Marching towards Mother's Day

Spent a wonderful day in Harper's Ferry after getting off the train around 11 am.  First stop was the Appalachian Trail Conservancy office to have the traditional thru hiker postcard photo taken.  I was hiker #17 under alternative hiking schedules.  From there I did some local sightseeing and bid adieu to my train companion and section hiker "Sketch" from Eugene, Oregon.

The weather couldn't have been better; high 60s, sunny skies and a gentle breeze.  The town was bustling with tourists and adventure seekers from all over.  As I made my way toward the convergance of the Shenandoah and Potomac rivers, an oriole landed in the branches overhanging the water followes by a great blue heron gliding just above the waves.  Families and couples were strolling along the railway bridge over the Potomac and below on the C&O towpath.  Rock climbers on the black cliff above the railway tunnel had caught the attention of many of us with cameras as we commented how we would not be so brave as those we were observing.

Upon descending the iron grated spiral staircase to the buff colored gravel towpath, I instinctively turned north to follow the river upstream.  Butterflies and birds flitted and fluttered all around.  Parental geese guided their goslings away from human intruders and others floated on the river along with the kayakers.  A turtle was sunning on a log like it's human counterparts on the boulders on the river's edge.  All God's creatures seemed to be celebrating this glorious spring day in harmony with one another.

My intended destination was the Harper's Ferry hostel.  Although I saw no white blazes, I assumed it was due to the width, clarity and historical nature of this towpath and it wasn't until I had traveled 2 miles from the bridge and had not yet encountered my next turn marker that I

realized I must have made a directional error.  After discussing my location with a passing gentleman who indeed informed me that I should have turned south at the bridge instead of north, did I then turn to retrace my steps and head downstream.  Yes it was a 4 mile error and one of the best mistakes I have ever made.  I truly had no regrets about spending the time on that beautiful walk.

The Harper's Ferry hostel was an excellent facility capable of accomodating large groups and I met a couple there named "Lefty" and "Hush" who were just married and starting the trail for their honeymoon.

Maryland has been fairly easy going and the trail is extremely well marked.  I especially enjoyed seeing the original Washington monument in Boonesboro and the beautiful stone buildings at Gathland State Park.  I also finally spent my first night in a shelter and eventually met my first shelter mice.  Received my AT baptism while hiking in rain and have really enjoyed the less crowded conditions but still am meeting lots of people.   Usually I don't go more than 2 hours without seeing someone.

The last couple days I have been enjoying visiting with my family and especially sweet was spending Mother's Day with my mom.  Tomorrow morning I will return to the trail .  There are more persons, both family and friends,  that I will be spending time with over the next week or so with trail time in between.  Eventually though I will be focused almost solely on moving north again.  I'm glad to have these memories to carry with me.

Bittersweet Berries

Springtime, the season of beautiful blossoms that grace our garden pathways with their cheerful colors that bid farewell to winter and provide the promise of sunny summer days to come.  But of the flowers and plants that blossom in spring, not all give a dramatic display while in bloom. 

For instance, the American Bittersweet, Celustus scandens, is a native semi-shrubby vine that blooms May through June, yet most people probably past by this plant without even noticing its tiny 1/4” greenish white or greenish yellow blossoms.  They certainly don’t stand out amongst the vibrant purples and pinks of tulips and hyacinths.  Nor are the petals light enough to provide a glowing contrast against the foliage like the yellows and whites of daffodils and dogwoods.  The bittersweet is an inconspicuous participant in the spring parade of color.

That is often how life goes.  Some events are vivid and spectacular emblazing themselves on our memories while others are quickly forgotten or happen without much notice or recognition.  Sometimes we chose to focus on the good times and try to forget the bad times.  Sometimes, it is just time itself that erases the sufferings of the past.  Oh sure, there’s often a scar left behind to remind us that the event really did take place, but the intensity of those events fades with time and falls from our memories like the petals of those springtime flowers.

