Trail Notes

A Blister and an Update
July 31, 2014

Quite a lot has happened over the last week. I had to come back to Boston on Tuesday, 7/22 to treat a MRSA infection on my left foot. I saw two doctors, both of whom suggested that I take the time to recover completely before heading back to the trail. I, of course, wanted to ignore them and get back to hiking, but luckily for me I'm surrounded by sane people who kept me in line. It finally looks like the healing is going well so I will be hiking again on Saturday, 8/2.

Mike and Natalie had waited for two days in N.Y. to see if I would be able to go back to hiking with them. Once it became clear that my recovery would be at least a week they hiked on. They got two days in, about 37 miles, when Natalie decided she needed to see a doctor herself. She has felt sick for a couple of weeks now and isn't sure if it's due to the infection she had on her heel, or perhaps Lyme Disease. She had a negative test result in Palmerton, PA, but I understand there is a thirty percent chance for a false negative. There is definitely something going on there and we need to find out what it is.

Poor Mike has had to deal with this drama all along and has been incredibly supportive. He drove Nat and himself back to Quincy and set up an appointment for her. Now it looks like he'll be heading back to the trail alone on Thursday, 7/31. He has a wedding that requires his presence in mid-September and has to get in some miles. I thought I might be able to go with him, but it was suggested I wait the extra couple of days. Yes, dear.

Speaking of yes dear, I need to thank Amy for her unending love and attention. From the day she left work to drive four and a half hours to get me, she has been the foundation that keeps me level and true. When I get crazy, she's sane. When I get stupid, she's smart. When I think I know what's best, she knows better. I wouldn't have the slightest chance of finishing this hike if not for her. Love You!

I also need to thank Mary [the kid's Mom] and Erin [my daughter], two incredible nurses, for being there to help lead me in the right direction about getting treatment and following the doctor's orders. It's a wonderful thing to have such knowledgeable and caring people in your life. I talk so much about Trail Magic while hiking, but sometimes I forget all the Magic I receive in my daily life. Thank You!

Natalie is going to stay with Mary while she waits for the results from her doctor's visit. When she feels well she'll catch up to Mike and fill in the sections she misses later. 

I won't be trying to catch Mike. My plan is to let the trail take me to Katahdin. I've been trying to impose my will on this hike; like I often do with a lot of things in my life. Maybe this was one of the lessons I came out here to learn. I don't need to beat it, there's nothing to win, it's the journey. I've read it, heard it and said it myself, but I never understood it. I hope I do now, because letting the trail take me is the only way I'll get where I'm going.

TTFN

The pictures show the progression of the infection and the result of the treatment.

Through the Trees

May 10, 2014

Sometimes I feel as though I'm swimming through the trees. My arms swing out, trekking poles in hand and drag the landscape back as if I were in water. Each pull propels me; a wake of trail closing behind me. 

Climbing up the crests of hills is like swimming up he face of a great wave and at times I feel I'll tumble back; swept by the momentum of the slowly cascading mountains.

I remember slicing through the chop of Nantucket Sound. My hands cupped, pulling the sea back to me. My legs pounding against the blue-black, cool Cape water. I often thought I should swim acoss the sound to the Vinyard. Slowly, methodically pulling myself away from the main and toward the misted island.

Now, here I am among the trees. They rush past me in a wash of greys and greens. Each pull of my hand, each kick, propels me toward a distant goal and draws me further from the main.

Gatlinburg 
May 3, 2014

Imagine you're walking through an Eden-like forest with views into next month. Nature's power and beauty drawing you into it's embrace.

Now, imagine that you had to delay that sweet embrace with a side trip to a quaint little Tennessee town for medicine and resupply. From nature's purity to the charm of a southern burg.

             BLAM!! GATLINBURG!!!

It's like they shook up the Ringling Bros. Circus and poured it over the town. They've created the gaudiest two mile drag-queen of a strip mall and planted it on the edge of a peaceful woodland park. Thousands swarm the sidewalks and crowd stores filled with everything you never wanted, but somehow end up buying just because you're there.

I'm not saying it's a bad thing.  I enjoyed it all in a crazy,  "join the party" kind of way. The explosion of color and sound, the moonshine mavens hawking their wares on both sides of the incredibly busy street. The tourists dressed as flamboyantly as the town. It's Provincetown,  the Vegas Strip, and Wal-Mart at Christmas on steroids.

I'm glad we had the chance to see it. I might even come back again. For now, I think I'll fade back into the gentle arms of the mountains.

