That my adventure is coming to an end. I felt like I was able; I believed my knee was ready despite reservations; but after several days of pounding descents, I know that I simply will not continue at a pace and a level I am comfortable with. Good folks of the Blogosphere, my Appalachian Trail days of 2011 are over. My hike will not be continuing.
I was back to the Trail last week, and headed out with an eagerness that I have never felt. I was going mad internally, wanting to return to something that gave me focus and purpose. After all, this was the only plan I had. I carried a 'do-or-die' feeling deep inside, and so when I set foot on the Trail in central Virginia a calm settled over me.
That calm, however, did not last long. Uphill climbs were tough, and I missed my trail legs immensely. The heat was overwhelming to me at times; I had just stepped into a scenario that was far different than the one I had left at the Smokies. However, despite the toll I took climbing hills, I knew I would get stronger and more acclimated. The downhills, on the other hand, were brutal. Not on the lungs, or the legs necessarily, but the knees. The left one, in particular. It did not take long to realize that I was in for a steady dose of pain with every hill I walked down. And, you know....damndest thing about climbing a mountain....seems like every time you get to the top of one, you have to walk right down the other side. Weird.....
The day reality started setting in was when I came down Bluff Mountain at dusk. It was a rocky mile and a half, some parts with a pretty steep grade, with multiple switchbacks that zig-zagged you all the way down to the valley below. The hike itself was gorgeous, and full of wildlife--in fact, in about three miles of trail, I saw the largest buck I'd ever seen, a large doe and a fawn, a fox, and a black bear; the first black bear of my trip, my first ever in the wild, and I stood about 100ft from him without him ever knowing I was there. When I made my presence known so as not to startle him, he gave me an awnry, guttural snort and shot up a tree like he was a house cat. It was inspiring, and frightening, and exhilarating.
However beautiful the scenery was, I cannot say the same for my condition after the descent from the summit. Uneven footing led to a lot of stumbling and fumbling for stable walking position. Twisting and turning and jolting of my legs and knees grew with every five yards. Large steps cut into the trail felt like mild jumps where nothing was to catch me but my joints. I got about a quarter-mile from shelter when a light sprinkle set in, and I dropped my bag in the middle of the path and sprawled out on top of it for about fifteen minutes. I began to truly face the reality of my condition versus the impending conditions of the rest of my journey. I mean, this is no isolated incident in the middle of nowhere; it ain't like you only come across a rocky patch once every month or something, nor do you encounter steep climbs down only rarely. I gathered myself, made it to camp, pitched my tent, and had a soul-searching night listening to a summer rain move in and out. On a brighter note, the site I stayed at is reputedly haunted, so I had hopes of an encounter....I'll save that story for a later date.
The next day I pressed on, amid the bugs and humidity. I faced another long stretch of downhill about 6 miles into my day, and that proved to be the final sign. I made it into camp with a slight limp, indicative of the problems that set in once before. I told myself that night that the next morning was decision time-- either I can go on for greater distance or I can't, and before I get farther and farther in I have to reckon which is most likely to be true. When I awoke the next day, along a picturesque creek in a storybook setting, I took one step on my swollen knee and knew the truth.
I must admit, I had a bit of a personal breakdown at that moment. Not solely because I felt defeated in some ways, which I did, but more so because this meant I no longer had a plan. I had no plan to get out, I had no plan to return to society, I had no plan to move forward in anything else at the moment. But, there I was; whatever plans I had previously laying before me, no longer viable options for my future. So, I lied down in them for just a moment and grieved. I read somewhere--I believe the words coming from Ghandi-- that one "Should not wallow in self-pity; however, it's okay to dabble your feet in it for a little while." So, that's what I did. I dabbled in a moment of sadness and fear and pity. Then, I made my morning coffee, and started thinking about my new future, and what that would entail. I hiked my way to US Hwy 60, started walking westward, caught a hitch from two nice gentlemen in a pickup, and found myself fifteen minutes later in Lexington, VA. About 34hrs later, I was back in Alabama surrounded by family.
When I returned home in May to see a doctor, I began to realize quickly how much I missed my family. I felt I had been absent from the lives of so many people that meant a great deal to me. Little nieces and nephews getting older with every day would think of me as a passing memory, I feared. Friends that I care deeply for would consider me more of an acquaintance. So, I said to myself then that I would not let any of that happen. I would not let where I am or what I'm doing hamper my chances to stay close to those that mean the world to me. One thing that I carry from the Trail is a renewed sense of faith in people, and the importance of surrounding oneself with those that bolster the spirit and work toward common good. I met a multitude of people in the woods that I probably would never have approached in daily life. I befriended truck drivers, war vets, pre-med students, union laborers, musicians, retired doctors, psychologists, chefs, and many more. I felt privileged to have come in contact with such high-caliber people...I'm just a vagabond at this point, with no real direction, and I am thankful that people with such focus and character considered me an equal.
So, the next phase of my journey begins now. This one is a bit more vague, but it is a journey nonetheless. I feel I will find myself in Alabama for a bit, at least long enough to secure transportation and bolster my economic security. Then, Cincinnati beckons me, for that's where all my belongings are waiting and a host of great people as well. Two of my most wonderful friends are joining their lives this September, so at the latest the Queen City will see me then. No matter where it is, I will be reaching out to those that I care for; I will be cherishing my time with family; I will let those I love more than anything know so, and plan for a future that allows me to spend more and more time with them. I do still have stories to tell, so I'll be posting those here, rounding out the little adventure I've had over the last two months.
So, stick around. There's more to tell....I'll be in touch.
~Whispering Beard
AT Section hiker, 2011-?
Monday, June 13, 2011
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
My feet are gettting 'The Itch'
And it ain't that I-don't-wash-thoroughly-enough itch. It's time to move on. The Trail is calling; I'll see it within 72 hours, max.
The official diagnosis from the orthopedic doctor was bursitis, or inflammation of the fluid sacs in my left knee which aid in reducing friction of tendons over bones. The inflammation caused my ankle and leg to swell and allowed fluid to collect underneath my kneecap. Treatment was a beefy anti-inflammatory drug and a couple steroid shots in the knee. And, by 'in the knee,' I mean in the knee. It was.....well, let's just say I've never had a needle that large in my body, let alone in between bones and tendon. Dr. Stokes was great, and he certainly tried to keep the conversation moving as he jabbed that turkey baster into my knee. But I don't think there is any amount of conversation that can remove one's mind from the large obtrusion that is injecting what feels like lava into an area that already hurts to the point of making one hobble as though they have Polio. All's well that ends well, I reckon; there's a little residual stiffness and slight discomfort, but all in all I'm feeling ready for some walkin'.
So now it's time to formulate a new plan. With the time spent at the Fontana shelter coupled with the time spent off trail, I've lost about three weeks' worth of hiking. I will, in fact, be moving ahead of my stopping point; right now, all indications point to southern Virginia. I can make good time in Virginia, and I've been looking forward to the Highlands. I hear it's gorgeous....then again, it's all gorgeous in its own way.
I've heard the easiest way to make the Universe laugh is to tell It all about your plans. So, I'm just gonna stop making plans and simply walk. I want to move forward; the end is out there somewhere. And besides, I'd rather make the Universe laugh by some wittier means....it sounds to me like schedules to the Universe are the equivalent of fart jokes to a teenager, and that's just not clever enough. After all, I used to be funny professionally.
Well, folks, I think that's all for now. I'd like to quickly say that I really appreciate the positivity that so many people have sent me, even before this whole trip began. Many have commented that they are living vicariously through my endeavors. I welcome your mental companionship; hiking the Trail has already given me a greater sense of something beyond myself, and knowing y'all are walking with me just helps affirm that feeling. It also means I have license to do it up in even grander fashion than I would singularly....I look at it like a pregnant woman eating for two.
The best part is we're just getting started.
I'll be in touch.
-Whispering Beard
The official diagnosis from the orthopedic doctor was bursitis, or inflammation of the fluid sacs in my left knee which aid in reducing friction of tendons over bones. The inflammation caused my ankle and leg to swell and allowed fluid to collect underneath my kneecap. Treatment was a beefy anti-inflammatory drug and a couple steroid shots in the knee. And, by 'in the knee,' I mean in the knee. It was.....well, let's just say I've never had a needle that large in my body, let alone in between bones and tendon. Dr. Stokes was great, and he certainly tried to keep the conversation moving as he jabbed that turkey baster into my knee. But I don't think there is any amount of conversation that can remove one's mind from the large obtrusion that is injecting what feels like lava into an area that already hurts to the point of making one hobble as though they have Polio. All's well that ends well, I reckon; there's a little residual stiffness and slight discomfort, but all in all I'm feeling ready for some walkin'.