This is often how the hike and adventure on the Appalachian Trail is portrayed to the family and friends of hikers; they see the beauty, the pageantry, the parade of endless pictures of trail life showing the grand vistas and smiling faces all displaying the wonder, excitement, freedom and good times of life out on the trail.  Oh, there might be an occasional snapshot of the blisters, lost toenails, or cuts and scrapes, but even these are shown with a bit of pride in receiving this badge of honor, this symbol of your rite of passage as a thru hiker.  What goes unnoticed and lies inconspicuously in the background are the forgotten moments of loneliness that occur because of the separation from loved ones.

Next week I depart to resume hiking in Harpers Ferry, West Virginia (that’s West, by God, Virginia for you locals) after spending the last six weeks recuperating from my health issues.  While I am happy to be getting back out on the trail and continuing on my quest, I’m also saddened about once again leaving my husband.  Somehow, it’s much harder this time and I can only think of the bittersweet moment as I board the train while Juliet’s line runs through my mind – “parting is such sweet sorrow”.

Separation is certainly nothing new to my marriage.  As I sit here writing, I am, once again, waiting for my husband’s return from another week long business trip.  At least 18 of the last 25 years, I have been in the position of waiting at home for his return from various military or government missions and business trips.  Many of those years, he would be traveling in excess of 180 days per year.  So, the time apart is nothing new for us, EXCEPT, this is one of those rare times when I’m the one that’s gone and he’s the one at home waiting.

Throughout those years, I have known many women who have asked the question, “How do you do it?” or made the statement, “I couldn’t do that” and I must agree that it takes a certain kind of individual, namely, one who is very independent and emotionally strong to be able to routinely manage these types of marital disconnections.  On the other hand, one acquaintance, actually said to me that the reason my marriage was so happy, was because we were apart so often.  She said that it was like only being married half the time, so we were in a constant state of bliss because we were always experiencing the new ‘I’ve just fallen in love’ experience.  While I don’t agree with her reasoning, I will admit that my husband and I make an effort to keep our relationship fresh and that we do look forward to our times of reunion much like a young couple who are still in the emotional highs of their new found love. 

And it isn’t just the women who have an opinion about being apart.  Recently, my husband has found a similar sentiment among his male coworkers and friends who have said that they would never allow their wives to go on such a journey alone and have implied that our relationship may be in jeopardy or fall prey to infidelity with such a long separation, but they obviously don’t understand the bond that we share or the commitment we have to one another.  Distance does not destroy us, because we refuse to let it. Do we miss each other when we’re apart?  Of course we do.  Does it get hard?  Yes, it does.  We’ve both shed our share of tears over the years, but we carry on and continue to hold each other dear in our hearts.

The loneliness is hardest for me at the end of the day, because that’s the time of day when he comes home and we talk about our day and share our experiences.  It is the time of day when we laugh the most together.  So, when I am on the trail, this is the time of day when the loneliness hits.  Besides wishing that he were there to share every wide mountain vista or crystal stream trickling through the rocks or flitting bird that finally landed long enough to get a quick picture, when I finish the day and sit down to dinner, I miss having him there to talk with, to laugh with, as we re-cap and share the events of the day.  When night has arrived and it’s time to rest, I miss throwing my arm around him as we sleep.  Without a doubt, the end of the day is my lonely time.

 

 

But I’m not alone in my loneliness.  There are the other hikers, many who have left behind spouses or partners, children and grandchildren that they adore and even those who have an especially close relationship with a pet or pets that go through this suffering of the heart.  We are not unlike the thousands of other truck drivers, rail workers, airline pilots and crews, military personnel and business travelers worldwide who must endure extended absences from those they love, with one glaring difference; we are not doing this as a job requirement, we do it by choice.

