Erwin...

Here I sit, typing at a computer at the Erwin Library in Erwin, Tennessee, digesting a burrito from the Erwin Burrito Factory...contented, with new shoes that hopefully will allow me to walk through the mountains with less discomfort.

It's been 350 miles, I've covered a good deal of ground, literally, but have so much more to cover. As I consider the distance I've walked in context with how much more there is to go, I wonder how in the world I will make it.

Puzzling...

But tomorrow, I will plod on, undaunted, with 3 more days of food and water, with temps in the high 80s as I head toward Roan Mountain and Virginia, just 130 miles farther north.

I am humbled by the journey so far. I don't know if I have learned any particularly important life lessons, but I have learned some little ones. But, like ounces add up to pounds in one's backpack, little lessons will add up to big ones, I am hoping.

I will update my blog a little more in a week or so. The past couple weeks have been very introspective ones for me as I deal with the mental challenges of the trail.

Thank you all for following along...

"Muddyshoes"

Boots...

I'm going for new boots today or tomorrow. For over 300 miles I've struggled with painful foot problems which I've tried unsuccessfully to resolve with various types of inserts and footbeds. Then, invariably, after about 3-4 hours of hiking, my foot pains begin slowly and then progress getting worse and worse.

Bad boots do more than hurt your feet. They can hurt your ankles, legs, knees and even your back and spine...not good when you have over 2000 miles to hike.

So, it's off to see if I can fix these problems, because it's no fun hiking when everything below the waist is in pain.

"There's Always Room for One More"

It's the thru-hiker mantra, and it's one that any of you who have made the journey understand. It refers to 'almost' always being able to find a spot in a shelter when arriving at one on the trail. Most shelters will fit anywhere from 6 to 14 people and occasionally shelters will fill up. Sadly, even times when a shelter isn't full, many people will refuse to allow other hikers to stay in one because they don't want their personal space bubble invaded. But thru-hikers for the most part, understand what it's like to come to a shelter after a long or wet or long wet day, just wanting to dump off the pack and boots and get some rest.

The scenario goes like this.

You're laying in your bag, writing in your journal or reading a book or just laying there and you hear the classic 'click' 'clack' sound of hiking poles approaching and then the words, "any room?" "Sure, c'mon in...there's always room for one more." We may groan or mumble a bit, but then sleeping pads, packs, piles of stuff start their sliding to make room for the hiker, even if he isn't a thru-hiker.

In some cases, shelters will be so full that everyone inside has to spoon, or people are laid at the foot of the sleeping platform, or on the floor of the shelter or the picnic table if that shelter has one. More people means more snoring and everyone just accepts that as part of the journey. Thru-hikers are incredibly tolerant of many things, but mostly are just thankful for a dry place to sleep and one more body to help share the shelter mice.

A drop at a time...

It's been very rough going on the trail for the past week and a half. Weather has been nasty, raining almost every day, temperatures in the 30s overnight and having to walk through slushy, cold mud even on days when it isn't raining.

It gets to you...

The ice cold winds chill to the bone as I walk along the mountain ridges, soaked with perspiration, ironically from wearing my rain jacket which is supposed to keep me dry. A momen't pause in the mountain brings instant chill and the only defense is to get to camp/shelter as soon as possible to take off the wet clothes and get into a dry sleeping bag. But even this doesn't bring comfort as you know you will be donning on the wet clothes again in the morning, despite your best attempt at drying them.

This last week has taken its toll and on at least two days I have considered leaving the trail. In part it is due to the steep ups and downs that make up this kind of hike which punish the body hour after hour. I pop 3-4 Ibuprofin in the morning and early afternoon to soothe the joint pain in my feet, ankles and knees. I have been experiencing sharp pains in my feet since the hike began which usually start around hour 3 or 4 up to 7 or 8 hours, depending upon how long I'm hiking that particular day.

Pains and injury have already taken many off the trail.

I have gone off the trail a couple days early in anticipation of attending "Trail Days" in Damascus, VA, in hopes that these 4-5 days will give me a chance to get my head straight. The trail is not the place to be if you are not committed to this kind of hike and if you are not focused on each and every step, it's too easy to get injured.

I've experienced the beginning stages of hypothermia twice so far, but fortunately have the proper gear and common sense to head it off before it goes further. I have battled poison ivy on my left hand, joint pain in many places, sunburn, snow, hail, sleet, rain, temps in the high 20s, several falls, a few cuts and bruises and the realization that I am still, after 7 weeks, very much out of shape.

I'm very discouraged at the moment...hopefully these days off will help me get back on track.

Ron

Rangers with shotguns...

I've met plenty of hikers on the AT in the Smokies, but occasionally I have passed park rangers with shotguns. Fortunately, they were not hunting hikers but wild boar.

Near the turn of the century, mountain resorts were the place to visit and several of them in the south imported wild boar for sport hunting. But as automobiles and roads improved, these mountain resorts fell out of favor and many of them 'mysteriously' burned down. The boar were left to breed over many decades and now present a big threat to the safety of hikers and campers and to the parks themselves.

Wild boar dig through sensitive vegetation, tear up trails and may aggressively attack humans. For that reason, they are hunted by the local rangers. Male boar can get up to 200 pounds and they often travel in groups.

