Goin' Back to Texas

After four days off with trench foot, I was very eager to get back on the trail. Despite that fact, Happy Feet and I didn't actually get started until around noon, with Seuss, MacGyver and Babyface leaving a few hours prior to that. When we finally did get going, it was pretty brutal terrain. The trail maintenance left a bit to be desired (it's all volunteer work, how spoiled can I be?), there were rock slides and rock hopping, and it was very steep. I was amazed at how fast my hiker legs turned back into normal, much less superhuman-like legs. Needless to say, after the time off, I was struggling. One cool thing about the trail is the challenges it presents. In that situation, when you are tired, sore, thirsty and hungry, you are convinced that you need to stop and rest for a while. Then the realization suddenly dawns on you that stopping now impacts nothing except how late you get to camp. You stand up and walk on, regardless of the fact that a few moments ago you were absolutely convinced you couldn't walk one more mile, never mind the fourteen that you have to do in reality.

In any case, I caught my breath, sacked up (as it were), and hiked up to a beautiful view. It was a stunning vista of mountain ranges, small towns, rivers, lakes and a few delightful puffy white clouds. Also, there was a (non-functional) toilet seat perched on some of the rocks on the edge of the cliff with the words "Rice Field Shelter Scenic Privy" written on top. Hikers have an odd sense of humor sometimes. We took some hilariously inappropriate pictures (which will not be featured on this Blog), and Runaway (who had caught up with us due to my sloth pace), Happy Feet and I sat down and just contemplated the vastness of what was before us. I can't speak for the other two, but I know my thoughts were revolving around the people I was with and had been with on the hike, the fun times we'd already had and the good times to come. After a while, Happy looked over at me and just nodded and said, "Yup," as if my thoughts had been audible. We all three got up and continued on down the trail past Rice Field Shelter.

While walking down the trail with Happy about twenty feet in front of me and Runaway behind me by about the same distance, I stepped where I shouldn't have. The trail was flat and smooth, but the undergrowth had crept in over the edges of the walking surface. In an effort to avoid a puddle, I stepped to the side, into the shrubberies and on to a sharp slope down. I didn't have a trekking pole in my left hand as I had broken one coming down off of the Roan and hadn't replaced it yet.  No pole meant nothing to catch my weight on, and as I stepped, I felt the roll happen with all of my weight and the weight of the pack pushing my ankle in a direction contrary to normal anatomy. There was a loud pop, a louder swear, and I crumpled to the ground. I didn't see myself fall, but I imagine it to look a lot like this. Happy and Runaway, having heard my first and continuing use of profane language rushed to my side.

Happy: "Are you okay?"
Me: "*&$%@#!"
"Is it broken?"
"Oh my %$*#!"
"Can I do anything to help?"
"*&#$%#!"

This went on for a while.  I was admittedly not the best help in this situation, but that wasn't the first thing on my mind. After the initial shock wore off, I wiggled my toes to make sure they were still getting blood circulated and asked Happy Feet for the whiskey. I took a nice long swig, turned to my two friends and said, "Well, I think that's curtains for me boys." At this juncture, I was certain it was broken.  I have sprained, strained, torn and dislocated just about everything, but I'd never heard a pop like this time. I was still splayed across the trail where I had fallen, Happy and Runaway had taken up seats nearby, and the three of us sat staring off again, this time in disbelief instead of wonderment. I knew that in the next few minutes and the next few days there would be a lot of tough decisions to be made, but I couldn't think in that moment of anything but how much I loved being out there with my friends, and how much I didn't want that to end yet. I would be lying to you if I said that I didn't shed a tear at the thought of this grand adventure falling down around me.

At that point something pretty simplistically wild happened. I looked to my right, and there in the undergrowth were dozens of beautiful thistle plants, flowers in full bloom. To some people, thistle is an annoying thorny weed, something to be avoided because of the potential discomfort inflicted by it. To many others, it is a beautiful creation, vibrant in its variety of colors, the smell overwhelmingly earthy, spicy and indicative of some untameable wildness, the mere existence of it proving a foil to the conceptualized aesthetic standard of roses and daisies. To both groups of people, the lovers and nonlovers of thistle, the plant has the potential to be dangerous, harmful and frustrating. They simply choose to look at the same thing in two different ways.

I calmed myself down, took another pull of whiskey and assessed the situation. We were at mile ten of a twenty mile day.  The nearest road was seven miles backwards over hellacious terrain.  The nearest road going forward was ten miles of unknown terrain. We had about two or three hours of daylight left at this point, and eventually decided the best way out was back. The rest of the group was well ahead of us, so Runaway (in true Trail Magic selfless style) booked on up the trail to let everyone else know what the scenario was. I got to my feet and bearing as little weight as possible on the bad ankle, Happy and I began to hobble back towards the last shelter. The plan was to get there before dark, hike back to town slowly the next day, stay in Pearisburg (again) for a night and Sam would drive out three hours from Knoxville to get me and I would recoup at his place. After looking at my ankle, I was pretty sure it indeed wasn't broken, so I figured I could ride out a couple weeks at Sam's and rejoin the group when I could bear weight again. We got to the shelter and enjoyed a fantastic sunset, the nicest I'd yet seen on the trail, a nice fire and some good company. Hey, even a bad day on the trail is better than a good day at work.

The next day, I got a message from Seuss saying that they'd grabbed a shuttle back to Pearisburg, had gotten a motel room (the same one for nostalgic purposes), and that MacGyver and Babyface were on their way back up to me to carry my pack down and provide whatever assistance I needed. I really don't have words to express how thankful I am to have good friends. All of these guys, Happy Feet, Runaway, Seuss, MacGyver, Babyface and Sam rushed to my aide with zero concern for anything but my well-being. In addition to that, I received messages from four different hikers (Nigel, Gypsy Man, Spooky, Swayze) saying they had heard what happened and wanted to know if they could help in any way. It's a very nice feeling knowing your back is covered. Good friends are hard to come by, and I am incredibly lucky to have the friends I do.

We very slowly walked the last seven miles back into town and got a shuttle to the motel. MacGyver looked at my ankle and looked at me, and I had no doubt what he was thinking but couldn't say. He thought my trip was over. That is not to say that he didn't have faith in my toughness or was trying to be negative, he was just looking at things as objectively as possible and he knew it was not good. I, on the other hand, sometimes have an issue with being unrealistically optimistic. When he looked at me like that, I said, "A little sprain.  A week or two off of it and I'll jump back up the trail and meet you guys. No problem." Actually, my optimism versus MacGyver's realism had gotten us into a few minor arguments and was a slight point of contention. I have a (curse/blessing?) of always finding the sunny side, no matter how dismal the situation. Everyone says, "look on the bright side," but it is very necessary to have someone also look at the thing head on. MacGyver and I both knew the reality of the situation, but I forgot that I couldn't wish it better.

Happy Feet decided to jump off the trail while I was recovering. His brother lived nearby in Charlottesville and he really needed to let his blisters heal up properly (yeah, they were still going two months later). The plan was to give him a call when I was ready to walk and we would both catch a bus up to Harper's Ferry to meet up with the guys in a couple weeks. MacGyver, Seuss and Babyface headed up the trail, and I headed back to Knoxville with Sam.