So now it's time to formulate a new plan. With the time spent at the Fontana shelter coupled with the time spent off trail, I've lost about three weeks' worth of hiking. I will, in fact, be moving ahead of my stopping point; right now, all indications point to southern Virginia. I can make good time in Virginia, and I've been looking forward to the Highlands. I hear it's gorgeous....then again, it's all gorgeous in its own way.
I've heard the easiest way to make the Universe laugh is to tell It all about your plans. So, I'm just gonna stop making plans and simply walk. I want to move forward; the end is out there somewhere. And besides, I'd rather make the Universe laugh by some wittier means....it sounds to me like schedules to the Universe are the equivalent of fart jokes to a teenager, and that's just not clever enough. After all, I used to be funny professionally.
Well, folks, I think that's all for now. I'd like to quickly say that I really appreciate the positivity that so many people have sent me, even before this whole trip began. Many have commented that they are living vicariously through my endeavors. I welcome your mental companionship; hiking the Trail has already given me a greater sense of something beyond myself, and knowing y'all are walking with me just helps affirm that feeling. It also means I have license to do it up in even grander fashion than I would singularly....I look at it like a pregnant woman eating for two.
The best part is we're just getting started.
I'll be in touch.
-Whispering Beard
Monday, May 9, 2011
Where We've Been, Where We Are, and Where We Go from Here
Franklin, NC, was a great time. If you're ever in town, I highly recommend 76 Outfitters for your backcountry needs, The Rathskeller for good folks and good libations, and Elmore's Fish Fry for fried Oreos.....yeah, that's right. Sweet-battered, deep-fried Oreo cookies. I'll just leave it at that.
Easter Sunday morning was my departure back to the Trail. Everyone I was with caught the early shuttle back; I stayed and finished packing and caught the next shuttle back to Winding Stair Gap. The plan was to hike past the first shelter and on to the second, Wayah Bald, about 12mi away. I got a bit of a later start than I had planned but still had plenty of time to make it. Problem was, I just wasn't feeling it....and I was starting to get some real stiffness in my left knee. Time in town and occasional icing didn't seem to do me much good. I sucked it up, decided I would just take an easy pace, and started up the hill.
About two miles in, I was in a bad way. My mind wasn't in it, I was sluggish after my town visit, and my knee just kept getting more and more painful. After what seemed like far too long, I made it to Siler Bald shelter, only three and a half miles from my start point. It took me over two hours to get there. I decided I was gonna take some time, lie down in the sun, get to feeling better, and get back up and push on to my targeted stop. I ended up sleeping for almost three hours; when I got up, my leg was no better and I found myself staring at 5o'clock with 8 miles to hike. I refused to stop where I was; I felt there was no reason for me to only hike three miles my first day back out after a break. As I pushed on, I started hurting more, and more, and more. I ended up making better time than I thought I would, honestly; by 9:30, I was heading up Wayah Bald, only a mile and a half from the shelter site. I stopped at the observation tower and made some dinner; it was nice, really....crisp winds, clear skies, not a soul around....for a moment, I didn't mind so much I was hobbling. I mean, you have to expect to have pains and aches, so I chalked it up to seasoning of my body and headed down the hill to camp for the night.
After the last mile and a half that night, my knee was jello. For the following three days, it just got worse.
I hiked about five miles a day for the next three, and it was the most painful and unenjoyable hiking I've ever done. I was limping along, constantly having to stop, catching myself with my trekking poles to keep from tumbling down the hill when my knee would give out...no bueno. Wednesday afternoon, I made my descent from the mountains down to the Nantahala Outdoor Center, just outside of Bryson City, NC. The NOC is a really nice area, with a couple restaurant/cafe options, an outfitters, and hostel/bunk space and cabin rentals. I grabbed a bunk and hunkered down for the impending bad weather--the storms that ravaged Alabama and affected so many friends and family members of mine. Thankfully, with the exception of property damage, everyone is safe and healthy.
I stayed at the NOC for a day and a half. The best part was doing some jamming along the Nantahala River with Bass Clef, the cellist, and hanging out with several folks I hadn't seen in several days.
So, this next part I'm not so proud about.....but on Friday, the 29th, I yellow-blazed it. You see, the Appalachian Trail is probably the most well-marked trail on the planet, with white 2"x6" blazes marking trees and rocks all the way. Honestly, you almost have to try to get lost. Blue blazes mark side trails, often for water sources or alternate routes around mountain summits, etc. Yellow blazes.....well, yellow blazes mark roads....right down the middle of about any paved road you've ever been on. I yellow blazed from NOC to Fontana Dam, NC; I caught a ride with Druugy, Totem, and Druugy's dad who had come down to spend a day or two. I had food drops and supplies waiting for me at the Fontana Dam post office, and if I stayed at the NOC I was just going to blow through money. I cut off about 25mi of hiking, which I was in no shape to do....I'm not proud about it, but I quickly realized that, although purists would say you have to pass every white blaze, I'd rather my journey be my own. I needed to get to Fontana, and found a way to do so....if, in the end, those 25mi bother me so that I have to return and hike them, then I simply have an excuse to disappear into the mountains for a couple days. Besides, the company was well worth sticking with.
In Fontana Dam, NC, lies the Fontana Hilton; a 24-person shelter alongside Fontana Lake, with bathrooms and a shower facility. It is truly amazing how excited a person gets to have running water and a hot shower close by. The shelter was free to stay at, as are all hiker shelters, so I could rest up and get my knee back in working order without breaking the bank. I was hoping to be on the trail within a couple days, by first of the week hopefully.
My knee didn't get better. My stride and balance were affected, I couldn't carry my weight on my left leg; and then the swelling set in, from my knee down through my leg and into my ankle. For about three days, my ankle was the size of my bicep; not to say my bicep is all that large, really, but you get the idea. Cabin fever started setting in; sitting around, leg elevated most of the day, not much to do, no real town to speak of...and besides, I couldn't walk 50ft without having to stop and wince. I grew frustrated, furious with myself, anxious and ready to go. Every day, a host of hikers would come in, stay maybe a day or two sometimes, then head back out. I watched at least 50 other hikers come and go, probably more. I stayed at the Fontana Hilton for six days.
Wednesday night, I told myself I was either hiking Thursday or I was going to have to get off the trail and figure out what's going on with my leg. Thursday morning came, I got up as I normally do, and tried to walk...and faced the same problem as I had faced for the past week and a half. I hadn't walked more than a couple miles for over a week; my knee was in constant pain and swollen; I wasn't burning through money, but I was using up supplies needed to get me through the Smokies, which are directly on the other side of the lake I was camped next to.....I could see them every day, but I knew if I set out for them I would be hobbling along at a meager pace and would be completely dissatisfied with myself. So, I made the call: it was time to get better, and I had to get somewhere and see someone to make sure I hadn't incurred any real serious damage. I arrived in Alabama at my parents' late Thursday night. Though I will be back on the Trail as soon as I can be, I'm looking at the very real possibility that my hope of a thru-hike is over; even if I can get back in a couple weeks, time is slowly turning against me to get it all in this year.
For all those who have money in the pot, the official pull-off date is May 5. Winner winner, Chicken dinner.
I've got an appointment to see an orthopedic doctor tomorrow morning. I'm still hobbling about; it's hard to really say I feel any progress yet, though the swelling is now solely located in my knee and not my whole leg.
