MikeStevensStudio

Southbound North Carolina, Tennessee May 2004

Southbound again. It had been several years since the Maine trip. Since then I have had wonderful opportunities for 5-6 day long trips out in the Serias. Grand rugged somewhat baron terrain. Its been a while since I have had the chance to do some real hiking back east. I felt this trip a homecoming of sorts. I would be hiking alone which is usually not recommended. The Appalachian Trail (AT) is straight, it should be hard to get lost on right? and full of other hikers. The shelter system offers the chance for solo hikers like my self to have company in the mornings and evenings. A solo trip would be less lonesome trip on the AT. I was hopping for this trip to make me strong again. The itinerary was challenging with little chance for extra rests. On the trail you carry everything, once you run out of food you start to get hungry. That would be no good.

Equipment: For late MAY
Jansport external frame pack This was the only external frame pack I saw, this pack is getting to be a bit old school among the backpackers.

20 degree down sleeping bag I can not get this bag wet or it loose 80% of its insulation

water pump

rain gear, kmart rubber rain jacket, rain pants, pack cover

Other rain equipment is very expensive, when its raining its 100% humidity, if you are hiking you will sweat and be damp any way. I regretted bringing the paints, it was late May

long underwear top, made of fancy new age fibers, I got the expensive one because mom liked it and offered to pay for it.

I wore a t-shirt cotton, which is not the best material, thick wore smart brand socks umbo soccer shorts, underwear which I regretted taking. brimmed hat, light weight canvas boots. I tried not to hike in my long underwear in attempt to have a “clean shirt to change into every night after my hike.

bandana to keep the sun off your neck

1 pair extra socks, I did not take a back up t-shirt, shorts. And yes three years ago I blew a very large hole in my inseam of my only soccer shorts while hiking with a co-ed crew for a prolonged trip out in the Serrias. Did I care not really, everyone learned to enjoy a bigger view of my boxers then one would have normally appreciated. Must keep the weight down.

tennis shoes, I don’t usually bring these, I did not trust my boots so I wanted a back foot wear in case of blisters.
the cloths I was not wearing, tennis shoes, long under wear I kept in large zip lock bags to keep them dry. I did the same for my sleeping bag, which fit into a 2.5 gallon size zip lock.

In a zip lock bag I also carried: small tube of sun block 35 SPF, whistle, athletic tape, iodine tablets, to purify water, anti iodine tablets to remove that God awful taste once the water is purified, fishing line and hooks, very very small pocket knife and flashlight, compass, small bottle of Deet bug repellant, baby powder and mole skin. I regret not taking salt tablets, I was carrying several antibiotic pills and ibuprofen.

Food: granola bars, 2 apples, peanut butter, Ritz crackers, M&M’s frozen Brats, pistachios, tuna fish packets, prepackaged backpackers dinners. Gateraid mix I did not bring a stove to cut on weight. I carried my water in a Platipus brand water pouch with drinking tube and kept gateraid mix in a back up water bottle. The water pouch is nice, the pouch is kept in the pack and you drink from a plastic tube that you can clip on your pack right above a shoulder. You are not able to keep track of how much water is left, this can be a problem. I solved this by keeping the quart of gateraid as a back up.

I am carrying the lightest pack I have ever taken on a prolonged trip.

