Chunky Gal Trail Intersection

Very clever Appalachian Trail, but I'm not falling for your ruse. With I, a battered but determined thru-hiker, a mere 80 miles from Springer, you are clearly worried that you will soon be conquered. For shame, Appalachian Trail, that you have the audacity to try and sway a wouldbe thru-hiker off trail with such an obvious nonveridical temptation! You'll have to try harder than that to stop me Appalachian Trail! I am getting to Springer! And further more, your failed attempt to throw up this roadblock has only served to embolden my resolve!

A Day of Fog and Rain

Yesterday, I hiked in the fog and rain to US 64, then hitched into Franklin, NC. This will be my last overnight town visit before Springer Mountain.

It was a hard day, one of the hardest in weeks. Not because of the terrain or elevation gain, but a cold rain poured relentlessly until I was soaked to the bone. It didn't stop until I was finished for the day and under a roof.

Since most people don't want to pick up hitchhikers at night, I had to run many of the day's miles over slippery wet leaves in order to get to the highway before dark. A man in a white pick-up drove past and saw me pacing back and forth along the highway with my thumb out. As is customary in the south he was friendly enough to put on his brakes and come back for me.

"Hey, I can take you to Franklin," he said. "Let me just make some room for you." He had been hunting, so the cab was filled with camouflaged gear and guns. "I saw you standing in the rain with night coming and figured I should come back for you."  He pulled out a two-pack of brand new raccoon traps that had been sitting in the passenger seat and set them in the bed of the truck. "That's my son's Christmas present."

The locals along the trail have been incredibly friendly, but in the south I think they make it there duty to search out someone to help. My driver dropped me off near Mulligan's bar and I walked in for a sandwich and hot coffee. When I finished eating, a woman and her husband walked up to my table. "Are you hiking the trail?" she asked. We talked briefly then she asked, "Do you have a place to spend Christmas?" I've been invited into so many homes along this trail, but it still surprises me that people will so quickly put up a smelly stranger they have only known for five minutes. Don't listen to the local news; America is, by a wide margin, friendlier than it is dangerous. "You enjoy the rest of the trail. And, for sure, you do have a place to go for Christmas?" she asked again.

Footwork and I decided to split the cost of a hotel room, so after finishing a second cup of joe, I walked to the Franklin Motel to meet him there. I went right to my bed and crashed. Soon after, my feet swelled up, as they tend to do at the end of a long day. My toes resembled fat little sausages that have been soaking in dishwater all day. I've gotten used to this. When I'm hiking, I feel like I'm in the best shape of my life. I can climb three thousand feet of elevation, without stopping for a break, and never feel that lactic acid burn in my muscles. At night, however, after I've stopped hiking for a few minutes, my legs stiffen and are so sore that I waddle around like Redd Foxx trying to rush to answer his front door on Sanford and Son. My knees ache at the end of the day so much that whenever I waddle into a public restroom and see those handicap bars next to the toilet, I rejoice. It's just one of life's little pleasures, you understand.

They say it takes as long to recover from an AT thru-hike as it does to hike it. As long as I keep moving I feel great. I guess the trick is to just never stop moving, ever.

Fontana Dam

Just beyond the Great Smoky Mountain's southern border, the trail crossed Fontana Dam, the highest dam in the eastern United States at 480 feet tall. To late season southbounders it symbolizes getting through the frozen Smoky Mountains alive.

I only had one minor injury from the cold. I tucked a hand warmer in my sock, as I've done a few times before when I can't get my feet warm at night. It worked its way up my sock and I woke up with a second-degree burn underneath. What surprises me more than the nasty red blisters cooked onto my ankle, is that I was so exhausted from hiking up snow covered mountains all day that it didn't even wake me up.

And the worst part is, I just realized I'm now a part of that group of idiots that have made it necessary to put warning labels on everything.

The View From Clingmans Dome

It's chilly at 6,643 feet this time of year, to say the least. Strong freezing winds, and feeling symptoms of a cold coming on, kept me from staying long to enjoy the view. I was sure I caught what the others have, but I'm feeling much better now. We left the Smokies yesterday and soon after the weather became instantly better, like we passed back through the wardrobe from the land of Narnia.The snow and ice are gone and today was warm enough to hike in shorts again.

I'm going to miss waking up to these views. The six months I've spent out here have seemed like years. That's what happens when you don't stand still long enough for your sorroundings to become ordinary. I can barely remember what it's like to wake up in the same place every morning.