I thought very seriously about just avoiding this blog and all contact with folks for a while. My intention in writing was to simply catalog my adventure and tell whatever sorts of compelling stories I could. I don't want this to sound like a bemoaning dissertation of my problems; but I realized that it was my choice to bring folks along for the ride, and this is a very big part of the ride at the moment. It's hard for me to tell you--or anyone I have to talk with--that I'm off the Trail. It makes me feel like I've quit. It makes me feel like I've failed. I've tried to purposefully live my life over the past several years with little regard to what others think, so long as I follow what I believe is right and can do right by others; but this makes me feel like there is validation in all doubt and skepticism folks may have of me. I've never completed such a task in my entire life, so I can't say I'd blame people for thinking I wouldn't finish. And by no means am I saying that I'm simply done with it and won't go back; my hope is that there is no major injury, and after some time spent recovering I can get back to the AT and keep heading north. My game plan has, of course, changed a bit; I'll most likely skip ahead of the Smokies a ways so I can give myself a good shot at still getting to Maine by October. The Smokies are close enough to friends and family that I can get back this way and make up the portions I skipped more easily than I could hitch a ride to New England. All that depends on the next couple days, and what the official word is on the ol' left knee. If something is seriously wrong, then I suppose this blog becomes the story of how I'll pay for knee surgery with no insurance. And, I don't know about you, but that sounds like a WAY more depressing story than the original, and probably a lot more boring.....so, I'm hoping for the best.
I feel like, in some way, I've let folks down...and for that, I'm sorry. But I have no choice but to keep positive and keep moving forward. The only way to go is forward....you can't turn around when you're on the Trail.
I'll be in touch.
Easter Sunday morning was my departure back to the Trail. Everyone I was with caught the early shuttle back; I stayed and finished packing and caught the next shuttle back to Winding Stair Gap. The plan was to hike past the first shelter and on to the second, Wayah Bald, about 12mi away. I got a bit of a later start than I had planned but still had plenty of time to make it. Problem was, I just wasn't feeling it....and I was starting to get some real stiffness in my left knee. Time in town and occasional icing didn't seem to do me much good. I sucked it up, decided I would just take an easy pace, and started up the hill.
About two miles in, I was in a bad way. My mind wasn't in it, I was sluggish after my town visit, and my knee just kept getting more and more painful. After what seemed like far too long, I made it to Siler Bald shelter, only three and a half miles from my start point. It took me over two hours to get there. I decided I was gonna take some time, lie down in the sun, get to feeling better, and get back up and push on to my targeted stop. I ended up sleeping for almost three hours; when I got up, my leg was no better and I found myself staring at 5o'clock with 8 miles to hike. I refused to stop where I was; I felt there was no reason for me to only hike three miles my first day back out after a break. As I pushed on, I started hurting more, and more, and more. I ended up making better time than I thought I would, honestly; by 9:30, I was heading up Wayah Bald, only a mile and a half from the shelter site. I stopped at the observation tower and made some dinner; it was nice, really....crisp winds, clear skies, not a soul around....for a moment, I didn't mind so much I was hobbling. I mean, you have to expect to have pains and aches, so I chalked it up to seasoning of my body and headed down the hill to camp for the night.
After the last mile and a half that night, my knee was jello. For the following three days, it just got worse.
I hiked about five miles a day for the next three, and it was the most painful and unenjoyable hiking I've ever done. I was limping along, constantly having to stop, catching myself with my trekking poles to keep from tumbling down the hill when my knee would give out...no bueno. Wednesday afternoon, I made my descent from the mountains down to the Nantahala Outdoor Center, just outside of Bryson City, NC. The NOC is a really nice area, with a couple restaurant/cafe options, an outfitters, and hostel/bunk space and cabin rentals. I grabbed a bunk and hunkered down for the impending bad weather--the storms that ravaged Alabama and affected so many friends and family members of mine. Thankfully, with the exception of property damage, everyone is safe and healthy.
I stayed at the NOC for a day and a half. The best part was doing some jamming along the Nantahala River with Bass Clef, the cellist, and hanging out with several folks I hadn't seen in several days.
So, this next part I'm not so proud about.....but on Friday, the 29th, I yellow-blazed it. You see, the Appalachian Trail is probably the most well-marked trail on the planet, with white 2"x6" blazes marking trees and rocks all the way. Honestly, you almost have to try to get lost. Blue blazes mark side trails, often for water sources or alternate routes around mountain summits, etc. Yellow blazes.....well, yellow blazes mark roads....right down the middle of about any paved road you've ever been on. I yellow blazed from NOC to Fontana Dam, NC; I caught a ride with Druugy, Totem, and Druugy's dad who had come down to spend a day or two. I had food drops and supplies waiting for me at the Fontana Dam post office, and if I stayed at the NOC I was just going to blow through money. I cut off about 25mi of hiking, which I was in no shape to do....I'm not proud about it, but I quickly realized that, although purists would say you have to pass every white blaze, I'd rather my journey be my own. I needed to get to Fontana, and found a way to do so....if, in the end, those 25mi bother me so that I have to return and hike them, then I simply have an excuse to disappear into the mountains for a couple days. Besides, the company was well worth sticking with.
In Fontana Dam, NC, lies the Fontana Hilton; a 24-person shelter alongside Fontana Lake, with bathrooms and a shower facility. It is truly amazing how excited a person gets to have running water and a hot shower close by. The shelter was free to stay at, as are all hiker shelters, so I could rest up and get my knee back in working order without breaking the bank. I was hoping to be on the trail within a couple days, by first of the week hopefully.
My knee didn't get better. My stride and balance were affected, I couldn't carry my weight on my left leg; and then the swelling set in, from my knee down through my leg and into my ankle. For about three days, my ankle was the size of my bicep; not to say my bicep is all that large, really, but you get the idea. Cabin fever started setting in; sitting around, leg elevated most of the day, not much to do, no real town to speak of...and besides, I couldn't walk 50ft without having to stop and wince. I grew frustrated, furious with myself, anxious and ready to go. Every day, a host of hikers would come in, stay maybe a day or two sometimes, then head back out. I watched at least 50 other hikers come and go, probably more. I stayed at the Fontana Hilton for six days.
Wednesday night, I told myself I was either hiking Thursday or I was going to have to get off the trail and figure out what's going on with my leg. Thursday morning came, I got up as I normally do, and tried to walk...and faced the same problem as I had faced for the past week and a half. I hadn't walked more than a couple miles for over a week; my knee was in constant pain and swollen; I wasn't burning through money, but I was using up supplies needed to get me through the Smokies, which are directly on the other side of the lake I was camped next to.....I could see them every day, but I knew if I set out for them I would be hobbling along at a meager pace and would be completely dissatisfied with myself. So, I made the call: it was time to get better, and I had to get somewhere and see someone to make sure I hadn't incurred any real serious damage. I arrived in Alabama at my parents' late Thursday night. Though I will be back on the Trail as soon as I can be, I'm looking at the very real possibility that my hope of a thru-hike is over; even if I can get back in a couple weeks, time is slowly turning against me to get it all in this year.
For all those who have money in the pot, the official pull-off date is May 5. Winner winner, Chicken dinner.
I've got an appointment to see an orthopedic doctor tomorrow morning. I'm still hobbling about; it's hard to really say I feel any progress yet, though the swelling is now solely located in my knee and not my whole leg.
I thought very seriously about just avoiding this blog and all contact with folks for a while. My intention in writing was to simply catalog my adventure and tell whatever sorts of compelling stories I could. I don't want this to sound like a bemoaning dissertation of my problems; but I realized that it was my choice to bring folks along for the ride, and this is a very big part of the ride at the moment. It's hard for me to tell you--or anyone I have to talk with--that I'm off the Trail. It makes me feel like I've quit. It makes me feel like I've failed. I've tried to purposefully live my life over the past several years with little regard to what others think, so long as I follow what I believe is right and can do right by others; but this makes me feel like there is validation in all doubt and skepticism folks may have of me. I've never completed such a task in my entire life, so I can't say I'd blame people for thinking I wouldn't finish. And by no means am I saying that I'm simply done with it and won't go back; my hope is that there is no major injury, and after some time spent recovering I can get back to the AT and keep heading north. My game plan has, of course, changed a bit; I'll most likely skip ahead of the Smokies a ways so I can give myself a good shot at still getting to Maine by October. The Smokies are close enough to friends and family that I can get back this way and make up the portions I skipped more easily than I could hitch a ride to New England. All that depends on the next couple days, and what the official word is on the ol' left knee. If something is seriously wrong, then I suppose this blog becomes the story of how I'll pay for knee surgery with no insurance. And, I don't know about you, but that sounds like a WAY more depressing story than the original, and probably a lot more boring.....so, I'm hoping for the best.
I feel like, in some way, I've let folks down...and for that, I'm sorry. But I have no choice but to keep positive and keep moving forward. The only way to go is forward....you can't turn around when you're on the Trail.
I'll be in touch.