My mother volunteered to follow me to western North carolina Tenn. Boarder. She became concerned when I told her that hitch hiking was the norm on the AT. “Just because you and your dad did it in Yellowstone don’t mean its safe, and for you to do it alone.” She volunteered to follow me in my car to where I would end my hike then drop me off the next morning some 90 miles north on the Appalachian Trail (AT). We after dropping my car off we stayed the night in Asheville with trail drop off plans for the next day.
On the way in we stopped at a Greek/pizza place for lunch. I had pizza, which I loved, mom got the Spania Capetia which she did not eat. I use the rest room and just as I am ready to leave a 7 month pregnant look man enters. He looks at me says, “Good day to be alive aint it.” This particularly catches my ears. I had a patient say this moments before he died. “Ya I say rather interested. Comments like this usually are followed by philosophy or advice. “Yes sir -ee beautiful day , beautiful mountains...... Good thing we’re not over their in that desert getten our heads cut off. Now I was president mind you, elected a couple of years ago.” he pauses tilts back hat puffs out his large belly. “Now some people would have a problem with this, and you would probably kill a couple of good people in the process, but by God we’d kill a awful lot of bad ones. We need to bomb them just clean out the whole area.” I am not at all surprised, I should be horrified but am not. I wash and return to the table.
Asheville was a pleasant surprise. The town is surrounded by mountains . Old buildings still intact with a very active down town. Mom was disappointed that the art and jewelry shops were closed. We checked into the hotel . Later that night I went out. Many bars, most with like live music, several with pool tables but not too many players. I have fun driving around mom’s new BMW pretending to be some pimped out swinger. Ya a little out of chariter but fun none the less.
Next morning mom drops me off takes several pictures an I am off. I think back to my first trip. I was 13 mom drove me to the scout church . I remember thinking I am ready for this? Is this going to be fun? Do I really want to hike for 8 miles with a heavy back pack? Am I strong enough?. I am a little nervous, better not tel mom I think. I have 93 miles map miles that I have to make. I am quite aware of all that could go wrong, blisters rain, equipment failure. I have had major equipment failures on my past 2 extended trips, only one out of the two was I able to repair the equipment. The other time I had to barrow a hip belt buckle. This time I am alone. I am sure that I will come across 4-5 hikers a day in passing who would call for help in event of injury. These however would not be people I could ask to barrow food or ask to help with broken equipment. My other extended trip s I have taken in small groups, we could help each other if needed. It will be me verses the trail. Onward Onward I think and I set out starting my trip at highway 19 my nightly camp is to be bald mount shelter, a 6 mile hike for starters. About 30 minutes into the trip and the skies open up and it runs. Great. Forty percent chance of rain every day for the next nine days. This could be a very wet trip. I put on the rain gear thinking back to the 120 dollar rain jacket I laughed at back when shopping for new equipment. Maybe it would have been worth it? I put the pack cover on and continue hiking in the rain. I am tired and stop for a quick lunch. I eat pistachios, clean up the shells and continue on. I was tired and happy to see the small wooden sign reading shelter. The rain has stopped, I lay about and wait. It gets colder, I put on my long sleeve long under where top, something I almost didn’t bring. Mom talked me into it. The temperature continues to drop. I am wearing all of my cloths, long underwear top, t-shirt and a pair of umbo’s I start to get a little concerned its still late afternoon.
After a while two north bound hikers come into the camp. “No didn’t think so, you don’t look like a through hiker” One says to me. His trail name is Regular Brian, been on the trail 300 miles, 1 month. They both wore fleece jackets, rain jackets on top, (the 120 dollar version) and long paints, internal frame packs, both were very full and aluminum walking sticks. They were stopping for lunch, it was 3:00. They cooked there lunch which surprised me. Cooking takes time and requires heavy fuel. I ask about hot springs, he goes on and on... “What I couldn’t stand what was really pissing me off was all this anti Bush propaganda at the hostel. I mean I voted for him, don’t really like him, not sure if I would even vote for him again. But still. You know all this prison shit, other counties are doing much worse all the time.” I haven’t said much, not interested in changing regular Brian’s mind, I do say, “I they do they aint on T.V., this looks real bad and pisses off the rest fo the world.” Regular Brian doesn’t look up from his cooked noodles. “Shit when I was enlisted they took us up to Road Island and used all sorts of hummulitating shit to try to make us talk on camera.” I had the feeeling from his body lanuage that he broke. He is young and no longer in the service still this is no excuse. I was close to asking him what it was like being forced to perform homosexual acts on another man. A sudden “‘Really they rapped you and made you do homosexual stuff? You still think it’s the same shit?” This may have brought him to his sences. I thought it unwise, I held my tounge. Some people use the trial for escape, an excuse to leave the real world for a time. I am sure Regular Brian had his reasons, problems in the military who knows. I didn’t really care. I brought frozen brats for the first night to share with the through hikers. I thought it would be a good jesture, these guys live off of dried out food, often they are short on money. Anyway Regular Brian was pissing me off. I pull out the brats and offer them to Regular Brain and his friend. We talk about other things. Regular Brain was going 15 miles a day, so far his record is 18 miles. He has tevias strapped to the side of his pack. The leave not taking the bratwosts as they could not cook them on there little stoves. As he is leaving he looks at a pile of wood next to the fire pit. “Good luck with the fire. I tried using stove fuel to start a dry fire days ago. No luck it just puffed up for a minute or two........ Say you know this wood is green.” “Ya I will need to get more.” I say and they leave. I did not collect the wood, if you can’t start a fire with stove fuel, then please stop giving me advice.
It takes me an hour and half to collect the proper wet wood and use a piece of abandon trash to start the fire. It is getting colder. My hands shake. The fire is finally built. I use sticks and roast the 5 brats. Still nobody here to share my feast. I wait in the shelter, it is three log walls with a tin roof. It sleeps 12 on two shelves like bunks. I eat, wait, nobody here. It starts to get dark. To the south is bear country, I may be camping alone which would not be good if a bear comes around attarted by the smell of the brats. The brats will not be good tomorrow, I am in a delema, as I would like to be able to share my delicious food. Finally with the rest of the fire wood I burn the brats. I hang my food on the mice lines and wonder if it will be eariy night sleeping alone. Wonder if I should have taken bear precautions. Is the rope I have in my tent bag long enough for a bear hang. I think about the bear warning cards I saw where I dropped my car off just 87 miles south. I prepare the camp then drift off to sleep in the shelter. I dream about the neighborhood girls. I am 13 we play kick ball inside a house, sharks swim outside, you can see them through the windows. I wake at sunrise get everything ready skip breakfast and walk. I keep a slow pace, hike Bald mountain, the morning fog lifts. I can see very far. I stop and air out my feet, ring out my socks. I try to let them dry for 20 minutes relaxed the trees have just began to bud here. This lets me see long distances. Forest floor was more like a field of small long stemmed small flowering plants. My feet are wet, my boots are good no blisters. I decent. The trees lower down are in full leaves. It is dry. White flowers replaced by wild purple iris, replaced by small yellow flowers, replaced by fern replaced by nettles mixed with different tri-lillies. Climbed up then down 1000 feet in a single mile. Ate lunch at the shelter I was suppose to sleep at, three other north bound hikers were present. They had not seen any other south bound section hikers. (This is what I am) They seemed very friendly, very serious, perhaps a little stressed as the weight of there hike was sinking in. We asked each other about the trail ahead, asked about water sources. Wished good luck to all, they left one left a water bottle his friend came back for it. “Don’t know if its his.” I say. “Well he will be glad to get it anyway.” his friend says takes it and leaves.
It was 3:00 according to the hikers and I was at my days scheduled end. All hell I told myself and kept going. Down, up down mile 16 for the day I am very very tired, no place to camp. Mile 17 will sleep any where, I finally found a level place to set up camp. Throw down the pack then preplan all further movement to decrease the number of further sit to stands. I am to tired to eat. I have eaten only a couple of granola bars and an apple all day. I prepare the camp, I am finally done. I look up right before entering my tent to sleep and see very large dead branches hanging over the tent. The wind picks up, they rattle threateningly. Shit... can see it now 28 year old killed when the stupid kid sets up tent under large dead branches. I clear more ground of twigs and rocks and move the tent. I sleep, the sun is still four inches from the horizon. I don’t have a watch and didn’t want one. I pick up the paper version of this journal and write one word and fall asleep. I wake up two times near dawn. I really hurts to move. After painful stretching I slowly gather my things and start out. I hiked passed the Flint mountain shelter mid morning. Three cokes were sitting in the stream. I left them for the though hikers eat some granola, drink gatorade and went on. Big up 1000 ft 1mile, slow accent. during the accent a 20 year old comes trotting northbound down the trail with two aluminum hiking sticks very, very small pack. Later on I here voices. The hill goes on and I get over passed by a family of North Carolinan weak end hikers putting on a mean pace going south. I was tempted to keep pace with them. When hiking long days I try to take as few breaks as possible. The idea is to keep a slow steady pace. They would over pass me, rest then I would pass them. We leap frogged the trail for 5-6 miles then we all stopped for lunch at Jerry Cabin Shelter.
