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Robert's post:
Well, it's been almost two weeks out on the trail now. We're in town
again to restock, dry out, and eat as much as possible. We're still in
the process of getting used to the trail. We're getting in shape and
the climbs are slowly getting easier, but it can still be really tough
sometimes.
I've found how the word "clean" takes on a completely different
meaning out here. Everyone out here eventually comes to the agreement
that if something looks clean, it must be clean - just don't question
it. Out here, if you find your bowl or spoon to have a bit of dirt or
dust on it, nobody is going to spend the energy to find their dish
soap, get out their precious purified water, and actually clean those
one or two items. Ironically, if you did, everyone around you would
look at you as if *you* were the crazy one.
So nope, everyone just grabs their pack towel (which is also of
questionable cleanliness) and simply wipes off the item. Now it looks
clean, so it must be clean!
Sure, it sounds crazy, but out here it completely the norm. Your
physical energy is at such a high premium, you simply have to conserve
as much of it as possible at all times; so dishes and utensils usually
only get cleaned after cooking a meal where you have to clean the pot.
Regardless, overall I'm really enjoying myself. Sometimes the
mountains are really friggin high and steep, but you're usually
rewarded with an amazing view at the top. I'm almost always hungry
since it's impossible to carry the number of calories you're burning
on a daily basis, but....well, that's ok.
The hardest part, by far, has been hiking in the rain. It's simply
depressing. You're cold and soaked to the bone - everyone agrees that
it doesn't matter how much money you spend on the fancy rain gear,
give it enough rain and miles and you still get soaked. Worse, it's
almost impossible to carry a conversation because the rain beating on
you is so loud and distracting that you end up walking through the
rain, for hours sometimes, without speaking a word.
The only, and I mean the only, consolation prize is that it drives
everyone into the shelters. The shelters are basic wooden structures
of varying complexity. Some are two stories with a fireplace inside
and others are simply three walls, but they all have a good roof that
usually doesn't leak. Since it's raining, nobody wants to setup a tent
in the rain and so they cram into the shelters to seek refuge.
When it's raining, nobody get's turned away even if the shelter has
already filled up past its intended capacity. The other day, we walked
up to a shelter that was designed for 6 that already had 8 people in
it. People shuffled around and we were made a spot on which to sleep
on. Then later just as it was getting dark, two more girls showed up
also looking to get out of the rain. Again, people moved around and
they got a spot as well. So this tiny shelter designed for 6 ended up
holding 12 that night.
It was cramped, humid, and somewhat uncomfortable, but everyone made
the best of it. In the end, that was one of the best nights out on the
trail. As we were all making our respective dinners, everyone joked
about all the great food we would eat once we got into town and what
crazy experiences we've all had while hiking. It was great.
So far, I'm still having a ton of fun out here. The hikes are tough,
but I'm still looking forward to getting back to the trail.
-Robert
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Andrea's post:
Nearly two weeks down, ten to go!
Like Robert said, we made it into Franklin, NC today to restock and dry out. We've finally passed the 100 mile mark! The trail has been tough but fun -- so far, yesterday was our hardest day at 16 miles, and at least 3000 feet of combined elevation gain considering all of the peaks we got to climb. Whoever designed the southern part of the trail was a sadist -- instead of following ridge-lines, the trail goes up and down every mountain available! It's rough going, but it does make for some great views. The landscape out here is beautiful, nothing at all like Texas. Even from town, the view from any direction could be on a postcard.
It's been raining a lot out here. In some ways, that's a positive thing, since water sources are plentiful, and we often pass tons of pretty streams and waterfalls that we would miss in a drought year. On the other hand, hiking in the rain...sucks. Our clothes and boots get entirely soaked and muddy, and don't really dry out by morning since it's so humid out here. Having to put on damp clothes and shoes in the morning is pretty demoralizing, and makes it difficult to get out of the warm and toasty sleeping bag.
