Victory Lap

A mere few steps off the summit, in turning to descend I caught a hitch all the way to Allentown PA, departing Millinocket in the morning. With 3 friends I easily reached the base, at Katahdin Streams Campground, before said ride departed for Millinocket, and spent the evening of my summit day with them in the last trail town of the AT. Thus began the full-circle conclusion of my journey.
Allentown was just a few hours and a few friends from Emmitsburg MD. Thus I was returned to the point at which I’d left my car, and thus I continued …
To Frostburg, the alma mater, and where I’d lived just prior thru-hiking
To the James River, in glorious central Virginia, which I will touch on later.
To Hot Springs where I did 2 weeks of work for stay and got my hike back on track
To Atlanta where I stayed a few days with my brother and sister-in-law before they dropped me off at the trail head
To Dahlonega, the first trail-town, which I actually had yet to see and now discovered thoroughly as I now have a friend from there.
All completely unexpectedly by way of just about every trail town and half the points of interest south of Harpers Ferry

But back to the James River. I’d been thinking ever since I crossed it on foot in early May, that when all this was over I’m going to take a really long…canoe trip. I had a few friends that were going to “aqua blaze” Shenandoah but I wasn’t going that route. I really had no regrets about all the hiking I was and would be doing. Didn’t want to quit before Katahdin. Canoeing just sounded fantastic. Like the glories on even the rigors of hiking, only not on your feet. It also in all practicality, was not likely to happen, given I would have to start pulling in some viable employment, get to ranger school, and friends in the normal world would certainly their vacation plans previously arranged. Entirely unexpected however, a best friends brother beat out the rest of the family in response to my passing through Fredericksburg and I got invited on a Labor Day weekend float trip with a bunch of his friends. It totally fit the bill. I was looking up at all the gorgeousness I’d looked down from 4 months earlier.

My Victory Lap proper took place on a 34 mile stretch oh the AT, from Davenport Gap to Hot Springs, over Max Patch. Max Patch being the key feature. I set aside 2 ½ days to do this, expected I may in fact do it quite nicely in 2 and actually accomplished it in 1 ½ on a luxuriously relaxing pace and schedule. I didn’t know it back when, but Tennessee trail is heaven. Coming off thru-hiking, coming out of the Whites and Maine, 20 miles was almost nothing. So by early afternoon on the first day I knew I would only be spending one night in the woods, and decided my site of choice would be Walnut Mountain Shelter. Last I checked, it didn’t have a roof and was all in shambles, but thanks to McGyver, I also knew that the pieces laying about could be rigged into something of a makeshift to better protect me from the impending weather. (MacGyver, if you’re still following this please post me an email address in the comments and I just wont publish that one.) Much to my surprise the roof had been replaced over the summer, leaving me a snug and care-free night all to myself. Inspite of the torrential rainstorm that slowed my arrival and persuaded me to sleep in my car the night before, and the overcast light rains to come throughout the night and morning, I landed the most fantastic glorious day on Max Patch, breath-taking, and unforgettable. I also found a geo-cache by sheer accident. The venture was far more than successful. And I say that not only for the Victory Lap but for the entire trek from Georgia to Maine in all its epic, euphoric, accomplished, rigorous, occasionally dismal, and entirely unglamorous glory. I loved it. I miss it. I think about it every day. Epilogue soon to follow.

Mission Accomplished

The journey is not yet complete, but Katahdin has been reached as the climax thereof. Some things just aren't over til they're over. In a social sense this is one of those things. Arriving at the last shelter on the trail, just outside Baxter State Park, I was like "Are you kidding me?? This is the Twilight Zone, right?". And 25 yards from the pinnacle experience of the northern terminus with its famous sign I had to just shake my head and laugh at the abrupt and awkward six-minute pause that the emotion of my monumental near approach was relegated to. But I couldn't have asked for a better day to summit. The overwhelming reality of all that was accomplished there, and the meaning behind it are beyond the power of even the most descriptive words. Katahdin is more than a mountain. Surreal. Magnificent. Idyllic. Personal. Any overt response to the structure by anyone other than a true thru-hiker appears trite.
2175 miles behind me demanding I do so is the only means on God's green earth by which I had proceeded through The Gateway and upward blaze by blaze. 4 hours later, descending among comrades of similar feat, I was floating over boulders on miracles.
Now I'm on my way full circle, this time in the contrast and glory of whirlwind fashion.
I'm many friends and vistas, miles and choices, experiences and realizations richer than I already was when I began this irreplaceable trek. It will be awhile before I fully process it all.

Monso(o)n, Maine

So. From Rangeley. I cranked out full days and then some- to Straton in 2 days instead of 3, to Caratunk in 2 days instead of 3. Saddleback was alright. Bigelow, Horns Pond to Avery Peak, fantastic. The Kennebec, lovely. Rain, yes rain, lots of rain. But at this point I have this nonplused resignation to it. Eh, rain, I'm hiking, whatever. makes it a little slower in someways, but if you're going to be wet all day and know it, you dont waste time trying to keep the boots dry.

I've done a 20-mile day in Maine already. Which means I've done a 20-mile day in every state (or included every state in one I should say. West Virginia doesn't have 20 miles)
I also got kidnapped by a little old lady at the post office who felt she had a better idea of where to drop me off than I did.
I finally had a legitmate river fording to do yesterday. 3 infact. Loved it. I did not however get to test my gladiator flip-flops. The boots were already soaked pre-entry.

My camera gave up the ghost on the south bank of the Kennebec awaiting morning ferry. I thought it would really suck to hike all this way and not have a summit photo. Part of my amazing support team overnighted a wonderful replacement, and you will see me ontop shortly. I'm about to enter the 100 mile wilderness. Which is daunting in several regards, but at the moment the sun is shining. I have an idea of what day I'd like to summit, and an idea of two days after that being more reasonable. Neither of which I will publish here.

But next time you find a new post here I will be a for real deal totally legit thru-hiker.

Coasting

Yes, I was. Took 3 days off out of Rangeley Maine and went to the coast for some R&R with a girl I'd met hiking in the Smokies, hung out with in HotSprings, that had put out the invite to me. Chilled on Monhegan Island all day, cooked and baked all sorts of amazingness in a real kitchen, had lobster for the first time (which is like a variation on picking bluecrabs).