The father and leader of the group worked in the seamless gutter busness and was retired army. He was almost 60 but still strong, veins popped from his forearms. He definatly still had old army macho mentatlity. They had been weakend hiking the trial for sometime. Every year, a couple of weekends a year the father, two sons and several other family friends would hike another section of the AT. I ate only granola bars and pistacios for lunch. They cooked Ramond noodles and ate vension jerkey. They offered me some jerkey which I took and was very good. A string of meat stuck in my teeth which I was forced to pick at for days. After a lunch that took several hours we head out together. They plan on stopping in four miles, I plan on hiking till I am tired, possilbly making an addition 7 miles to the next shelter. We hiked together on a very exposed ridge. The terrian was some of the most rugged I have traversed with a pack. The trail consisted of jumping from rock to rock. We could see very far on all sides. I watched some storms starting to come in from the west. They moved very slow but made a lot of noise. I was the tallest thing on the mountain, wearing my dad’s metal external frame pack. I picked up the pace as much as I could. We cleared the ridge and spread out. I passed two boys filling water, one 16 one in his mid 20s. The youngest had a very small day pack, a pack so small I would not have been able to fit my old sleeping bag in side of it. They all have desided to continue on and camp with me at the next shelter. About 2 ½ hours later on mile 14 for the day I hear running from behind. Damm where does that boy get all that energy. He comes on fast he is at a dead run. I think someone must be hurt. He comes up behind me and asks how much further till the front man. “I don’t know. Your dad and Shawn still ahead a good while up.” Boy takes off again at his dead run, wearing his tennis shoes. This is mile 14 and I am very tired. I hiked on, several times feeling waves of relief seeing a shelter roof only to have it turn into a group of rocks or tree trunks. My right knee starts to hurt when going down hill.
Arived at the shelter, the North Carolina boys start to set up there tents just a little ways from the shelter. I go into the shelter and sit down, to tired to move. Two northbound trough hikers Sourdough and London Lynn share the shelter with me. London Lynn from London is a long distance runner, he is in his mid sixties. He had large snake tatoes on both his forearms. Sourdough and London Lynn sit around the campfire, which London Lynn had made. We go through the uswall conversation about trail conditions, weather forcasts, and water sources. I oil water over the fire and add it to my dehydrated dinner which taisted wonderful. We talk about the miss treatment of Iraq prisoners. The war. London Lynn goes on and on about how much the British are “with you all the way.” Sourdough was in his mid 60s, carried expensive equipment, neat in his dress, his beard and hair. He was a conservitive and annoid by Lynn, but was trying to hide it. “Its only the liberal fantics and the students who really appose the war. Most people are really with you guys. I am on the same side.” “That’s the way its over here” Sourdough put in a little tired. London Lynn would rant on, it was his first time in the U.S. and I think he was making comments carefully trying not to piss off any of the Americans. He would talk on and on.
“How long you think the war is going to last?” I ask. Sourdough annoid by the question shifted on his seat. “Oh wow!” London Lynn chimmed in, “This is going to be big. Its going to take a while for our boys to sort it all out!” “How long?” I ask. His tone shift more somber “twenty to thirty years I’d say.” Sourdough looks away in discuss and does not say anything. The conservation shift, Lynn talks almost non stop about the Mores living off the dole and how that pisses him off being a regular working tax paying man. How the French, no God damm way would ever have saved England out in WWII if the roles were reversed them ungreatful bastards. Mind you the French arn’t all bad, he has met two or three of them that have he has become friends with. Sourdough wants to restrict imagration, all the damm Mexicans coming in ruining the country with drugs and gangs. “Now if a foriener comes and desides he wants to move in to our country thats fine as long as willing to abide and adapt to American coustoms, learn English and not make a scene of themselves. Now they can keep a little of there own culture mind you, I am not saying that they just need to keep it suttle and in the privacy of there own homes.” Sourdough gave in a lecture. Keep the race pure I could tell what he was hinting at. I have herd this reciently off the trail and was getting pretty tired of it. He was from Atlanta, spoke with a heavy southern accent. “I date a Philipinio.” I looked calmly square into his eyes. I tried to keep my face friendly.
God damn white people, this doesn’t surprise me a bit of course. I stay an angry silent I am more interested in seeing what other colorless thoughts are banging around in this man’s head. He does not offer me any more. I don’t want to talk to him. I offer around my M &M candies. It stays silent for a while, Lyn starts to complain about the north carolina boys’ fire, it’s too big and look how they are not conserving any wood and look at the fire Lyn built and look how it’s got proper logs putting off proper smoke. Sourdough gets bored and decides to turn in,
