I have a minor fixation on the weather in Blairsville. I look at the 10-day forcast about 3 times a day when I'm at work. It's primarily about 20 degrees warmer than New Germany during the day, and about 12-16 degrees warmer at night. Except for today. Today is to be very near equal, within 2 or 3 degrees, daytime higher, nighttime lower. Then it's back up closer to the previous range of difference, only sometimes just 8 degrees warmer at night. I've only been doing this for about 3 weeks though, so I don't know how the seasonal changes stretch or compress those numbers. But I do know that watching the weather, like watching a sporting event, does not change the outcome. And to my credit, I am far less fanatical than anyone following sports.
Christmas is in Georgia this year. And Christmas, too, marks 10 weeks til I begin my trek North from Springer Mountain. So it’s getting really close. Which makes The Hike of Hikes more of a stark reality and less of an idea. The reality of thru-hiking is as a cold hard truth, in the most literal sense of those words. I spend a lot of time thinking about the realities of trail life. It’s the starry-eyed romanticists that go home two weeks from starting and I don’t intend to be among them.
I’ll spend my first week of thru-hiking in Georgia. The Georgia section shouldn’t be as rigorous as other sections, partly as it’s not the worst of terrain to be had and partly for the novelty having not worn off. The fickle weather of early March is like to be my primary nemesis. Be that as it may, I in no way question the undertaking, even though I hardly know the true reason for this journey. Quest. Thing.
And so I go to Georgia. It’s been on my mind for quite a long time.
Monday, December 13, 2010
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
from Kristen in Garrett County: "Not Made for the Masses"
It’s time to go. I’m super-high-strung-out on stress at this point (if you’ll pardon the spontaneously coined compound word). Primarily over my thru-hike.
If I have to answer one more “cocktail party” question I’m seriously going to lose my cool. It’s not all questions that are pushing me over the edge. It’s just the superficial ones, especially concentrated at special events, from people I’ve never met and will never see again. I wish they’d just google it on their iphone and leave me alone. I’d really prefer to be spending time with the people I’m close to before I go.
“So, I hear you’re going to be hiking the A. T...,” is my new queue to inadvertently drop my drink, or faint inexplicably. I'm tempted to start answering the impending question before it’s even half asked. I know what’s coming.
“How many -”
“It’s 2,176 miles, give or take.”
“How long -”
“I’m doing it in 5 months, plus or minus a week.”
“Have you -”
“Yes, I’ve read Bill Bryson’s book A Walk in the Woods. And his unprepared tagalong who’s name you can’t remember is Stephen Katz.”
“You’re not -”
“Yes I am going by myself. 900 or more people start it each year. I’ll fall into a loose long-distance hiking group when I get there, and from Virginia through Pennsylvania I have a dozen good friends meeting me for sections.
(Etc, etc, ad nauseum.)
Now, my “godbrother,” for instance, can ask me anything he wants at his sister’s wedding, and I like it. Sadly, I haven’t actually seen him in 4 years, and as to what’s going on in my life presently, it mostly has to do with Rangering and with Thru-hiking. “How do you like being a Ranger?” and “Wow, I didn’t know you were thru-hiking…” are two things I totally enjoy sharing with a long-time friend on the dance floor.
And day to day on either side of that, I really appreciate friends asking me “So how are things coming for your Hike? Are you feeling ready?” I’m going to miss them a lot while I’m away, and I’m super-excited that some of them are joining me for bits and pieces.
I have one other uber-frustration though. And that is random people inviting themselves. Seriously, I get people I met a matter of weeks or mere hours ago, and know only very superficially, not asking, but telling me, that they’re going to come meet up with and hike part of my trail with me. First of all: Awkward. And second of all: No. (Some of you should be super-proud of me: I just said no. Well, ok, so I didn't say it that directly or succinctly. But I did put my foot down.)
See, all “My Section-Hikers” (as I call my invited friends) came about by someone tentatively or tenouously asking “So are you going by yourself? … Do you want to go by yourself? … What kind of company are you looking for?” To which I replied “Yes … yes and no … (and finally) someone just like you!” Occasionally too, they came about as someone with a plethora of applicable experience offering to resolve my dilemma of not knowing when I’d see them next, which was just as nice of an understanding
Equally welcome are the offers of godparents and camp friends and the like, who state their proximity, be it 5 or 30 minutes from the trail, saying “Please call us when you get near (wherever). We’d be glad to come get you if you want a hot meal and a shower and a bed for the night.”
Admittedly there’s a few middle situations that make me want to beat my head against a wall repeatedly. But the bottom line is, all manner of good things start out with some version of “do you want…” in this. And what starts with “I want…and I’m going to…” is pretty bad news for me.
If I have to answer one more “cocktail party” question I’m seriously going to lose my cool. It’s not all questions that are pushing me over the edge. It’s just the superficial ones, especially concentrated at special events, from people I’ve never met and will never see again. I wish they’d just google it on their iphone and leave me alone. I’d really prefer to be spending time with the people I’m close to before I go.
“So, I hear you’re going to be hiking the A. T...,” is my new queue to inadvertently drop my drink, or faint inexplicably. I'm tempted to start answering the impending question before it’s even half asked. I know what’s coming.
“How many -”
“It’s 2,176 miles, give or take.”
“How long -”
“I’m doing it in 5 months, plus or minus a week.”
“Have you -”
“Yes, I’ve read Bill Bryson’s book A Walk in the Woods. And his unprepared tagalong who’s name you can’t remember is Stephen Katz.”
“You’re not -”
“Yes I am going by myself. 900 or more people start it each year. I’ll fall into a loose long-distance hiking group when I get there, and from Virginia through Pennsylvania I have a dozen good friends meeting me for sections.
(Etc, etc, ad nauseum.)
Now, my “godbrother,” for instance, can ask me anything he wants at his sister’s wedding, and I like it. Sadly, I haven’t actually seen him in 4 years, and as to what’s going on in my life presently, it mostly has to do with Rangering and with Thru-hiking. “How do you like being a Ranger?” and “Wow, I didn’t know you were thru-hiking…” are two things I totally enjoy sharing with a long-time friend on the dance floor.
And day to day on either side of that, I really appreciate friends asking me “So how are things coming for your Hike? Are you feeling ready?” I’m going to miss them a lot while I’m away, and I’m super-excited that some of them are joining me for bits and pieces.
I have one other uber-frustration though. And that is random people inviting themselves. Seriously, I get people I met a matter of weeks or mere hours ago, and know only very superficially, not asking, but telling me, that they’re going to come meet up with and hike part of my trail with me. First of all: Awkward. And second of all: No. (Some of you should be super-proud of me: I just said no. Well, ok, so I didn't say it that directly or succinctly. But I did put my foot down.)
See, all “My Section-Hikers” (as I call my invited friends) came about by someone tentatively or tenouously asking “So are you going by yourself? … Do you want to go by yourself? … What kind of company are you looking for?” To which I replied “Yes … yes and no … (and finally) someone just like you!” Occasionally too, they came about as someone with a plethora of applicable experience offering to resolve my dilemma of not knowing when I’d see them next, which was just as nice of an understanding
Equally welcome are the offers of godparents and camp friends and the like, who state their proximity, be it 5 or 30 minutes from the trail, saying “Please call us when you get near (wherever). We’d be glad to come get you if you want a hot meal and a shower and a bed for the night.”
Admittedly there’s a few middle situations that make me want to beat my head against a wall repeatedly. But the bottom line is, all manner of good things start out with some version of “do you want…” in this. And what starts with “I want…and I’m going to…” is pretty bad news for me.
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