See none of the trail rumors are true. The Whites didn't kill us. Pennsylvania isn't rocky. And Virginia sure isn't flat. But there is one trail rumor that is more than true. Southern Maine is worse than the Whites. Southern Maine is the worst part of the trail. It takes forever. Mahoosuc Notch and Mahoosuc Arm. Toughest 10 miles of my life. Took me 12 hours. If I were a fraction of an inch shorter I dont know how I would've made it. Stretched me to the Max. And all in the rain or just after rain besides. I had a few brief shafts of light before Andover, like sundown just before Speck Pond, probably the most epic scene of all my life as a hiker.

Things got a little better from Andover. I found someone to hike with for 3 days, which is a rarity. Rarity in that it has never happened for me and another thru-hiker. I liked it cause it was mutually beneficial, I wasn't getting creeped on, and each of us hiking our own hike was most important to both of us. Then I went on vacation.

I meant to update this from there but I fell asleep instead. The change (or lack) of pace and some seawater did me wonders. And my legs, in revolt and mutiny after 1850 miles of what I'd put them through, were back in the game and up for hiking again.

Ups and Downs - White Mountains National Forest

Water became scarce between Hanover and the Whites. Record temperatures continued to climb. I replaced my boots in Lincoln. Things were going well. The Trail was notably tougher and less maintained. I was dragging, feeling lethargic and not making so many miles. The Whites were partly familiar territory. I zeroed at Lonesome Lake. The Croo there was really great to me. I felt like I could sleep all day and did a pretty goood job of it. The next day I was meeting Lydia with eagar anticipation. She brought me a Trader Joe's resupply and carried it halfway up the mountain for me. For a few hours of the morning we hiked, snacked and got hit on together. Not long after she returned to the Flume for a drive back to the baby, I puked all over the trail. It was highly un-Leave-No-Trace-ish, but there wasn't much I could do about it, and 2-3 weeks of upset stomach from various and sometimes unknown causes finally departed. The skies were alternately overcast and clear day by day, but with no major storms I say I got fantastic weather for the duration, and with consistant sufficient calories further supplimented with Hut Food my energy returned in force and I was both enjoying and feeling strong for my 8-15 mile days thru this territory, highlighted by the scenery and appearance of trail friends not seen for sometime. We're now crossing southbounders in relatively large numbers, most of whom are highly annoying, arrogant and inconsiderate, but that's just a generalization. I've met a few real good ones as well. Zeroing yesterday at the trailside hostel near Gorham NH I accomplished most everything but this update: sleep, resupply, cleanings, repairs, and writings. I won't quite hit Maine today but I'm really really close at this point. There's a rendezvous to the coast I'll be making from Rangely sometime next week, so I'm signing off now to pack up and hit the Trail. Under 300 to Katahdin.

Into the Whites!

What a fun day, and what a fun time! I, self-proclaimed "Brownie," for a day, met up with the famous Gingersnap herself 1 mile north of the Flume Visitor Center in Franconia Notch State Park on Tuesday, July 26. Poured the night before, and poured the night of, but was lovely and mild during our short hike together.

Snappy spent the night stealth camping (or something like that...) in a cozy nook under the highway and then met up with me at the Flume bike trail and Liberty Springs trail crossing. I believe it was 2 years since we last saw each other, so what fun to catch up! I came bearing goodies from Trader Joe's and the usual dried milk, dried potatoes, dried beverage, dried apples, dried whatever.

Spent a couple of hours together before I had to turn back and return to the car to hustle back to Waterville Valley, where my mom was watching our one year old little boy. I was happy to NOT carry him in my backpack up the steep-ish, wet-ish trail. And was able to run back on the trail after emptying my "weight" onto the lone hiker.

Gingersnap was aiming for Garfield that eve. Don't know whether or when she arrived, but with 375 to go, I'd say she's looking pretty swell and as chipper as ever. Sent me back with a bunch of mail and a bit of trash.

All in all, great day, great hike, great friends! Keep on keeping on Kris! You're almost there! So proud of you!

Onward and Upward

Vermont was a pretty rough time. Not intrinsically, just circumstantially. Physically yet ill and hardly eating, socially- stalked on and in a wierd mix of long termers, climatically- over heated, ...ok, the navigationally screwed issue was intrinsic. There's absolutely no way that anyone should begin another trail large or small in overlap with the A.T., split them 100 miles down the road and blaze both White. No way. Especially without any sort of warning signs leading up to that point. Especially displaying the newly intoduced trails blaze prominantly and hiding the A.T.'s blaze entirly arround the bend. On a white birch. There's some things in life youre supposed to be able to trust, like your parents, and a best friend, ...and white blazes to lead you from Georgia to Maine. Only to find out it's like the yellow brick road and the Wizard of Oz. This will stand out in my journey as one of the most frightening and rattling experiences of all. Next day I walked mostly in a bewildered and disillusioned haze of betrayal. My night at the Lookout began to redeem the situation. That, and Killington Peak previously, are the highlights of the Greens.

2 days and a very few nauseous calories later I came into New Hampshire, into Hanover-Dartmouth and to an unexpected welcome from friends of friends made in Hot Springs, NC. I'm taking 2 day off hiking, most of the run-around and some of the rest taken care of today, and tomorrow desinated near entirely to sleeping. The Whites loom not far in the distance. I have mixed feelings regarding them. But 1740 miles into this thing there's only one way to go, and that's north.

Light at the End of the Tunnel

Well, I'm sure the reading audience wants something of the trail and travels in my infrequent posting and not just a one-night tirade, so here i am again today.

Like James Taylor, deep greens and blues are the colors I choose; and New England has been lovely on the whole.

I left Kent CT with multiple ounces in drape netting, which I've pitted against mosquitoes and black flies both under my tarp and the shelters. This has been worth it's weight in gold and yet hardly cost me.

Silver Hill Campsite was a tiny paradise and I slept up in the rafter of the tiny pavilion. Hauling water 3 miles uphill was a small price to pay for camping at Rands View. I had a cute little red-roofed shelter all my own at Glen Brook, and epic rock backdrop the next night. One of the few 20's I happened to wander recently was then to Upper Goose Pond Cabin where I didn't leave til noon the next day on account of swimming and canoeing. This set me up to arrive in Dalton Mass. on the 4th of July, where I got blindsided with icecream and extraordinary picnic, shower, laundry done for me, and a couch to sleep on among the unexpected hospitality of Tom Levardi's "backyard camping" for thru-hikers. I really couldn't have hit things, planned or unplanned, more perfectly.

Little more than a day later I was in Vermont. Absolutely soaked through and through. But in Vermont. So it didn't matter. And whats more, it didnt last. But what did last was the pepperoni issue. Wrecked me for 3 days. You would think that someone who has eaten from among red and white meats for a decade, and has all but certainly ingested residual grease on pizza at some point, could handle a single Vermont-made slice between cheese and crackers and along with the rest of her lunch. Oh but no! Perhaps there was a bit of stomach flu going around that it lasted so long. But who's to say. I'm over it now.