So why go back?  Why put our relationship through another separation when we’ve already endured so much time apart?  Because it’s my turn to blossom.  See, although the job required my husband to be gone and he spent many hours missing the family, he also got to go places and see and do things that the rest of the family probably never will.  He enjoyed his time flying and participating in military exercises around the world.  He has been to five of the seven continents, (although Africa was just a brief plane stop) has toured many cities and seen sights that he could only share with us through photos and souvenirs.  He may have been working and putting in long hours most of the time, but when he had time off, it was filled with a lot of adventure.  

So much so, that at times, we almost despised him for it, because it seemed like you couldn’t mention a place you’d like to visit without him saying, “Oh, I’ve been there and you really should see such and such or go to this or that.”  It ended up becoming a standing joke in the family – he became known as Tour Guide Dad who would always say “Been there, done that”.  Our youngest daughter even prayed to be sent to a location her father hadn’t been while waiting her assignment for a mission trip.  God heard her and sent her to Thailand.

This is another reason I was able to endure his time away from us, because I knew he was doing something he loved to do.  When you love someone you want the best for them.  You want to encourage them and support them in their dreams and help them achieve their goals. 

While my husband and I have many things in common and share many goals, we have always found a way to embrace and celebrate our differences as well, including pursuing activities or dreams in which the other has little or no interest.  So, as I celebrate and attempt being a thru-hiker, my husband is quite content celebrating that he’s through hiking -- as in, done, finished, never again!  His over hill, over dale, we will hit the dusty trail days in the army kind of turned him off to any further hiking or tenting activities.  Now, he will take his turn providing moral support and encouraging the achievement of my dreams. 

As spring marches forward, the American bittersweet is hidden in the background, but in the fall when the branches are bare the yellow-orange shell of its fruit splits open to reveal a heart red berry.  This is the season when the bittersweet vine displays its brilliance and the sweetness of the vine comes to fruition.  These bare vines with their colorful berries are used in a number of decorations throughout the fall and winter months.  The berries also provide food for many birds and fox squirrels.  This is also the season when the bitter sweetness I bear now will end and I will return home to the arms of my lover, my friend, my supporter and companion.  Then together, we will wait for the next blooming season and all the beauty and excitement it will bring.

 

       “There is a time for everything,

and a season for every activity under the heavens:”

    -- Ecclesiastes 3:1

 

Video Viewing

Some of the sights from my first 53 miles on the Appalachian Trail. 

Once again, I've learned a bit of new technology as this is my first ever YouTube video.  For the younger crowd, I'm sure they're laughing because YouTube is far from considered new technology, but for this ole girl, this was quite an accomplishment.  I'm hoping that future videos will be even better.


http://youtu.be/Mx8241RR06s
  

        

 

Walking Loon's AT Journey #1

 

"The object of education is to prepare

the young to educate themselves

throughout their lives."

 

-- Robert M. Hutchins

 

 

Hopping the Hills to Harpers Ferry

Did you ever play the game of Leap Frog as a kid?  I remember it from my early elementary years, but I have to be honest, that it wasn’t one of my favorite games. 

Leap Frog isn’t like other games.  Actually, I’m not even sure it should be classified as a game.  There are no opposing sides or teams.  There are no points to be scored.  There are no real challenges to overcome, unless the person you’re trying to leap over is much larger than you.  There’s nothing to win and no point at which you can say the game is over.  Well, that is, until everyone decides to quit playing. 

Of course, you can always get creative with it and pair up into teams of two or more and race to a designated finish line by leap-frogging or see who can leap a certain number of bodies the fastest, but face it, leap frog is played strictly for whatever measure of fun a kid gets out of acting like a frog while hopping over a squatting friend.

There are some physical benefits to playing the game despite its lack of competitive challenges.  You must have a certain level of flexibility, strength and coordination to be the leaper or the leaped and, of course, the repetitive squats are quite good for muscle development.  Still, this game was never the first choice amongst my options.

But here I am, faced with a new game of leap frog to play.  While it may not be my first choice, I am willing to play and for some good reasons too.  Now, you may be thinking, ‘Wait, aren’t you laid up at home with herniated discs?  How in the world are you going to be playing leap frog?  And why would you want to play anyway?’  All legitimate questions and I plan to answer them.