I was RICEing my ankle for a week with little sign of improvement. The swelling had barely gone down, bruising hadn't really started and the pain had not subsided. I finally decided to go to a doctor and have them give it the ol' once over. All the x-rays were negative for breaks, but she said I had suffered a grade 3 high ankle sprain. She said I needed to be in a splint and on crutches for two weeks. She said once I was off crutches, I could walk lightly on flat surfaces. She said in about seven or eight weeks I could start exercising lightly on it. She said that if I cared about my future mobility, I would under no circumstances hike on that ankle until it was healed and strengthened. She said a lot of words, but all I heard was, "You're done."

There was definitely a wave of sadness, but I had already begun preparing myself for the bad news. It hurt to hear it for certain, and it popped my illusory bubble of a speedy recovery, but it was not entirely unexpected.

So what now? Well, I am spending a little quality time with Sam, which is always a positive thing. Soon, the rest of the crew will get to the Shenandoah River where I will hopefully meet up with them and do a week or so of canoeing. It isn't hiking, but the scene at the motel was too anticlimactic for it to be my end out here. There needs to be at least a little fanfare. After that, I will take a bus back to New Hampshire, say hi to the family for a bit, pack my car and head down to Austin, where I will begin a fervent search for work and start living like a normal person again. For now. There has been some talk already of a Fellowship reunion to hike Katahdin in the spring depending on how many people finish.

As I reflect back on my experiences over the last few months and this unceremonious ending, there is a wide range of thoughts. I think about how long I had planned for this trip, how long I saved for this trip and how high it was on my list of life goals. I think about all the fun times that will be had without me for the remainder of the trip, and it honestly makes me sad. You see, I have a very acute case of FOMO (fear of missing out). I know how much fun it is to be out there every day, and I know I won't be doing that anymore. Also, I hate leaving things incomplete. I strive to bring my goals to fruition and to finish what I start, and it is very tough for me mentally to leave this thing only fractionally done. In addition, though I know the circumstances are beyond my control, I hate quitting, and that's what this feel like to me. That's irrational and illogical, I admit, but you feel what you feel. Mostly I will miss the people. I met so many exceptional people on this trip, many of whom I have no doubt will be lifelong friends.  Despite their future presence in my life, I got to spend every day with these people for two months, and I will very sincerely miss them. That is always a sad feeling. All of this is a bit tough to cope with at the moment.

But then I think about what I just experienced, and all of those other thoughts slip into the background. I spent nearly two months hiking through some of the most beautiful mountains on earth. I saw trees, flowers and animals by the thousands. There were White Pines and Red Pines and Virginia Pines. There were Willows and Hemlocks, Oaks and Ashes, Firs and Spruces, Beeches, Birches, Cottonwoods and so many more.  There were laurels, lillies, trilium, lady slippers, mushrooms, strawberries, raspberries, blackberries, blueberries, hollies and holy moly so many more. We saw lizards, larks and ladybugs, birds and bees, bears and hares, dogs and cats and mice and snakes. We saw bugs, dear lord did we see bugs galore. Spiders, ants, mosquitoes, gnats, ticks and crickets, so, so many crickets. And I would be remiss if I didn't mention the vast expanses of rhododendrons and their poisonous fumes. I gained a wealth of knowledge about backpacking, trail food, gear and techniques. I visited towns and hamlets that would never have been a blip on my radar. We saw wind, rain, hail, thunder, lightning and some hot, hot sunny days. I fell asleep to the sound of owls, peepers and Seuss's snoring every night. There were sunrises, sunsets, waterfalls, rivers, mountains, lakes, rock climbs, hills, dales, ridges, peaks, valleys, balds and gaps.

But all of that is nothing compared to the beauty of the people. From the very first day, when Buzzy offered us his cooked dinner and some Dewars, to the very last day when I was writhing on the ground and a hiker named Rapunzel offered me the ankle brace that she was wearing because my injured ankle looked worse than hers, and literally every day in between. I don't know if it's nature, or this trail or just coincidence, but I encountered some of the kindest and most genuinely good people that I've met in my life in the past couple of months. There is something about being out here that brings out the best in people. If you are ever having doubts about the nature of people, hit the trail and your faith in humanity will be restored. Every single day there were acts of completely unrewarded kindness, and hikers as a whole were happier and kinder for it. Kindness and happiness beget kindness and happiness. It is certainly a principle that can and should be applied everywhere and every day. People gave us rides, food, information, conversation, shelter, medicine and help. It was truly inspiring.

Though nearly all the people that I met were unique and amazing, there area few people who have become permanent fixtures in my life: The Fellowship. Runaway, the soft spoken victim. I say victim in jest, as he was subject to our wild and non-conventional hiking methods. Runaway is a great guy with a bright future, and I wish we'd had more time together on the trail. He is trying to get to Katahdin early so that his brother can hike with him before he deploys for the military. Good luck to both of them. Swayze, the crazy hiking addict. With the frame of a hobbit he might fool you, but he has all the strength and dedication of men ten times his size. His hiking exploits were great to hear about, his knowledge useful to draw on and his personality was a constant pleasure to be around. I wish him luck and fun in his attempt at conquering the triple crown next year when he tackles the Continental Divide Trail. Nigel, the non-British Brit. He will be done hiking in August so he can go back to school in North Carolina. With his upbeat attitude, sense of humor, and expert knowledge regarding hammocks, I know his successes in life will be plentiful. Spiceman, the Canadian Wonder. His enthusiasm and kindness are the things that brought the The Fellowship together in the first place. He truly embodied everything that is good about the trail, with gratuitous amounts of genuine kindness and wonderment at what we were experiencing daily. Babyface, the parkour master. He has a wisdom and worldliness that hide his youth. He knows how to talk to anyone about anything and his zest for attacking each day with full vigor is incredibly admirable. He has so many adventures planned, and with his tenacity for experiencing everything, his entire life should be an adventure. Happy Feet, my twin. We were very often asked if we were brothers because of our physical appearance, but our personalities were more similar still. Happy is a guy who lives life in a manner that makes me wonder if we were separated at birth. Every day is a challenge to see how much fun he can have and how many good stories he can live out. This is his second go at the AT, and to put that much effort in a second time around to achieve his original goal shows a drive for success that can only yield positive results. These guys are all people who have impacted my life in a very positive way, and I will forever be grateful that my path crossed theirs.

And then there are the two guys I started with. Dr. Seuss and I knew each other before, but of course a trip like this forces you to get to know each other in a much more thorough way. What a pleasure to be able to get that close to such an amazing guy. His sarcastic sense of humor rivals many great comedians. It was not uncommon to be unsure if he was serious or not, regardless of how ridiculous whatever he said might have been. He is a true leader in his abilities to bridge gaps between parties and find a workable middle ground, and his sincere desire to include everybody (except Rabbit/Crappy) in all the fun shows what kind of a person he really is. Finally, there is MacGyver. Before this trip, MacGyver, Nick Burns, was one of my best friends. That sentiment has done nothing but gotten stronger for me. He is the kind of guy that gets things done and likes to have things done right. I can't imagine how frustrating for him it must have been to spend that much time with a crew of idiots (I say that with love and respect) who drank like fish, constantly did stupid things for photo ops, left camp late, got to camp late and just generally acted like children for two months. We butted heads a few times on the trip due primarily to our mutual stubbornness, but my affections for him have only been amplified by proximity. Since I've known him, he has been a very strong guiding voice in my life, and he has always gone above and beyond to help me when I need it. Friends like MacGyver are very rare, and I am very lucky to have been able to spend so much time with him. He is honestly one of the most loyal, interesting and intelligent people that I know, and I am really, really going to miss seeing him so much.

