’t set up this new, summer-style hammock… ever.  Even though it was a whopping 1.8 miles to Stover Creek Shelter (the second one from the top of Springer) I thought I would have hit it by now, and hadn’t.. time to stealth.  I came upon a stand of trees that looked absolutely perfect for my hammock, so I climbed up the little hill to them.  Just as I dropped my pack, I looked to my left.. there, about 50 yards was a shelter looking building, highly likely Stover Creek as I saw some bags suspended in the air (bear cables).

Set up my camp and was about to hop in and do whatever when I heard a voice.

“Do you know where the shelter is?”
“Yes” I replied, “over there.”

He started walking through the woods to the shelter.  I said it would probably be easier if he just took the AT around to the shelter entrance…and he wouldn’t have to come back later this way to ensure he covered each mile.

After finishing up at my hammock I decided that I should go and introduce myself to the voices coming from Stover.  Because it was so late, only silhouettes could be made out.  I walked up to the side of the shelter and said, “I’m going to be your local hanger tonight and just wanted to say ‘Hi’.”

There were only two people there, one was a girl named Phoenix Rising and the other was the guy who had just walked up there, he was going by Canada Wet or Fucking Egit, he had not decided.

We talked about all matter of things, trail, city life, where we were from, everything.  It was probably close to 11pm when those conversations of ‘needing to get to bed’ came up, but it was really around 11:30, quarter till when we actually did.

Off to bed, let’s see if I really do wake up.

*Just a quick thought, there are quite a few people who do not register at the desk in the park office, so that number is not the actual number of hikers, it’s just the number of people who registered.   A more accurate number is maintained by the ATC (Appalachian Trail Conservancy) in Harper’s Ferry, WV.  The only problem with that, however, is that you have to hike there, as a “thru-hiker” to be in that statistic.

mattbob

You can find this article at the WashingtonPost.com site

Hit the Trail
By Jan Stowell
Special to The Washington Post
Sunday, March 29, 2009; F01
 

It’s more than 2,175 miles long and passes through 14 states from Georgia to Maine. It climbs mountains, plunges into river valleys and even finds its way into town from time to time. It provides ample opportunity to sprain or fracture things best left unmolested. It gets hot. It gets cold. There are bugs — all sorts of bugs, many of them sworn to evil. Ultimately, it rigorously tests, both mentally and physically, one’s sheer locomotive drive. What’s not to love? But in fact there is much to love, and you doubtless know already that I’m writing about the Appalachian National Scenic Trail, the most celebrated footpath in America. You’ve been threatening to through-hike it for years. So no more excuses.

Here is a very short primer to a very long walk.

Daydream about it. Get your imagination on the job and start by envisioning sunny mountaintops, clean air, birdsong, solitude, companionship, rushing streams, campfires and astonishing, Olympian good health. Imagine freedom. Spend less time picturing rain, pain, mosquitoes, rain, ticks, hunger, rain, bears and hydrophobic, homicidal bears of which, as far as I know, there aren’t any. Do this every day, as it will fortify you against the merciless punishment to be suffered until your blisters have healed to callus and your muscles have ceased to ache even in your sleep.

Take the time. The economy being what it is, this may be your best opportunity to find six otherwise unproductive months to call your own. And you should count on six months. Many hikers — perhaps most, even — do an A.T. through-hike in less time, but not often in much less. Besides, you’re going to clock-watch on the trail? Doubtful.

Go north. In 1997, I hiked the A.T. from Maine to Georgia, and it was perfectly wonderful. Not only that but, as it turns out, I’m a compulsive liar. Yes, hiking south was wonderful, but not perfectly so. For one thing, the trail in snowy Maine typically doesn’t open until June. The summer solstice, then, will pass quite early in your hike and you will spend the majority of your months on the A.T. walking into diminishing, rather than increasing, daylight.

Depending on how fast you hike (itself dependent on how quickly you harden into trail shape, over which you have some measure of control, but also on how long your legs are, over which you don’t), you will probably pass the last of the northbounders long before you arrive at Harpers Ferry, W.Va., the symbolic midpoint of the trail. After that, you may find yourself more alone than you’d bargained for. I did.

Also, if you begin your hike in Maine, you are not only still flabby, you are still flabby in Maine. It is an extraordinarily beautiful state. It is also the most demanding piece of the entire A.T. and, possibly, the sole repository of every spare boulder that the Almighty failed to use on Day 2. There is a place called the Mahoosic Notch, which . . . let’s just not even talk about it.

Flip-flop. An alternative to traveling strictly north or south is, in through-hiker parlance, to flip-flop the trail. Begin, say, in Georgia, and hike north to Harpers Ferry. Find a ride to Maine and then hike south to Harpers Ferry. It’s a good strategy for late starters, as Baxter State Park (where Mount Katahdin, the northern terminus of the trail, is) closes in mid-October. An added bonus is that a flip-flop largely guarantees a warm-weather hike over the entire A.T. Except for when you get snowed on in the southern mountains during spring. I’d been meaning to mention that.

Pack light. Weight is your unappeasable enemy. It never comes to the negotiating table and can be defeated only by your getting strong and getting light. If you take nothing else from this primer, take that. Short of injury or illness, there is no surer way to drive yourself off the trail than to be burdened, day after painful day, beneath a pack that you fear has an anvil in it somewhere.

Just 30 miles north of Springer Mountain, the southern terminus of the A.T., is Neels Gap. It’s a busy layover, with a road, a railway and a river passing through it. It’s also where an estimated 10 percent of intended through-hikers bolt for home, most of them simply because they got worn down before they ever got built up. Felicity Keddie of the Walasi-Yi Center there recently told me that, on behalf of exhausted hikers, the center annually ships home seven to nine tons of unwanted gear. Speaking of which . . .

