Self High Five!

1000 miles - check.

Virginia - check.

Obligatory thumbs up picture - double check.


Harpers Ferry is not actually halfway to Maine. But it is a big checkpoint.

On to the actual halfway!

We've gotta get out of this place...

Virginia, that is. And for awhile, I thought it very well might be the last thing I ever did. Maybe it was because I slackpacked for a week. Maybe it was because I got a sweet little taste of the movies and Rock Band I'm missing. Maybe it was because most of the people I knew were either in front of or behind me. Starting on my way through Shenandoah N.P. I was none too happy about hiking. So unhappy, in fact, that it was the first time I ever seriously considered quitting the trail.

Shenandoah is like some kind of strange spirit-sucking, tourist-filled alternate dimension, hidden under the guise of a seeming hiker fantasy land - easy terrain, plenty of views, nearly-tame wildlife, many many places to eat. As soon as I got in, I wanted to be out again, but not enough to be motivated to hike out. I just wanted to sit around, take my sweet time, and complain about walking. I guess it's just my natural tendency to sulk.

I was glad to find out later that I wasn't the only hiker feeling this way. It's the Virginia Blues. I got into Damascus on May 8. That's a MONTH AND 16 DAYS AGO. Don't get me wrong, I had a great time visiting with people and begin lazy and taking lots of days off, but when it's finally time for all that to be over, you want to feel like you're actually moving on, getting back to getting somewhere. And Shenandoah is that last big, 100-mile hurdle you have to drag yourself over before you finally get there - out of VA.

The good news is, I made it. I'm in Front Royal right now, rewarding myself with a night at a posh Super 8. Yes, I'm still in Virginia, but I am no longer miserable. The end is in sight, WV is right on the horizon, and before I know it I'll be venturing into that foreign territory above the Mason Dixon.




P.S. - I did see 3 bears in the park! No pictures, though. Keep your fingers crossed for N.J.

Casa de Lipscomb

Right now I am as close to hiker heaven as you can probably get. Sitting in a beautiful kitchen in an amazing house, with seven friends, on a gorgeous day, waiting for a delicious dinner to be prepared. Also, there's plenty of Dr. Pepper.

Three days ago, Freefall and I pulled up to the James River near Glasgow, VA, which just happens to be down the road from Fairfield, VA, where my good ol' hiking buddy Vachon and his wife, Mary Lynn, live. So after a nice afternoon dip in the river, we hopped in their car and were whisked away to what has become an impromptu hostel. We picked up Pick and Rabid the same day, while Cookie Monster and Timeless (who I just met) were already at the house waiting. Since I've been here, Freefall, Cookie, and Timeless have all packed on, but Thinker, Brahma Bull, and Sweet Potato have taken their places.

I first met Mary Lynn back in Hot Springs, where she came to visit Vachon, and I was instantly overwhelmed by love and generosity. They insisted everyone pack into the adorable little cabin they had rented, while Vachon, Dave from Maine, and I were slackpacked all the way to Erwin, TN. This time it's the same story all over again and even more. They have opened up their entire house to us AND their cars. Everyone who has been here has been slackpacked as far as possible (I went all the way from Glasgow to Montebello - 38 miles) and on top of all that, a hiker-family dinner every night. I have had barbecue chicken, hamburgers and hot dogs, tortellini and fettucini alfredo (with homemade sauces), grilled salmon, and roast beef w/ potatoes.

Basically what I'm saying is - I live here now. I've been here five nights and it's going to be awful to tear myself away from it. Two months ago, I didn't even know any of the people here, but now we're all together like one big happy family. The Lipscombs have let their house be a home away from home. It will be impossible for me to ever repay them. And it will definitely be impossible for anyone to ever top this trail magic.

Trail Daze

Yet again, I have become very lax in my blogging duties. Please forgive me - myself at a blog is very similar to a monkey at a typewriter.

However, the last few weeks have indeed been eventful, so I will give you the abbreviated highlights...

"ahem"

Hiking out of Damascus, rain storm, group seperated, Troutdale, slackpack w/ Racoon and Lipstick, Grayson Highlands (wild ponies!).

Trail Days! = back to Damascus. reunion!, Tent City campground, Grizzly Park, lots of vendors, lots of Damascus Eats, Mom visits, The Place, hikers parade/water fight, talent show, Vachon goes home, more tent city, party's over, everyone's split, gotta go.

Back to the trail, Relax Inn at Atkins, crossing I-81, cow pastures, short days, huge trail magic breakfast, into Bland, picked up and home for the weekend.