It may sound like I'm being overly optimistic about these guys, but it was really a special group, and it was my honor and pleasure to have hiked with them. I don't know how many of them will make it to Katahdin this year, but I know that all of them will make good things happen in their lives after the trail.

I want to thank everyone and anyone who read this blog. It was initially a means of forcing myself to journal, but it turned into a very cathartic and pleasant experience for me. I have enjoyed the process and the feedback, and thank you to everyone for dealing with any spelling/grammar/editing mistakes; except this post, all of them were typed on a smart phone. Not the easiest device for lengthy writing. I hope that our experiences were enjoyable to read about, and I apologize for not being able to write about the full 2000 miles.

Now it's time for me to tackle my next grand adventure, which I am very excited about. I came into this hike to clear my head from the cobwebs that stagnation often brings to my psyche. While I didn't achieve the physical goal of completing the trail, I've conquered many of the psychological demons I set out to wrestle. I feel more centered and balanced than I have in my entire life, and I have no doubt this experience has made me a better person and readied me for what is next.

As a last word, go out and live. It is so easy to get into a routine where we forget the importance of variety, spontaneity and fun. Slow down a little bit, look closely at the things you've overlooked since childhood. Get out of your comfort zone, do something new, grow, learn, achieve. There are invariably struggles when you do this, but nothing worth doing will ever be easy. Start small if you want or go balls to the wall, but push yourself beyond the day-to-day. Simply going through the motions of life will yield nothing but regret and unhappiness, both of which have no place in my world. Many people asked us how we found the time to thru-hike. As it will be with any changes you want to make in your life, you don't find the time; you make it. Make time for what is important: your family, your friends, your health and your soul. Make the time to feel good and be happy, because no one else will do it for you. I wish you all the best in your future adventures.

Until then, Happy Trails!

“Climb the mountains and get their good tidings. Nature's peace will flow into you as sunshine flows into trees. The winds will blow their own freshness into you, and the storms their energy, while cares will drop away from you like the leaves of Autumn.”
― John Muir, Our National Parks 

“Because in the end, you won’t remember the time you spent working in the office or mowing your lawn. Climb that goddamn mountain.”
― Jack Kerouac

Meet Virginia

Well, I did get a bit sick, but very intelligently decided to push on through it. After five miles, MacGyver (and my body) convinced me to sit down and rest. That rest turned into a nap, which turned into a night's stay at that first shelter. That was too bad because it put Happy Feet and Parkour an extra day ahead of us, but it did allow Nigel and a new buddy Swayze to catch us. We chatted for a bit, but for me, most of the night was spent curled up on a sleeping mat, working my way through multiple trips to the woods to solve my cramping problem. Those trips are never fun, but particularly not so when you have to dig a hole on every go around.

The next day, Friday, I felt much better and we decided to do a 22-mile push to meet up with Sam. It was a very long, but very pretty day, and we all enjoyed the scenery through a lush forest. We had a great encounter with trail magic about six miles from our destination.  A man named Rob Bird used to run a hiker hostel in Dalton, Massachusetts called The Bird Cage.  He actually ran a convenience store, but he helped hikers so much they suggested he start a hostel.  He ran it out of his home and never advertised or charged.  Kindness like that earns you a bit of celebrity status amongst hikers, and he housed over 300 hikers per year.  Unfortunately, he retired last year and moved to Tennessee so we won't have a chance to stay there. What is nice is the trail magic he still does. He parked a van near a road crossing and had two coolers full of beer, soda, water and snacks for hikers.  We all sat and chatted with him for an hour or so, took down some beer and soda and exchanged info with Rob. He will be headed to Austin in the winter, and I promised to return the favor with a round of brewskis when he wanders through.

We moved on and stumbled the last few miles into camp where we were greeted with yet more trail magic! There was a flyer advertising a hiker breakfast the next day at the next shelter, Roan High Knob Shelter nine miles away.  We decided to get up nice and early so we could catch the breakfast. Then Sam rolled in with some tall boy Pabsts and a few bottles of Canadian Club; coincidentally at that exact same moment, it became unlikely that we'd get up early enough for breakfast. We had a great night catching up, and because it was so clear, Sam and I decided to cowboy camp next to the fire. It would have been fine, but because of a miscommunication, Sam didn't bring a sleeping bag so he nearly froze to death and didn't sleep at all that night. Live and learn I guess.

The next day we got out of camp around 8:00 and took off for the breakfast feast.  While hiking, Sam decided to try our packs on and promptly regretted that decision. I think they are down around 35-40 pounds now, but still not the most comfortable thing to wear all day. We powered up several tough peaks, the last one the toughest of all, The Roan. We were just getting to the shelter when we ran into a jolly old man who told us all about how great the breakfast was. That's right: WAS. We apparently just missed the last course. Our overdramatic disappointment elicited the desired reaction. The man, Pat, asked us if we wanted a bag of oranges, apples, energy bars and ham steaks. We carried it all up to the shelter and began to feast. When we started gathering wood for a fire to cook the ham, Pat reappeared and asked if we cared if he hung out for a bit. Of course we were thrilled to hang out with a man who put on a huge hiker feast out of the kindness of his heart. We chatted for a bit, and then he asked us if we wanted charcoal for the fire.  Then he said, very mysteriously mind you, "You guys want to see something cool?" Every guy alive knows the answer to that question is an obvious yes. "Everyone, follow me." The way he said it made everyone know that declining this invitation was not an option. So we followed him deep into the woods, not on any trail. After maybe a quarter mile, he turned and walked out in front of a rockface. He looked around, presumably to make sure we hadn't been followed and nodded towards the rocks. "What do you see?" I was about to feed him the answer he wanted ("I see nothing but a rock!") when MacGyver blurted out "It's a hidden cache of some things. See the yellow tarp?" Pat's face dropped as he nodded.

It was indeed a hidden cache with charcoal, lighter fluid, a dutch oven, a wok and many other implements of cooking destruction. For all the sarcasm of my last paragraph, let me clarify to say that it really was very cool, as was Pat.

We sat around the fire cooking ham steaks and chatting with Pat. He told us about some personal issues he was going through, and how hiking and talking with hikers is therapeutic for him.  So much so, in fact, that he decided to begin an annual hiker feast. It's amazing to think that this man's solution to his problems is helping others. It seems like such an obvious, but under-utilized coping strategy. In any case, he was a very selfless man and we thoroughly enjoyed our afternoon with him. We capped the feast with some peach cobbler in a dutch oven over the coals. After thanking Pat profusely, we continued on our way to Overmountain Shelter.

