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Saturday, April 23, 2011

Tales From Our First Week in the Woods

Our first 100 miles is already behind us and it feels like we've been out here forever.  Sometimes, it's like any other life was just imaginary, impossible that we could be doing something other than walking all day, planning our mileage, looking forward to having instant mashed potatoes and tuna for dinner, checking the  elevation maps to try and determine exactly how painful our near future could turn out to be.

We've already had a few adventures in the short time we've been out here.

Our very first day, our friend's car broke down about 30 miles from Springer. We had to leave her in a Moe's parking lot, waiting for the tow truck, to start hitchhiking towards our starting point. It was a narrow, twisty mountain road, with no shoulder. It was hot. Our packs were at their heaviest, loaded with water and food for two people for seven days. Car after car passed us. For my first hitchhiking experience, it wasn't one to inspire an opinion that it was at all an effective or convenient mode of travel. Finally, a car pulled over. We didn't even believe it was for us at first. Turned out that the guy was the trail caretaker for Springer and the nearby trail. Not only would he give us a ride, but he would bring us to exactly where we wanted to go: Up the forest service roads to within a mile of the summit. A more perfect first trail magic couldn't be imagined.

Day two. We strolled (limped) into Hawk Mountain Shelter around one o'clock for lunch and valiantly decided that there was no way we could waste the rest of the day lounging around. Not on our first full day on the trail. We knew from our ride the day before, and from the guide books, that there wouldn't be any water for a few miles after the shelter, and we decided that we were up to hiking to Justus Creek, where there was water and a campsite. Just five miles away. No problem.

Except that it was. It was, for my tastes at least, brutally hot, and the sausage and parmigiana lunch wasn't sitting well. We had to go up steep ascents that left me nauseated and gasping for breath, and down equally steep descents that made my knees cry for mercy. The sun was setting, we were almost out of water, and about two miles from our destination, I sat my sweaty self down in the dirt and despaired. I said that I didn't think that I could make it.

But then I took some ibuprofen and decided that I had to do this. The second day was not the time to start being a quitter. John led the way as I stumbled after him like a zombie, not even lifting my eyes from his feet in front of me, until we got to the creek. The next morning, we found out that we'd accidentally walked 11 miles.

We took it easy on day three and found a nice camping spot near water and chemical toilets. We had heard that there would be a storm that night, and although we both noticed that our tent was in a slight depression at the foot of three inclines, we didn't care enough to move it.

I woke up at midnight to find that our tent, thankfully waterproof, was floating in two inches of water. It was like a water bed. When John rolled over, I felt a wave push up under me. We didn't get much sleep during that storm, but when we woke up, everything, including our packs, which we'd left outside, wrapped in their rain covers, was dry.

On day four, we weren't so lucky. We climbed to the top of Blood Mountain, the highest on the Georgia AT, and decided to take the risk of staying there despite stories of a lot of bear activity in the area. The sun was setting, our feet were hurting, there was a view. We tied up our food using the proper bear bagging techniques and went to bed confident that our food would be there in the morning. Nope. No trace of our bags the next morning. After climbing on rocks and peering under bushes, we found the sad remains of our food, toiletries, and dishes. That, and a lot of bear diarrhea.




Nothing for it but to hike the 2.8 miles down the mountain to Neels Gap where we could get some breakfast and supplies for the rest of the week.

Those were just the first five days of this six month trip, and even since starting to plan out this post, we've acquired some more stories. Those will have to be shared some other time, since I'm disgustingly longwinded and I think the other hikers in this shelter are starting to get irritated by the iPhone typing noises. And after sunset is well past my bedtime.

1 comment:

  1. I had a dream like that that Scott and I were going on this big month-long hike, got everything packed and ready and started out...the only thing we kept talking about on our first day that this was "nothing compared to what Grace and John were doing." It was silly. I miss you both, take care and keep up your spirits! You've made a good start!

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