Sunday, May 8, 2011
Q & A
Q & A
by
Whispering Beard
**SETTING: Two people sitting around
a campfire. 'Q' can be played
by either male or female, or
even better would be interchanging
one male and one female to
represent multiple people. 'A' should
be played by a ruggedly charming, fully
bearded male with great wit and great mustache.**
Q
So what are you carrying?
A
Hopefully not much more than I need.
Q
Seriously, what kind of stuff are you carrying?
A
Here's my initial pack list; I'll list brand or specific info if I think it's pertinent:
SHELTER- Tarptent Contrail. Ultralight, one-man-plus; 8 stakes max/4 min and one trekking pole needed for setup. Fully netted. It's been good, a little tricky in the rain sometimes. For a ground cloth, I'm using a 5'x7' tarp.
CLOTHING- One pair convertible pants, one midweight baselayer bottom, one lightweight baselayer top, one short-sleeved t, two pair underwear, three pair socks, two pair sock liners, one wool cap, two bandanas, one midweight fleece(my fleece also works as a windbreaker; bulkier but super warm), rain pants, rain jacket, one pair fleece-y pants for sleeping, one sarong. Since, I've...
Q
Wait just a second; what's a sarong?
A
It's a really thin cotton/linen-ish wrap; the kind of thing islanders and surfers wear.
Q
Why are you carrying one of those?
A
Couple reasons...one, it doubles as my towel and a bedsheet, and does a phenomenal job. Secondly, sometimes I don't feel like wearing pants.
Q
Aahh....
A
Anyways, as I was saying, since then I've picked up a lightweight down jacket in preparation for possible chilly weather through the Smokies, and at the first outfitter I picked up a pair of gloves for around camp. They've come in handy a few times. I sent home the sleeping pants, which I wish I'd kept and might get back, and the liner socks. Now, moving on:
FOOTWEAR- Merril Moab. They've held up well, and are waterproof which has been nice. For around camp, I have a pair of Vibram Five Fingers shoes, the individually-toed foot gloves. I've thought about switching to regular flip flops.
COOKWARE- Esbit Aluminum cookset w/ alcohol burner. Pot is just under a liter with a smaller dish as a lid; the set comes with the burner and a tray for solid fuel tabs...I like the backup option, though it hasn't been implemented yet. The stand and burner fit inside the pot, and without fuel it weighs less than a pound. It has served me well. This is paired with a titanium spork--perhaps my favorite piece of gear.
BEDDING- ThermaRest pad and Marmot 20 degree mummy bag. The bag has been more than enough, even in a 30degree night with good wind. For the summer, I'll probably look to pick up a really light fleece bag or something to shed some weight until I need the insulation again.
WATER- Katadyn Hiker filter, 2L hydration bladder, and 1L Nalgene bottle. I've thought of switching to drops or something to save weight, but I like the filter otherwise.
TOILETRIES- 5oz Dr Bronner's Soap. I use it for everything; face/body/hair/dish/clothes washing, tooth brushing(along with baking soda); 5oz hand sanitizer; Toilet paper roll; Mouthwash drops, in a tiny eye-drop-like bottle; Toothbrush; Comb; about 6 six hair ties; a small natural sponge; Badger Anti-Bug Balm, recommended to me by the Whole Body ladies at Whole Foods Mason. Great stuff, and smells pretty good if you like citronella; stick of sunblock; a small ziplock of ibuprofen, later supplemented with naproxen sodium.
FIRST AID- I started with a generic, prepacked first aid kit. I then added to it and took a few things away. Basic contents are: alcohol prep pads, emergency diarrhea and allergy pills, butterfly closures, band aids, lots of moleskin--and don't waste your time with precut stuff, get full strips that you can custom cut--iodine wipes, blister pack(special band aids for blisters), gauze, sterile pads, and good tape. I've been most pleased with 2" athletic tape.
I'll say this real quick; first aid, as with everything else,comes down to personal preference. Some folks feel they should carry things other folks do not. It all can be summed up by the phrase, "Hike Your Own Hike."
Q
That's a good phrase. Well said.
A
Thank you, I can't take credit for it. Now stop interrupting me.
Q
But I didn't...
A
Please, let me talk for a second....geez...So, where was I...ah, yes:
ELECTRONICS- Brunton i6 solar charger for my phone. I've had some issues so I sent it back home, just got it back...I'll update that situation; phone; headlamp. I have a small LED camp lantern I chose to leave at home. It's a great piece of gear, I just didn't think I needed it. So far, I've been good.
MISC- Journal; Thru Hiker's Companion; wall charger for my phone; small notepad and pen; harmonica; Martin backpacker guitar...my luxury for the trip. It has been well worth any sort of hassle in carrying it; extra pack of strings; a small camp towel, practically a chamois; Black Diamond trekking poles--this is my first excursion with trekking poles, and I will never EVER hike without them again....true lifesavers; 100ft paracord and two solid carabiners for bear-bagging food; bathroom trowel, which I sent home....privies are at almost every shelter site, and if you gotta dig a hole to do your business the heel of your shoe or a stick works just fine; sunglasses; emergency kit, consisting of- emergency blanket, a couple solid fuel tabs, waterproof matches, water purification tablets, couple extra band aids and alcohol wipes, small tube seam seal for tents/clothing, vinyl thread and needle, a couple vinyl patches; food bag, which turned into two smaller food bags courtesy of a find in a hiker box. I split my food bag merely for ease of packing.
Q
What's a hiker box?
A
It's a box located most often at a post office, motel/hostel lobby, or shelter. It is a grab bag for hikers in need; sometimes after a food drop or trip into town, you'll find you have WAY more than you need. Maybe it's food, or clothes, or miscellaneous do-dads....maybe it's just stuff you're simply tired of toting around. Whatever the case may be, one hiker's extra weight is another hiker's saving grace. I've seen med supplies, food, shoes and insoles, cookware, paperback books, stuff sacks, clothes, maps, a Playboy magazine....you get the idea.
So, I think that's about everything I have in my pack. The pack itself is an Osprey, somewhere in the 5000 cubic inch/60 Liter size range. It's a double-load single duffle bag, meaning there is one large space instead of individual pockets and compartments (as a military-style duffle bag), but the bag can be accessed via an opening at the top or a full-zip door on the front of the bag. So, you can stand the bag up and get in from the top, or you can lay it down and access the goods from there. The lid of the bag is removable, and can be used as a small pack by itself.
Q
That's a cool feature.
A
Indeed. And I've utilized it a few times, like when a water source is a half mile away down a steep trail. No need in carrying the whole pack an extra mile if you don't have to.
Q
So, what kind of stuff have you been eating whilst in the woods?
A
Ah, yes, the food question. Well, the bulk of my diet has been pretty straightforward: oatmeal for breakfast, trail mix and maybe some cured meat of some sort and cheese for lunch, ramen noodles for dinner, and hot chocolate as a nightcap. There are several other things I'm carrying but this is the majority of my caloric consumption.
Q
That sounds.....well, that sounds just awful. Except for the hot chocolate part.
A
On the contrary, it has been surprisingly good. The key, my friend, is to vary flavor as much as possible. Additives such as spices, herbs, and packable fats have proven to make all the difference. For example, every morning I doll up my oatmeal with a small bit of trail mix(with all manners of nuts and dried fruits in it--the fruits are great sugar sources and nuts and seeds are potent sources of good fat), a pinch of pumpkin pie spice(a hiker box find), a spoonful of powdered peanut butter(yep, you heard right), a spoonful of chocolate drink mix(a blend of hot chocolate powder and chocolate whey protein--good flavor, and a huge protein boost for the aching muscles), chia seeds, and a dollop of whatever fat source I happen to have on me.
Q
Two questions: Chia seeds? And, what fats are you able to pack without refrigeration?
A
Chia seeds are just what you're thinking--the little black seeds that you spread onto the clay figure...you know, ch-ch-ch-Chia! Chia seeds are high in protein, Omega essential fatty acids, and help retain water in the body which helps keep you hydrated. Think of them as having all the benefits of flax seeds plus a little extra.
Q
That's cool.