Gear. Whatever. Go to your local outfitter and buy the best and lightest that you can afford. Beyond that, I’ll mention only this: hiking poles, one for each hand. Buy them. Use them. Love them. They stabilize you on descents, provide purchase on ascents and, where the ground is flat, put your otherwise-freeloading arms aerobically into the hike. I’d as soon do the A.T. on a pogo stick as go without poles.

Food. One of the daily joys of long-distance hiking is eating. In fact, you may never again enjoy food as much as you will on the A.T. This is principally because you will be hungry every minute.

One day during a resupply mission at a small grocery in Pennsylvania, I was in line at the checkout behind newlyweds on a hiking honeymoon. She noticed that he’d grabbed a package of low-fat Fig Newtons, doubtless inadvertently, although she was evidently in no mood to entertain that probability. “Low fat?” she said in apparent disbelief. “Low fat? Have you, like, completely lost it? You take those back and find anything that says ‘Made with real lard.’ ” I can even now envision them finishing off the Newtons and then eating the package and maybe the sales slip, too.

So here’s some wonderful news for you: A hiker’s daily calorie burn on the A.T. is so extreme (commonly estimated at 4,000 to 6,000) that gluttony assumes the mantle of virtue. Bon appetit.

Sleeping. There are about 250 shelters — typically three-sided lean-tos — scattered along the length of the trail. Normally situated in a pretty place near a source of water, they vary in age, size and cleanliness. You’ll meet many of your fellow through-hikers at the shelters and will doubtless make new friends. When it rains, however, the shelters can become very crowded and arrestingly aromatic. You’ll be wise to carry a light tent. Most people do, and it’s sensible, although packing and lugging a wet tent in the morning is a unique misery.

Getting lost. You won’t. Honestly, you’ll need to put some effort into losing your way. The A.T. is marked end-to-end by white rectangular blazes on trees, poles, rocks and even sidewalks when it passes through a town. I carried a compass that I almost never used and jettisoned my few maps early on (largely because on the flip side of the map of Maine is a profile — a sideways view of the trail — that looks distressingly like an electrocardiogram). Lest I be considered cavalier with your safety, I’m not suggesting that maps are superfluous; to the contrary, A.T. maps are detailed and informative. I’m saying only that I rarely used them. Either way, you’ll likely want to carry the especially handy Appalachian Trail Data Book (or the Thru-Hiker’s Companion; see box at right), a slender and arid volume that notes milestones along the trail and also indicates where, among many other useful things to know, to find water. Along with hiking poles, it’s another item I wouldn’t go without.

Getting clean. Grooming isn’t an especially exciting topic, is it? Then it’s a good thing you won’t be doing much of it. Ha, ha. But there are certain facts of life, and one of them is that if you through-hike the Appalachian Trail, you will spend a lot of time being dirty and in dirty clothes. Doesn’t mean you can’t brush your teeth, though.

Staying safe. A compendium of things to remember: Serious crime on the A.T. is not unheard of, but it’s rare. Most long-distance hikers are, like most people everywhere, friendly. The prevailing bonhomie notwithstanding, keep your wits about you, and, if you’ve got one to enlist, hike with a companion. This is 2009, after all, so take along your cellphone. Charge it when you can, but be smart and leave it turned off until you need to use it. Stay in touch with folks at home, and let them know where you are and where you’re headed next.

Do not ask your friend to take a picture of you riding a moose, or of you arm in arm with a bear. Right-thinking bears object to this. Just leave the animals alone. Carry a light first-aid kit and manual, and familiarize yourself with them before you need them. Drink lots of water. Avoid seeing enlarged images of ticks; ticks are persuasive evidence that not every single element of nature is a gift to be cherished. Should one of the loathsome creatures actually burrow its indescribably disgusting head into, say, your leg, feel free to have the screaming meemies. When you’re done, refer to the first-aid manual buried somewhere in your pack.

Do not attempt steep descents in the pouring rain. Trust me on this.

Be optimistic. Remember that hiking takes no great, or even peculiar, athletic skill. It’s not pole-vaulting, and it lacks (mercifully) the mysterious difficulty of golf. It’s just walking. So take my advice and do this: Put one foot in front of the other; repeat as necessary. And while you’re doing that, month after month, be sure to enjoy the rich rewards of through-hiking the Appalachian Trail. You will be in a beautiful place every day. You will be free, perhaps as never before. You will be healthier than everyone you know. You will toughen into — forgive me, but the expression is heard up and down the trail, and it applies — a lean, mean, hikin’ machine. To wit:

One morning in Virginia, I faced a climb of nearly 3,000 feet over a distance of four miles. I’m 5-foot-10 and had begun the A.T. in early July at 176 pounds of untoned indolence. On that day in October, I weighed no more than 155. I had no earthly reason to dread the climb, but I did. And so, to give myself as long a day as possible, I set out shortly after dawn. A good deep breath and up I went.

Tick, tick, tick went the poles. Left, right, left went the feet, on a forced march following one switchback after another after another. And I never tired. It seemed as though I couldn’t tire. Unaccountably, I’d forgotten that after some 1,400 miles of hiking I was beyond merely strong. I was pneumatic.

The climb took 2 hours 5 minutes. At the summit, the northern end of a long ridge, I took a short side trail to an overlook. Standing on an escarpment with the world beneath me attired in the bright finery of autumn, I threw my arms out and my head back and let out a stupendous (or stupendously idiotic) Tarzanesque bellow. After all, there are days when it is very good to be alive.

Jan Stowell lives in Washington and periodically hikes sections of the Appalachian Trail but through-hiked only once, in 1997.

You can find this article at the WashingtonPost.com site

– This was reprinted without any permission what-so-ever… mainly because I don’t have time to email back and forth w/ the Post.

mattbob