Tooling around Pearisburg, visit people ahead on the trail, meet Freefall and Double D, back to my place, lots of food, hot tub, Monday morning - drop 'em off, gotta meet Mary Disa, back to Bland, and away we go.

*whew*

So that's the super super quick version. If you want anything fleshed out, just shoot me a line somehow. My pictures might help illustrate some, too, since I've actually got them updated now.

Until next time...good night and good luck.

The Road to Damascus

Alright.

So a lot has happened since Gatlinburg. Let me see if I can condense all of it into one blog post...

We left Clingmans Dome and made it out of the Smokies alive, with no other craziness to speak of. We spent a quick two nights outside the park before we hit Hot Springs, NC. A couple of the shelters along the way had been terrorized by bears (or probably a bear), but luckily most of my companions and I were able to avoid them, although we have heard many a story from those who didn't. On the way into Hot Springs, Vachon hiked on ahead of the rest of us to meet his wife, Mary Lynn, in town, and as the rest of us arrived, we were all promptly ushered into a car and driven out to a wonderful little cabin they had rented. They invited everyone to crash there, use the shower, shuttle back and forth to town, and eat a ridiculous amount of delicious food that Mary Lynn prepared. It was amazing. Also, since there was a car easily accesible, Vachon hatched a plan to slackpack a good section of the trail, or day-hike in other words - take some water and lunch, get dropped off at one point, picked up at another, and come back to spend the night in town. I was invited to join, and I sure wasn't going to pass up something like that. Long story short - Vachon, Dave from Maine, and I all ended up slackpacking something like 70 miles in between Hot Springs and Erwin, TN, while the rest of the crew hiked on their own. Alas, in Erwin, Mary Lynn finally had to head home, and unfortunately Dave also made the tough decision to end his hike there, for several reasons. We were very sad to see them go.

Vachon and I finally put our enormous packs back on and set out again for some "real" hiking...but we only ended up getting 4 miles our first day. The next day, we walked awhile in the rain, and that night an unexpected cold front blew through. When we woke up it was about 22 degrees and there was snow on the ground. This was not a good start back, but Mary Lynn just happened to have an uncle who lived in the area, so Vachon gave him a call, and we were whisked away to Bakersville, NC. Ted and his wife, Florence, who are some of the nicest people on the face of the earth, took us into their home and gave us showers, laundry, beds, plus breakfast, lunch, and dinner. Incredible trail magic.

Getting back on the trail a second time, we hiked some more fairly short and easy days (with some of the best views so far) until we met my parents in Elizabethton, TN, for yet another weekend of pampering and town food. We defintely had been spoiled. My parents dropped us back on the trail AGAIN, where we ascertained the whereabouts of the rest of our former group (minus MOTO, who sadly also decided to leave), quickly rejoined them, and headed on our merry way to the big V.A.

Which brings us up to this morning, where I woke up with my regular spring allergies in full swing (i.e. - incredibly itchy eyes). And like a dumb hiker, I just couldn't keep my dirt-covered hands out of my eye. No self-control - I just couldn't stop scratching. When I finally asked for some assistance, I was greeted with shock and appall at the state of my left eye, which was apparently swollen beyond comprehension. So it was decided that I should get to a doctor, post-haste, and get it checked out. So here I am in Damascus, a day earlier than expected. My eye is fine (don't rub your eye with dirty hands, by the way), and hopefully I will be able to slackpack the little section of trail I skipped.

Whew! And that's basically it. Here I am! Back in good ol' Virginia! Seems kind of weird to be some place I recognize. You should come and visit sometime, or maybe I'll visit you when I get near home. Three states down already, woohoo! The future's wide open!

The Gatlinburg Gang: Part 2

At last, halfway through our cross-country skiing expedition, Freefall was able to get through to her mom by cell phone, and her mom reached a Gatlinburg outfitter and paid for them to meet us at Newfound Gap. So on we went, as fast as we could, through the accumulating snow. We actually skipped the summit of Clingmans Dome and took a bypass trail around to the parking lot, where we then had to trek down the paved road to Newfound Gap.....which turned out to be another seven miles. I am not ashamed to say that this was the low point of my entire trip, and I thought I might break down and totally lose it. But at long last, when all seemed lost, I came around that last curve and saw that big red van sitting there waiting, and it was the happiest moment of my entire life. The shuttle driver, Mike, informed us that he had been told to wait for us until 6pm, and the first of our group arrived at 5:48.