Long Trail hikers are the most recent nuance to the ever changing scenery from Georgia to Maine. Folks out on a near 300 mile thru-hike, half of whom are contemplating following in our footsteps in the near future. Our present paths overlap exactly for 105 miles. 105 quite muddy miles. But it's thick and I dont mind it. Soft footing that sticks to my boots while my feet are dry inside is fine by me.

At the moment I'm on a Zero-and-a-half, resting up for my next stint and accomplishing Part One of Two in readiment for the highcountry not far on the horizon. In the near future is the semi-monumental Killington. In the not too distant future is the infinitely monumental Katahdin.

The Fastest Man to Walk the Trail: A Diatribe

I arrived at a shelter under Graylock for the evening, finding when I arrived a couple of trail aquaintances snacking at the picnic table before heading on to camp out and one man of undertermined age on a lower bunk settled in here.
I acknowledged his presence, introduced myself and inquired as to his name. To this he replied that he wouldnt tell me his because he's got the fastest record of unsupported thru-hikes and he keeps running into trouble because there's people out trying to mess him up. I graciously offered that I haven't signed into registers since Damscus cause I have some hiker guys trying stalk and follow me, so I can understand. (Now the fact that he claims to have the fastest unsupported thru-hike gives all away anyway, but I didn't mention that part).

He mentioned after my aquaintances left that his girlfriend has completed however many thru-hikes of the PCT and the AT so I didnt need to worry about him. I didnt know what that had to do about anything excepth that maybe since I hadnt even completed one yet I certainly wasnt good enough for him. Not that I'm inclined toward anti-social men nearly twice my age anyway.

On the platforms beside the shelter were ATC Trail Crew tents, and soon to arrive to the clearing below were a group of boys with a YMCA camp, neither of whom he cared to greet or acknowledge. But I'll take neutral to the exclusion of antagonistic.

I was kind of surprized and pleased though that he didn't have somthing to say about the amount of things I was carrying or the real foods I was cooking. He was actually affirmative on most points of my nutrition. (It was told to me later that he didnt critique my hike or itinerary or gear because he thought I was obviously beyond hope. And he wouldn't want me to have a chance at breaking his record. I'm willing to give the benefit of the doubt on this however. I being highly diplomatic and a listener to just about anyone tend to aviod tension and agression).

He complained about how the ATC won't acknowledge his record setting. I brought up that I see how that could be frustrating for him, but theres really no way for them to validate speed since they can't even truly validate completions (that would be like trying to televise a play-by-play on an orienteering meet) and brought out how messy that would get if anyone else strarted making claims. He said really they just want it to be all about "the experience". I refrained from comment.

While he didnt have good things to say about the woman of the two hikers I that had departed shortly after my arrival, he had especially uncharitable things to say about a very young thru-hiker that both I and two guys south-bound section hiking had spent time with. All 3 of us in our own experiences, and probably even their dog, had to differ on such disparagement of the kid.

Just before dark I was snapping shut my journal for bed at the foot of the shelter and I heard two friends coming down the side trail. I headed them off and gave them the lay off the land, and the high sign that somone was already asleep. They very quietly unpacked and made their way into the loft above the table. He spoke out that he was awake and they didn't have to whisper. This of course was due to the yet energetic though not ill-mannered 14-year-olds below, but he prefered to have the latecoming couple appologize to him for it instead.

Next morning I was up somewhat early as was he a few minutes after me. I was ready to shove off fairly efficiently and he a few minutes before me. The couple in the loft had begun moving about though weren't downstairs yet. Just as he walked off he says to the upstairs, "Hey couple in the loft...(yeah?)...I just want you to know that between me and my girlfriend we have 15 successful completions of the At and the PCT so you have a long way to go to catch up." And he leaves. Hadn't said a thing to them otherwise. No greetings, no good luck, not so much as a nod of acknowdgement that another few human beings existed.

I've already dropped of the bandwagon blasting to Katahdin as fast as possible. I've joined the slow train of Just Say No to 20's only occasionally and accidentally falling off. But if the fastest man in thru-hiker history is this much of a jerk- I'm gonna start hiking even slower.

Ah, New Jersey. The Land of the Unexpected.

Well, a few weeks ago now, I met Ms. Gingersnap at the hostel in Delaware Water Gap. Over the past few months I had often wished her a 'happy walk north' and prayed, all mishaps considered, that she would make it this far. At last we were walking north together - Onward towards Katahdin!

Really, this trip gave me the full experience of the thru hiker life style. We tried on every kind of camping: from staying at a camp site, to sort of resting in a very wet fire tower, to sheltering with not so normal bed time company, to sleeping alongside the most splendid of friends. We tried out a little trip into Unionville, NY, to give me a taste of stepping off the trail. We ate some great food and some not so great food (ok, I left the kippered herring to Gingersnap, but she needed the nutrition right??). Together, we hiked in the rain, ran from innumerable mosquitoes, and napped in the sunshine. We treaded lightly away from one very angry rattlesnake and made polite conversation with the first two bears Gingersnap had seen on the trail. Most assuredly a well rounded sampler of the AT.

Oh, And did we make some friends too! Ducky and Crazy Goose, who we met at the Delaware Water Gap hostel were quite the characters - full of the most delightful commentary about every aspect of trail life. With Timber and Beer Hunter we dickered the finer points of the worlds greatest harmonica players (not that either in our party really had anything of weight to add to the conversation) and considered the intricacies of British radio broadcasting. We talked about life’s future plans on numerous occasions with Sabi and Ripple. Of all the thru hiking couples that we came across, I do think they were my favorite. They were just so brilliantly kind, and, oh, their accents were down right charming! During our time in town, we first crossed paths with Hand-Me-Down and Thumper. We would see them several times over the next few days and even shelter with them on the last day. I think they were the youngest thru hikers on the trail that I had the pleasure to meet, but they were certainly very nice. Of course, not all company was so dazzling or welcome. On our third night, during my first ever stay in a trail shelter, the wacky southbounder named Whisper joined us. OH man. He told us of his 2.5 mile per day average, bi-polar tendencies, on trail suicide attempts, 75 pound pack, and even showed off the laptop he was carrying...ya, we had some laughs and some very scary scares that night.