I would like to visit the North Carolina boys, because I like their fire and maybe they won’t complain so much. I painfully walk over for some good hearty southern man talk. My body is stiff and resists any movement. “Won’t you come drink with us, and man earlier from the looks of you, you need it. A drink is the last thing I need or want right now. I did not want to offend. Get your cup and pour your self off some. I am embarrassed because I did not bring a cup, extra weight, and return to drink Captain Morgans rum from my aluminum mess kit bowl. This produced much laughter. “Man you gonna be out here how long and you don’t even have a cup, come on now take more then that, you need that drink more than any of us” I must have looked pretty tiered. I poured a little more, I didn’t really want the rum, sure would not want the hang over, rejecting a free drink could be taken as an insult. I took a shot worth, we spoke of rain, “naw it’s a good night, no rain tonight” they all said over and over, their tents were the Kmart version, several without rain flies. “If it rains there is room in the shelter for all, no worries” I make my way back to the shelter in the dark pour the remaining rum in my bowl in the fire. Guess I’ll be having a little rum taste in tomorrow’s dinner. It is very dark and I try to get in my bag without waking London Lyn or Sourdough. My food bag is hung on a very low mouse rope about 3 feet from where I sleep, Sourdough and London Lyn have hung their food in trees farther away to keep it away from bears. I am a little worried about my food and attracting a large black bear only 3 feet from where I sleep. I sleep, Sourdough snores so loudly I awake several times thinking it’s a bear. “You should have ear plugs” he says earlier, “all through hikers have ear plugs.” I am only able to sleep a little it rains very hard several times and I can hear the North Carolina boys complain with each downpour. They do not seek cover in the shelter. The next morning my body is very stiff I try to drink water, I am not thirsty, I force my self to eat, nothing looks good, I settle on my last apple, a treasure I had been saving. I make some Gateraid which goes down very well. I don’t have much Gateraid mix left, I am concerned that I am not getting enough salt. I usually keep extra salt packets with me for this very problem. My only real source of salt is Gateraid and my dinners. My urine was brown, but I was difficult to make myself drink. I leave Little Laurel shelter later then usual say farewell to all and decide to make it an easy day 10 miles, and camp at the next shelter. I decent 1500 feet into Allens gap eat a granola bar then accent 1000 ft to spring mountain shelter. I am very very tired, I see a day hiker going north, he tells me I am 15 minutes from the shelter. My boot are finally dry from the first days storms. I want badly to keep my boots dry. It begins to rain, I begin to run. I run for 3-5 minutes spurts, slow down catch my breath then run. I keep my feet dry and arrive at the shelter. It is empty which is a good thing I am able to smell my self and it makes me want to vomit. I take off my only t shirt wipe my body off with it, hang my food pull out my sleeping bag and take a nap, it is probably 200 (the typical time for afternoon showers) I awake several times from the heavy rain. The rain stops, I have slept but do not feel refreshed. I walk down to the spring for water. Making several mental notes about good downed limbs for fire wood I fill up my large zip lock bag with water and return to camp. At camp I pump the water to purify it into my water bottles then collect wood. Both knees hurt, I do not want to drink the water, so I make gateraid which I drink with thirst. The wood gathering takes maybe an hour or so, I put most of the wood under the shelter and wait, looks like another storm is about to blow through. I wait still nothing, silver backs of leafs dance in the wind. I collect more tinder breaking off the ends of last years dead raisebearry bushes. I hear a slight russell of leaves below me, I jump back and a large brown snake is still with in striking distance. Round head, I am safe probably just a gardener snake. Still no rain, I am starting to get hungry and I need the fire to boil water for my dinner. I start the fire on my second try. Just as the fire is just getting started two north bound hikers enter camp.
Conch and Ziplock are both over 65. Ziplock has his gray hair pulled into a pony tail he is tall and confident. Conch wore a big smile with a very swollen bottom lip which has been recently split on one side. At first I thought he had a bad case of the herpes. Thought man, boy did he kiss the wrong girl. Later he explained how one of these small root just reached up and grabbed him. “I was hiking along just minding his own way and such then suddenly bam one of those little root guys said, “Don’t tread on me! I am darn sick of getting walked on day in day out! Take that.” “And down I sure went, ruined a whole hiking day good weather and all, had to go to the hospital and everything. They couldn’t do much though. My lip was nothing but ground beef. “ They were both early risers, liked to go a slow pace lately 8-10 miles a day. “You sure we’d got to do that 15 mile day” Conch would ask. “It’s the last day (before town) then we’ll be able to rest.” Conch still looked worried. Conch looked at me, still guess all this extra weight don’t help. It’s hard though, sure don’t like being cold. Fourth day on the trail it snowed four inches got down to twenty degrees. The shelter was full so we had to sleep outside under a tarp. I used my rain jacket for a pillow, four days later I still had ice in the rain jackets sleeves.” He was pulling a fleece, wool hat, heavy rain gear, long under wear out of his pack. I wore my long sleeve shirt my only other T-shirt was hanging on a nail, I had no other cloths beside my shorts I had on and my rain gear. If it fell to twenty degrees I would have no option but to crawl into my bag and not get out till it warmed.
