On Hikers and Hobos

Hello everyone, I am sorry that it has taken me nearly two weeks to post a new entry. Computer access has been a bit spotty. Rest assured that the Maineiacs are alive, healthy and moving, slowly but steadily, towards Maine. The weather has been beautiful (yet, unseasonably cold); spring is in full bloom, covering the valleys and hillsides in a vibrant quilt of Trillium, Lady Slippers, and blooming Rhododendron. We are now almost six hundred miles into our journey and the past 120 miles has been one of my favorite sections of trail.

At the risk of sounding cliche, hiking the trail these past few weeks over the rugged yet resplendent southern Appalachians, I am reminded daily of the words of Sir Francis Younghusband. Younghusband was an English solider and explorer whose expeditions into the Indian Himalayas inspired him to write, "to those who have struggled with them, the mountains reveal beauties that they will not disclose to those who make no effort. ... And it is because they have so much to give and give it so lavishly to those who will wrestle with them that men love the mountains and go back to them again and again ... mountains reserve their choicest gifts for those who stand upon their summits."

Younghusband's poignant words speak to our own experiences on the Appalachian trail. Hiking these mountains is a constant struggle both mentally and physically. It is sometimes hard to convince yourself to keep walking when weary muscles, aching backs, hungry stomachs, and battered feet plead for a respite. Yet we continue on, because the rewards for our efforts are great. For example, in the past two weeks we have seen the most beautiful part of the south, the Southern Appalachian Highlands. Growing up in the Northeast with Mt. Katahdin in my front yard and Mt. Washington in the back, I never thought that the south had any sort of mountains worth hiking. Much to our astonishment, the South has many rugged climbs and beautiful vistas worth hiking. The Highlands are a series of 5,000+ mountains connected by exposed, grassy ridges and rocky knobs. As their name suggests, the mountains are reminiscent of the exposed mountains of Scotland or England, that offer breathtaking views of Virginia, Tennessee and North Carolina. There are two distinct sections of the Highlands: The Roan Mountain Highlands in Tennessee and the Graceland Highlands north of Damascus. The Graceland Highlands were by far my favorite part of the trail. In addition to the grassy balds and rocky knobs that make you feel as though you are walking on the top of the world, this part of the Highlands are populated by herds of fearless wild ponies that beg for snacks from passing hikers. We brought carrots with us the ponies allowed us to pet them as they ate from our hands.

This section of the trail has also been special for us because it has taken us through Damascus, Virginia, the reputed "friendliest town on the AT." Damascus is another typical Appalachian trail town. The trail runs right through the center of town past three outfitters, a grocery store, and most importantly of all, an ice cream shop. We took a well deserved day off from the trail and indulged with pints of Ben and Jerry's ice cream and heaps of high-calorie diner foods. We stayed at the local hostel that is run by the town's Methodist church called "The Place," where four dollars a night get you a plywood bunk and a hot shower. There wasn't much to do in town but we passed the time reading and drooling over the equipment at the outfitters.

On this past section we have also, at long last, learned how to properly hitch a ride into town. Hitching is another right of passage for thru hikers which we have discovered is a form of art unto itself: a combination of being in the right place at the right time, patience and proper thumb technique. Our first real "hitch" happened on our second day out of Damascus. We came across a road and decided that a hamburger would give us the extra energy we needed to get to the next shelter. So we stuck out our thumbs, bound for the town of Troutdale, 2.5 miles down the road. It took a while, but once it started to rain a passing motorist in a pick-up truck took pity on us and drove us into town. What made the experience even more priceless was the fact that Dad was obviously out of his element, never having hitched a ride in his life. He seemed to enjoy himself, riding the whole way to town with a stupid grin plastered on his face. I turned to him when we reached our destination and said, "Dad, your coolness factor just increased by a factor of twelve on account of you doing this!"


Trail Daze

After four days of hiking north, Dad and I parted ways for a couple of days. Dad kept moving north to meet Ryan in Bland, Va. and I traveled back to Damascus for Trail days. Appalachian Trail Days festival is an annual festival put on by the town to honor and celebrate the trail. During the festival, twenty five thousand current and former thru-hikers, trail enthusiasts, and gear gurus descend upon the town to relax, drink a few beers, and catch up with trail buddies.
When I arrived in Damascus late Friday afternoon, the celebration was already in full swing, with huge crowds of hikers milling around the campground known as "Tent City." There were hundreds of events that thru hikers could attend; including films, lectures on the history of the AT, and even an AT Jeopardy. The highlight of the weekend was the AT hiker "appreciation" parade during which hikers walk down main street while locals pelt them with water balloons. Fortunately, we caught wind of the plot before hand and had a few hundred water balloons of our own ready to meet our attackers. By the time we reached the middle of town, the parade had spiraled into an all out water war. Though we emerged from the battle soaked, it didn't take long to dry ourselves out in the hot Virginian sun.

After trail days I picked up the trail where I left off, racing to catch up with Dad and Ryan. I put in four twenty-plus days and met them this morning here in Pearisburg. We are moving quickly, but trying not to hurry. I am excited to see what Virgina has in store for us next.