In sum total, this was a wonderful and much needed five days on the trail. We covered seventy miles - essentially all of NJ. On the last night, my mom picked us up one mile south of NY and we headed back to my house. Gingersnap found that the easiest way to obtain new glasses was to join us, and so she did. Also, she happened to become a highly welcome guest for both my eighteenth birthday and my high school graduation, as they fell on the same day. For, in her words, it’s not so much about getting from Georgia to Maine the fastest, it’s about the journey in between. I rather like that mindset.

Gingersnap never planned on such a scenic trip through my little home state. And I, I never imagined that so many mosquitoes also called this state home. Altogether, a rather unexpectedly grand trip through good old Jersey.

A Huge thanks to you, dearest Gingersnap, for accepting my company along the way. Good luck on your last 600 miles, have a nice walk north!

Much Love,

Eric McIntyre, Former Spruce Lake Camper, Protege, and Trail Companion

Entering New England

Jersey was unbelieveably sweet. I'll leave those stories for someone else to tell though.
Relaxed, nice views, predominantly fair skies. A few run-ins with skeeters and one big bad rattler. But otherwise all was well. Quite memorable. And most specially, I had favored company the whole way. Never knew that state to be so wonderful.

New York, not so much. New York infact sucked. Quite a bit.
Intent on falling off the 20mile-day band wagon, from getting dropped off near the state line the night before, nonetheless pulled a 22. Over asmuch rockslap and scramble as not. In as much torential downpour as not. Fortunately I was dropped off in possession of new glasses. Otherwise finding my was in all this would have been nigh unto impossible.
Holding valiently to morale inspite of this (Hey- Mother Nature is giving out free warm showers, and its all good) I arrived at the imaginably full shelter well into the evening. Only to discover that Stalker #1, whom I have escaped since Damascus some 900 miles ago, was present, and only too happy to see me. That's when my day went down. Some section hikers maderoom for meacross their feet, and a friend not seen since Blacksburg, VA appeared in the dark, so there was a good note to fall asleep on. However,
Next day was more of the same, only I passed up town for camping, in interest of solitude and secrecy. I woke happy the following morning gray. Having conditions allowing dry feet maintainable makes all the difference, and yet a general feeling of weariness at this whole Thru-Hiking business was present. 8 more weeks of this? Feels like I've been out here forever...
Things started to improve aftert the Hudson, both in terms of weather and terrain. And on the Mid- 4th morning when sunshine broke and I was actually only doing 15 miles hiking this ordeal didn't seem so terminal anymore. Hiking 15's is fun. Things go smoothly with virtually no plan.

I fell into 20 again yesterday, several unexpected sidenotes notwithstanding, which landed me at the lovely Ten Mile River shelter, practically all my own.
And now New York is done, and I am in Kent, CT. For the day. And hopefully the night. I just havent found a permissable place to sleep yet.

Since the Mason-Dixon

They say PA is where boots go to die. Mine did. Along with my pack. And my new headlamp. And my especially new sleepingbag liner. Overall PA is not especially interesting. 14 days later however I am taking a long weekend and moving on to Jersey.

Day 1
I was liberally Trail-Magic'ed and stayed at Quarry Gap shelter, where not only was the structural layout amazing, but I dare saythe community of and among hikers rivaled all other nights.

Day 2
The Midpoint Marker reached at last, the Half Gallon Challenge beaten, I swam laps in the lake. After a few hours that is.

Day 3
With an early start to another scortcher of a day I made Boiling Springs by 3pm and collapsed in the shade of the ATC porch and in the aquaduct for 4-5 hours til I was picked up by friends from Harrisburg.

Day 4
A substitute pack was secured and resupplied from the very limited options in all the Capitol City, the time throughout the day being shared among the company of Heather, Greg and Nathan, then later with Steph and Jess who returned me to the Trail for my first night hike, planned in my efforts to circumvent the heat of summerdays across the open fields.
Note: Night hiking is not a good idea. The epic near-fail is however near famous among my hiking community.

Day 5
Still hiking from my night hike gone awry I was persuaded to call it quits at 3pm in Duncannon. Lodging at The Doyle is quite a piece of trail culture.

Day 6
Crossing the Susquehanna I was repeatedly swooped and scolded by a Peregrine Falcon. Returned to ridgeline hiking and camped at an unnamed spring with Crazy Goose & Ducky, all still perplexed at what whatever was going on at Peters Mountain Shelter this afternoon, but moving on.

Day 7
Hiked alot of mile without seeing anyone. The one I did see this morning was surprizing. It's always surprizing to see Lemur coming from behind cause I'm sure he's way ahead and ever increasingly so. At the final stram crossing there was no bridge and it took all my ropes course prowess to cross the log down-stream unscathed and un-flung-into-the-creek. Then hauled a gallon of water up the mountain and dont know where I camped for there were no landmarks up top. but I found a nice little dirt alcove established among the poison ivy.

Day 8
Soon discovered myself to be farther along the ridge then I expected. Mission#1- water, mission#2- Hertline Campsite's reservior, mission#3- top of the hill, which wasn't nearly the effort I remembered of before. All the while followed from ahead I felt up to pulling a whole 22 miles to Eagles Nest Shelter, with a little view out back that I enjoyed alone.

Day 9
Walked out the ridge and descended into Port clinton for my maildrop, albeit shorter than other descents notably the steepest I can recall since Georgia. apparentlynobody ever told PA about switchbacks. Merrill boots were being held for me at Cabellas. On an otherwise miserably hot day the only place to be wasin or beside the river, and with many others I stayed the night in the town's pavilion there.

Day 10
Hit the Trail early to beat the heat up the mountain. Made it clear that I am hiking my own hike and am not part of any "we" no matter how repeatedly or publically someone else speaks it. Saw my first copperhead of the trip as I was collecting water. Placed my rock atop the Pinnacle and took in the associated view. Collapsed exhausted of just 15 miles hiking in the makeshift chase-lounge in the illustrious Eckville Shelter, undecided, dreading and demoralized by reports of Lehigh Gap in the near future.

Day 11
Hit the Trail even earlier hoping to pull off a 25 mile day as my best shot at Lehigh Gap the next. Miraculously I had 12 miles done by 11am. Lunched with 6 other hikers at the B&B crossing 309. Didnt care who out paced me and kicked it into low-gear, prefering preservation of my hydration and core temperature. Best Trail Magic Ever: someone left jugged water in the middle of nowhere. Not til mile 23 did only my knees and feet beging wishing to be done for the day. Spent a lovely stormy evening at a well-watered shelter, just the 2nd time since Georgia I've had a shelter all to myself. Town pulls all others 2 miles further.