And Then There Were Two

Joe is the forth in the group to get too sick to continue. It's just Footwork and I now. We'll miss Joe. He was a great guy to hike with.

This is the first sufficient cell signal I've had in a few days. I have a lot of miles left to do today, so I'll post more later today when I get to my destination.

Coldest Night Yet

No bears, but that was the coldest night on the trail so far. I expected it since I couldn't get my shoes off last night until I thawed out the shoestrings by holding them in my fists for a couple minutes.

My water froze again, but I stayed warm enough. I worried my sleeping bag wouldn't cut it in the Smokies, but it was fine. The only problem is getting out of it. That takes a lot of motivation on a cold morning like this. I'm looking at my frozen boots, that are as hard as a rock, and my frozen socks that are laying next to me like stiff dead rats. Actually getting into these socks would be literally impossible.

I just have to think of the hot food and laundromat dryer in Gatlinburg. That is what will get me out of this sleeping bag. We are going to try to hitch into there today.


Ridgeline Hike

This is one of the few warm sunny spots on the trail today. I spent most of the day hiking along the ridgeline in the snow. Even with cold wet feet, it was a good day for a hike. Although that sort of changed over the last few miles after nightfall. All the snow that started to melt, quickly turned to ice. The slick trail edged some precarious dropoffs as well, making for a slow night hike. Eventually, I just wanted the day's hike to be over. I wanted to slip out of my cold wet socks and slip into my warm sleeping bag. When I thought the shelter would be coming up at any moment, I got to a sign that said I was still 1.5 miles away. The final mile took the longest, as it was totally coated in ice, but at last I arrived. It's such a great feeling to see your shelter at the end of a long day. There was a sign posted out front. "Shelter Closed Due To Aggressive Bear Activity." There are eight icy miles to the next shelter, so I'm going to just pretend I didn't see that.

Standing Bear Hostel

I spent last night in the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. We have all worried about the Smokies for weeks. We knew it would be cold. We knew there would be snow. We were right.

I'm with Joe and a hiker named Footwork. With the finish line in sight, many have taken ill and stayed behind at the Standing Bear Hostel (pictured). We'll regroup after the Smokies. Red is suffering from a pretty nasty cold. We thought Double D had Giardia, but the doc thinks he just has a stomach flu that's going around. Puddles has a sinus infection and onset pneumonia, according to his doctor. Just about everyone else has a mild cough and wonder if we are the next to be bedridden. The trail seems to be throwing out roadblocks in the final stretches.

There's little time for sickness now, and after today, only 200 miles to go. That could mean only ten days left, but I think we all want to finish with the group, i.e. friends that understand what we've all been through... and understand why I'll, no doubt, be sobbing.

The Million Dollar Question

At some point, we've all been asked, “What would you do if you had a million dollars?” Today I thought back to when Red asked me that question while we were in Maine five months ago.

We were two weeks into the Appalachian Trail. I finished hiking for the day and carried my water bottle to a nearby pond to fill up. The daylight began to fade to warm hues as the sun sank toward the horizon. I put my bottle underwater, waited for all the air to gurgle out, then screwed on the cap. The sky was too pretty to leave. A fallen log on the shore of the pond provided a seat to watch the sunset.

The sky slowly transitioned to an intense fiery collection of light. Red showed up with his water bottle. He filled it up then walked out on the log to join me. We talked while we waiting for the vibrant colors to reach their peak. That’s when he asked me that million-dollar question.

“If I had a million dollars?" I said. "I would quit my job and hike the Appalachian Trail."

“You didn’t need a million dollars to do that,” he said.  

That had been my answer to that question for a long time. I’m glad I realized before it was too late, that I didn’t need it.

“This is beautiful. Yeah, same here man. I’d still be here even if I had a million dollars,” he said. “Although, I would own the lightest gear money can buy.”

He stood and started to walk down the log to back up to the shelter.

“What are you doing? It’s not done yet,” I said. “It will be worth it, trust me.”

He sat back down and slowly the sky became even more vivid. When we finally left the pond and headed back up the hill to the shelter, Red said, "Thanks for forcing me to stay longer."

A few others where gathered around the shelter: Moccasin, Deckeye, a girl chaperoning a small group of girl scouts nearby, and a northbound thru-hiker who we later referred to as "The Negative Nobo." He was about as far from his finish line back then, as I am from my finish line today. I stood by our fire and talked to the Girl Scout leader who asked questions about the trail.

