The Journey Begins...

The sun rose that morning like it always does. Early. And Bright. As usual, I did not witness this event, despite its implications for me. The difference was that this morning two people, with nothing better to do, were about to start hiking the famous Appalachian Trail, a much anticipated trek. We figured that when you’ve been planning a trip for 5 years, what’s the harm in a few extra hours of shut eye? No one else seemed to share this sentiment, however, and even the 27 Boy Scouts had already packed up and vanished without alerting Julia and I to their departure. We proceeded to eat a warm oatmeal breakfast and leisurely packed our meager belongings into backpacks about to get their first taste of trail life. By leisurely, I mean at the same rate as glacial motion. Four hours leisurely. And them we were off. It was a grueling 2.5 mile hike. If you don’t see the sarcasm in that, we did 15 in the same time frame on Sunday. We planned to take it slow at first, I goal we mastered easily. This seems like the best approach, because everybody else was exhausted and miserable when they got to camp the first few days. At some point we realized that this trip isn’t really about reaching Katahdin or doing so many miles every day. It really is about the journey. Otherwise it’s the same rat race that we left behind. You can see it reflected in the faces of people who hope to find some great peace out here, but can’t leave that “goal oriented” mindset behind. The true peace as far as I can tell comes from a clear mind, not one obsessing about their mileage and speed. Those people with nothing to talk about but how fancy their gear is. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. I can’t say I’ve met a single person out here I had a problem with. Even the guy who hung a bear bag in a shelter. But we’ll get to him later.
Anywho, we hiked along at a gradually increasing pace for several days, sorting out the best way to pack, how to divvy duties, etc. I still do all the cooking, and Julia is the homemaker. We avoided the shelters, because they are always crowded and infested with really cute, destructive mice. Then, the rain came. We knew a storm was coming, but had been told it was a few days off. That morning, we awoke soaking wet and getting dripped on. Apparently the seams on our tent were not sufficiently sealed. Woops. My fault. We were cold and wet, so we turned on Julia’s phone and called the hostel down the road. They had just received a cancellation and we took it. Lucky us, because they were booked up for days due to the crappy weather. We then hoofed it 6 miles in the rain to the nearest road for a ride. Hiking in the rain is fine, you stay warm and don’t mind little discomforts. Leaving a tent, even a leaky one, and getting ready in the rain is a miserable experience, however. But you know there really isn’t another option and you deal with it. So we got to the hostel, dried off, did laundry, went to Wal-Mart, and fell asleep. The hostel was awesome, with chickens, bee hives, and composting. The breakfast of pancakes and fresh eggs was delicious beyond description. Everything tastes better out here, but this was pure decadence. The next day, we headed back to the trail. Julia made the observation that people don’t quit the trail while they’re hiking. It’s once they get to town, sleep in a bed, and eat a meal prepared by someone else that they question the logic of carrying on. We resisted the draw of creature comforts, at least for now, and were happily hiking on. In the rain. We stayed in shelters for the next 3 days, where we really got to know some of our fellow hikers. Nothing brings people together like foul weather in the wilderness.(literally and figuratively)
It was on our trek to the second shelter that I experienced my first stress since being out here. I had hiked ahead of Julia and was waiting for her at the top of a mountain. I walked around a bit, because someone had built a campsite at this spot. As I bent over to pick up some litter out of the fire pit, Julia walked past me. I continued to wait, then hiked back to see what was taking so long. I decided she must have passed me and ran (in the rain with a pack on) for about a mile and thought I should have caught up with her. I then freaked out a bit, possibly because we had seen many warnings about aggressive bears in the area, and our last conversation had been about a 7 yr old who was pulled out of his family’s tent and devoured by a bear. So I dropped my pack and ran to where I had seen her last, shouting her name. I made it to where we had seen each other last and was forced to accept that my options were now limited. She was either on her way to the shelter, which I would now be lucky to make it to by dark;(I wasn’t lucky) or she had been pulled off the trail and eaten by a bear. So I moved with all speed to the shelter, trying to avoid thinking about anything at all, realizing that worries I had in the ’real world’ were absolutely frivolous by comparison. I made it to the shelter just as twilight turned to full darkness. I’ll spare you the details, but it was a happy reunion. And no, I didn’t cry, there was rain in my eyes.