Day 12
crossed the river below. Found a business dayplanner on the concrete barrier and my super-good deed for the daywas to return it either by rendezvous today or mail tomorrow. And so with my gallon of water I stashed this as well in my pack and hauled over Lehigh Gap- which was like Albert the (expletive deleted) Wall times 3- not as long or exhausting as I was led to believe. The exposure though, I was glad I didnt know about that ahead of time, cause that was unnerving at ta few points. Then there was tick-infested grasslands, a very happy businessman awaiting me in Little Gap, a shady hot afternoon in the woods, the most unusual side trip to water ever, and a great conversation with Night Train the few miles before I called it a day at the shelter, an annual Bluegrass Fest in the distance.

Day 13
Rain. Warm, light rain though. The newly acquired sleepingbag liner has holes in it already. I'm super frustrated with most gear companies at this point, nor do I know what to do about getting a remake of eyeglasses before The Whites. But I'll get to Maine somehow in the next few months. An easy hike down into Wind Gap and 2 easy hiches in and out of an errand in town, the combination of thinking things out and wet lichen-covered rocks bogged me down thereafter. But no blisters in wet socks and boots all day, new boots even. Spent the late afternoon into evening reclined in a shelter watching the rain and conversing intermittently with Johnny from Tennessee who sections hikes on his vacation each year and will eventually himself complete the remaining 900 miles and counting of A.T.

Day 14
Easily knocked out a short half-day hike into Delaware Water Gap through a foggy green tunnel. A few white rhododendron blooms remained for me. I thought I remebered Mt. Minsi as painfully rocky, but bounced down it like What is this- Babystuff? Church of the Mountains Hostel I found BudHeavy and Jukebox departing, Pajama, Gas Cap and Nathan enjoying, and then a hot shower. The one thing I can think of specifically anticipating of my trek from Georgia to Maine besides the I-70 overpass is a basket of tree-ripened peaches in the pie bakery in town. Absolutely delicious. New socks and fuel canisters at Edge of the Woods Outfitter, I slept on the couch and caught up on some writing til nightfall when Karen picked me up for a few days rest at Spruce Lake before I go on to discover what Jersey holds.

From the Trail PA is the least interesting and least diverse of states thus far and probably of all to come. But at least they get us from Harpers Ferry to the Water Gap as directly and painlessly as possible. Also, on the whole, I don't think it's as rocky as they say, but I'm from a county adjacent to WVa and have already been to the Whites so perhaps my oppinion on this shouldn't count.

And now I have camp friends to rejoin for one final evening in familiar surroundings between here and Katahdin.

Entering Summertime

Landing an unexpected Zero day in Luray, I have at last become a believer. It's just so revitalizing. Half days off are all spent on the feet resupplying, washing laundry, making communications, and the body needs a break. Luray was fantastic. Well fed, all dried out from the rainy days, and having shed the winter gear at long last, I hit the second half of the Park to see most all the views and Sunday sightseers. In passing there's a plethora of questions which I'll pause brifly for. Alot of thru-hikers dislike this but I think maybe someone will be inspired to undertake the same for themselves someday if I'm willing to share a minute.
Are you on the 6 month tour too?, Were did you start?, How far are you hiking?, How long are you out for?, You're not doing it by yourself are you? and the like.
In the past week I have to say I have gotten all the most unprecedented interactions of the entire trip...

An older woman of a couple in Shenandoah:
Q: "So where are you hiking to?"
A: "Maine."
Rxn: She laughed in my face.
(I thought this was hilarious)

Man working front desk at the Appalachian Trail Conservancy Headquarters in Harpers Ferry:
Q: "So where are you on the Trail now?"
A: "Uhm- Harpers Ferry."
(No amount of just-at-Trail-Days or Memorial Day Weekend explanations were going to be good enough as he was already two for two at 9:15am.)

Two older guys doing a section over Memorial Day Weekend in Maryland
Q: "Where are you come hiking from?"
A: "Georgia"
Rxn: *Snort* "You did not. Wher'd you really start."
(Them's fightin' words)

A weekend backpacker coming south just after the I-70 overpass and before Annapolis Rock:
"You got a climb ahead of you."
A: *pause* "I think I can handle it"
(pause because all I could think at first was: Dude I walked here all the way from Georgia, ok; and Maryland's A.T. doesn't have any climbs)

But even the demoralizing proprieter in Harpers Ferry saying I was about to start the hard part right doesn't matter. I made it to Harpers Ferry, and this is huge, because for the first 3 states I didn't think I possibly ever would.

So having flown through the longest state of all, Virginia, in just 30 days, including 3 full days off and 2 half days, I hit the Maryland homestate, with the albeit unscenic, long awaited I-70 overpass. I've now caught up with multiple bunches I hadn't seen since the Smokies, crossed the Mason-Dixon and am psyched for the flatlands of the Cumberland Valley of PA, with all the camp friends contained there-in. On turf like this I'm going to hit the Whites totally spoiled. But on the momentum I've kept I should have plenty of time and no hurry to get over them many miles per day. I will however become a diurnal hiker. The Mid-Atlantic afternoons are getting steamy hot to say the least. I battle them with siestas and a camelback full of drink-mixed hydration. And thus I will ride the big mile momentum for as long as it lasts.

Shenandoah

Kicking off my entrance with a zero-and-a-half made a visible difference in my energy level I'm told. Having sworn off KEEN shoes forever I was now in lightweight Garmont boots which are my first love in hiking brands. The Bourgeois had most everything awaiting me that I miss on the trail...matress, bathtub, steak, fresh fruits and vegetables, milk, icecream, and familiar faces.

On that note, the afternoon rain held off and I began catching up again with hikers I hadnt seen since Hot Springs, or even the Smokies. At 70 degrees hiking in the next days prolonged downpours hardly phased me. But clearly I cant buy a nice view in a National Park.

If anything was to get me down it was the fact that my big toes had been wrecked by the KEENs and little toes get cut off by the new boots, which were already way past the point of no return. I trimmed circles out of the insoles make extra space inside and eventually resorted to cutting out two inches of the sidewalls to let my toes expand to their natural position. If the heels are snug enough I may try mens boots next time. But for now I have something that works for me and sometimes I hike in my flipflops for a few miles to mix it up and now I have my Chacos back for that.

Had to say a few goodbyes this week to long-distance-section-hikers moving on for the time being, but we ended on good memories. Terrain through the Park is pretty smooth and well graded. And I still have a few more days of the Park under forcasted clear skies. Well, it's way past hikermidnight so I'm signing off.

Since Damascus.

