More Scenes from the Trail

This is another post without an overarching or high-minded theme. This seems to be the new norm....
Once again, some images of life on the AT.

Had to snap her, since I am also a hiker-skirt-girl.
She made her own fabulous camo skirt, which
kinda makes me want to take up sewing, even
though I know that couldn't possibly end well.

Look closely at the hiker in front. No, you're not imagining
things. Yes, that is a toilet seat among the many things
dangling from the outside of their packs. Yes, they are
supposedly going to Maine. Or maybe not so much. When
I saw this, my words all failed me.
Trail names: Ti-D-Bol and Scrubbing Bubbles.

Woo hoo! These are SOBOs Biggie Smalls (left)
and U-Haul, waiting for their families to arrive and
hike the final mile with them. They began in August
at Katahdin--with lots of days off during the winter,
they completed the trail in 8 1/2 months.

This is the official hand-off of the Warrior Chicken.
For the final 1100 miles, Biggie Smalls carried the rubber
chicken dedicated to the Wounded Warriors. The chicken
is on at least its 3rd thru-hike--once it reaches the end,
it is passed to a hiker traveling the other direction. Biggie
entrusted me with finding a new carrier...

and then along came James. See the chicken's
head poking out at the top of his pack. Biggie
instructed me to find someone "who looks
like they're gonna make it." Even if James
doesn't carry the chicken the whole way,
he'll hopefully find another bearer.

Tortoise (maybe) and Hare.

Cheryl and Shenna. These ladies are hiking to
raise money and awareness to stop bullying
of LGBTQ kids and teens. Please check out their
website at www.learningtoliveoutloud.com and
support this worthy cause!

Prayer flags atop Springer.

Apparently, this hiker was using the same gear
as when they got the 1978 copy of the scout
handbook. Though I haven't actually read it,
I'm pretty sure there would be something about
NOT ditching your 15 pound cotton sleeping
bag on the side of the trail. 

Sadness

A little belatedly, some thoughts from Monday afternoon. A more upbeat post will follow soon....

It's an eerie experience here, listening to the coverage of the Marathon bombing on NPR. One of the best/worst parts of being on the trail is the isolation, the sensation of being apart from the rest of the world. In my current position, I get a taste of both the trail in all of its unplugged glory as well as the "real" technologically-saturated world. But I do have to keep my phone charged for work, so I often listen to NPR in the car while juicing up.
And today it is particularly jarring. As a former Boston resident--technically, the People's Republic of Cambridge--I know all of the places mentioned in the news briefs and have lots of friends living there. But without a data connection, there is no way to know if they're all safe.
It's a very slow afternoon here at Springer. The heavy fog that shrouded the summit this morning has cleared, leaving behind a beautiful, sunny afternoon. So, here I sit in the woods with only the sound of the breeze in the trees, not even a hiker in sight, listening to the explosions and screams so far away. How can it feel so distant and so immediate at the same time? Hoping for the health and safety of our friends and everyone else in the Boston community.

A Cast of Real Characters

Several people have asked me exactly how many thru-hikers I've met thus far. That would be 716. As of Monday evening, I believe 901 had signed the register at Amicalola Falls. That is not a terribly good--and certainly not a scientific--indicator of how many hikers have begun the journey to Maine this year. Many start at the top, bypassing Amicalola and the Approach Trail altogether. Others hike the Approach, but leave before the office opens or for other reasons simply don't sign the register. And of course, this is only an accounting of the northbound hikers.

Here are some of those 716:

Three wacky hikers in their even wackier tights. The buddy
who dropped them off showed his solidarity by running to the
summit of Springer in a matching pair--no shorts on top.

Sunshine (left), Thumper, his mom Leftovers, and
Cannibal Curious (right in hat). Sunshine and I had a lengthy
discussion of trail fashions--specifically hiking skirts and gaiters.
I think Cannibal was relieved he could just tune that out....

Spencer (left) and John from Durham, NC. A very stoic
kid, despite the big smile. He asked about getting in
and out of town (hitching) "in a timely fashion." I
cracked up and suggested he should re-evaluate his
ideas about "timely fashion," much to his dad's
amusement, as well.

Alf (seated) and Sable (reclining) preparing to
enjoy a hotdog. Alf is a repeat offender (hope I'm
getting her trail name right), who's planning to
take her time on this hike, after traveling with
an overly motivated partner on her last thru-hike.

Old guard meets new.... Maymay in the middle of two old school
repeat offenders, Geek (left) and Boudin (right). Geek is somewhat
notorious as the first to thru-hike with a cat. He paddled the Mississippi
then hiked the AT with his kitten, Ziggy. Ziggy would sit on top
of his pack as he hiked and eventually got up to 14 pounds. Carrying
that extra weight is definitely a drawback, though having a
mouse-hunter in the shelter makes up for it!

Bill on his way up the Approach Trail to celebrate
the 40th anniversary of his thru-hike in 1973. He's
wearing the shirt he had on at the start and carrying
the same pack. Sadly, the friend who hiked with him
passed away 2 years ago, so he was celebrating alone.