Overmountain Shelter is my favorite place on the trail thus far. I thought it would be harder to choose, and there are tons of great places I've seen, but this place was very, very cool. It's an old red barn positioned in a field of tall grass. The front side faces a valley with two ridgelines converging in the distance. To the left are The Humps, a series of grassy balds, and to the right is a dense forest. The front side of the barn faces east for the sunrise, and on the first floor of the front half are open bunks. There is also a great fire pit square in the middle of the perfect view. It was a great time with new friends and old friends. We enjoyed some fresh veggies courtesy of a couple of section hikers, we enjoyed some whiskey courtesy of Sam, and we enjoyed a lot of ambience courtesy of Mother Nature. It is definitely a place I plan to return for a section hike in the future and I would recommend everybody else consider doing the same.

The mood was dampened a little bit the next morning when we found out that Dr. Seuss had experienced his first battle with Noro virus during the night. It was so bad in fact that he decided to stay an extra day and take a zero at the shelter with his brother MacGyver. Since Sam had to be back for work the next day, we decided to hike out and I would stay at a hostel in the town of Roan until Seuss and MacGyver came through in the next few days. The plan was for Sam's sister-in-law Teddy to pick us up at the road crossing. She would bring Sam to his car and she would bring me to the hostel. However, when we met up with Teddy and her new dog Pepper at the road crossing, it had just started to rain in earnest. Teddy insisted that we come to the house to take a shower and do a load of laundry, and between the weather and the delicious peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and Dr. Enuffs (the best soda ever made) that she brought along, it was an offer I couldn't refuse.

When we got to the Jablonski farm, Sam's in-laws Pam and Ric were waiting for us with wide smiles. They were very insistent that we should stay there, eat dinner and spend the night. I was pretty hesitant because my friends wouldn't know where I was, but when Doc Ric suggested that we go to the man cave and have a few beers, I thought that my friends would be able to handle themselves for a day. We had an excellent stir fry dinner, good conversation and a great evening overall.

I can't overstate how kind Teddy, Pam and Ric were to me. I am truly appreciative of the genuine kindness and hospitality that I was shown. Also, Rick sent me on my way with a bag of dried apples, dried kale chips, some Texas Pete hot sauce, and a book which I regretfully forgot on the kitchen table.

The new plan was to hike to the next shelter, Mountaineer Shelter, nine miles up the trail and hunker down until Seuss and MacGyver came through. Sam drove me out to the trail, and after saying farewell, I was back on the trail. No matter how nice a night in a town is, it's always relieving to get back on the trail. I enjoyed a nice short hike at a leisurely pace knowing that I had nowhere to be at any specific time. After a scenic walk along the river, I arrived at the shelter, but I was not alone. I would be sharing the shelter for the next day and a half with Sharkey. Sharkey was an old man who (according to him) was a millionaire from Hawaii. He also had a dog with him that he "rescued" in Roan, but based on the collar, leash, well-fed looks and behavior of the dog, I have to think Sharkey stole him off of someone's porch. I spent the.remainder of the afternoon listening to how much young people suck, how stupid thru-hikers are and how the world is coming to an end. Certainly this guy was a pathological liar, and generally speaking just a creepy old man. I took a nap to avoid further conversation, but I was woken up when someone came walking down the path.

"Axl!"
"Happy Feet! How the hell did you get behind me?"

What a sight for sore eyes! It turns out when he and Parkour went through Roan, they stayed at the hostel in town. Happy Feet ended up staying there to work for a couple of days (and, as he later admitted, to let us catch up with him). Parkour had moved on, but he planned to zero twice in Damascus, so we had a chance to catch him a little later. It was a great day and there was much rejoicing. Even moreso when Nigel and Swayze rolled in a little later. They had also zeroed in Roan so that Nigel could wait on his wallet to.be returned to him (he dropped it at the breakfast feast).

We were all chatting around the fire that night when Sharkey came out of the shelter. He had removed a bandage, and something was falling out of him. GRAPHIC CONTENT ALERT! He asked if one of us could hold back his skin while he excised a large mass from his own side. Gagging, I told him no, none of us were qualified, we didn't want to, and he would almost certainly obtain a life threatening infection if he tried surgery in the woods with a dirty old pocketknife. After much debate, we convinced him to walk back into town the next day and see a doctor. The final sentence went something like this: "Sharkey, you have a staph infection, and if you don't see a doctor, you are probably going to die." Convincing enough I suppose.

After a long night of thinking this crazy person was going to kill us, or at least infect us with some sort of zombie-like disease, we awoke to him having disappeared. We later confirmed that people did indeed see him going back towards town.

Nigel headed out early, and Swayze decided to try a 24-hour straight 60 mile push. Swayze is a crazy man in a good way. He hiked the Pacific Crest Trail last year (the west coast's equivalent to the AT) and this was his second go around on the AT. He also planned to hike the Continental Divide Trail the length of the Rockies next year. He works construction half the year so he can hike the other half. He is extremely intelligent about hiking, but he is also modest about his achievements. Humility is not the most common attribute of accomplished hikers, and for him to act the way he does at the age of 23 tells me that he will have a long fulfilling outdoor career. Going 60 miles into Damascus though, we thought it would probably be the last time we saw Swayze. I for one plan on no 60 mile days.

MacGyver and a much healthier Seuss rolled in and we carried on together after the reunion celebration. The next few days were very fun, but somewhat uneventful. We did pass by Laurel Falls and went for a very, very cold swim. We followed that by wandering into a small town to have a meal and buy some hot dogs and beer for the evening on Watauga Lake. The weather prohibited us from an evening of swimming, but we had fun at the shelter near the lake anyway. A new hiker friend Runaway marveled at us carrying 18 beers up a mountain, and also helped us finish them. The final day in to Damascus was a 26 mile push, and even though it was raining we made excellent time. Just before getting to town, we crossed into Virginia, the state where we would be hiking for the next 500 plus miles.

We waltzed down Main Street in Damascus, and as we were walking by the Blue Blaze, a local bar and restaurant, who should walk out the front door? Parkour (who had changed his name to Babyface), Nigel and Swayze! We got the band back together! Babyface zeroed three days so we could catch him, and we celebrated hard!

After many, many pitchers, we went over to the hostel to crash. Our plan was to head out the next day, but we had a date with destiny the following morning. We went back to the Blue Blaze for breakfast, and Happy Feet saw the pancake eating challenge. The record was currently fifteen full sized pancakes, and Happy thought he could take it down. Now, Happy Feet is 6'4" and a former college offensive lineman. This boy can eat some food, and this morning would be no different. Sixteen pancakes later, the last three with ice cream on them, Happy Feet emerged victorious. There was a time that I thought I could competitively eat, but in Happy Feet's presence, I realized what a farce that had been. Watching him eat pancakes was like watching Steinbeck write, or watching Picasso paint, or watching Ditka drive the Bear bus to victory at the Indianapolis 500. True greatness must be immortalized, and Happy Feet and The Fellowship had such an honor in the form of a personalized brick outside the building. With the new title came a monster stomachache and we took another zero. We did a lot of lounging that day, and prepared to leave the next afternoon. We didn't leave before I managed to get my hands.on a pair of jorts that became my camp shorts. With that purchase, I realized that about 90% of what we do out here is with the intention of making the rest of the group laugh, not taking hiking intelligence into consideration at all. Thank God for the other 10%!