So, 3 weeks and 390 miles ago, I had in mind that I hoped to pull off 110 miles per week and be in Harpers Ferry by June 1st. I would feel good about that.
Well thanks to the fair terrain of Virginia and perhaps the first week due to some good-natured teasing in a shelter log from a 20-year-old who then ate his words, I have more than succeeded and even with slacking off and taking 2 zeros in the coming week, it looks like I'll be in Harpers Ferry a full 7 days ahead of my Damascus goal. Perhaps even before said 20-year-old. Not that I'm intentionally racing anyone. Hiking your own Hike is a beautiful thing.
So out of Damascus I pulled 147 miles in the first week, Mount Rodgers, Grayson Highlands, thunderstorms, unraveling trail shoes, tornados and all. Took a well-deserved half-day at Wood's Hole Hostel, which has to be the most phenomenal hostel on the trail, thus far and thereafter.
Rockin' and rollin' through big days and countless yards of duct tape, soon accented with moleskin, I made it to Daleville almost 250 miles north, where after lots of gymnastics via cell phone, and the help of a few iphone owning friends far away, KEEN had sent a replacement pair as the first only made it 140 miles or so. Daleville was great, and a very efficient resupply. KEEN is not. I discovered that night up trail that this pair also was faultily manufactured and swore of KEENs for life. Only problem being another 135 miles tot he next outfitter. Negative miles are out of the question.
James River, Cold Mountain, Spy Rock, the Priest. I'm kind of hiking in a space between crowds in thru-hikers. Not signing in the shelter registers and for several reasons somewhat off the grid and under the radar at this point. I planned to meet my godparents in Rockfish Gap for half a day and the night at their place before I took on Shenandoah. Well yesterday morning I woke up, did an awesome tape job on my feet, put on the shoes and said, you know what- I am never putting these hiking shoes on again. The boys were all still asleep, it was a cool wet drippy morning and I hiked 21 miles up trail and straight into town for new boots. The outfitter had Garmonts, which are my favorites thus far in life, on sale, which is rare. And I get a full day off my feet, with familiar faces no less.
It's a highly unpredictable best trip ever. And now for the second coat of water-proofing.

The Real Bean Hits the Trail

..And hits it hard. 

Apparently, as both Gingersnap & I have found out, good footwear is most important trail item. Photo: not good footwear

I went out there with old, shabby footwear and lost my little toenail for it. Who knew you could get blisters on top of blisters? and under your nail?! Ah well, I get a new one out of the deal & learn a bit more about my pain tolerance level. (which turns out to be high enough for 'pride' level..or is it pride that makes it so high? hmm..)
Running a close second in value is ...

, man I love that stuff.

Overall - it was perfect. Blister boots, windstorms (tornadoes?), snoring in the shelters, eclectic hostels & all. 

It took watching Kris head on down the trail to remember what it feels like to be with someone familiar & comfortable. 

It's always when we lack that we wish we had it back. Or wish there were more. Like warm cookies, hot water in the shower, pain-free feet, or a missed friend.

While my days on trail were a small capsule that certainly do not qualify my for any hardcore points 

(and I'm still not sure if 7m in flipflops counts as badass or downright loony) - yet I can confidently quote the coffee mug or tee shirt that proclaims:

Not all those who wander are lost. 

From Kristen in Damascus

So. Since Hot Springs. Yes.
Jacob dropped me off at Tanyard Gap, which is as far as I'd hiked with a half pack to rehab my injuries, or to test them rather. I put in half a day then under fair skies and watched the storms play from the safety of Spring Mountain shelter. Started doing 10-12 mile days from there to the tune of "Best Trip Ever!!" This thru-hiking business gets a little better every day. In those next 2 glorious days I was gifted wooden hiking sticks which I carried 30 miles to share (and stash) with a friend, looking like a Scottish Highlander in such terrain. April 12 it rained warmly in the morning over romantic pasturelands and up along green valley of wildflowers, until the ridgewhere it turned into an out-and-out gray squall. First to the shelter, I manned up for a 3/10's trek to water and hunkered down in the corner to get warm and dry. In the end we housed 11 people and a stray dog in a 6 man shelter. Good times. And the morning broke clear into the most epic birthday ever. Nothing hurt and I slept in the sun of Sam's Gap for 5 or 6 hours, collecting all sorts of trail magic until Janine arrived from PA. With our late afternoon start I knew we'd never make the shelter and picked out a last minute bivy before we took to the trail. But the landmark of blue and yellow blazes were neither readily apparent and before I knew it I was on a 360 view from a high bald at sunset. In the perpetual mix of planning things and winging it, Janine and I took dinner in the saddle and trekked one last mile to the shelter after sundown and by the light of a half moon.
The next 3 days I had a good friend along, for spectacular views, encountering an array of characters, sun, rain, wind, spring flowers, shelters, tents and hostels, resupplies, plans and improvisations, ups and downs, the joys and pains of hiking. It was sad to say goodbye early as blisters kept her from continuing and we found her a shuttle back to her car. I hadn't been on that end of the equation before. In short Bean (Janine) had a condensed version of my own trip, and I forged north over Roan Mountain - the last 6000+ footer til New Hampshire- on April 17th, with all manner of snow and ice underfoot. Crossing more high balds thereafter the night was spent in a converted barn shelter with many now familiar faces. I was pulling 16's and 18's well at this point, on my way to the lovely Kincora Hiking Hostel, ready for a long awaited 1/2 day off. But that plan went out the window when I called the Damascus clinic in the morning about what we would call and ingrown nail, and I suddenly had an appointment to make in 52 hours... 50 trail miles north of where I stood. You're kidding me. Well, I had alot more food packed than I needed for such a short period of time, but no time to spare so I shouldered my pack and hit the road, and 47 hours later I was in town - for claiming a bunk and a shower even- before I hit the clinic. 2 hours after that I'd been punched with penicillin and a ten-day prescription of antibiotics for what isnt really an ingrown nail. It's a bacterial infection in the soft tissue adjacent from a break in the skin and hiker dirt. I actually think I had this before in Wyoming once and it went away myself, but as its 250 trail miles or so til the next medical facility I played it safe this time. And Now... I'm taking a Zero, because I want to, not because I have too. It's great. (Ok- the doctor did say I have to, but that was after I already planned to). So, I'm going out to sleep and stretch and write my own thing in the sunshine. Tomorrow I take on the long, long state of Virginia. Bring it on.