They had both come from the local town of Hot Springs earlier that day. I boiled my water and made my first dinner lasagna with meat sauce, very, very good. Ziplock had hiked 900 miles last year but had to get off the trail because of foot problems. He and Conch had been friends for a very long time and lived close to each other in Florida. There wives had driven up to meet them for mothers day. That was the last real touch we’ve had from the out side world (other then hostel stops along the way). They said they have been staying away from the news. I boiled more water, ate my second dinner chicken teriyaki, still good not as good as meat lasagna. “I herd the mice were real bad here” I say, “One of the guys last night said he couldn’t sleep most of the night as the mice were constantly running around making all sorts of noise. One of them kept running across his face.” “Ya,” Ziplock said with a tone of experience, “Its sure happened to me a couple of times, I am sure we’ll be fine.” My blue T-shirt smells very badly, I am concerned about entering the town smelling so foul. I take the shirt its nail hanging place and hold it in the smoke. “I’ll see if I can smoke some of this stench out.”
Night came Ziplock found a black willow three feet above his head in the shelter but did nothing about it as it was to cold for black willows this time of the year anyway. It made me nervous. We all agreed we where well out of bear country, none of us did a bear hang. The mice began to make noise before the sun had set. By that time all of us were in our bags trying to sleep. I slept well that night woke at dawn.
“Where are we going today Zip?” Conch asked. “Jerry Cabin Shelter” Ziplock replied. “Fifteen miles my god, thought we had days until we had to hike that far.” Conch started off Ziplock continued to pack “trying to break him easy”, he told me. Most hikers begin to average 20 miles a day by the time reach Virginia. Zip knows this and is trying to get Conch to that level. Zip will reach his half way point regarding miles covered that day.
I feel very well rested, my constant cramps are still there but much less. I drink my last quart of Gateraid for breakfast. I do not want any other food. My boots are dry and which makes me happy. The 11 miles or so into town were mostly down hill. I had some great views of the French Broad River. I am on a ridge and thunder is stomping at my heals. I do a light jog for the smooth stretches. I do not stop for pictures, I am concerned about wet boots, and getting caught on the ridge in oncoming storm. About 10 minutes from Hot Springs the sky opens up. I take my boots off, putting each on into zip lock bags in my pack to keep them dry. I put on my tennis shoes and keep hiking. Hot springs was a resort town in the early part of the century, as people came in to soak in the hot springs. I was used to house WWII German prisoners. The town now survives off a small white water rafting business.
My first concern upon arriving in town was to find the hostel and take a warm shower. I passed the Pub, an ice cream shop, and a small convenient store which sold hot pizza by the slice. The hostel I stayed in was 160 years old; I got the cool basement room. The steps were hard for me, my knees were very painful. I grabbed my green towel and step by step headed for the shower. The bathroom walls were covered in walnut paneling, the sink dripped and the toilet is prone to shift suddenly when sitting. I almost fell off, no kidding. The molding was freshly covered with hunter green paint. An open stained glass window let in air from the vacant side porch. The shower felt great, I soaped my body 2-3 times, I produced a lather from the bar soap to wash my hair. I repeated this four times. I stepped out of the shower looked down at my cloths and reluctantly put back on the same shorts I have hiked in for the past 5 days, my same well worn, dirty stank socks. I wore my long sleeve long underwear which I do not hike in so it is still relatively clean. I put on my tennis shoes and searched for pizza. The only sit down pizza place, or restaurant for that manner, is the paddler’s pub. I enter order 16 inch sausage. I talk briefly with a raft guide, offer him pizza, “Ya, Gully’s got every thing on the east coast beat far as rivers go.” He drinks his bear then leaves. It’s 2:00 I try to write grandpa’s stories for a while, then work on this journal.
In walked a 270 pound man, long gray hair and a full gray beard. Looked like he was once part of the Grateful dead. Gypsy had though hiked twice back in the 80s. I lived 100 miles away and drove the 200 miles every week into town to soak the natural benefits and healing provided from the local hot springs. He told me how when started his first hike he was in Geogia, had to get off the trail because his second cousin was getting married to his third cousin. Naturally this was a big to do in the family so they pulled him off the trail. Mom started dry heaving when she smelled him. After the wedding it had gotten two late in the season to head north so he hitch hiked from Georgia to Maine 6 different rides not sleeping for three and half days. He talked about Mnt. Kataden (the starting point) his friend Whiskey jack who of course, was able to find Whiskey in any dry town they stayed in. Whiskey Jack had a bag of reefer for each map section. Each map section is about 80-100 miles. He was to save a little pinch for each bag and on the completion of the trial he was going to roll it all together in one big joint. “Well it was a good thought but it didn’t work out in the end. The pot just sort of disappeared.” Gypsy loved to talk, missed his trail days. “Good to talk to you” he said, “cant tell these stories to my other friends, they don’t understand. There are sick of all this trail shit any way.” Gypsy was white, had a deep southern accent. The bar was empty he drank 3-4 beers, I drank water.
I was still dehydrated and I did not bring much cash. I had added to the challenge of the hike by only bringing cash, just enough for one night lodging, to resupply, and a pizza. No extra money for a hot springs soak or beer. Equipment failure was not an option.