As we hiked on out of Damascus, we spent a little time on the Virginia Creeper trail which is a beautiful bike trail that zig zags over rivers, and it was thankfully very flat. That didn't last long. The terrain was rapidly becoming much rockier, and I was feeling it in my soles, every night my feet were feeling more and more beat up.

Despite my aching feet, I had a moment of clarity while hiking shortly after Damascus. I know how hippie this sounds, but I felt for the first time in my life a very equal and positive balance in my life. Every aspect of my life, health, work, relationship, joy, friends, family, finances, all of them were in harmony and I was very happy with all of them. I'm usually a laid back guy and I'm generally very happy, but this was a calm feeling I was not familiar with. It was very surreal and pleasing. I think I'm getting my money's worth on this hike for sure.

We were really starting to increase the mileage, usually doing at least 17 it 18 miles per day. We are kind of locked in on that pace for a couple months, as I am taking a weekend off in August to go a wedding in Jackson Hole, Wyoming with Kat. Of course I had to buy a plane ticket, so now I need to make sure to be where that plane leaves from at the right time. Incidentally, I am very excited to get a chance to head back to Wyoming, especially with the company I'll be keeping and the festive circumstances.

Anyway, the next few days were very fun. Some brief highlights were the wild(ish) ponies roaming the Grayson Highlands (another must see for everyone), breakfast on the interstate (which also included morning beer), seeing another bear and lots of huge black snakes (no, that is not a Full Metal Jacket reference), and the great whiskey miracle of 2013. This occured when MacGyver found two bottles of whiskey while searching for firewood. We figure someone carried them up the mountain and then realized that large glass bottles were not best idea to hike with. Having that same mentality, we drank it all that night. I really needed it to take the edge off of my feet, which now aside from being unbearably painful were also very red. There happened to be a former Corpsman in the shelter that night who told me that my feet weren't just sore, they were pretty badly infected.  With what you may ask? Trenchfoot! For those of you unfamiliar, trenchfoot was a common affliction during WWI and WWII, and was.usually a result of walking too much in wet socks. Like Lieutenant Dan said, "You gotta take care of your feet!" Gary Sinise, I'll never doubt you again.

I decided to hike backwards to the last road crossing and call a shuttle, jump up the trail to Bland where I could see a doctor, and where everyone else would hike through in four days. The only problem with my plan was the lack of phone service from said road. I hiked about eight miles before someone finally noticed my thumb and gave me a ride to the doctor. There was a medical student that tended to me, and I felt terrible. She was a very nice young lady, and I apologized in advance for the smell.  She.scoffed a bit and informed me that she was in the medical field and she was immune to bad smells. When she took off my shoe however, her face twisted into a nightmarish grimmace, and I had to laugh. A hiker's smell is nothing to underestimate, and if you do so, it is 100% at your own risk. I was prescribed some antibiotics which I had to claim the next day, and I went next door.to Pizza Plus. After I devoured a pizza, I caught a ride with the delivery guy to the Big Walker Motel.

The next morning, I walked over to the gas station to get a ride back to the pharmacy. I scouted the parking lot and found a winner. Frodo was a good ol boy, as backwoods as they come, and I thought he could use the ten bucks more than most. I hopped in his pickup and away we went. The dialogue went something like this:

Frodo "Are you a cop?"
"No."
"Are you getting anything good at the pharmacy?"
"Just antibiotics."
"(Darn). You got any weed?"
"No, I'm sorry but I don't."
"Are you sure you're not a (stinking) cop?"
"Pretty sure."
"Sweet, well my cousin is going away for 4-7 next week, some (stinking stuff) with his wife/second cousin stealing his (stinking) identity. That (stinking mean lady) bought about a hundred thousand dollars of pills, and now he's getting (fornicated) by the cops. Anyway, we're having a party in the woods. There's gonna be five or six gallons of shine and a bunch of (morally questionable women)."
"Well, it's a definite maybe."

Now, it assuredly would have been a great story. Almost anything is worth doing for a good story, but as I was a bit concerned about being robbed and murdered, I decided against going. Being murdered, I thought, would most certainly put a huge damper on the trip.

I went back to the motel, and Sam showed up shortly thereafter. When he'd heard I was laid up, he decided to come out and spend the weekend. It's a good friend who drives three hours to hang out in a town called Bland. We went out to a local swimming hole called Dismal Falls. That's not a joke. Dismal Falls is located in Bland, Virginia. The falls, incidentally, were neither bland, nor were they dismal. They were actually quite scenic and fun, and we swam for a bit before heading back to the motel. We went out to a bar for some dinner and drinks, and had a great Skype date with Kat. It was (almost) like she was there with us! We rounded off the night by heading out to see the new Superman movie. SPOILER ALERT! I haven't gone over every movie I've ever seen in my head, but I feel confident saying that Superman was among the worst three movies I've ever seen. Don't waste your money on this over-advertised garbage. If you're dead set on seeing it, wait a month or two and grab it out of the three dollar movie box at Wal Mart where it is destined to reside. It was comically bad. So, so terrible in every possible way. Blah.

Well, the next day, Sam brought me out to Pearisburg, where everyone was slated to walk through the following day. The motel looked like something right out of 1978 Miami, fully equipped with parking lot fights, a family of nine living next door and a recent hiker overdose. All in all, it was a pretty classy joint. I was honestly waiting for Tony Montana blowing my door open with a rocket launcher.

The next day, the whole gang rolled in, Seuss, MacGyver, Happy Feet, Babyface, Nigel, Swayze and two new friends, Sparrow and Spooky. One of the first things everyone did was jump in the pool. When Happy Feet jumped in, his previous shoulder injury became significantly less previous. He climbed out of the pool with his left shoulder hanging about three or four inches below where it should have been located, a clear dislocation. I'll give you one guess who heroically came to the rescue. That's right, it was MacGyver! He worked a few miracles, fixed Happy's shoulder, and then walked across the pool water back to the hotel room. We aren't certain, but we think Happy can throw a baseball 95 miles per hour now, and may indeed win Rookie of the Year.

The rest of the night was debauchery that included (but was not limited to) beer, China Buffet, hockey, a very intense reenactment of Happy's injury (for artistic purposes only) and more laughing and fun than anyone has a right to.

A bad weather day forced us into another zero, but now, after four days off, I'm very eager to get back on the trail tomorrow. I am now not technically a thru-hiker as I've jumped about 80 miles, but I am very comfortable with our lack of interest in the "purist" mentality. We are all looking to have as much fun as possible. A positive, fun, challenging, life-changing experience is more important than arbitrarily checking a box by hiking every single mile. We are out here to enjoy it, and I am very confident saying we are all getting our money's worth. We have now hiked about 630 miles, and we are really in a rhythm. I am very excited for the next leg, and I swear I'll try to update with more frequency/less length. I hope you are all getting outside and enjoying the beautiful summer. Especially when your alternative is that horrible Superman movie. So bad. Enjoy the outdoors, and until next time, happy trails!