From Kristen in Hot Springs

Some one told me when hikers die they go to Hot Springs. In my case it's something of a double-entendre. But in the morning I should be back at it again, inspite of the pleasures of sleeping in a warm bed and being fed from a real kitchen. As much as the the body allows North definitely has a magnetic pull and I'm eagerly apprehensive to take another crack at this. Hopefully Spring has caught up with me for good during my hiking sebatical; it's nice to have been in a place where I'm helping others on their way in my time off, and to have a recent thru-hiker to work along side. My friends are in Damascus already as I had planned to be, but so long as I'm still in The Game I have plenty to be thankful for. So here's to the journey that I didn't plan on.

From Kristen in Great Smokey Mountains National Park

writing to follow in the mail...

From Kristen in Gatlinburg

I'm now in a quandry. Several in fact. There's Northern Miles, the glory of hiking and new-found friends calling me onward, while my body throws fits from the knee down, begging rest and attention lest further damage occur. There's so much to write about, to share with my time-tested friends who follow from afar, with so little access to publish such, and the recent discovery that inspite of shutting down Facebook and sharing the link here very selectively I am infact being stalked.

Of all places I didn't want to pull off the trail, Gatlinburg is it. I have the nice little story of Tree Thug catching up with me 15 miles East of here and combing the parking lot in search of a ride for me though. It happened to be a much more efficient method than thumbing in 36 degrees and strong winds at the intersection. It's kind of demoralizing that he was still in bed when I left the shelter 5 miles back, but kind of encouraging that he thinks I'll be well, and catching up in no time. And we reveled in the goodness of trail magic.

All that to say, I'm winging it. Plan out the window. (It's a very big window). Taking it one day at a time. Yesterday I traversed the highest point of the entire trail and with one more day of hiking, I'll be 1/10 of the way to my destination. Its quite the journey and I'm thankfully still in the game.

BackLog #2: MyTrailnaming (Day 8)

It's now 1/2 a week later, and I'm starting out easily in the morning after my first 20 mile day. About 4 miles up trail I've already all but devoured all the snacks I'd left near the surface, and was leaning over a trailside spring to load up one quart before ascending Albert Mountain - since heard referred to as "Albert the [expletive] Wall"

That's when I heard them coming. Spring Breakers. You can hear Spring Breakers coming, but this bunch could be heard a mile away. 4 of the rounding the bend.

"Hey I like your hiking skirt!" called the one working the dreads.
KG: "Thanks, how's it going?"
"Great!"
"We're on Spring Break!"
"It's Awesome!"
KG: "Yeah? Where you coming from?"
"We go to school in Alabama."
KG: "Alright. Where did you stay last night?"
"Uhmmm.."
"What was that called?"
"I don't remember"
KG: "Cold Spring?"
"Yeah! That was it!"
"How about you?"
KG: "Last night I was at Carter Gap."
"Are you a Thru-hiker?!"
KG: I'm working on it
"That's amazing- Youre gonna make it" said the kid decked out in orange. "Do you write about it? Like is there a place to read about what you're doing out here? Cause I would totally follow you. But not in a creepy sort of way!"
KG: "Yeah I write. My brother posts some for me when I get a chance to call in. I'll give it to you."
"When did you start?"
"What's your trail name?"
KG: "Well, I started, ah- 8 days ago, and my name is Kristen. I don't have a trail name yet."
(this met with serious sighs of disappointment and crestfallen looks)
KG: "It's ok. I've only been out here a week. If I don't get one til Damascus it's ok. It's worth waiting for."
"Youre right"
"this is so amazing can I get my picture taken with you?"
Uhm sure
"You are such a Godsend"
KG: "Oh, ok."
"Gingersnap!!" yelled the kid working the dreads
KG: "Well there it is!"
"Are you seriously going to let us trail-name you?"
KG: "Sure"
"Dude, she's going to let us trail name her! Can you believe that?"
"I still can't believe her real name is Kristen."
KG: "Why?" (looking at the one girl in the group) "Is that your name?"
"No."
"But her parents wouldn't let her come if she was the only girl. So we told them Kristen was coming, and then they were ok with it. Kristen changed her mind though and didn't come after all so we've been trying to figure out how to explain to her parents why Kristen isn't in any of the pictures. But NOW- We have a picture with Kristen in it!!"


See, this is why I love college freshmen (give or take a year).
And no offense, but those who trail-name themselves don't get a good story with it. Patience is a virtue and good things come to those who wait.
So my trail-name is Gingersnap, and I hope out there somewhere are 4 kids from Alabama who enjoy the story, among a week of others, just as much as I.

Thin Mint even had sturdy little gingersnaps to share with me, basking in the sun with Lizard at the top of Albert Mountain. And someday perhaps I'll tell you why the name is so ironic for me to begin with.

BackLog #1: Survival of the Fittest... Smartest...Best-Allied. (Day 5)

"4 inches! Let's not hike, Let's whitewater raft!" -Steadfast

The morning before we'd all broken out of the hostel at Neel's Gap to beat feet for shelter space, be it Whitley Gap, Low Gap or Blue Mountain. I was gunning for Low, and when all was said and done we squeezed 9 hikers in, personality being anything but scarce.

It was indeed coming down in the morning and Blaine and David and I joined forces to make for Unicoi Gap, busting out 10 miles in 4 1/2 hours, stopping only for short necessary breaks, as small rivers ran both down and across the trail, cold rain blasting sideway. I still don't know if it was better or worse that we stopped at Blue Mtn shelter to eat a little something before the big descent. The thing is built backwards like a wind funnel, and I knew it. Mildly hypothermic we again got moving and halfway down I fell for the first time. Hit a wet rock slab and both feet went out from under me. Kid you not, the first thing to hit was my chin. Somebody must have rolled a 20 on my save, cause I bounced up without a scratch and we made it to the bottom and to trail magic. Shivering on the side of the road now, 4 wet miserable hikers were thumbing for a hitch into town and eventually a white 1/2 bed pickup stopped for us, courtesy of a guy named Randall, careening down 9 miles of frigid blast into Helen, GA. where we planned to share a hotel room and dry out our gear. A hot shower, down jacket and steamy laundry room never felt so warm as I maintained my well-traveled tradition of washing clothes for several others. At this point I'm feeling rather weak metabolically and my one knee is giving out. Blaine is doing valiently to keep my head in the game for the next section, and inspite of the fact that I can only get down 2 slices of pizza and a cup of French onion soup that night, I sleep well and rally for another day.

From Kristen in Fontana

Explaining how I got here is nigh unto impossible, and I have mixed feelings about it. But quite honestly givien my gender that could be said of most anything, so I won't camp there. Not only am I zero-ing in Fontana, I'm double zero-ing.

