Days 5-7 3/26/2014 – 3/28/2014 Woody Gap (Suches, GA) to Unicoi Gap (Helen, GA)
Back into civilization and in a position to post at last.
It has been a blast for the past three days and, of course, all plans have changed on the fly. The original plan had been to hike only about 8 miles to Blood Mountain shelter, right at the top of this beautiful mountain. We’ve been incredibly lucky with the weather thus far and are offered spectacular views from pretty much every vantage point. This one was likely to be the best and so it proved. I’m using an iPhone and, while this video is adequate to share some of my adventure, it does no sort of justice to how fabulous it looked when I was there.
Sadly for me, shortly after I shot that video, I dropped my iPhone and cracked the glass, though it still seems to be working; I hope it lasts, as there seems to be no way I can get it fixed on the Trail.
Days 2 – 4 3/23/2014 – 3/25/2014 Springer Mountain Shelter – Woody Gap (Suches, GA)
You know when you make great plans of how you think things are going to go and then, when reality unfolds, they all turn to mush? Yes, well that’s exactly what happened to me the past couple of days.
I had this great idea of taking pictures on the way, all the while using my solar charger to keep my phone and iPad buzzing along effortlessly. I would be blogging most nights, adding selected pics and videos like a latter day Alan Whicker (only my Brit friends over about 50 will get this reference). I suppose the clue should have been in the name SOLAR charger, direct sunlight being something of a prerequisite. As we’ve been hiking up and down mountains, winding through heavily wooded forests, that hasn’t happened so much and my phone has barely held sufficient charge for the odd call to my ever-suffering and never-complaining wife.
However, I’ve now pitched up at the Wolf Pen Gap Country Store, in Suches and have access to wifi and unlimited electrical supply. The first thing I have noticed from this trip is how inter-connected we all are and everybody rushed to charge their phones and check their email.
Diane and I had stayed the previous night at Dahlonega and this morning headed straight for Amicalola Falls State Park. We were both a little lost in our own thoughts and, after breakfast, headed over to the bottom of the Falls to register and weigh my pack. Diane had sent a bunch of dehydrated food to the hotel, so my backpack weighed in at a hefty 41lbs. However, I met several people today who were sporting what looked to be a junior refrigerator on their backs, so my 41lbs didn’t seem so bad.
We took a couple of pics and Diane drove me to the start of the approach trail. Saying goodbye was a little tearful on both sides, as the enormity seemed to hit us both at the same time. Eventually, I headed off and was on my way.
I have prepared well as far as possible, but nothing in Florida was able to prepare me for the first upward hike. I grimaced as I headed up and got to the top of that little section breathing heavily, but found that I recovered fairly well during the flatter section. Then, heading down, you are made aware that the only purpose of heading down is to head up once more in about five minutes.
Nonetheless, following several heart bursting climbs, after about three and a half to four hours, I got to the top. The last half mile was the worst, making me stop to recover every hundred or so yards. Then, there I was, after all that effort, at the start of the Appalachian Trail. The attached cheesey video is more reflective of my delight at being at the top than anything else. I would have hated to have been the guy who quit the Trail with minus miles.
My aim for that first day was get to the Springer Mountain shelter, only about .2 of a mile into the actual Trail, so, after the obligatory photos and the aforementioned video, I moved onto the Appalachian Trail itself for the first time.
Well, I intended to move onto the Trail, but walked straight into a low hanging branch and felt a huge crack, probably intensified by my newly shorn head. Luckily, no harm was done and, apart from the obvious embarrassment, I moved on.
There were plenty of rocks on the way down, so I spent most of the time looking at the ground, which wasn’t desperately helpful as I blew straight past the sign to my intended destination. After about a half mile I realized my error and had to retrace my steps back up the mountain. Smart, huh?
Anyway, I eventually got there and settled in for some food and my first night in the woods. I’ve drawn some water from a creek, filtered and drunk it to no obvious ill effects, so here’s hoping for a quiet night and another great day tomorrow.
