Time Off (527 miles hiked) (Day 46)

I was in pretty bad shape as I left Tennessee.

I was nearing the end of a 14 hour, 40 mile deathmarch fueled by caffeine and testosterone. I crossed the state line and as the adrenaline died down, I was suddenly aware that the blisters on my heels had become a serious problem. I woke up the next morning, looked at my feet, and realized that I wasn't going to be able to hike again for days.

I wandered off the trail and ended up at a farm owned by a Appalachian Trail legend named "Mountain Man." Mountain Man first hiked the trail 30 years ago when he was 11 and has hiked the trail many times since. He was happy to feed and house me while I recovered if I agreed to help a bit around the farm. So I spent a few days milking goats, feeding pigs, and building a shack big enough for 8 geese to live in.

After three days I was ready to hike again, but honestly, it was hard to leave behind Mountain Man and the animals. He offered to let me stay longer and I was tempted, but the trail was calling and the longer I stayed, the harder it was going to be to get moving again.

I walked on.

And while I still miss the farm, I was definitely grinning as I walked through the Grayson Highlands. I was back in my home state of Virginia, I was surrounded by rolling hills and grazing ponies, and as I played Proclaimers song on my headphones, I crossed the 500 mile mark.

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.)

…And Then The Rain Came (Day 10) (104 miles hiked)

A few of us hikers were feeling pretty confident as we left Hiawassee, Georgia. We thought we were ready to continue north toward the Smokies and pass through Franklin, North Carolina without stopping.

But the rain caught us off guard and while we walked 12.5 miles up and down mountains, water leaked into our packs.

After spending about an hour in my tent hating life and singing “99 Bottles Of Beer On The Wall” to distract myself, I feel asleep in a cold damp sleeping bag. While I slept, a mouse ate his way into my food sack and dined on my trail mix and cashew nuts.

No one skipped Franklin. While the rain continues, most of us are heading to the local Outfitter to buy better equipment while the rest of our gear hangs outside of our hotel rooms, filthy and soaking wet.

Onions (Day 5) (64 miles hiked)

I was about 7 miles into my 2^nd day’s hike when I saw a short, shirtless hiker approaching me on the trail from the opposite direction. He had a big smile on his face and he joyfully asked me, “You want an onion?” In his hand, he held out five onions, which he seemed quite proud of.

“No, I’m good,” I replied.

The smile quickly vanished from the guy’s face and now, he looked concerned.

“Are you sure?” he asked.

As it turns out, I was not.

Suddenly, I was second guessing myself and I was now wondering if I should take him up on his offer. I didn’t need to do an inventory of my pack to know that my onion supply was quite low. In fact, I had none.

Up until that point, “zero” had seemed like a perfectly adequate number of onions to be carrying during an Appalachian Trail thru-hike, but the look on this guy’s face seemed to indicate otherwise. Why did this guy have five onions and why did he think I needed one? What did he know about onions that I didn’t? Are onions of some use on the Appalachian Trail or was this guy just straight up crazy to walk up to a stranger and offer an onion without even saying “hi” first?

“Uhh, no thanks,” I finally replied. (I assumed that even if onions did have some special powers in the woods, I wouldn’t how to use them anyway, so I was probably better off without one.)

He shrugged his shoulders, said “okay” in that “your loss, buddy” tone and continued passed me. I never saw him again.

If I knew more about long distance hiking, I probably wouldn't have spent the past 3 days utterly baffled and slightly concerned about the incident.

 Warning: This pack may (or may not) contain a dangerously low number of onions.

P.S. The Blue Ridge Mountains have been quite a sight.

My First Trail Companions (Day 1)

After taking a quick photo on Springer Mountain, I joined the parade of hikers who plan to walk from Georgia to Maine in the next 7 months. Today, I met two of them: Rick and Gunner.

Rick was in his 50s and out of shape. When I met him, he was standing halfway up a mountain, leaning forward with his hands on his knees, panting for breath, and looking like he was about to vomit. I asked him how he was doing.

“Fine,” he lied. I shrugged my shoulders and continued up the mountain without him.

I didn’t find out his name was Rick until later when the next guy I met, Gunner, told me that Rick had turned around a few miles back and decided to go home. Gunner was also seriously rethinking his decision to walk the Appalachian Trail. I didn’t blame him. Gunner was about 6’1”, 270 pounds, and he asked me twice if I had any weed. After a short talk, I left Gunner behind as well.

I doubt I’ll ever see Rick or Gunner again, but considering only about 1 out of 10 who start the trail in Georgia actually finish, maybe it’s good thing that I’m running into people less prepared than me. Mathematically, it gives me hope.

 This man on Springer Mountain's plaque bears no resemblance to either Rick or Gunner.

I'm Homeless (10 Days until Springer Mountain)

The lease on my apartment expired a week ago.

It feels somewhat liberating to have zero keys on my keychain:

Ten more days of visiting family and then it's on to Springer Mountain in Georgia--the southern most point of the Appalachian Trail.