Mike asked us where we were headed, and we told him anywhere cheap and easy, so he dropped us off at a place right off the main drag called Bales Motel. Our cold and pathetic group piled out of the van and hoped we could haggle for a couple of reasonably priced rooms we could all share. After some discussion and deliberation we ended up with three rooms....for $25 a night (each), for two nights. The young lovebirds among us, Pick and Rabid, took one room for themselves (which ended up having a full kitchen in it) and the other nine of us divided ourselves between two rooms - making the total cost for our 2-night stay a whopping $12.50 per person. We all dumped our things, soaked up some hot showers, and dressed in our best hiker trash fashion for a night on the town in beautiful Gatlinburg. There is so much insanity crammed into the main drag of Gatlinburg that it can hardly be described without having seen it yourself. To take an excerpt from my journal: "MIRROR MAZE! OLD TIMEY PHOTOS! RIPLEY'S! WAX MUSEUM! KING KONG! SKY LIFT!" It's a bombardment from all sides, and it really seems like everything is screaming at you at once. It was magnificent. We consumed large quantities of greasy food, and some people large quantities of alcohol, and staggered back late for a warm and cozy night's sleep after a very long day.

The next morning, we awoke with a whole day to take in all the Gatlinburg goodness. A fine breakfast at a pancake hut, then laundry, outfitters, library, and all the regular hiker chores. That night, everyone pitched in some cash, and we prepared a feast of biblical proportions at our own humble accommodations, including bruschetta, stuffed pasta shells, and bacon wrapped steaks. It was more than any hiker could ask for. In the morning, we finally had to bid farewell to this Shangri-La of the Smokies as Mike shuttled us back up to Clingmans Dome. Alas, we never did actually get our old timey photos or airbrushed t-shirts, but we all got to know an amazing group of hikers - Pick, Rabid, Cookie Monster, Freefall, Spidey, NoAmp, Long Shot, Vachon, Thinker, MOTO, Buckey, Circus, and Twinkletoes - and gain some of the best memories from our hike in place we never would have expected.

The Gatlinburg Gang

I was not excited about heading into Great Smoky (why not Smokey?) Mountains National Park. Because it is a national park, there are some restrictions that generally aren't condusive to the flexible and carefree nature of thru-hiking, or at least my style of it. Hikers are required to stay at shelters, and if a shelter is full, AT thru-hikers must give up their shelter spots to section hikers who make reservations in advance. For some reason, most shelters do not have privys, and the only access point to civilization within the park is Gatlinburg, TN, known for being the greatest tourist trap the Southeast has ever known, along with its neighbor, Pigeon "Dollywood" Forge. Needless to say, my plan was to get in and get out of the Smokies as fast as I possibly could.

I left Fontana Dam, NC (the southern access point to the park) on Saturday with a large group of people, and we had all been warned that we would probably encounter some snow on Sunday and Monday, which I was actually expecting, because the Smokies are known for their quickly-changing weather (mostly due to their high elevations). So Saturday, I spent the night at a fairly full shelter with people that I had met at previous places along the trail, and Sunday morning we all set out on our ways with a few snow flurries to greet us. The same crowd ended up together at the next shelter later that day, and as the evening progressed, the snow continued to a light powdering. After a chilly sleep, we woke the next morning to find the snow we were warned of had started through the night. I hate being cold, so I packed up and got moving early, eager to get back into my sleeping bag as soon as possible. The snow continued and actually made a pretty winter scene in the middle of April. I was strolling along, stopping to snap pictures, when I happened to cross paths with an ATC ridgerunner coming in the opposite direction.

"Are you thru-hiking?" he asked, which I confirmed, along with those arriving behind me. "Well the forecast is calling for temperatures tonight in the teens, and 4-5" of snow throughout the night, so you might want to make it to one of the next shelters and get out your warm gear."

"Would you recommend getting off the mountain and into town?" I inquired. He suggested that any lower elevation would be ideal, but since we were still several miles from the closest parking lot at the top of Clingmans Dome, the road up the mountain would most likely be closed by the time we reached it. At the next shelter, we waited for those behind us to arrive and weigh our two options - hunker down in the shelter or trek through the snow to a road, where the possibility of getting a shuttle to town was unknown. And not just a "town', but Gatlinburg, the exact place each one of us had hoped to avoid completely. (Truth be told, I actually wanted to visit Gatlinburg...someday. Just not in the middle of a long-distance backcountry hiking trip.) Finally, when all the pros and cons had been debated, 11 people made the consensus to save ourselves a miserable (but survivable) night and slog it out to the road, with our fate unknown. And did I mention that the next 4+ miles of trail ahead of us included our first 6000 ft. mountains, including the highest point on the entire trail?

The saga continues in Part 2...