Pork...yum...

On the road again...

With belly full of pancakes and the associated accoutrements, I'll be hitching a ride out of Gatlinburg to the Smokies again to finish them off in about 3 days. Because of the horrible weather, I'm going to try and get out of there as soon as possible. I have liked the Smokies, they have certainly been a challenge, but I'm ready for something different.

Until then.

Muddyshoes

Crappy Days...

I've had 'em, and this week one of them almost knocked me off the trail. It was a combination of several days of extremely cold and rainy weather and just not feeling up to par. This day was the first day I actually thought of leaving the trail.

But then I stopped to think about all the days I've had so far and realized that the good days have way outnumbered the bad days and in that context I plodded on and the next day was one of the most beautiful yet.

It's all about the big picture and if I can always remember that, I'm sure I'll make the end.

Ron

A Bear Attack...kind of.

Deep Gap, Georgia.

At each gap is a climb up the other side of a mountain or hill of some kind and at some, like at Deep Gap, there is a little placard where park rangers can leave notices for hikers and campers about trail conditions, hazards or other things hikers need to know about.

This placard had a sign that said the following:

"Attention Hikers:

A Bear has been stealing packs between... (Basically a 10 miles section of the A.T.). This bear has been aggressive and has shown no fear of humans. Please be advised to use bear proofing techniques.

--- The District Ranger."

Ok, so this was disconcerting as I was hiking by myself. About every half mile past this sign was a little diamond shaped sign that said, "North Carolina Wildlife Bear Sanctuary." I hiked at a brisk pace to make sure I got to the next shelter before dark when all the man-eating bears come out to feed on unsuspecting fleshy hikers. When I reached the top of the mountain, I was on a 30 inch wide trail with sheer cliff to my left and a 150 foot dropoff to my right. There was no place to go when the pack of bears attacked.

As I reached the top, I heard a loud, gutteral growling noise from around the corner. I stopped dead in my tracks and almost wet myself. The only defense I had was a can of pepper spray but which I lost a couple weeks earlier so I braced myself for either a death-by-bear or a fall off the cliff.

A minute later, one of my hiker friends rounded the corner with a big proud grin on his face pointing his finger at me and saying, "Haha...Muddyshoes...I got ya!!"

Needless to say, I was not amused and shouted, "Dude...that was so...not cool!!"

But after a few minutes I laughed and was thankful that it wasn't a hungry bear on a rampage.

Ah...the people you meet on the trail.

Schedule, schedule, schedule...

I went into a shop today, pack on, to buy another memory card for my camera. "You hiking the AT" the guy asked perceptively? "Sure am," I said. "Ah," he replied, "You must be the last one on the trail thru-hiking this year."

Then it hit me...that nagging, horrible, bastard of a deadline, October 15th...the last day to climb Kathadin at the end.

"Enjoy the moment" I am told again and again by experienced hikers. "Maine will always be there." That daily internal struggle to make up the miles behind while I try to find balance and see and enjoy things the way I want to see and enjoy them.

Hikers who are goal-oriented have it easy. They generally don't care about the towns, they focus on the miles and invariably, unless they injure themselves or lose their will to go on, make it to Maine on time.

But I'm built differently.

I love American culture and small-town charm. I love American "Kitch" and tacky tourist towns. I love a slog of greasy spoon food now and then to break up a week of hard mountain climbing. But with each tacky tourist shop entered, that little hiker with the stop watch sitting on my left shoulder keeps reminding me about the October 15th deadline.

I have plenty of time still and the sore knee and ankles that were plaguing me for the past several weeks are feeling better now, no doubt because I have taken more time off. But still, I must push on and challenge myself a little more. It's a battle of finesse to be sure.

Today I take my second zero day here in Gatlinburg but inside I am really looking forward to getting on the trail tomorrow, rain or shine.

Ron
Lover of all things "Kitch"

Oatmeal...

I'm sick of oatmeal, and the thing is that I have not had all that much of it. But after a while it just tastes like wallpaper paste. (And yes, I have tasted wallpaper paste.) You can add stuff to it like strawberries or blueberries or cinnamon, but it's still the crappy underlying pasty dry tastes of oats.

I have no idea why the Quaker Oats guy is smiling. They taste like shit.

One Month as a thru-hiker...

I guess that makes me a Journeyman backpacker...maybe not. If you've hiked the trail, eaten on the trail, gone to the bathroom on the trail (Well, off the trail), been lost on the trail, bled on the trail, cried on the trail and you've kept on going, then I think that makes you a journeyman.

It's been challenging in many ways, but most of all humbling and it makes you appreciative of those things you take for granted on a daily basis like clean water, accessibility to food, communications, soap, a comfortable bed, etc. And I still have 5 and a half months to go.

Every day is still a physical challenge but now it's become a mental game as well. When you wake up in the morning, you know you have to go on now matter how you are feeling. Some days it's easier than others, but in the grand scheme of things you have to weigh all the good days against the bad days and see where you stand. It's all about the cumulative feeling of experiences that determines whether the trip is worthwhile or not.

For me it has been very worthwhile.

So tomorrow, I walk again, into the woods and contemplate the next 1900 miles and decide where I want them to take me.-