A
Indeed, it is. To answer your second question, I've had three fats with me; coconut oil, olive oil, and clarified butter. I've alternated the coconut oil and butter depending on availability and supply; olive oil I've had with me the whole time. Clarified butter(also called Ghee) is butter that has been rendered to separate the milk solids from the butterfat. It does not need refrigeration and is a spreadable consistency at room temp. It has a higher smoke point than regular butter, and can also be used as a fuel for oil lamps(pretty cool, methinks). Coconut oil is semi solid at room temp, and has a delicate coconut flavor--not at all overpowering. I add a dollop of these, whichever I happen to have, to almost everything I make: hot chocolate, oatmeal, noodles, etc. Not only does fat equal flavor, but the calories are desperately needed by the body. I typically use the olive oil for pasta and rice dishes, but it can be used for just about anything, too.
Q
That is really cool.
A
Yep. My other secret ingredient...although not so secret really, since I tell everyone I come across about it....is textured vegetable protein, or TVP(sometimes called TSP, since it is predominately soy-based). TVP is a plant-based, high protein source used in a myriad of vegetarian cuisine; if you've ever had a vegetarian chili, or any sort of veggie meat alternative, you've had TVP. In dry form, it is a granule of varying size; once it soaks in water for 2-3min, it plumps up and takes on the consistency of ground beef. It takes on the flavor of whatever you're cooking it in. I add it to every single dinner I make. It's 11g of protein a serving, and adds bulk and heartiness to otherwise thin noodle dishes. I've recently started picking up tuna pouches for the occasional addition to dinner, and one of my favorite concoctions recently is this: ramen noodles, TVP, a pouch of tuna, Italian seasoning(dried mix of basil, oregano, thyme, parsley, and rosemary), a dollop of fat, ramen seasoning pouch, and half a garlic bullion cube. It's rich, filling, and truly enjoyable to eat. I've rekindled my appreciation for ramen-style noodles.
Q
Sure sounds like it.
A
Also, a great and quick lunch is a pouch of tuna, a drizzle of olive oil, some salt/pepper/herb seasoning, and dry ramen noodles broken up. Just combine in the pouch and voila.
There are several other things I haven't tried yet, but will be getting to; I mean, you can only carry so much food at one time and I've been carrying too much as it is.
Q
Oh, is that right? How heavy's your pack been?
A
When I weighed it at Amicalola Falls in GA--the first official weigh in--it was 53lbs fully loaded. I realize now that at that time, I was carrying at least 7 days' worth of food...far, far too much. I overestimated my potential appetite, though I do eat any chance I get. I just eat less than I thought I might, especially in the 'have to cook' category. That's why lately I've been trying to stock a little heavier on protein bars and the like. Ideally, I will get my weight down to about 40lbs with four days' food and full water(I carry about two liters, drink at least a liter when I stop for water). So far, water supply has been copious and crystal clear. Hopefully that will continue into the next month at least.
40lbs is still running heavy for a lot of people, but if that's my ceiling, with every day it'll get lighter. I'm carrying about six pounds' worth of guitar; but that's happy weight.
(PAUSE)
Well, I think it's about time to hit the sack.
Q
Wait, just one more question.
A
Well....okay.
Q
Okay...okay, so actually it's two questions.
A
So, you just lied to me to get me to say 'okay'.
Q
No, not purposefully; the...
A
'Cause that's what seems to have just happened.
Q
The second question just came to me, figured I would squeeze it in.
A
(pause) I got my eye on you....
Q
Okay, so what's with all the weird names? Are you just making these up so you can remember folks?
A
The trail names are names that people take on while hiking. Most names get bestowed upon you in some form or fashion. I came to the trail with my name in mind, but thankfully it stuck once I told folks about it.
Q
How did you get your name?
A
Some good friends of mine are the organizers of the Whispering Beard Folk Festival. This year's festival is in Friendship, IN, and oughta be a knee-slappin' good time. I came to the trail with Whispering Beard in my head, and started telling folks about it and it sort of naturally stuck. Whispering Beard sounds very sage-ish....not to say I'm a sage, but I can portray one in the woods.
Q
Weird.
A
Don't judge me. What's your last question?
Q
What are some of the best names you've come across?
A
That's a tough question. They've all been great in context; they seem to fit the person. As far as purely aurally aesthetic favorites?...Sawfoot, Celtic Thunder, Snuggie, The Guy with Max(Max being his dog), Panda Bear....there's a sampling.
Q
Most excellent.
A
Most excellent, indeed.
END
BEDDING- ThermaRest pad and Marmot 20 degree mummy bag. The bag has been more than enough, even in a 30degree night with good wind. For the summer, I'll probably look to pick up a really light fleece bag or something to shed some weight until I need the insulation again.
WATER- Katadyn Hiker filter, 2L hydration bladder, and 1L Nalgene bottle. I've thought of switching to drops or something to save weight, but I like the filter otherwise.
TOILETRIES- 5oz Dr Bronner's Soap. I use it for everything; face/body/hair/dish/clothes washing, tooth brushing(along with baking soda); 5oz hand sanitizer; Toilet paper roll; Mouthwash drops, in a tiny eye-drop-like bottle; Toothbrush; Comb; about 6 six hair ties; a small natural sponge; Badger Anti-Bug Balm, recommended to me by the Whole Body ladies at Whole Foods Mason. Great stuff, and smells pretty good if you like citronella; stick of sunblock; a small ziplock of ibuprofen, later supplemented with naproxen sodium.
FIRST AID- I started with a generic, prepacked first aid kit. I then added to it and took a few things away. Basic contents are: alcohol prep pads, emergency diarrhea and allergy pills, butterfly closures, band aids, lots of moleskin--and don't waste your time with precut stuff, get full strips that you can custom cut--iodine wipes, blister pack(special band aids for blisters), gauze, sterile pads, and good tape. I've been most pleased with 2" athletic tape.
I'll say this real quick; first aid, as with everything else,comes down to personal preference. Some folks feel they should carry things other folks do not. It all can be summed up by the phrase, "Hike Your Own Hike."
Q
That's a good phrase. Well said.
A
Thank you, I can't take credit for it. Now stop interrupting me.
Q
But I didn't...
A
Please, let me talk for a second....geez...So, where was I...ah, yes:
ELECTRONICS- Brunton i6 solar charger for my phone. I've had some issues so I sent it back home, just got it back...I'll update that situation; phone; headlamp. I have a small LED camp lantern I chose to leave at home. It's a great piece of gear, I just didn't think I needed it. So far, I've been good.
MISC- Journal; Thru Hiker's Companion; wall charger for my phone; small notepad and pen; harmonica; Martin backpacker guitar...my luxury for the trip. It has been well worth any sort of hassle in carrying it; extra pack of strings; a small camp towel, practically a chamois; Black Diamond trekking poles--this is my first excursion with trekking poles, and I will never EVER hike without them again....true lifesavers; 100ft paracord and two solid carabiners for bear-bagging food; bathroom trowel, which I sent home....privies are at almost every shelter site, and if you gotta dig a hole to do your business the heel of your shoe or a stick works just fine; sunglasses; emergency kit, consisting of- emergency blanket, a couple solid fuel tabs, waterproof matches, water purification tablets, couple extra band aids and alcohol wipes, small tube seam seal for tents/clothing, vinyl thread and needle, a couple vinyl patches; food bag, which turned into two smaller food bags courtesy of a find in a hiker box. I split my food bag merely for ease of packing.
Q
What's a hiker box?
A
It's a box located most often at a post office, motel/hostel lobby, or shelter. It is a grab bag for hikers in need; sometimes after a food drop or trip into town, you'll find you have WAY more than you need. Maybe it's food, or clothes, or miscellaneous do-dads....maybe it's just stuff you're simply tired of toting around. Whatever the case may be, one hiker's extra weight is another hiker's saving grace. I've seen med supplies, food, shoes and insoles, cookware, paperback books, stuff sacks, clothes, maps, a Playboy magazine....you get the idea.
So, I think that's about everything I have in my pack. The pack itself is an Osprey, somewhere in the 5000 cubic inch/60 Liter size range. It's a double-load single duffle bag, meaning there is one large space instead of individual pockets and compartments (as a military-style duffle bag), but the bag can be accessed via an opening at the top or a full-zip door on the front of the bag. So, you can stand the bag up and get in from the top, or you can lay it down and access the goods from there. The lid of the bag is removable, and can be used as a small pack by itself.
Q
That's a cool feature.
A
Indeed. And I've utilized it a few times, like when a water source is a half mile away down a steep trail. No need in carrying the whole pack an extra mile if you don't have to.
Q
So, what kind of stuff have you been eating whilst in the woods?