The Road Goes On Forever and the Party Never Ends

(Be forewarned, this is a really long post)
When we left off last time, we were heading out of Gatlinburg and back up to Newfound Gap.  When we got to the gap, a group of Harley enthusiasts wanted to take some pictures with us. They asked a lot of questions about the hike, and we started to draw a crowd of day hikers and tourists parked at the gap.  After a short dissertation on the Appalachian Trail, we walked past the sign for Katahdin (1972 miles) and on up the trail.

We had a fairly short day planned, and, despite the noon start, we made great time. We were delayed for maybe a half hour as a huge hail storm passed over our heads. Luckily for us, when the storm started we were right next to a shelter. We hustled inside and watched with amazement as the sunny day turned destructive in a matter of minutes. When the storm passed we worked our way towards our shelter for the night, Peck's Corner Shelter.

We made it in pretty good time, and when we arrived Brian (now officially known by his trail name, Parkour), Spiceman and Adam (now known as Happy Feet thanks to his ungodly blisters) had some firewood gathered and camp was about set up. We settled in and met the other coinhabitants, June Bug, a thru hiker who had to take some time off due to her injured hamstring, and Mike and Louis, a father son section hiking duo. All three were very cool, and very entertaining to camp with. As we were starting to relax, team Swiss Miss pulled into camp.

We had a special treat that night, as I had decided to haul up the ingredients for s'mores. We whittled some sticks and all enjoyed the delicious respite from peanut butter and pepperoni. For the Swiss Misses, they were the first s'mores they'd ever had. June Bug said she got plenty of joy just watching us enjoy them. Seuss had about five, and another two for breakfast. We all had a great night joking and laughing around the fire, and a little while later, everyone nodded off content and happy.

We left Peck's Corner fairly early the next day, but not before I put my foot in my mouth. June Bug, a slightly older lady, was getting ready to leave. She said "You'll probably pass me soon," which was in all likelihood true. I responded by saying, "I sure hope so." What I meant was that I hoped to see her again because she was very pleasant, but when her face dropped and everyone else burst into laughter, I realized my misstep. I essentially said (unintentionally, mind you) "Of course we're going to pass you, you old bag, look at us!" I apologized profusely, she assured me there was no need and she moved on with a smile (We did indeed pass her a short while later, at which point I hung my head in mock shame).

We hiked a shorter day on Monday, thirteen relatively easy miles to the next shelter. We had a great lunch that day on top of a bald, soaking in the sun and the views. We also saw the remainder of some wreckage of a plane crash many years earlier. I asked a few locals and other hikers about it, but no one seemed to have much information in regards to the story of the accident.

A short while after the crash site, we arrived at Cosby Knob Shelter around 2:00. We considered pressing on, but our whole crew hadn't yet shown up and we didn't want to separate. Instead, we got to gathering firewood and preparing camp. We used the stream to chill our whiskey while we did our chores. Every night in camp we have the same responsibilities: get in to camp, gather firewood, filter water for dinner, breakfast and drinking the next day, hang all the clothes we wore that day to dry (they never dry), cook dinner, hang the bear bag, set up our beds, plan the next day's mileage, tend to blisters and other injuries, drink a little whiskey, tell a few dirty jokes and go to bed. Occasionally there are other things, reading, journaling, stretching or an occasional sing along. We even talked about having a talent show (I was going to be the musical accompaniment for Happy Feet's song, 'The Walking Blues'), but we haven't had enough energy yet.

While hanging out in camp, the Swiss Misses showed up for the last time. They were hitchhiking the following day to get up the trail to Damascus. Their limited time in the country made it impossible to hike the whole trail, and they wanted to see some different sections. One very funny event of the evening was watching Spiceman try to explain to them the sarcastic expression 'twist my arm'. He just kept pantomiming someone having an arm twisted. He was a little drunk, we all had a great laugh, and the two ladies didn't learn any new English.

We all finished our nightly duties and then talked about an early rise and a night hike to a fire tower three and a half miles away to catch the sunrise. Not everyone was eager to get up at four in the morning to hike in the dark for maybe having a view of the sunrise (they are called the Smokies for a reason, you know. Each year there are only about forty really clear days). Also, the prospect of hiking in the dark downhill didn't appeal much to those with more serious foot/ankle problems. It ended up being Spiceman, Parkour, Happy Feet and I who decides to go for it, so we turned in early around 7:30.

We all woke up to a crystal clear sky at 4:00, stars and stars and stars in just unbelievable quantity and clarity. We planned to be out of there no later than 4:30, but since timing rarely if ever works out, we left around 4:50, fairly certain we would miss the 6:10 sunrise three and a half miles away. That doesn't seem that extreme for time, but keep in mind it was dark, we were going down a mountain and then up another, and we were carrying 40+ pounds on our backs. Spiceman put as at a great pace though, and we were basically jogging down the trail. When we got to the trail split, we dropped our packs and sprinted the last .6 miles to the tower. Happy Feet rolled his ankle pretty badly, but soldiered on to the tower. We beat the sunrise by about ten minutes, and it was amazing.

The tower was on a point with nearly 360-degree views, and the point on the mountain faced due east. We were all dumbfounded by the beauty. It's so difficult sometimes to put into words the natural beauty that I am experiencing. There are only so many words that mean 'this thing is aesthetically pleasing'. It's so much more than just pretty, though. When I watched the Sun rise over the mountains, when I saw the purple-blue haze of predawn slowly lighten into shades of orange, red, yellow, and then explode into bright neon hues that don't have names, when I watched the sun come over the horizon, illuminating the few wispy clouds, bringing life to the mountains and forests in which I had been living, when I watched fear itself be stricken from the world by the light of day, it wasn't just beautiful, it was moving. It wasn't just a pretty view, it was a five-sense experience to which my limited vocabulary could never do justice. I know this sounds a bit over the top, but anyone who has seen something of truly indescribable beauty knows what I mean. These things don't just affect your memory; they affect your soul.

We lingered for a while, basking in our victory of having arrived in time for the spectacle and we had a snack and a celebratory swig. Since it was only around 6:45 and we had already crushed a chunk of the day, we tried slowing our pace, but we were all too jazzed up to keep a slow pace. We breezed through the morning, crossing I-40 at the Knoxville Asheville split and then enjoying some coke a trail angel left by the bottom of a nasty uphill. The littlest things mean so much out here, really. We went up the hill, across a small ridge and then we crossed a river to a hiker hostel we had heard rave reviews about called Standing Bear Farm.

We arrived at 10:30, and the proprietor, Rocket, was already a few sheets to the wind, with Pabst Blue Ribbon adorning both his shirt and the can in his hand. He welcomed us in, sold us a few beers and we sat around talking with him for quite a while. He had a great set up with a bunkhouse, firepit, food trailer, two beer fridges and a beautiful little creek running through it all. Rocket was a veteran of the Marines and he was enjoying his retirement in oh so many ways. We enjoyed a few pizzas, jammed out to some classic rock, had some beers and played cards. All in all, it was a great afternoon. To top it off, we took a quick swim in the creek to cool down. We pushed on for a very steep afternoon and eventually came to a very nice mountaintop clearing where we watched the hot sun fade to a calming glow. Finally, we rolled into Groundhog Creek Shelter very tired, pretty late and extremely content with our full 18 mile day.