I ran into One O on the trail just north of the
Springer parking lot. He saw my Ridgerunner
hat and asked how far to the lot. When I told him
half a mile, he couldn't believe it and said he was
going to cry. Getting a little suspicious, I asked
where he was coming from.... He's a SOBO. One and
a half miles from the end of his journey from Maine.
I let out a huge whoop! I've walked that last little
bit myself and know the joy and sadness and relief
he's feeling. He told me it was the hardest thing
he's ever done.

Meet Neva, now going by Chipmunk on the trail.
She is a 14-year old badass, hiking the trail solo.
Her folks are shadowing her in an RV, meeting
her at road crossings and providing some extra
support. They all did a 3800 mile bike trip around
the US last year, so she already has plenty of
trail cred.

Chipmunk had to show off her styling nails, with
little AT symbols. Awesome! This might be the coolest
girl ever.

Roadside, starting the hike with a mighty fine
beverage and a mighty impressive beard.

Kimberly and her son (!) Josh. I know--she doesn't
look old enough! They're hiking to NC. Josh is my
first trail name--his beautiful hiking staff has a dolphin
carved on the top. He refused to go by dolphin, though
people were already calling him that. So, I suggested
Flipper and it stuck.

Zita, a gorgeous Ridgeback, and her dad.
Apparently not too big to be a lapdog....

Sam, Deputy Ridgerunner. 

Members of the GATC maintenance crew hard at work...

and taking a well-deserved break. The crew was switching the
bins in the privy at Stover Creek shelter, a tough and stinky
job. Unfortunately, too many people are lazy and throw their
trash into the privy. Someone--like these folks--has to remove
that trash. We are SO lucky here in Georgia to have an
amazingly dedicated group of trail maintainers who keep
the trail and shelters in terrific condition. I had a great time
working and hanging out with these guys!

It's Quitting Time

Out of the many hundreds of hikers who begin the AT each year, a startlingly high percentage never actually get out of Georgia. I've been witnessing that over the last couple of weeks, a phenomenon compounded by the very cold spring we're having.

Spring? What is that? And where is it? And is that damn groundhog going to recant?

It really is amazing how many people get here and are completely floored by the cold and snow in the north Georgia mountains in March and even April. I guess folks assume that it's the South, and it's all trees draped with Spanish moss and glowing belles pressing chilled julep cups to their gently perspiring brows. Not so, people. It gets awfully cold in these mountains and you'd better come prepared, cause it's gonna be even worse when you hit the Smokies. Many of the hikers who are not prepared are on the way home already--the shuttle drivers have all been doing as many "reverse runs" as regular dropoffs over the last couple of weeks.

Belle on the mountain, neither glowing nor perspiring.

Springer Mountain, late March. 22 degrees.

One of the biggest issues with hikers quitting is the gear dump. Sometimes frustrated hikers just ditch some or all of their stuff along the trail or in a shelter, then head home. Removing that gear is part of my job. I found a large pile last week in one of the shelters--probably not all from one hiker, but still a shining example of how to be totally unprepared for the AT. Along with a freakishly heavy and wildly inappropriate tent, there was a poncho, giant fleece jacket, hammock, assorted foods, and strange little accessories. The best part was the book--not the guidebook typically carried by all thru-hikers, but one of the many books about the AT experience, chronicling some of the characters known on the trail. Tucked inside the book was a printout of the Wiki state-by-state description of the AT and a handwritten schedule. This is where things get both hilarious and pathetic, all at once. 

Big pile of gear abandoned in shelter.

Big pile of gear drying out in parking lot.

Another thing that seems to take hikers by surprise in Georgia is the difficulty of the terrain. North Georgia is NOT FLAT, people. And we don't believe in switchbacks. So you're going to go up. And then down. And then back up. And then repeat. In the Georgia section, only the fittest, most experienced hikers could even consider doing more than 10-12 miles on the first few days. Taking these things into account, consider the following schedule:

Day 1: 28 miles. Only 7 days scheduled with
less than 20 miles.

NH in 3 days?!? Perhaps you are unaware of this
place called the White Mountains....

Katahdin on day 90. With zero zeroes.

Aside from the sheer insanity of the 28-mile day one, there is one other tiny fact that I should mention. All of you thru-hikers reading, familiar with the trail and shelters, please put down any liquids and swallow anything in your mouth. I wouldn't want you to soil your keyboards. I found this schedule and associated pile of inappropriate gear in Black Gap Shelter. Once you gain control of yourselves, please continue reading. For everyone else, I'll point out that Black Gap Shelter is on the Approach Trail. That's the 8 mile trail leading up to the start of the AT at Springer Mountain. Black Gap is 1.5 miles from the summit and start of the trail. So either this hiker planned to start the following day with the 28-miler or they had actually miscalculated and intended to do 36 miles. Regardless, complete and total lunacy. 

The thing that I find really amazing and pathetic about this is that there is currently more information available about thru-hiking than ever before. There are dozens of books, websites, and forums. There are classes for potential thru-hikers. There are even guides who do preparation hikes and coaching. There is honestly no excuse for being this ridiculously uninformed. But this is why some people are already gone and others are still making their way north. Happy trails to all!