This is really it, on the plane, with the rather symbolic separation of Diane and me, as we are located in seats on the plane one row apart. It seems appropriate somehow as we ease into this 6 month separation and I’m glad she is coming to Atlanta and beyond with me, delaying the final farewell for a day. She has been nervous all week as the day has approached and now is keeping as brave a face as possible under the circumstances.
Temporary separation has rarely, if ever, been an issue in my life. My separations until now have been permanent, willfully walking out on two marriages, never to return. This is different, though, as I will be coming back joyfully to this marriage in six months time, though I’m sure Diane and I have two different perspectives on the time apart. I’m going off to have my, probably, last great adventure, while she is the one left behind to keep the house running, preparing me food and looking after her folks. I’m certainly going to miss her; indeed, home sickness is probably a greater fear for me than bears or injury. However, I’m not letting the impending distance between us get in the way of embracing this journey to its fullest extent. I’m ready for the rubber to hit the road or, in this case, the trail.
I had to leave my pepper spray behind in the car, though Diane will mail it to me in about a week or so. However, irony of ironies, when we went through security, Diane’s bag must have alerted the security team to something and they found her own, smaller pepper spray in her bag. Naturally, they confiscated it.
Since I had my head shaved, I’ve really felt a calm fall over me, with a quietness of spirit I didn’t know I possessed. I have talked about this peripherally for years, researched AND talked fervently about it for the past three months and, now that I’m about to walk into the woods for the first time in my life, the talking has to stop and the research is done. It’s now going to be a case of putting my research into action and simply planting one foot in front of the other 5,000,000 times, which is apparently the number of steps that it takes to complete the Trail.
Tomorrow, I’ll send my first pictures from the Trail itself, so follow along with me and let the fun begin……
I’ve been something of a silver fox for many years now, with the luxurious grey mane being probably my best feature. So it may seem rather incongruous of me that today I followed through on my plan to dispense with this mass of grey hair for the duration of my hike. My lovely wife was terribly nervous about the prospect and, to be fair, I was a little uneasy. However, we went to “His Place,” a great, traditional men’s barber in Ellenton, where Wendell, the proprietor, worked his magic.
The vast majority of my hair was history within seconds, while Wendell, gradually and efficiently, shaved closer and closer to my skin until I was as bald as a baby’s backside. Don’t blink as you watch the time lapse video, as you’ll miss the first 95% of the hair in the first two seconds.
I recognize that I now look like an escaped convict, but I’m sure I’ll appreciate it a few weeks from now when the weather starts warming up and nothing nasty can find a home underneath my hat.
By the way, please check the new page on this site. It is the Last 2,000 Miles and is one I had intended to leave a few weeks, though events have now overtaken me.
As something of a trencherman myself, the rather unappetizing pile of processed rubbish currently sitting on my dining table ready to be packed, has made me a little glum about my food prospects on this trip. However, my wife slipped neatly into gear last night and made a whole load of lentil soup, then dehydrated it overnight. I was somewhat dubious when I saw this crispy concoction this morning, yet took some on a hike in Myakka River State Park this afternoon.
I was actually going to try out my tent in conditions other than my living room, so I took some food along to try to get a taste of the whole experience. I also carried a pack of over 30lbs. Let me tell you, the first few steps were something of an eye popper, yet I soon got used to it.
Diane has been fairly scathing about the packets of ramen noodles, the Mac n’ Cheese and particularly the Cheddar Potato Soup Mix, which even looks fairly vile from the picture on the packet. She has drawn my attention to the high salt, fat and sugar content of most of this stuff and today proved to be not only the guardian of my health, but also my personal chef on the trail. The soup was delicious and I’m only posting now so that you can see my reaction on film when I tasted it. As they say down here, “You can’t fake fresh.”
Since I made up my mind to attempt this mind-boggling hike, I’ve been speaking to a couple of networking groups, of which I have been a member for several years. I used to be the Property and Casualty insurance guy, trying to network and grow my own business, along with sharing referrals to help others grow their businesses. Now, however, I’m the oddity in both groups, with nothing to sell other than my overwhelming, schoolboyish, excitement and gleeful enthusiasm about my adventure.