The first night it rained, we stayed in the tent. Luckily, we stayed dry, but the tent itself was not so lucky. Packing up the muddy tent and tarp in the early morning drizzle was not fun -- as a result, we've been staying in shelters to avoid the rain. Luckily, as Robert mentioned, the shelters are really great. Since everyone stays there too, we meet a lot of great people. Hikers seem to fall into two categories -- the twenty-something college students looking for an adventure, and the 55-plus oldsters who have made hiking and spending time outdoors a way of life. In general, everyone gets along very well; hikers are a friendly bunch, and we pass the time we're not hiking by joking around, playing games, and telling stories. Not surprisingly, much of the conversation revolves around food.
By far, the best part of hiking is the friends we've already made. Since we spend nights in shelters together and sometimes even share food, hikers form quick bonds of friendship. We even met two guys from Dallas who go to school at A&M, in Robert's home town! It's a small world. So far, some of the memorable faces include: "Mumbles", "Commando", and Nikki the dog; "Jigg" and Kevin; "Pundit"; "Woody"; "Caruna"; Angie and Jessica; Pastor John and Julia; and many others. Some of those names might sound strange -- a lot of hikers out here go by trail names, nicknames given to them on the trail. It's a lot of fun finding out how everyone came by their name.
While the trail is certainly the main attraction, some of our funniest stories come from the days we spent in town. At Neel's Gap, a small hiker hostel and outfitters that seems populated entirely by stoners, all of the hikers were invited out to a drum circle, where we sat around the fire watching three absolutely crazy-looking guys ineptly bang on drums. Hiker hostels are almost nothing like regular hotels -- they are often family-owned and operated, with strange traditions and practices, and if only a few things in the room are broken or missing, you can count yourself lucky. Even so, after the rigors of the trail, we still feel like we are living in the lap of luxury every time we stay in town. There is much to be said for a hot shower and a real bed.
In Hiawassee, Georgia, we stayed in a hostel called the Hiawassee Inn, run by an interesting character named Sam. Our first clue that this was not a normal hotel was that the inn only charged tax if we paid by credit card. We suspect Sam was pocketing any cash rather than declaring it to the IRS -- the entire operation seemed rather shady. Sam himself didn't exactly seem like the model of an upstanding business owner. When calculating the cost of our stay, he even made us add it up ourselves! It was actually quite funny, watching him scrawl some numbers on a 3x5 notecard, no calculator in sight, squint, and grunt at us: "Well? Yeh're smarter than I am, what does that come out to?!"
Odd things seemed to happen every time we dared to venture into that little front office. The first time, Robert went to ask for some shampoo, and was waylaid by Sam. "Good! You're here. I'm heading out to take some hikers to the trail. You stay here and answer the phone until I get back."
A guest, answering phones? Robert was understandably shocked. "Wait, wait!" he yelled at Sam, already running out of the door. "What am I supposed to say if anyone calls?"
Sam's hoarse grunt was becoming familiar. He seemed almost frustrated, as though this was a completely normal request. "Well, pick up the phone and say 'Hiawassee Inn', and find out what the hell they want!"
Robert was still confused. "What if they want a room?"
At this point, Sam was almost rolling his eyes. Treating hostel guests like employees was apparently normal behavior around here. "Then write it down!!"
Luckily, no potential hostel guests called. Robert didn't get off too easy, though -- the other owner of the hostel, Ron, did call. Sounding upset with Sam's employment of hostel guests, he promised to "give Sam a talking to." Upon his return, a disgruntled Sam growled at Robert. "You done got me in trouble, boy!"
Answering phones wasn't even the strangest occurrence at Hiawassee Inn. One of the services offered to hikers is a shuttle into town around dinner time to eat at the nearby restaurants. On this particular day, though, it seemed Sam was in no mood for driving dirty, hungry hikers around. Instead, without even taking a driver's license or credit card for security, he gave us the keys to his van! Had we been a less scrupulous bunch, we could have easily stolen that car -- he never even verified our names and had no way of tracking us, since we had paid in cash.
These little towns in the heart of Appalachia certainly are something else. I'm sure we'll have plenty of stories to come. For now, we're signing off. Gotta get those miles in!
-Andrea
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