Yes, I have two herniated discs in my lower back.  Yes, I am off the trail at this time, but under my doctor’s wonderful care, I have managed to avoid the need for surgery and am healing up nicely.  Basically, we have been using corticosteroids and NSAIDs to reduce the swelling and gentle stretching exercises that are slowly strengthening the back muscles as well as expanding the vertebral disc spaces.  This helps to relieve the pressure on the discs.  The disc “jelly” is being re-absorbed and the discs themselves are being allowed time to heal.  Within the next couple of weeks, I should be able to return to the trail with a few minor adjustments.

 

As with any strengthening exercises, you start slow with low weights or resistance and gradually increase the weight or difficulty as you become stronger.  My ability to return to the trail will be using this same philosophy and that’s why I must play a game of leap frog.

 

First, let me define the rules of this Appalachian Trail thru-hiking game.  According to the Appalachian Trail Conservancy (ATC), who issues the certificates of completion for thru-hikers, “A thru-hiker is a hiker or backpacker who has completed or is attempting to walk the entire A.T. in one uninterrupted journey.” 

 

Notice, it is NOT required for you to carry a backpack to be a thru-hiker.  You are NOT required to sleep in a tent, shelter or hammock or even spend a single night out on the trail.  The definition of an “uninterrupted” journey is generally understood within the hiking community as within one 12 month period of time which allows hikers to take time off trail for family events such as attending weddings or graduations or for medical reasons and recuperation time. 

 

We even refer to ourselves as “classes”, like a graduating class of students, so I am a member of the Class of 2013.  Just like high school or college, not everyone completes the requirements for graduation and the drop-out rate is high in this school, a whopping 70% or more.

 

The bottom line is that there are no hard and fast rules to being a thru-hiker and even reporting your completion of the trail is done on the honor system.  No one is out there checking up on you to make sure you actually hiked what you claim, but obviously, anyone who would dishonestly claim to have completed the trail and didn’t actually complete the miles would be very much frowned on by other hikers and “outed” for a fraud pretty readily.

 

Typically, thru-hikers start at one end of the trail or the other and try to walk straight thru to the other end with the vast majority starting in Georgia in March and April.  North-bounders, or NOBOs, are by far the most plentiful of hikers on the trail, followed by the south-bounders or SOBOs, but there are other alternative hiking plans commonly known as leap frogs, flip-flops, or just plain alternatives.

 

For example, if you happen to be a slow NOBO hiker or maybe got a late start out of Georgia and you have not reached Harpers Ferry, WV by the middle of July, then it is recommended that you “flip” up to Maine and start hiking south to complete the trail.  This is because Baxter State Park, home of Mt. Katahdin, closes by October 15^th, sometimes earlier due to the weather, and chances are you won’t make it there in time.  By flipping up to Maine and completing south-bound, you will still be able to complete the entire trail and maintain your thru-hiker status.

 

The ATC actually encourages hikers to use alternative hiking plans to help alleviate the crowds of hikers that hit the trail around the same time every year.  Scattering hikers over the length of the trail helps to reduce the strain on resources and minimizes damage to the trail.  Some hikers prefer alternative plans because they, too, would like to avoid the crowds and want to experience a more solitary experience with nature or for some of the other benefits that an alternative plan can provide which I’ll explain in a bit.

 

So, in a few weeks I will be returning to the trail at Harpers Ferry, West Virginia to continue north-bound to Maine, hence I will be leaping ahead of my fellow hikers with whom I started in Georgia.  Then, I will return to Harpers Ferry and continue south-bound back to where I exited the trail in Georgia when I came home for medical attention.   This particular leap frog alternative plan is called “Head Start – May” since you get a head start on the crowds of hikers coming north and typically begin the first ½ of May.

 

Why Harpers Ferry, West Virginia?  Because Harpers Ferry is known as the psychological halfway point on the trail (the actual halfway point for mileage is in southern Pennsylvania), the home of the ATC offices, and it just happens to be located in one of the easiest sections of the trail.