"How many total mountains do you have to climb on the Appalachian Trail," she asked. I began to answer, but was cut off by The Negative Nobo.

"Thousands. And all of them pointless. You go up, then just go back down, then you go right back up again," he said. Now you sort of know why we called him that.

I wondered if I would be as positive about the trail when I had hiked as long as he had. I don't think he would give the same answer for the million-dollar question, but even today, after more than 1,900 miles, my answer remains the same. I asked Red this question again last night.

"Red, if you had a million dollars, would you still just want to hike?"

"Yeah, man. I would just go to another long-distance trail and keep hiking,” he said.


  
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A Backpacker's Life List by Ryan Grayson is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.   


The Dog

We seem to have picked up another member of our group. Two hunting dogs with tracking collars followed us around yesterday. The other one seemed to be following a scent and moved out ahead of us barking and howling down the trail. The other stayed with us and slept in our shelter last night. He's a bit hyperactive and I had to share a summer sausage with him, but I kind of like having him around. We'll be in town today and will try to contact the owners. Otherwise, we have a dog I guess.

UPDATE: We got into Hot Springs, NC last night. We got to a local diner and tied the dog to a post outside. We started referring to him as "Muttly" even though I'm sure he's a specific well-bred bear hunting dog. I called the number on his collar and talked to the owner. A couple minutes later, the owner put me on hold because another call came through. It was a man outside the diner that knew it was a bear hunting dog, knew we were just thru-hikers, and thought we were trying to keep him ourselves. We all grew attached to ol' Muttly. I know at least Red and I were sad to see him go. Oh well, it wouldn't have been easy taking a dog on a hike through the Smokies anyway. Muttly is at home and hopefully putting some meat back on those bones.

Hitchin' a Ride

A few sobos, who had already finished their hike this year (Milk Carton, Buzz Lightyear, and Easy), drove to Springer to visit friends finishing their trip. They met us in Mars Hill. Nine of us piled into Milk Carton's 5-passenger Kia Sportage with our gear tied to the roof and headed to Asheville, North Carolina.

At first, how we managed to pack into that car was hilarious. After fifteen miles, being smooshed into a Kia was more uncomfortable than funny.

We had some food and drink in town then shared a hotel room for the night. Red, Joe, and I spent the next day trying to hitch the 28 miles back to the trail. After four hours, and three hitches, we were still fifteen miles away. After nightfall, we met a nice guy named Chuck at a gas station who offered to drive us the rest of the way. When we got to the trailhead, Chuck passed us each a beer and toasted to a successful trip. The moon was half full, but provided enough light to hike the two miles to the next shelter without headlamps. We will try to make up the lost miles over the next few days.

More Cold and Snow

I believe this to be the coldest night yet on the trail, possibly in the teens if the weatherman is right. I'm sure our water will be ice by morning. As we climbed Big Bald Mountain, some snow drifts were ankle to calf deep. It's slowing us down, but it should warm up by tomorrow. There is a nice fire crackling. We've been circling it much of the evening, with our damp socks held out over it to dry. I'm comfortable in my sleeping bag as I type this out on my cell phone, so I'm not as worried about the cold weather anymore. Unless I fall in a river.

That giant snowball pictured is one-third of a snowman from last night. It was too cold for anyone to want to finish it. As you use your imagination to picture what the finished product would have looked like, don't forget to picture it awesome, because it would have been.

Caught Up To Red

I caught up with Red! This is him posing so Sixgun and Thumper can see how his beard is coming along. I'm sure they are as upset as me that he isn't allowing his Bob Ross afro to grow in. To have that ability and not use it... I just don't get it.

Soon after meeting Red and the others with him, I realized how much I miss out on when I don't hike in a group. For example, when you are alone and you see a flyer in town for amateur pro wrestling (Iron Cross vs. Scotty Rocker) at a local high school, you keep hiking south. When you are in a group with Red, you go to the store to buy markers and poster board, make signs and a cardboard iron cross, then go to the school pretending to be the world's biggest Iron Cross fans. I saw a video of this. The 5 of them made up 20% of the crowd, but 99% of the noise. They screamed made up slogans, chanted "Iron Cross! Iron Cross!" and yelled at the ref when Scotty Rocker cheated and won the match.

I think I'll stick with them a while and see what else happens.