A
Ah, yes, the food question. Well, the bulk of my diet has been pretty straightforward: oatmeal for breakfast, trail mix and maybe some cured meat of some sort and cheese for lunch, ramen noodles for dinner, and hot chocolate as a nightcap. There are several other things I'm carrying but this is the majority of my caloric consumption.
Q
That sounds.....well, that sounds just awful. Except for the hot chocolate part.
A
On the contrary, it has been surprisingly good. The key, my friend, is to vary flavor as much as possible. Additives such as spices, herbs, and packable fats have proven to make all the difference. For example, every morning I doll up my oatmeal with a small bit of trail mix(with all manners of nuts and dried fruits in it--the fruits are great sugar sources and nuts and seeds are potent sources of good fat), a pinch of pumpkin pie spice(a hiker box find), a spoonful of powdered peanut butter(yep, you heard right), a spoonful of chocolate drink mix(a blend of hot chocolate powder and chocolate whey protein--good flavor, and a huge protein boost for the aching muscles), chia seeds, and a dollop of whatever fat source I happen to have on me.
Q
Two questions: Chia seeds? And, what fats are you able to pack without refrigeration?
A
Chia seeds are just what you're thinking--the little black seeds that you spread onto the clay figure...you know, ch-ch-ch-Chia! Chia seeds are high in protein, Omega essential fatty acids, and help retain water in the body which helps keep you hydrated. Think of them as having all the benefits of flax seeds plus a little extra.
Q
That's cool.
A
Indeed, it is. To answer your second question, I've had three fats with me; coconut oil, olive oil, and clarified butter. I've alternated the coconut oil and butter depending on availability and supply; olive oil I've had with me the whole time. Clarified butter(also called Ghee) is butter that has been rendered to separate the milk solids from the butterfat. It does not need refrigeration and is a spreadable consistency at room temp. It has a higher smoke point than regular butter, and can also be used as a fuel for oil lamps(pretty cool, methinks). Coconut oil is semi solid at room temp, and has a delicate coconut flavor--not at all overpowering. I add a dollop of these, whichever I happen to have, to almost everything I make: hot chocolate, oatmeal, noodles, etc. Not only does fat equal flavor, but the calories are desperately needed by the body. I typically use the olive oil for pasta and rice dishes, but it can be used for just about anything, too.
Q
That is really cool.
A
Yep. My other secret ingredient...although not so secret really, since I tell everyone I come across about it....is textured vegetable protein, or TVP(sometimes called TSP, since it is predominately soy-based). TVP is a plant-based, high protein source used in a myriad of vegetarian cuisine; if you've ever had a vegetarian chili, or any sort of veggie meat alternative, you've had TVP. In dry form, it is a granule of varying size; once it soaks in water for 2-3min, it plumps up and takes on the consistency of ground beef. It takes on the flavor of whatever you're cooking it in. I add it to every single dinner I make. It's 11g of protein a serving, and adds bulk and heartiness to otherwise thin noodle dishes. I've recently started picking up tuna pouches for the occasional addition to dinner, and one of my favorite concoctions recently is this: ramen noodles, TVP, a pouch of tuna, Italian seasoning(dried mix of basil, oregano, thyme, parsley, and rosemary), a dollop of fat, ramen seasoning pouch, and half a garlic bullion cube. It's rich, filling, and truly enjoyable to eat. I've rekindled my appreciation for ramen-style noodles.
Q
Sure sounds like it.
A
Also, a great and quick lunch is a pouch of tuna, a drizzle of olive oil, some salt/pepper/herb seasoning, and dry ramen noodles broken up. Just combine in the pouch and voila.
There are several other things I haven't tried yet, but will be getting to; I mean, you can only carry so much food at one time and I've been carrying too much as it is.
Q
Oh, is that right? How heavy's your pack been?
A
When I weighed it at Amicalola Falls in GA--the first official weigh in--it was 53lbs fully loaded. I realize now that at that time, I was carrying at least 7 days' worth of food...far, far too much. I overestimated my potential appetite, though I do eat any chance I get. I just eat less than I thought I might, especially in the 'have to cook' category. That's why lately I've been trying to stock a little heavier on protein bars and the like. Ideally, I will get my weight down to about 40lbs with four days' food and full water(I carry about two liters, drink at least a liter when I stop for water). So far, water supply has been copious and crystal clear. Hopefully that will continue into the next month at least.
40lbs is still running heavy for a lot of people, but if that's my ceiling, with every day it'll get lighter. I'm carrying about six pounds' worth of guitar; but that's happy weight.
(PAUSE)
Well, I think it's about time to hit the sack.
Q
Wait, just one more question.
A
Well....okay.
Q
Okay...okay, so actually it's two questions.
A
So, you just lied to me to get me to say 'okay'.
Q
No, not purposefully; the...
A
'Cause that's what seems to have just happened.
Q
The second question just came to me, figured I would squeeze it in.
A
(pause) I got my eye on you....
Q
Okay, so what's with all the weird names? Are you just making these up so you can remember folks?
A
The trail names are names that people take on while hiking. Most names get bestowed upon you in some form or fashion. I came to the trail with my name in mind, but thankfully it stuck once I told folks about it.
Q
How did you get your name?
A
Some good friends of mine are the organizers of the Whispering Beard Folk Festival. This year's festival is in Friendship, IN, and oughta be a knee-slappin' good time. I came to the trail with Whispering Beard in my head, and started telling folks about it and it sort of naturally stuck. Whispering Beard sounds very sage-ish....not to say I'm a sage, but I can portray one in the woods.
Q
Weird.
A
Don't judge me. What's your last question?
Q
What are some of the best names you've come across?
A
That's a tough question. They've all been great in context; they seem to fit the person. As far as purely aurally aesthetic favorites?...Sawfoot, Celtic Thunder, Snuggie, The Guy with Max(Max being his dog), Panda Bear....there's a sampling.
Q
Most excellent.
A
Most excellent, indeed.
END
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
We are Headed North PT 2
The night on Tray Mtn was a cold one. The campsite we landed--myself and two other guys, Totem and Ni Chow--was on a ridge slightly below a rock outcropping. As the remnants of the previous day's storm blew out, gusts of 45-60mph blew through our site all night and early morning. We were up early and on the trail after a communal breakfast of feast-like proportions.
The day's hike was tougher than I had planned. There was nothing overtly ridiculous about the terrain; nor was there a particularly wild climb. It was simply tough, and my goal of getting to hiawassee in time to resupply did not happen. The two newfound companions and I cowboy camped in a clearing about two and a half miles from our intended destination, under a brilliant full moon. We night hiked about two miles past a shelter to find our spot, and it was some of the most beautiful hiking I'd seen.
The next morning I left out early to catch an 8:45 shuttle into hiawassee for minimal food items and fuel. Totem and I caught the ride and landed in town by 9:15. We immediately decided to take the opportunity for rest, laundry, and shower, and split a room at the hiawassee Inn since the hostel was full. I do hate I missed out on the Blueberry Patch hostel experience, for I heard it was a wonderful one; however, Totem and I had an easy day of good conversation and cleansing of all things cleanable. Ni Chow, and his dog Mo Chow, didn't make our shuttle into town. I was sure we would run into each other again.
I set out the next morning at 8:30, despite a pretty sore ankle and a food coma. Totem decided to give his knee an extra day to rest, so we parted ways. The day was April 19, and I was determined that it would be my last day in Georgia. The climb out was a steep mile or so, after that is was more of the same up and down. Spring was settling in nicely; at the start the high trees were still totally bare but now showed signs of budding. The valleys grew more lush every day, and green was creeping up the hillside. About 2:30, I passed the state line, and about a mile later I hit the unofficial welcome sign: a funky, gnarled, seemingly ancient oak tree in the middle of the path at Bly Gap. I had arrived in North Carolina, and I decided that would be all I hiked for the day. Goodbye, Georgia; I will hardly miss thee.
As you hike through Georgia, cursing at every mountain and valley that you rollercoaster up and cascade into, you hear that North Carolina is better, easier almost. Well, friends, lemme tell you somethin'....there is a bit of truth there, in that the constant uphill/downhill is not so bad; I found that the ridgeline walks were more plentiful through NC. However...you wouldn't know any of this by the first three miles you have to walk. As soon as you get on the other side of that oak tree, the mountain slaps you in the mouth and says, 'Go up.' That was my experience the morning after Bly Gap. In a torrential downpour. With gusts coming straight up the mountain, half tossing me and my still-real-heavy pack around the trail. So, yeah, the tales of North Carolina's strolling terrain are a bit exaggerated.