The next day was a nice slow amble up and over Max Patch. Max Patch came highly recommended to me from a very reliable source, and it sure delivered. Different from any terrain we had yet seen, Max Patch is a very high, very expansive set of rolling grassy hills. Panoramic views in every direction made it the perfect place to catch some sunshine and a nice long lunch soaking in the perfection of our daily lives.

We met a very nice real estate agent who was traveling with her mother's hiking group. Unfortunately her name escaped me, but she was extremely helpful with information about the area, the weather and what good restaurants there were in Hot Springs, our next destination. She also took our photo for her real estate ad, so if you're looking to buy property in southeastern North Carolina and think you might have spotted our ugly mugs on an advertisement, you may just be right.

She also told us about how recently some vandals took their ATVs and did donuts on Max Patch, in the process tearing up the pristine hillsides. I have seen shockingly few signs of carelessness towards nature on this trip, but still enough to piss me off. There are so many good people out there who partake in outdoor activities in a responsible manner. I'm not saying thru-hikers are perfect by any means, but the shelters close to the parking lots are invariably in the worst repair and have the most trash. Spiceman put it very well I thought: "When you experience something great and leave it worse than when you got there so that no one after you can have the same experience, you're just an asshole." Please, please, please go out and enjoy nature or whatever you love to do, just don't be so selfish as to ruin it for others. If you do, Spiceman and I will think that you suck. As a conclusion to the first part of this rant, the vandals from Max Patch were caught and prosecuted, and Max Patch has been fully restored to its previous condition.

We finished up the day by walking across pastoral fields, by old fenceposts and barbed wire, through broken down paddocks and over rolling lush hillsides of grass. We arrived at a very small Walnut Mountain Shelter with thunderstorms threatening, so we quickly set up camp, started a fire and crammed inside in time for the first of many squalls. We had a very fun night riding out the storms, our group now solidified and holding strong for over two weeks. We all got along great and decided to keep the party going as long as possible.

The next day, we got an early start so we could tear off the 13 miles into Hot Springs in time for a diner breakfast. With eggs and bacon on his mind, MacGyver led the first charge with Seuss and Parkour, while Happy Feet, Spiceman and I headed out shortly thereafter. After another great morning, we rolled into Hot Springs, and I was hungry. Actually, to be honest, I was hangry. The diner was the first building we passed, so naturally we assumed the rest of the crew would be there. They were not, so we thought we'd have a course while we waited for them. I chose the hungry hiker, a 12 ounce burger done up right and a loaded hot dog (we had already missed breakfast). Then I had a piece of peanut butter pie with vanilla ice cream. Spiceman had the strawberry cobbler while Happy Feet went with the coconut cream pie. We passed them in a circle until all three disappeared. Then we saw the rest of our group. They had gone to get space in a hostel and shower first. To be polite, we stayed while they ate. And we shared appetizers of fried pickles and bacon cheese fries. A short nap ensued in the diner before we checked out the accommodations.

And what accommodations they were! We were staying in a hiker hostel-priced bed and breakfast, and it was awesome. It was a very large, very old farmhouse. It has been servicing hikers for over 60 years, as evidenced by the placard on the door of our room proclaiming that Earl Shaffer stayed here on thru hikes in 1948 and 1998. Yes, THE Earl Shaffer. The Appalachian Trail pioneer is the most storied person in AT history, and he slept in the very same room I did. Twice.

The rest of the house was decorated with various artworks and artifacts from around the world. Nearly every wall in the house was lined with bookcases, and there was even a jam session room, complete with two.guitars, a banjo and a fiddle. I pushed for an impromptu camp song about our experience, but no one bit. After we toured the place and settled in, everyone went about their business, resupplying, showering and relaxing. I washed my clothes in the sink, and even the clothes I only wore at camp at night turned the water a shade of brownish gray that I didn't know was real. I won't talk about how the sock washing went, but I assure you it wasn't pretty. Maybe it was because it was my first time hand-washing this stuff, or maybe it was because there is only so much filth you can hand-wash, but my clothes didn't seem any cleaner, just a little bit wetter. In any case, when we were done with our setting up (which included going through all the great food in my care package, thanks mom and dad!) we gathered on the porch to enjoy a few cold beers. There was talk of a community dinner, but we were still a bit full from lunch and a little too lazy to walk across town. We decided instead to go down the street to the pub and grab a sandwich and a few beers. Shortly after hiker midnight (9:00 PM) we wandered back to the B&B and crashed for the night.

The owner of the B&B was a man named Elmer. He was a very kind, gregarious older man who loved to talk with thru-hikers about their lives before and the potential lives after the trail. He also loved to feed his guests. When he invited us to a vegetarian breakfast, we were hesitant, especially as there was a diner across the street filled with delicious bacon and sausage. He hinted that he really wanted us to join him though, so we decided to appease him, and we were sure glad we did. When we responded to the mealtime bell, we were greeted with a spread of homemade biscuits and gravy, farm fresh scrambled eggs mixed with a variety of Elmer's fresh picked veggies, fresh fruit, homemade yellow grits, granola, coffee and juice. It was remarkable. I guess that's obvious based on the way I am remarking on it, but just really, really great.

We ate our breakfast, repacked and hit the trail. It was only ten miles to camp, but it was a very steep ten miles. Along the way, we stopped and played jungle gym on a tree overhanging a dam. Also, Spiceman, Parkour and I wandered up to a fire tower for a quick view before hitting camp at Spring Mountain Shelter. It was Friday night, and I can already tell that we are going to dislike weekend traffic. There were a ton of people passing through and camping near the shelter. It was by far the most people we had seen on the trail, and while people are nice to see, it's the remoteness and isolation of nature that we crave. One of the hikers was a thru-hiker named Nigel who chatted with us that night, particularly with Spiceman regarding hiking hammocks. We laughed around the fire for a bit and then headed off to sleep.

The next day Seuss, MacGyver and Parkour left a bit earlier than Spiceman, Happy Feet and I. We tend to be the amblers and lingerers, stopping for an hour here and a half hour there, enjoying views and interesting spots, moving quickly at times, yet not in any particular rush to get anywhere. As it happened, this day would be like that. We pushed off around 10:00 with Nigel in tow. We had a nice leisurely walk and Nigel went on his way to a hostel where his girlfriend was planning to meet him. We said our goodbyes and sincerely hoped to meet up with him up the trail.

A bit later, we caught up with the rest of the crew at the next shelter where we shared a nice lunch with Crowd Control (When groups hike together for a while, they eventually come up with a group trail name, Crowd Control for example. We needed ours, and we have since become The Fellowship. We bounced a lot of ideas around, but we decided that simple was best in this case). Crowd Control was a group that consisted of a very brave mother and her three young children that she was homeschooling while thru-hiking with them. A very interesting and kind family, we enjoyed a long lunch with them. I ate my new favorite lunch, which I highly recommend you try: peanut butter, nutella, honey and gorp on a tortilla. Anyway, we finished chatting with Crowd Control and moved on.

A while later, we came to some beautiful cliffs. We sat down and just silently reflected on how great everything about this adventure was. We go in the woods with our friends every day and see beautiful things. We are literally living everyone's childhood dream. We took off after about an hour of contemplating and rolled lazily into Jerry's Cabin, our shelter for the night.