The bad news is I'm in rough shape structurally, the good news is it only hurts to hike (sadistic humor I know). The bad news is I'm losing time, the good news I'm still on the trail, which was highly debateable yesterday. It's been a 10-day progession of worsening condition and diagnosis.

At this point I'm nearly certain of a name for it. And as of today, thanks to a far away friend, I have a few solutions. What I don't know yet is which direction my knees are getting trashed from: if my body is revolting to the insoles of my boots, or the fit of my hipbelt. But 40 miles north in Gatlinberg at least there's 2 things I can work on besides quitting and an orthopaedic surgeon. At this point, Im leaning toward the pack, as my feet feel largely stellar, and several bones along my waist in some ways not so much. Amazingly enough all my muscles are quite, quite very, happy.

With that being said, I will be finding some floor space to do some Nalgene therapy, and think on a few good BackLog stories to share. Here's hoping I have Katahdin in me over the next few weeks.

From Kristen in the Nantahalas

Torrential rain and trail magic, wind and snow, hostels and hotels, shelters, campsites and bivouacs, hiking, hitchhiking and occasionally dry, warm weather and clear skies – there's not a whole lot I haven't seen in this week. It was a big deal to make the GA/NC border. So far I've made 137 miles in 12 days, which (just crunching the numbers) is an average of Pathetic, but considering the conditions is pretty close to amazing. Part of me wonders why I spent the last 7 years hoping and dreaming and working toward being wet, cold, miserable, hungry and in pain, but I'm here and for the time being, I'm going to keep going. There's really no way for me to keep up with both writing and survival so I'm sorry not to include a lot of stories of the wonderful people I've met or pictures of the gorgeous things I've seen.

But I made it to Nantahala Outdoor Center and few miles beyond. I might zero at Fontana and perhaps get a letter in the mail, but for the time being I am clean, dry, and resupplied until Gatlinburg, TN.

from Kristen on the trail

By far the rockiest and most fluvial section of the first day was climbing up Springer Mountain and back down to Forest Road 42. The first thing I did atop Springer Mountain was break my digital snapshot camera. On a rock. In a puddle.

(Not my best move ever.)

I was immediately struck by how little it really mattered to me. I was here for a hike; objects being replaceable. What is no small miracle, however, is that with some forcing and prying and a few slaps, it totally works again. So the good news is: someday you get pictures!

Finding the trail register, I simply signed in; no notes, no exclamation.

“3/5/11 Kristen Paige Gregory”

I really don't remember my first few steps of the trail, but upon reaching the bottom of the hill, I walked the rest of the day in the same grey rain on a soft path through long green tunnel, primarily deliberating whether to hike nine miles or sixteen. I had a few rough moments, but largely I was a happy camper. In the end I decided to take it easy on myself and break myself in gently (given recent conditions) and so found myself camped at Hawk Mountain shelter in the top corner. I was surrounded by an unadmitted vagrant with 2 dogs, two first timer marines, five thru hikers and a dad plus weekend groups and a few others in half a dozen poor tents in the rain.

With a little shaking disillusion between dinner and second dinner, I nonetheless fell asleep in a relatively good state of mind. It poured seriously all night long. I can't say I made a early start on day 2, but my body didn’t ache which was promising. An orchestra of fluty whistles filled the day; that's how crazy the wind was. Descending a switchback, I caught my first glimpse of the Chattahoochees. Then, upward, resumed to otherwise walk thru a blasting mist, overlooking an abyss of fog, wondering which of the foggy tops was Sassafras Mountain and which was Justice Mountain. My primary deliberation was not where I could stay, but how much of what was in my pack I could ship out at the post office in Suches.

My sites were thus set on twelve miles to Woody Gap. Other than the shelter midway, everywhere I stopped turned out to be a wind tunnel. The ridge up to Ramrock Mountain showed a panoramic view thru the trees, which was a favorite moment. But Ramrock doesn't have a top... it has LOTS of tops and lots of mini gaps, which at this point in the day was at least as psychologically exhausting as physically. And then out of nowhere, on yet another ridgewalk (only unique for skipping across spring runoff) Woody Gap slaps you right in the face, quite literally. Taillights in the fog were never yet such a welcome sight. Katherine and her dad and Andy preceded me and we were soon fed and tented as bits of snow pelted our little homes.

It was a cold, cold night, but we all woke in good spirits and somewhat rested. By the time I walked down to Suches and hitched back, courtesy of Mr. Nelson Angler. Frost-covered mountains and raspberry canes were dropping chunks of frost like oversized coconut flakes. Even with my side trip, I made a decent midmorning start and most of the day was spent ridgewalking to Blood Mountain, my first “big mountain” (800 feet in 8/10 of a mile). Clear skies and vistas! I passed up the shelter of creepiness for Neels Gap where I picked up my first mail drop and made a sudden decision to hostel and regroup. I've cooked a nice dinner and showered; it hasn't been the easiest start, but I'm not unhappy with it either. For the most part, conditions continue to improve and you should hear from me again in a week, hopefully at Nantahala.

The Dropoff

Jack the Web Goblin here - I'll be caretaker for the blog while she's on the trail. She's headed north now.

--

The day began at 7:00 am - one hour later than anticipated. With much rushing and preparation (and a few imprecations thrown at malfunctioning alarm clocks) we were out the door and on the road toward Springer Mountain and the AT trailhead.

A steady rain cut visibility somewhat on the drive north toward Amicalola Falls, but "you can't hike the AT without getting wet eventually" and so our stalwart party forged onward. The report from AFSP personnel was that Winding Stair Gap was not an ideal choice for access, so we rounded the western border of the mountain and found Forest Road 42 (an auspicious number, for any Douglas Adams fans out there) which would apparently give us an easier ascent.

Our hardy Chevy Cavalier began the trek up toward the trail, and the rain had settled the dust on the gravel road nicely; low lying clouds, however, prevented any view of potential vistas as we continued onward and upward. After ten miles or so we found the access to the trail itself - white blazes leading all the way to Maine. It's really rather astonishing, when one pauses to consider the scale of it.

And so photos were taken (courtesy of some other hikers), goodbyes were said, and excitement ran high, to say the least. It's a culmination of over 7 years of planning and preparation, and to see Kris starting her journey was a privilege we'll not forget soon. Amanda snapped a picture as she turned around for the last farewell.


A text was received later on, which I reproduce here:

"Hawk Mtn shelter - 9 miles in. been here a couple hrs. kinda wet out. doing ok. calling it an early night. <3kg "

And so it begins!