 

Check out these two elevation profiles.

 

 

 

The top profile shows the trail from about mile 62 through 82 as measured from Springer Mt. and is around the Georgia/North Carolina border.  The bottom profile shows the trail elevations in Maryland from about mile 1,031 through 1,051 again, as measured from Springer Mt.   As you can see, not only are the elevations of the mountains higher in GA/NC, but the changes in elevation (the ups and downs) are much more dramatic.  The stretch in MD is nearly level and the changes are more gradual.

 

The easiest section of the trail lies between the northern edge of the Shenandoah National Park in Virginia into Pennsylvania, a distance of several hundred miles, and from there it gets progressively more difficult the further north or south you go with the most difficult sections being at the most northern or southern ends of the trail.

 

Medically, this is significant for me as starting at Harpers Ferry will allow my body more time to strengthen gradually, so as the terrain becomes more difficult, I will also become stronger and better suited to the conditions.    Also, since I will be at the lower elevations, the threat of winter weather will be gone and I can reduce my pack weight by not carrying my winter gear, (although, that may be an issue open for debate with the spring we’ve been experiencing this year).  So, physically and medically, starting at Harpers Ferry makes sense, but there are some other benefits as well.

 

Spring, of course, brings warmer weather.   April showers and May flowers make for beautiful hiking days and plenty of water to drink, but it isn’t long before those temperatures rise to uncomfortable levels accompanied by high humidity making for long, hot, sweaty days with water supplies in the Mid-Atlantic region often drying up.  By starting in the middle of the trail in May, I will be able to have more pleasant, spring-like weather throughout most of my passage north and will avoid those hot, sticky, dry days of summer in the Mid-Atlantic.

 

Another huge bonus…for the first time in many years I will be able to spend Mother’s Day with my mom.  Harpers Ferry is just a little over 60 miles from my hometown of Shippensburg, PA and my hiking schedule should get me there right around Mother’s Day weekend.  I’m really looking forward to spending that time with her and I’m pretty sure she’ll be happy with that too.

 

As for the New England region, I will arrive in New Hampshire’s White Mountains before the crowds arrive in July and enter Vermont after their “mud season”.  The black flies of Maine will be gone and there will be no worries about reaching Mt. Katahdin before it closes for the season.

 

Once Mt. Katahdin has been summited, then I’ll grab a bus into Boston and take the train back to Harpers Ferry.  Riding the train is another one of the unforeseen benefits to my change in plans and another item that I can scratch off my bucket list.

 

The train from Boston won’t be the first one I take though.  I’m going to catch Amtrak’s Southwest Chief in Hutchinson, Kansas when I head back out to the trail which will take me to Chicago.  There I will change trains to the Capitol Limited in which I will have a sleeper car to catch some rest before arriving at the Harpers Ferry station which is practically on the trail.  Now how convenient is that?  And what an added bonus to this adventure!

(Above: The Amtrak station at Harpers Ferry, WV.  Below: A typical sleeper car on an Amtrak train.  The two seats slide together and fold down into a bed.)

 

I am very excited about getting to travel by train.  I’m going to see some new sights and territory that I haven’t covered before.  I’ll get to peek into Michigan as the train travels the southern border of the state and get a better look at the city of Chicago than I’ve ever had before.  I’ll get to visit Maxwell Klinger’s home of Toledo and maybe be close enough to view the southern shores of Lake Erie on our way to Cleveland.  Maybe I’ll catch a glimpse of the campus of Notre Dame while passing through South Bend, Indiana and I’ll think of my daughter and wave as I pass through Pittsburgh.  I love watching the changing landscapes, the architecture, the wildlife and all the wonderful variety that we have across this great country.