We met Lightweight, a 21-year-old who was hiking through to Pennsylvania, Commander and his wife Little Bit.  Commander was a super cool guy.  He had hiked McKinley, Rainier, Blanc, Kilimanjaro and many other places.  Most of my night was occupied with listening to his stories like a kid on Christmas, wide-eyed and smiling like an idiot.  It was very interesting to say the least.  Since we were planning a 3:00 AM wake up and a 25-mile day, we all headed off to bed pretty early that night.

I woke up to a full moon, nice weather and the sound of Spiceman evacuating all of yesterday's food. Yes, he was vomiting in a very copious manner, and after a brief conversation, we found out that both Spiceman and Parkour had gotten food poisoning (thanks Dollar General rice!). Parkour felt like his had all passed through, but Spiceman was still hurting. After a brief discussion and coming up with a contingency plan, we decided to go ahead and hike anyway.  We would cross a road after about nine miles, so we thought it would be best to be there in case the situation worsened.  We hiked almost to the first shelter, about a mile shy when Spiceman had to lie down for a minute.  Well, a minute turned into an hour, and we quickly made a plan C. I stayed with Spiceman while MacGyver, Seuss, Parkour and Happy Feet went ahead to prepare the shelter (get a fire going, filter a lot of fresh water and make some food).  We all distributed the contents of Spiceman's pack and then they took off. We sat in the middle of the trail, Spiceman napping and I twiddling my thumbs.  It was 6:00 so we weren't too concerned about trail traffic despite the holiday weekend.  After a while, Spiceman woke up and wanted to walk to the shelter so we took off.  Shortly thereafter, MacGyver heroically came down the trail towards us.  He had gone ahead, prepared camp, filtered water and then ran that water back knowing how dehydrated Spiceman was.  It was a very selfless act, and it just increased my respect for MacGyver and our group as a whole.

At the shelter, everyone napped for a few hours. Seuss and I happened to be up first and were sitting at the picnic table when in rolled Lightweight, the younger guy we'd met at the shelter the previous evening.  He sat down shyly and said "Hey, do you guys care if I hang out with The Fellowship?".  After a quick laugh, we of course told him to join up with us. We did, however, tell him we'd be calling him New Guy.  He didn't care, he was just pleased to be hiking with some guys his own age. 

Spiceman woke up still little nauseous and with no appetite.  Happy Feet gave him some medicine to combat those symptoms, and we pushed on, making for the next shelter eight miles away.  After the first mile, it was evident that Spiceman wasn't hiking any seven more miles.  We fortunately came to a road crossing a short while later, and Spiceman decided he was going to catch a shuttle into Erwin, Tennessee and since he was going home to Canada two days later, this was the last we would see of him on the trail.

It was a very beautiful road crossing, a two-lane country road through green hills and fields.  A deer even came by to complete the scene.  Spiceman looked around, and as he often did, he said, "Wow, look around. This is our life boys!" We all basked in that moment and marvelled at how fast we had formed such a close bond with each other.  We were all very downtrodden when his shuttle pulled away, for losing a member of our crew, and I think also because we all had a sense that it may have been the beginning of the end of The Fellowship. I'm not quite sure why we thought this was the case, but I guess the best way to sum it up is to look at Van Halen.  You can replace original members, but the product will invariably be entirely different. I'm not saying that we were about to turn into Van Hagar, but changes were definitely inevitable.

But, as Robert Frost said, we had miles to go before we slept, so we shoved off to complete the day's hike.  We arrived at the shelter to another large crew of Boy Scouts and weekend hikers. It was a nice group of folks, and we had a great time that night.  Lightweight (New Guy) endeared himself to us by bringing s'mores supplies. One interesting variation was that he used peanut butter cups instead of chocolate bars.  We think he'll fit in just fine.  We had a brief sparkler display and headed off to sleep.

We awoke to a beautiful day and decided to push for our first 20-mile day.  That would leave us six easy miles from Erwin, our next resupply point.  Happy Feet and I spent a majority of the day together.  It takes him an extra 30-40 minutes to get ready each morning for blister care, and yes, they really are that bad. We methodically made our way through more beautiful forests and up over Big Bald, which was exactly what you might expect from the name. We had a nice lunch and a couple hour nap on top of the bald in the sunshine, and then realized we had far too many miles left to sleep.any longer. We made it to No Business Knob Shelter around 7:00.  This was one of the notorious Norovirus shelters (apologies for my earlier misspelling 'Nora virus') and the night was supposed to be clear, so we cowboy camped around a fire. For those of you unfamiliar, that simply means we slept out under the stars. Our plan was to have a nice early morning, cruise into Erwin for breakfast, grab a quick resupply and be on our way up the trail by early afternoon.

That was our plan.

When we woke up, MacGyver informed us he had thrown up during the night and he now felt like death. Seuss hiked ahead to make arrangements for staying in Erwin while the rest of us split up MacGyver's pack weight and started for town. His condition only worsened as we moved forward, but we did eventually make it to Erwin. The five healthy guys decided to stay at a hiker hostel called Uncle Johnny's while MacGyver wanted to quarantine himself at the Super 8.  Seuss got him set up with supplies to weather the storm, and seeing his condition decided to take a zero the following day.

While Seuss took care of that, Happy Feet, Parkour, New Guy and I hitched a ride into town.  We ate, resupplied and bought food and beer for a barbecue that night. We thought a zero tomorrow meant a party tonight! Don't get me wrong, we all felt terrible for MacGyver and we felt a dread of what illnesses might be waiting to knock our whole group out, but when life gives you lemons, right?

Uncle Johnny's had an unusual variety of characters.  Every employee was a work-for-stay broke hiker, and they were odd ducks. Zippy was definitely the most, um, interesting we'll say.  He said that he had been there for about a week, but it seemed more likely that he had been there for 30 years and simply forgot due to years of hallucinogenic drugs.  He lived in his tent and while he was supposed to be working, he would lay in the grass and drink lots of Busch Light. At one point, he asked me if I wanted to go in with him to buy Uncle Johnny's. I asked if he thought they would accept our tents as collateral. He didn't think it was nearly as funny as we did. He still liked us enough to cook us dinner though. I should clarify. By dinner, I mean he roasted a slice of spam over an open flame, plopped it directly on our table, pulled out a pocket knife and cut it into six pieces, then victoriously announced that dinner was served. We politely declined. Instead, we grilled burgers and brats, drank ice cold beer and had a wonderful night.

The next morning, Parkour and Happy Feet decided to push on.  We had hoped they would stay, but really we can't blame them.  One major rule on the trail is hike your own hike. They needed to go like we needed to stay with MacGyver. It was very sad, but something tells me we'll see them around the way. Once they headed out, Seuss, New Guy and I rode some bikes into town to check on MacGyver. He was feeling a lot better and said he would be ready to go the next day. We headed back to the hostel, leaving MacGyver to rest more. The three of us spent the rest of the afternoon swimming in the river across from the hostel and relaxing.  We should be back on the trail early tomorrow, but as I am writing this cramps and nausea are taking control of me.  We'll see how I feel tomorrow.  Until then, happy trails!