With that said, the ensuing week was the best yet. Everything seemed almost instantly greener; all shades, from deeply hued moss-covered stones to fresh foliage and baby ferns. Periods of rain would come and go, and for the most part they always seemed to wait until I was at a shelter site. I met a host of wonderful people, most of whom I stayed around for the rest of the week: Hollywood, from central CA; Danish, a German/Danish dual citizen; Kipper, from FL; Wren, from Brooklyn; and many more. Amazing views from Standing Indian Mtn and Albert Mtn were definite highlights; the climb up Albert was a beast, and some of the most fun I've had on the trail. Thursday night rolled around, and Hollywood, Danish, Wren, and I decided that Franklin, NC, which could be accessed via US 64 about nine miles into the upcoming day, would be the site of the first official zero day. I hadn't planned on making Franklin a stop, but I was with excellent company and my legs were feeling the pounding of the last few days. Haven's Budget Inn was our destination for a super-affordable room. But before that was to happen we had business to attend to, the absolute highlight of which was surpassing the 100mile mark about 2 miles into the day. I know 100 out of 2180 doesn't seem like a lot, but we all more than earned our individual moments of celebration and self-satisfaction.
Ron Haven picked us up at Winding Stair Gap. Ron Haven is owner of Haven's Budget Inn and an eventual chapter of this log all unto himself. We arrived in Franklin, freshened up, and spent a night of commeradary with a host of other hikers: Bluefoot, Sawfoot, Old Spice, Brazil Nut, Panda Bear, and more. After a fine dinner and drinks, I found myself back at the hotel picking some music with Bass Clef, the Washington man who is hiking the trail and from town to town with his electric cello and battery-powered amp. Yes, I'm serious. And he is amazing.
The day's hike was tougher than I had planned. There was nothing overtly ridiculous about the terrain; nor was there a particularly wild climb. It was simply tough, and my goal of getting to hiawassee in time to resupply did not happen. The two newfound companions and I cowboy camped in a clearing about two and a half miles from our intended destination, under a brilliant full moon. We night hiked about two miles past a shelter to find our spot, and it was some of the most beautiful hiking I'd seen.
The next morning I left out early to catch an 8:45 shuttle into hiawassee for minimal food items and fuel. Totem and I caught the ride and landed in town by 9:15. We immediately decided to take the opportunity for rest, laundry, and shower, and split a room at the hiawassee Inn since the hostel was full. I do hate I missed out on the Blueberry Patch hostel experience, for I heard it was a wonderful one; however, Totem and I had an easy day of good conversation and cleansing of all things cleanable. Ni Chow, and his dog Mo Chow, didn't make our shuttle into town. I was sure we would run into each other again.
I set out the next morning at 8:30, despite a pretty sore ankle and a food coma. Totem decided to give his knee an extra day to rest, so we parted ways. The day was April 19, and I was determined that it would be my last day in Georgia. The climb out was a steep mile or so, after that is was more of the same up and down. Spring was settling in nicely; at the start the high trees were still totally bare but now showed signs of budding. The valleys grew more lush every day, and green was creeping up the hillside. About 2:30, I passed the state line, and about a mile later I hit the unofficial welcome sign: a funky, gnarled, seemingly ancient oak tree in the middle of the path at Bly Gap. I had arrived in North Carolina, and I decided that would be all I hiked for the day. Goodbye, Georgia; I will hardly miss thee.
As you hike through Georgia, cursing at every mountain and valley that you rollercoaster up and cascade into, you hear that North Carolina is better, easier almost. Well, friends, lemme tell you somethin'....there is a bit of truth there, in that the constant uphill/downhill is not so bad; I found that the ridgeline walks were more plentiful through NC. However...you wouldn't know any of this by the first three miles you have to walk. As soon as you get on the other side of that oak tree, the mountain slaps you in the mouth and says, 'Go up.' That was my experience the morning after Bly Gap. In a torrential downpour. With gusts coming straight up the mountain, half tossing me and my still-real-heavy pack around the trail. So, yeah, the tales of North Carolina's strolling terrain are a bit exaggerated.
With that said, the ensuing week was the best yet. Everything seemed almost instantly greener; all shades, from deeply hued moss-covered stones to fresh foliage and baby ferns. Periods of rain would come and go, and for the most part they always seemed to wait until I was at a shelter site. I met a host of wonderful people, most of whom I stayed around for the rest of the week: Hollywood, from central CA; Danish, a German/Danish dual citizen; Kipper, from FL; Wren, from Brooklyn; and many more. Amazing views from Standing Indian Mtn and Albert Mtn were definite highlights; the climb up Albert was a beast, and some of the most fun I've had on the trail. Thursday night rolled around, and Hollywood, Danish, Wren, and I decided that Franklin, NC, which could be accessed via US 64 about nine miles into the upcoming day, would be the site of the first official zero day. I hadn't planned on making Franklin a stop, but I was with excellent company and my legs were feeling the pounding of the last few days. Haven's Budget Inn was our destination for a super-affordable room. But before that was to happen we had business to attend to, the absolute highlight of which was surpassing the 100mile mark about 2 miles into the day. I know 100 out of 2180 doesn't seem like a lot, but we all more than earned our individual moments of celebration and self-satisfaction.
Ron Haven picked us up at Winding Stair Gap. Ron Haven is owner of Haven's Budget Inn and an eventual chapter of this log all unto himself. We arrived in Franklin, freshened up, and spent a night of commeradary with a host of other hikers: Bluefoot, Sawfoot, Old Spice, Brazil Nut, Panda Bear, and more. After a fine dinner and drinks, I found myself back at the hotel picking some music with Bass Clef, the Washington man who is hiking the trail and from town to town with his electric cello and battery-powered amp. Yes, I'm serious. And he is amazing.
This is where the story takes a turn....so we'll pause here for now. Very soon I'll be posting some gear talk and foodie talk for those interested; we'll then resume our regularly scheduled programming. Until then, folks.
-Whispering Beard
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Tell the ones that need to know/ We are headed North
My, oh my, I have much to catch up on. As I began writing, I realized I was heading into way too much detail for the time I had; so, I'm going to give a condensed version of events, followed by a host of pictures, and as I am able I will delve into some stories and steadfast moments thus far.
I left out from Neels Gap after my last posting, and had a very enjoyable day of kiking. Up and over several mountains, down and out from a handful of gaps, and finished my day atop Poor Mountain....seemed fitting somehow. I stopped about two miles short of my intended destination but the view and solitude were well worth it. I enjoyed a small campfire on the top of the ridge with the echoing cries of coyotes and owls to the light of a bright moon.
The next day was spent in a fog--actually, a cloud would be a more accurate description. The entire mountain and gap was filled with a dense, chilled air; the leafless trees were standing as ghosts in the mist, all around, spindly and sinuous. A storm was approaching so I booked good time to the shelter of my choosing, which proved to be perhaps the most blustery and wind-driven shelter on the trail. Ten hikers ended up huddled in the structure, and we quickly went about hanging tarps and rain flys to weatherproof as best we could. It proved to be our saving move, as the rain and wind pounded us repeatedly; it was the worst storm I'd ever endured while camping, for sure. The morning came, and despite the weather's best efforts, we were all relatively dry and rested. It was cold and crisp, and was a good day to get off the mountain.
The next day I experienced my first genuine bit of trail magic. Right before I ascended Tray Mtn, I came across a 2009 thru-hiker that lived near the area. He and his wife had set up a tailgate on a Forest Service road at the base of the mountain. They had chilled drinks, fried chicken, and a host of trail food for us to eat or pack out, and they did it all because of the gratitude he felt when he hiked and experienced the kindness of strangers. They expected nothing in return and wouldn't take anything if offered. I got a bit of advice on a stealth campsite at the top of the mountain (tucked away and not known about by most folks) and made my way up the hill. Frankenfoot and Em, you guys are absolutely fantastic and have inspired me and others to give back to this amazing trail community once my journey is complete.
Folks, this'll have to be a two-parter.....more to come......my ride's leaving for the trail.
See y'all soon....