 

The second half of this journey will also involve some changes.  I will be following the fall season back into the south and can only image the great views of patchwork colors across the quilt of forests that await my arrival.  Again, I will have pleasant temperatures as fall’s warm colors carry their contrasting currents of crisp air into the mountains.  I may get to hear the elk bugling with the fall rut in the Smokey Mountains.  I may get to see an early snow frost the high peaks of Tennessee, but most likely, it won’t last long and I’ll be finished before any severe freezing weather arrives. 

 

The changing of the seasons will bring me full circle to the conditions that I experienced at the beginning of my hike.  The leaves will fall and once again I’ll find myself looking through the bare trees of Georgia as I descend into Unicoi Gap near Hiawassee, or maybe if I’m ahead of schedule, I’ll hike all the way back to Springer Mt. and finish where I began.  Just like in the game of leap frog, eventually you return to the position in which you started.

 

You might say that I’ve found a silver lining to my dark cloud and as a friend recently reminded me, I may have just increased my chances of success as well.  The ATC statistics for 2012 thru-hiker completions reflect that 21.2% and 21.5% of NOBOs and SOBOs respectively completed the entire trail, but 64.9% of leap-froggers completed.  So, while leap-frogging may not have been my first choice for this hike or how I envisioned completing the trail, this is a very good and viable option that will safely allow me to complete and has brought with it some surprising and welcomed benefits.

 

I’ve also learned that leap frog isn’t just for kids.  While the Guinness world record for the largest game of leap frog involved 1,348 children in Christchurch, New Zealand in 2010, the world records for most leapfrog jumps in 30 seconds and 1 minute by a team of two people are held by adults from China, Japan and the U.S.A with the most recent records being set in 2011.  So, I guess whether you’re a hill hopping hiker or you just get your kicks leaping over a squatting lily-padded partner, the game of leap frog will remain an enduring option to bring smiles to the faces of those who just love to play.

 

Happy Hopping Everyone!!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

A Blue St. Patrick's Day

Historically, blue was the color associated with St. Patrick in Ireland.  The color is still represented today in many places such as in the coat of arms of Ireland, the team colors of the University College of Dublin and the plume or hackle of the tall bearskin hats of the Irish Guards regiment of the British Army, as well as many other places.  The “wearing of the green” began during the middle 1700’s as local converts to the Christian faith wore shamrocks or ribbons of green on their clothing to signify their faith.  Over the years, the shamrock and the wearing of green on St. Patrick’s Day evolved into a celebration of Irish ethnicity as well as a Catholic feast day.  Today, well over 34 million Americans can trace their heritage to Ireland and I am proudly one of them through the McAlister clan of my great-great grandmother, Ezamiah McAlister.

This past St. Patrick’s Day was definitely more blue than green for me.  I awoke to the sound of voices outside my tent at the Blue Mountain Shelter on the Appalachian Trail.  I could tell from the amount of light in my tent that the sun was already shining brightly in a blue sky and it was going to be a beautiful day.  Beautiful as far as the weather was concerned anyway.

I had stumbled into camp about 6:30 the evening before very exhausted from the 7.3 mile day that was supposed to be an easy hike.  For the most part, the majority of the day was relatively level terrain and the weather was pleasantly warm with only a few wispy clouds high in the sky.  Pleasantly warm unless you’re humping a 30 some pound pack over the mountains which is much more pleasant in cooler temperatures. 

All was well though and the biggest concerns of the day were trying not to get sunburnt along the way and keeping the gnats and flies away from my face.   There’s no doubt that after my second day of not showering and not wearing deodorant, I smelled worse than a cow in the pasture and I began to wish I had a tail to swat the pests away as I continued along the trail.  Still, the bugs were a minor inconvenience and it really was a beautiful day.

That morning, the 16^th, I had awaken with my usual morning stiffness in my lower back from the arthritis I have there, but with a couple of tablets of vitamin I (ibuprofen) and some stretching and movement to get things lubricated, usually within an hour, I’m up and running normally.  So, I continue my packing and trying to loosen the ole bones, but when I get down on my knees to roll up my mattress and then my tent, I suddenly find myself gripped with shooting pain across my lower back that paralyzes me into a worshipful bow to an unknown god.  The cramp releases shortly and I shake it off thinking to myself, “Whew…I’m glad that passed.  Thank Goodness this will be an easy day”.  And an easy day it was, that is, until the last mile and a half to two miles as I began the climb up Blue Mountain.