I then passed out promptly, sans dinner. A truly unheard of thing out here. The next morning, I woke up and saw some stuff sacks hanging from the center beam of the shelter. I assumed it was clothes, because who would be stupid enough to string up their food directly over their own head. I laid back down and closed my eyes, glad to be taking a zero day to wait out the worst of the foul weather. Then I heard Julia say, “Oh my god, is that your bear bag?” The brilliant outdoorsman replied that it was more of a mouse bag. For the record, there are really nice, convenient bear bag hangers at every shelter made of steel cables. Julia started yelling at him and rationally explaining his stupidity, to which he argued that he wasn’t afraid of black bears and he had never had a problem with bears. At this point I got pissed off and made him the second person in years that I have actually yelled at. I colorfully explained that I didn’t care if he cuddled with his bear bag when he was by himself, but how dare he endanger the lives of 4 other people he doesn’t know. I also explained that he was endangering his relatives as well, because if a bear had so much as scratched Julia, I would have murdered his extended family while he watched. Then I suggested a new place for him to store his bear bag and that was about the end of the conversation. I felt bad later, recognizing that I was still a bit on edge from the day before, and by the time he left, we had engaged in civil conversation and he turned out to be an alright guy. I also doubt he’ll be hanging his bear bag in public shelters anymore. We found out later that they actually closed that stretch of trail because of bear problems only days later. I spent the rest of the day reading and Julia worked on the itinerary.
The next day was rough, because we had finally given our muscles enough time to realize what we were putting them through. In spite of our protesting bodies, we hiked 13 miles to a shelter near the road that would take us to Helen GA. When we got to the shelter, it was beyond full, but we were greeted enthusiastically by a few of the people we had met earlier. This really turns into a sort of loose traveling family. We appreciated the welcome, but decided to try and find a campsite down the trail. Two miles later, we reached the road. It was pitch black, windy, and frigid. We tried to hitch a ride for an hour and a half with no success. Julia got out her phone and tried to call a hotel in Helen and ask them for the number to a cab, but her phone was out of batteries, despite having been turned off and fully charged at the last hostel. Julia was getting really frustrated, having never hitched before, and we decided to camp out by the road. As we turned to set up our tent, one last truck came by and we dutifully held out our thumbs. To our surprise, the truck slammed on the brakes in the middle of the road and a guy about our age yelled for us to hop in the back because the cab was filled with who knows what. We asked if he could take us to the Best Western in Helen and he said he’d take us somewhere in Helen, and that was good enough for us.
The next 9 miles are difficult to explain. They were over the kind of winding, twisted roads that only exist in the mountains of the south. The kind where the road is on a 90 degree angle around turns to keep you from flying off the road. This is a desirable condition, because flying off the road would mean running into a shear cliff or sailing off of one. The turns were inclined much like a NASCAR track, which is my explanation for why our chauffer chose to drive at almost double the 35 mph speed limit across all lanes of traffic. Did I mention it was a cold and windy night? As Julia and I held on for our very lives in the back of a near-out-of-control pick-up guided by a maniac through a frosty damp night in a place that seemed very similar to the middle of nowhere, we found a new cognition somewhere between exhilaration and madness. I have never felt so close to death.
He dropped us off at the local Super 8 and we thanked him, though we were more thankful for him stopping than for giving us a ride. We must have looked pitiful walking through the door; windburned, soggy and with a look in our eyes that told of experiences beyond the scope of sanity. The woman inside was the most pleasant person I have ever met, no exaggeration. (Sorry Arlove, your title has been taken) She loaded us with complimentary cookies and OJ, gave us maps of the town, and hooked us up with a King-Size Jacuzzi Suite (read SWEET!) for the hiker rate of $35 dollars. And she was even aptly named Joy.
So we’re here in Helen for our second day, checked out from our wonderful temporary abode, at the public library, about to get lunch and return to where we belong. Hope to see you out there.