Nero (Day 36) (414 miles hiked)

Ever since the Department of Justice shut down the three largest poker sites in America, hiking has been a bit harder. Overnight, myself and thousands of other poker players lost our jobs. There are no unemployment checks coming our way and I don't think Bono is going to put on a benefit concert for us.

And while the rest of the poker community is fighting this in Washington, I'm trying to justify being out in the woods. Sometimes, I feel like Nero playing his fiddle while Rome burns.

Anyway, I met a friendly girl a few days ago who showed me what a Christmas fern looked like. Then she told me that ants taste like lemonade. I'm not sure if any of what she said was true, but I'm glad I met her because now when I see an ant, I'm not thinking about the Department of Justice. I'm thinking, "Freshly squeezed or the powdery Country Time crap?"

And fortunately, there are a LOT of ants out here.

Underestimations (Day 25) (271 miles walked)

I underestimated how difficult it would be to update this blog from the trail. Sorry. I haven't posted as often as I thought I would.

I underestimated how difficult it would be to play online poker while hiking. (So far, I’ve played twice.)

I underestimated the weather in the Smokies. As the snow melted, we climbed and slid down dangerous mountains covered in mud. And then we were pelted with hail.

I underestimated the toll the trail would take on my shoes. Fortunately, a new friend of mine managed to pull out a needle and some dental floss and fixed my shoe's busted heel. MacGyver couldn’t have done any better.

But most of all, I underestimated how much fun I’d be having out here. I’ve managed to fall in with a group of people who are every bit as weird as I am. When we couldn’t find a place to stay in Hot Springs, NC last night, we bought a case of Pabst Blue Ribbon and a pack of hot dogs and decided that it was time to become hobos for a night. Under a filthy bridge, we carved skewers out of wood and cooked hot dogs over an open fire and passed out listening to old Woody Guthrie songs. It. Was. Awesome.

I’m still not sure if I’m going to make it to Maine, but screw it. Right now, I’m having too much fun to care.

(Those are my feet.)