Enthusiasm from others is often difficult to gauge, particularly when you are trying to extol the virtues of a wind mitigation inspection, or telling people of the important nuances of flood coverage, yet there has been no equivocation about the hike. People have been uniformly enthusiastic about this and I think it is because I am coming at the subject from both a place of pure joy at the prospect and one of naïveté due to my complete lack of experience in the environment. Continue reading It takes a village→
It is staggering to me how much time I’ve spent on preparing for this hike, while the issue taking up most of my time hasn’t been what you might think.
I know that it is crucial that I understand how my gear works, so I’ve used my stove and watched many Youtube videos of how it all fits together and actually works. I’ve taken out and set up my sleeping pad and sleeping bag, so I’ll know what to do on my first night. I’ve even ordered a silk sleeping bag liner in order, according to a rather slimy looking guy on Youtube, to prevent my body oils and odors contaminating my sleeping bag. Nice. I’ve spoken to many people, and read many books and even recently joined the Florida Appalachian Trail Club to try to absorb as much of their experience as possible, as if by osmosis. They say that failing to prepare is preparing to fail, so I am confident that I’ve worked out most of the early kinks that will hit me on the Trail.
However, one thing that I have been unable to resolve – until now- has been my trail name, that secret identity that apparently all hikers take on when they first step into those daunting woods. An earlier post referred to “King” and my reasons for that name. Since that post, I’ve been uncomfortable with not only the inference of the name but also the amount of explanation that it will take on the trail if I’m not to be thought of as a totally arrogant Brit. I think the arrogant bit is a given; I’m just trying to control the degree. Continue reading ..and now say goodbye to “King” and hello to …→
For the past few months I’ve been preparing for my upcoming hike on the AT and have been concentrating on my kit, toughening up my feet and wearing in my boots. Ive also been fattening myself up in preparation for the expected weight loss, though I suspect that is more because I am a greedy hog than any conscious effort on my part. However, one thing that is difficult to prepare for is the loneliness that is necessarily going to be part of my experience at some time or another.
That said, I have had some experience of this in recent weeks, without having been particularly conscious of it. It is only now, sitting here typing another post, that I’ve become aware of my wife’s brilliant strategy to assist in my preparations. Continue reading Loneliness of the long-distance hiker→
I was sitting on my porch yesterday afternoon, in the late sunshine, reading yet another Appalachian Trail book. I was engrossed as the light faded and, using my Kindle app on the iPad, I was hardly aware that I was gradually plunging into darkness, as the iPad is so well backlit.
You may recall that my only encounters with wildlife thus far have been with some wild boar on the Little Manatee River trail and a rubber snake in a gated community. As a consequence, I’m hardly the grizzled veteran for whom wild animals hold no fear. Indeed, I am to long distance hiking what Katy Perry is to deep sea drilling. That said, I feel relatively comfortable facing most animate objects in the coming months, so it is somewhat jarring to report another brush with reality.
As I say, the sun had entirely gone and I was quietly minding my own business when a frog had the temerity to jump straight out of the gloom onto my hand. In the dark, this is more than a little unnerving and I confess to jumping like a 10 year old girl and, very possibly, starting to emit a squeal that I quickly caught in my throat. Of course, it passed in an instant and I laughed at myself, yet I’ve had to recall something that I read recently, that the fear of something is not a valid reason for not doing something. That is a wild paraphrase, but I’m sure you get my drift.
Of course, I’m as frightened of frogs as I am of rubber snakes, yet I know that it is the sudden movement that I need to get used to. With nearly 2,200 miles to cover, there will doubtless be many moments of unexpected movement, so I guess these tiny false alarms are all part of the process.
Roll on my first bear encounter. Then I’ll really have reason to jump.
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A non-hiker's experience thru-hiking the Appalachian Trail
My Appalachian Trial 