Now, I don’t want anyone to get the wrong impression about Blue Mountain.  It isn’t especially steep getting up to Blue Mountain from the south side as compared to say, Wildcat or Sassafras Mountains, although there are some steep sections.  It is one of the top 20 peaks in Georgia and tops at 4,020’ with the shelter being not quite at the top of the mountain.  The climb from the lower points in the area or the known prominence of the mountain is around 700’.  No, what makes Blue Mountain so tiring to climb is the rocks. 
 

Rocks add a different dimension to hiking.  Aside from the jarring impact to the knee joint as each step pushes back on the body and gives no cushion to the weight landing on it, there is the labyrinth of pieces, large and small, that must be accurately negotiated.  I was actually a little surprised that it was taking more time and increased caution to cross this path considering that many times the rocks were almost lying flat like a makeshift walkway that someone forgot to level.  There were many areas that I found myself climbing upward over rock “steps” that varied greatly in height and alignment.  Dispersed among the rocks were trees and their gnarled roots that provided another twisted obstacle to gyrate my foot around or over rarely with enough room to plant my entire boot down on a solid surface. 

All the while that I was intently focused on each foot placement, my pack pushes ever so slightly on my back like a bully threatening to knock me off balance.

My mind would wander back to my youth and remember days long gone by in which I bounded over similar rocky paths with the surefootedness and speed of a mountain goat.  I smile when I recall my mother calling from behind me, “You better slow down or you’re going to fall” and the youthful confidence I had that allowed me to seemingly float over these obstacles.

Now, I find myself echoing my mother’s words to myself, “Slow down…watch where you step…be careful.”  There was absolutely no way to rush over this twisted rock pile of a path as I carefully planted each trekking pole and foot to ensure that I didn’t twist an ankle or trip over a protruding shard to come crashing down on the unforgiving surface.  

My easy day was not ending so easily and I was getting more and more tired.  Where was the shelter?  It couldn’t be too much further.  It felt like I had been climbing for a long time and at my last mile marker check on my map, it should have only been a little over a mile to the shelter.  Was I really moving that slowly that I hadn’t covered the distance yet?  You try to judge your speed and distance with the time that passes, but it varies greatly with the terrain you’re on.

 

With my water and strength running low, I finally came across the next water source, a piped spring on the left side of the trail.  I dropped my pack to refill my bottle and sat there exhausted.  After swallowing some refreshing coolness, I looked up the hill and find the evening sun glowing off the roof of the shelter above.  FINALLY, I’m done for the day…just another 100 yards and I’m done.

Smiling faces of new friends warmly welcome me to our home for the evening.  They see that I am spent and quickly volunteer to help set up my tent in the blustering wind and Junebug even makes a run back to the spring to fill my other water bottles.  Trail camaraderie is amazing.  I make myself a quick meal of noodles and vegetables and the warm liquid helps me feel better in the cold wind that has picked up speed in the evening hours.  We witness a beautiful sunset and I begin to settle in for the night.

As I approach my pack which is leaning against a nearby tree and bend over to pick it up, I’m suddenly doubled over with pain.  It felt as if someone had decided to use my lower back for batting practice.  I fight back the tears that want to come and hope that no one is watching. 

These are the moments that test your resolve to complete the trail.  You have made promises to family and friends to be careful and to do your best not to get hurt.  You know that you will endure varying levels of discomfort on this journey due to the physical, environmental and emotional challenges involved.  You must listen to your body and know the difference between a temporary discomfort and when it is time to throw in the towel and leave the trail.  You consider the time and effort you’ve invested into getting where you are and weigh the costs of continuing.