Gypsy’s story:
Gypsy looked around slowly, as if he wanted to make sure the wrong person did not hear the next story. The bar was almost completely empty. “One time I was at a town and needed a ride back to the trial. These black guys were all standing around.” He said the word black in a hushed voice.
“These guys were poor, man, in from Harlem so I go over there and start talking to them. They asked me many questions about the trail, how long how I got food. And I told them, now most people would have thought I was crazy telling them about my new shoes, how much cash I had on me and all that. We all sat around had a good old time, they gave me beers, passed around a joint. Man let me tell you Harlem, that’s where all the best herbs go through. I had herd it but it wasn’t till then did I believe it. They gave me a ride to the park, and right before we all left two of the young ones had pulled me aside to try to ask questions about some plants and I saw two of the older guys over by my bag. I wasn’t worried. It wasn’t till later that evening when I pulled out my stuff I found a nice sack of Harlem herb that the boys had placed in my pack. People is People guess I always knew it, but it wasn’t till then did I truly learn it.
Karma goes around though just a couple weeks later still in New York I got lost and found my self by this lake in some park. I went swimming taking long dives into the water. When I got out to the shore I herd this yelling. You hear that? I asked this young Harlem boy? We decided kids were just haven fun, then we saw these kids swimming out to this island, they were the ones doing the yelling and looked like they were in trouble. I decided they needed help. Then this 300 pound lady says well I have a raft so in the three of us go. Now this was my second time on the trial so I am at 145 with a skinny ass waist with an ore in my hand trying to steer this boat and man we’re going no where. The other fellow looks at the lady and say she needs to get out. Now this next part is just such a wonderful reflection of what the human soul is capable of. The big ol 300 pound lady yells, “I can’t swim,” With that she flings her self over board. None of us realized we were only in 4 feet of water so she was fine. By the time we make it to deeper water, over to where the boys are only two out of the three are still above water. They look like rats, we pulled them aboard then told them to rest, then start diving as soon as they were able. We dove and dove, staying down for as long as we could it was dark under the water. We would dive then follow the ground moving our arms all over the place. Then I thought I felt hair. We pulled the boy aboard, then quickly rowed him over to the island. I performed CPR and got vomit in my lungs but were able to revive him. He had only been down for a matter of minutes. About an hour or so later we all get back in the raft and start rowing it back to the 300 pound lady to return her raft. Then we see this park ranger waving us over. I want to keep going but we change course and head toward the ranger. “Now I’ve got to write them all tickets” ranger said. For what I asked. “For swimming, there are signs all over the place that say no swimming.” Not from the south side, I say. If your going to write them tickets you’ll have to write us all tickets. I came from the south side and there are no sings posted. Believe me these boys have learnt there lessen. The ranger left without issuing tickets. The three boys looked like drowned rats and the one could barely stand. The ranger must have seen most of it and all he could do was think about writing tickets.”