I left out from Neels Gap after my last posting, and had a very enjoyable day of kiking. Up and over several mountains, down and out from a handful of gaps, and finished my day atop Poor Mountain....seemed fitting somehow. I stopped about two miles short of my intended destination but the view and solitude were well worth it. I enjoyed a small campfire on the top of the ridge with the echoing cries of coyotes and owls to the light of a bright moon.
The next day was spent in a fog--actually, a cloud would be a more accurate description. The entire mountain and gap was filled with a dense, chilled air; the leafless trees were standing as ghosts in the mist, all around, spindly and sinuous. A storm was approaching so I booked good time to the shelter of my choosing, which proved to be perhaps the most blustery and wind-driven shelter on the trail. Ten hikers ended up huddled in the structure, and we quickly went about hanging tarps and rain flys to weatherproof as best we could. It proved to be our saving move, as the rain and wind pounded us repeatedly; it was the worst storm I'd ever endured while camping, for sure. The morning came, and despite the weather's best efforts, we were all relatively dry and rested. It was cold and crisp, and was a good day to get off the mountain.
The next day I experienced my first genuine bit of trail magic. Right before I ascended Tray Mtn, I came across a 2009 thru-hiker that lived near the area. He and his wife had set up a tailgate on a Forest Service road at the base of the mountain. They had chilled drinks, fried chicken, and a host of trail food for us to eat or pack out, and they did it all because of the gratitude he felt when he hiked and experienced the kindness of strangers. They expected nothing in return and wouldn't take anything if offered. I got a bit of advice on a stealth campsite at the top of the mountain (tucked away and not known about by most folks) and made my way up the hill. Frankenfoot and Em, you guys are absolutely fantastic and have inspired me and others to give back to this amazing trail community once my journey is complete.
Folks, this'll have to be a two-parter.....more to come......my ride's leaving for the trail.
See y'all soon....
Thursday, April 14, 2011
We've only just begun
Well folks, it has been quite the adventure already--and I'm only four or so days in. Unfortunately I'm a little short on time today...my morning has been full of TCBin' at the Mountain Crossings outfitters in Neels Gap, and I need to start hikin awful soon....but I wanted to get a post up before I departed since I'm not sure when my next chance will be.
Saturday- We'll call it day 0 since I didn't hit the actual starting point til Sunday. Saturday my dear friend Stephen shuttled me to Amicalola Falls state park where the approach trail begins. And lemme tell you....that approach trail means serious business. I would have to say at this point those 8.8mi have been the toughest I've done--and they don't even count in official total! When I'm finished with this journey, my mileage will have an asterisk by it with a footnote mentioning the extra distance...you know, like those steroid-ridden baseball hall-of-famers. Stephen and I camped halfway down the approach trail, encountered a group of rather ambitious bikers in the eve (one of which we bestowed the trail name of Four Man Tent to. I think you can deduce how he got that name), cowboy camped under the stars, and then parted ways in the morning with hugs and well wishes. He also gave me what has turned out to be the most awesome hat I have ever had--pictures coming once I can do some downloading. It is because of such wonderful friends and family that I am even able to attempt this journey.
Day 1, I finished the approach trail and arrived at the summit of Springer Mountain and the official start of the Appalachian Trail. The view was stunning, and brought into clear view the daunting task ahead. I hiked a couple miles down from the summit and camped near the Stover Creek Shelter where I met my first group of pontential GAMErs(GA-ME). Everyone was in high spirits and the company was excellent.
Day 2 was the roughest day of hiking I've ever done. I pushed ahead almost twelve miles, up and down steep mountain passes, in an unseasonably warm day. A fellow hiker and I chose to stop a mile and a half short of our intended shelter and instead set up camp at a gorgeous site along Justus Creek. I was so tired and worn I didn't bother with dinner--just hung my food out of the reach of bears and went to sleep. About 11pm, a storm rolled in, and about 1am it got serious. I did a poor job of pitching my tent and ultimately paid the price. I woke the next day with everything soggy and in poor spirits.
My hiking companion from the previous day and I decided it was worth the unexpected stop to get into the next town and dry off. We made a short day of it--about 7mi--and caught a shuttle into Dahlonega, GA. We split a room, showered for the first time in three days, got our belongings dried out, grabbed a hot meal, and slept like a log. The next morning, my newfound friend decided to stay in town since was working on a different timeframe than myself, so we parted ways. Blackfoot, I wish you the best.
Yesterday was a really good day. I tackled 11 1/2 miles, caught some of the most beautiful views I've ever seen, and arrived at the outfitters in time to get gear advice and ideas on ways to shed pack weight. Believe me, after four days with a loaded pack on your back, you start thinking about every single ounce and how you can shed some. I pitched my tent behind the building, conversed with a new group of great people, and now here we are.
I've already met so many wonderful folks: Journey, Blackfoot, Nature Boy, Flat Feet, Lumpy, Huck Finn....just to name a few. Each has something to offer, and each did so freely and willingly. I've also learned several things already: for example, you're feet will tell you when they've had enough, and when they speak up you better listen. After three days of wearing the same pair of underwear, they will magically begin riding so far up your leg you'll think you lost 'em. Ounces equal pounds, and pounds equal pain. Drink as much water as you can....seriously folks, it will make all the difference in the world, both day of and day after.
Well, I wish I could chat more, but I gotta get moving forward. There's ground to be covered....I'll be in touch.
Saturday- We'll call it day 0 since I didn't hit the actual starting point til Sunday. Saturday my dear friend Stephen shuttled me to Amicalola Falls state park where the approach trail begins. And lemme tell you....that approach trail means serious business. I would have to say at this point those 8.8mi have been the toughest I've done--and they don't even count in official total! When I'm finished with this journey, my mileage will have an asterisk by it with a footnote mentioning the extra distance...you know, like those steroid-ridden baseball hall-of-famers. Stephen and I camped halfway down the approach trail, encountered a group of rather ambitious bikers in the eve (one of which we bestowed the trail name of Four Man Tent to. I think you can deduce how he got that name), cowboy camped under the stars, and then parted ways in the morning with hugs and well wishes. He also gave me what has turned out to be the most awesome hat I have ever had--pictures coming once I can do some downloading. It is because of such wonderful friends and family that I am even able to attempt this journey.
Day 1, I finished the approach trail and arrived at the summit of Springer Mountain and the official start of the Appalachian Trail. The view was stunning, and brought into clear view the daunting task ahead. I hiked a couple miles down from the summit and camped near the Stover Creek Shelter where I met my first group of pontential GAMErs(GA-ME). Everyone was in high spirits and the company was excellent.
Day 2 was the roughest day of hiking I've ever done. I pushed ahead almost twelve miles, up and down steep mountain passes, in an unseasonably warm day. A fellow hiker and I chose to stop a mile and a half short of our intended shelter and instead set up camp at a gorgeous site along Justus Creek. I was so tired and worn I didn't bother with dinner--just hung my food out of the reach of bears and went to sleep. About 11pm, a storm rolled in, and about 1am it got serious. I did a poor job of pitching my tent and ultimately paid the price. I woke the next day with everything soggy and in poor spirits.
My hiking companion from the previous day and I decided it was worth the unexpected stop to get into the next town and dry off. We made a short day of it--about 7mi--and caught a shuttle into Dahlonega, GA. We split a room, showered for the first time in three days, got our belongings dried out, grabbed a hot meal, and slept like a log. The next morning, my newfound friend decided to stay in town since was working on a different timeframe than myself, so we parted ways. Blackfoot, I wish you the best.
Yesterday was a really good day. I tackled 11 1/2 miles, caught some of the most beautiful views I've ever seen, and arrived at the outfitters in time to get gear advice and ideas on ways to shed pack weight. Believe me, after four days with a loaded pack on your back, you start thinking about every single ounce and how you can shed some. I pitched my tent behind the building, conversed with a new group of great people, and now here we are.
I've already met so many wonderful folks: Journey, Blackfoot, Nature Boy, Flat Feet, Lumpy, Huck Finn....just to name a few. Each has something to offer, and each did so freely and willingly. I've also learned several things already: for example, you're feet will tell you when they've had enough, and when they speak up you better listen. After three days of wearing the same pair of underwear, they will magically begin riding so far up your leg you'll think you lost 'em. Ounces equal pounds, and pounds equal pain. Drink as much water as you can....seriously folks, it will make all the difference in the world, both day of and day after.
Well, I wish I could chat more, but I gotta get moving forward. There's ground to be covered....I'll be in touch.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)