Roofless Privies in the Rain

April 25, 2014

Most shelters have privies. They are all pretty rudimentary; three sides, no door, a bucket of sawdust with a scoop to drop in the hole at the conclusion of one's business. It doesn't sound very luxurious, but rather than climbing through bramble off trail to dig a cat hole and squat; privies are the Ritz.

So far on our hike, nature has been kind and my body has consumed nearly every ounce of food it's taken in. Privy calls have been few and far between. Only once have I desperately needed to use these woodland gems.

It was a rainy day after leaving Hiawassee with a belly full of delicious sausage and eggs. I love eggs. Boiled, over easy, scrambled, omelets, soufflés, custards; any way, any time, any where. Love them, but they don't love me.

So on this cool, soft rainy day, no one on the AT was happier to be nearing a shelter with a privy than I.

I high stepped through the crowd of hikers huddling under the shelter overhang and beelined for the Ritz. As I got close, I was glad to see no hiking boots where the partition allowed a view. Free and clear. I leapt up the steps, and turned to face the only roofless privy I'd ever seen.

The rain dripped delicately onto the wet, glistening lid. It tapped out a slow staccato beat with a hollow plastic snap. I had no choice. There was no time. I flipped the lid, slid down the trow and sat dejectedly upon the rain soaked throne.

I hope someday to find the designer of this particular outhouse. I can only imagine an evil, squirrel-faced genius sitting in his home somewhere on a heated, padded toilet seat giggling with insane glee.

I'll find you my friend; I'll find you.   

Pointless Ups and Downs

April 21, 2014

P.U.D.'s, puds, pointless ups and downs, are not actually pointless. They lead you toward your ultimate goal. That fact doesn't make them any more palatable.

After climbing the 10th, 20th, 30th rise to a viewless vista you begin to look inward rather than outward. You become more aware of the miles. The days seem a bit longer. You're not bored, but you are tired. You know that at the end of the day you'll be far from where you started,  but little has changed and tomorrow will be the same.

The redeeming feature of puds is the camaraderie they engender. The shelters and campsites you find at the end of the day are filled with fellow wearies who, like you, are ready to vent and commiserate with one another about their common effort.

The hiker bubbles formed by pace and commonality quickly become roving communities who watch out for one another and share kindnesses large and small. They are evolving groups whose members may change, but whose mission remains the same; move northward.

The P.U.D.'s may wear us down,  the miles tire us out, but we all hope to hike as well and as far as we possibly can.  All with the dream of Katahdin.

Wayne II
April 18, 2014

There's  a second Wayne on the trail. Actually there are three, but we haven't seen Wayne, aka Slipknot, in a couple of days. Wayne II is a homeless guy from West Virginia. A former coal miner in his thirties who travels with a little pit bull mix pup he calls, Caroline.

He walked in to Lance Creek the other night and didn't seem like your typical thru hiker. He was kind of scary looking but we invited him to use the fire to cook and he sat with us for a bit. If you saw him on the sidewalk at home you might cross the street to avoid any contact with him but, out here he's just another soul on the trail and he has stories to tell. 

He's not thru-hiking. He said he heard about the trail and wanted to have a look, so he hitchhiked up from Florida where he spent the winter living outside and doing odd jobs. He's been up and out at first light these past couple of days and at some point we'll pass him sitting with the pup looking out over the beautiful views. 

At one such vista he told us, "You really need to stop and look sometimes. Look how pretty it is out there." It's was a nice reminder that the hike isn't just about getting somewhere, it's about seeing where you are. And it's not always about finding out who you are, it's about finding out about the people you're sharing this lifetime with.

Wayne II

How My Pee Bottle Became Our Water Bottle
April 17, 2014

Being two of those special individuals who refuse to over-plan (read "that refuse to plan at all"), Mike and I found ourselves in a van heading up to Springer Mt. with no bottles to carry water. Not that we were complete dopes; we did have Mike's three liter water bladder and our Sawyer filter squeeze bags, but those don't cut it as a bottle.

This is where the benefits of being of a certain age helped us out. As an over sixty male, the prospect of sleeping through the night without a pee break has long since passed. The thought of having to step out into the cold or rain or monster infested darkness led me to prepare a well marked 32oz. Gatorade bottle for collection purposes. P Jar was going to save me from any nocturnal journeys into the woods.

Now, my brave jar was going to answer to a higher calling. P Jar became Water Bottle. Of course, the bottle is still embossed with the words "P Jar" in large black letters, and our fellow hikers look in wonder as we swill yellow Gatorade flavored water from our multi-tasking hero.