Gypsy told another story about meeting several people of the same extended family, one in Virginia, another in New Hampshire, and a third in Maine. Each member did not know him but had invited him over for food. Several years later he returned for the Grandfathers 100 birthday.

I listened to his stories until late, 8:00 or so. The bar runs out of change which is a problem because I can not call my girl collect (weird cell phone stuff). I call we are able to talk for 10 minutes, also call my parents. The next morning I wake late, 8:30 slowly get up, my body is still sore but feels much better, I have refilled my salts and water. The only food I need is two dinners. I have not been eating much and still have much food. I leave late, about 1:00 I have 13 or so miles till the next shelter. The weather calls for rain so I want to make it to cover by night fall. I hike, it rains, I hike, it rains harder, I hike up hill, it rain hard, I hike more up hill, it continues to rain. I wear my rain jacket, but not the paints. The paints grip my legs and restrict movement. It is warm enough in May to have wet legs. It continues to rain, I do not make any stops, and continue up. About five minutes after I arrive at the shelter the rain stops. I put on my long under wear top, wring out my socks and put on my dry sneakers. A nice fire would be good. I collect hemlock branches still attached to the trees. A fire from last year burn much of the under brush and left many small dead trees. I pull down the trees, mostly maple and build my fire. All this probably took 2 hours. I got the fire going on the second try and burnt much, much wood. My body felt good, I dried out and cooked my dinner. I read the registration journals, open it to a random page. Jan 28/03 “It was a good hike 4-5 inches of snow, very peaceful.” Next entry was typed out on a sticker and stuck onto the page. “Hello I am called ease-one I am 81 years old and I am completing my fifth completion of the trail. My first two times section hiking, the last three times as a through hiker. I wear a blue pack, carry two sticks and will be going slow. If you see me stop and say hello, and believe me, it just doesn’t get any better then this. Enjoy your hike.” That 81 year old was finishing up his through hike in January. I thought about this entry a lot in the day to follow.
I waited for other campers to come, all who had hiked today would be wet. I wanted company and to show off my beautiful fire. Night came, I arranged camp, hung my food on the mice ropes. I hear the mice scatter and rattle in the rafters only feet from my head. I think about the story Zip had told me about recently finding a large 5-6 foot long rat snake in a shelter. Its dark, I was only worried about copper heads, night is to cold for them. I sleep and am wakened twice by very strong rain storms. I am glad I am in the shelter. The rain puts out the coals. I wake the next morning arrange camp, wait till the very last possible moment to put on my cold wet boots and socks. I hike leaving camp at dawn. My boots are very heavy from the water. With in the first 4 miles of the day I had developed 4 blisters. I use moleskin to cover the blisters. Today is level, with a mild down hill. I decide to change into my tennis shoes. My feet are much lighter, I hike on.
It is level for the first 10 or so miles. At 10:00 I run into a day hiker carrying a flower book. I ask him about several of the flowers along the trail, he lets me thumb through his well worn book. I try to memorize several names of the more common ones. It was then that I realized how much ground I had already covered. Today’s hike was not accompanied by the stiffness and knee pain. I had hiked 8 miles by 10:30. I continue onward arriving at what was suppose to be my camp for the evening by 1:00. I feel good, its another nine or so miles to davenport gap, my truck is parked close to the gap. Pizza for dinner? It would be a hard hike but I studied the map and knew I could finish the trail today. I had never hiked so far in one day, to finish the trail today would be a 23 mile hike. I remember a recent conversation with my dad. “My experience most people can achieve much more physically then they think possible.” “Why” he asks. “Could be many reasons I guess.... patient after patient I find, and attempt to prove to them that they are stronger then they think.” Me and my damm mouth. I wanted to take the challenge. I ate 2 granola bars, my first food of the day, drank a quart of gateraid and kept walking. Gentle up then the rest would be down. I was sad to be leaving, this trail does go on forever. Several days ago that thought was tough thought to think, as I was tiredly trying to make my way though sun up to sun down. Now it is a different thought, more adventure to come. I know how much I will look forward to this next year, and perhaps the year after that and on and on... “The road goes on forever and party never ends.” Good old Willy Nelson’s got it. I hike on get tired, make Davenport gap then leaving the trail have to hike for additional 2 hours to make the truck. I hiked 23 miles hiked for an additional 1-2 hours to make the truck. I laid in the trucks bed, took a picture then drove to a local hostel. Here I payed for a shower, got onto the highway and drove to the closest town. I felt drunk with fatigue and natural endorphins, I didn’t really trust myself to drive far, and concentrated hard to stay focused. I called my parents and my girl told them I was safe and decided I should eat. I should be hungry after that hike but I was not. I had only eaten 2-3 granola bars at lunch and several quarts of gateraid. All chain stores, I go to Pizza hut. It is very cold with airconditioning. The air feels unnatural, synthetic, this annoys me. I am cold and have to return to my truck, painfully dig through my things and find a sweater. I eat half a small pizza and listen to the high school marching band group of friend flirt and sing loudly, I don’t mind the place is empty. The only problem is the waiter is friends with the group and I have to walk to the register for my drink refills. I sleep in a cheep hotel and have to request a first floor room. I phone my girl, we talk the everyday stuff. Its good to hear from her but it all sounds so ordinary. We hang up I can’t wait to see her. I go to the sink. You turn the faucet clean water come rushing out, no pumping, as much as you want. You close the door, no mice no bears will bother you, food is safe, no worries. In the shower the walls are covered with acid yellow tile, the fan rattles loudly, the water is warm on my legs. I get out look at the room the textured ceiling, the door, the TV with Chapell performing his skits, the left over pizza, the phone the bed with its warm blankets and comfortable mattress and pillows, the stained carpet. I think about the 160 year old home, the hostel I stayed in, the beauty and power of the French Broad River, The Pigeon River, the green of new growth, the wetness of the rain, I am sad to be leaving and sad to be in my hotel room. Next year, there is still more trail out there for ya. It say this out loud but to no one. I stretch work my legs and go into a deep sleep.

Leave a Reply