The back spasm passes.  I finish unpacking, hang my food bag, visit the privy and go straight to bed.  I know that I plan to get a shuttle in Unicoi Gap just about 2.5 miles away and mostly downhill the next day.  I’m taking a short day and heading for The Blueberry Patch hostel hoping that my rest there will alleviate my back pain and fighting back the mental fear that I might not be able to continue my hike if the pain and spasms continue.

So, after the usual tossing and turning of the night accompanied by gusting winds and the endless sweating inside the down sleeping bag and shivering with chills from anything hanging outside the bag that makes you wonder if you might have a fever, I awake to the cheerful voices outside my tent and catch someone mentioning that it is St. Patrick’s Day.  Quickly I do a mental inventory of my belongings to see if I have anything green to wear.  Ah, yes, my Mountain Hardware fleece beanie is olive green; not the most festive of greens to be sure, but green none the less.  Good, that’s covered. 

I sit there a few minutes longer trying to wake up to the point of being sociable and begin the typical morning processes of changing clothes and donning shoes to take care of nature’s call.  It occurs to me that for the first time in 10 days, I didn’t wake during the night to relieve myself which is great on one hand, but also probably meant that I was slightly dehydrated which is not so good.

 
Again, I pick up on some of the conversation outside my tent.  I hear someone mention Sir Packs-A-Lot and a vaguely familiar male voice responds.  Could it be?  Is Sir Packs-A-Lot outside?  I certainly don’t want to miss the opportunity to meet this A.T. celebrity.  I finish dressing quickly and crawl from my den and sure enough, there stands Bob Gabrielsen, Sir Packs-A-Lot himself!

Turtlestone cheerfully greets me and comments on my green beanie being appropriate for the day.  Everyone is hurriedly preparing to leave camp and we say our farewells and see-ya-laters, as I am taking my sweet time nursing the stiffness and knowing I don’t have far to go.  I get a few minutes to chat with Bob alone and snap a picture before he and Next Wind take off down the trail.  I call The Blueberry Patch to discuss arrangements for a night’s stay and I call for a shuttle driver to meet me in Unicoi Gap.  I am alone for a very few minutes at the shelter before Paranoid and another gentleman arrive.  We chat briefly and I finish packing and head out.

Blue Mountain is slightly deceiving.  From the shelter it looks like you are on top of the mountain, but it’s a false top.  Further down the trail the mountain again rises, so you have to climb more before you start the 1050’ descent down the other side.  Thankfully, the descent wasn’t quite as rocky as the ascent and by 12:30 I reached Unicoi Gap. 

There are several hikers hanging around the parking area including Sir Packs-A-Lot and Next Wind who I am very surprised to see there because they left so far ahead of me and are much faster hikers than I am.  As I approach, Bob proudly announces that they called for delivery pizza from the nearby town of Helen, Georgia.  I inform him that I will be waiting for a shuttle into Hiawassee to go to The Blueberry Patch hostel. 

Within a few minutes, the delivery driver arrives with two large supreme pizzas and two 2-liter bottles of soda.  He gets out explaining that this is the longest delivery he has ever made and that the only reason he agreed to do it was that years ago he had been a boy scout and had to hike a week on the Appalachian Trail.  He said he remembered what that was like and was pleased to bring the pizza.  Then he insisted on taking a picture of the hikers with the pizza and said he would be posting it to Facebook.

So after climbing down Blue Mountain, there I sat under a bright blue sky enjoying delivery pizza and soda with a trail celebrity all while waiting to get a ride to The Blueberry Patch while trying not to feel blue about my back spasms which once again bowed me to the ground while reaching for a slice from Bob, all on a day that I thought was to be all about the green. 

Ironically, when I arrived at The Blueberry Patch hostel, it was painted green.

 

P.S.  I have been off the trail since my hike down Blue Mountain and have had a bit of the blues since; however, I will soon be returning to my hike and will continue my northward journey.  I have medication in hand to help alleviate any further spasms and will continue to Katahdin to the best of my ability.  Onward and upward!!