Broken (In)

Today is my birthday and I am writing from a town called Helen– a small German village in rural Georgia (I know, right?) 50.1 miles into the Appalachian Trail. I am here to re-stock food, equipment and to send off my friend Susan who was hiking with us down to the trail which we had much difficulty finding. Between four people with cell phones, a computer, maps, a guide book and a GPS, we still managed to get lost and had to ask a group of hikers (who were without any technology) where we were.

The first day was glorious. A seasoned hiker on the first trail crossing gave us fruit punch juice boxes and told me I was the 30th thru-hiker he has met that day, but that I needed a trail name because there were already too many “Johns.”  We hiked five miles up to Springer Mountain which made the rocky slope and our brief encounter with a snake worth the trouble. The view was beautiful. We signed into the hikers log and continued to the first shelter. The shelter was packed and we arrived only an hour before dark, trying to learn how to errect our tent, cook a meal and use the bear bag cables before night fall.

There are many, many, people on the trail, most of whom have Maine as a goal– although roughly 25% give up in the first 30 miles which turned out to be the case with many people I have encountered.

The second day gave us Susan’s trail name “Pokey Pokey,” for which no explanation is necessary.  We also befriended a group of women hikers, the “Hen Hike” (which is a group of middle-aged women who met online with the shared goal of hiking the AT) and a guy from Susan’s hometown called “Spring Loaded Joe.” It also turns out the first section of the trail through Georgia houses an army base, so as we were hiking we were surrounded by the sounds of automatic weapon fire, explosions and the occasional low flying helicopter.

Our second night on the trail 130 soldiers with 80lb packs marched through our campsight without any light except the glow of GPS units (which I’m sure doubled as Gameboys). Their seargent informed us the AT was part of their night maneuvers training and that for the next two weeks there would be 800 soldiers in the area.

The next three days saw nothing but rain. We packed a wet tent with standing water into wet bags with wet sleeping bags and hiked about 30 miles into the trail.  It was miserable, and our tent leaked horribly.  As we tried to dry the rivers of water running down the inside of the tent, even more poured in through leaky seams.

In the midst of the rain, we met Alex, a Georgia native who is hiking the AT for a couple of weeks and has more crazy adventure stories than anyone I have ever met.  Some of these tales include 12lbs of chocolate pudding, sailing trips through the Panama Canal, and a failed canoe trip in the Everglades that wound up in the ocean.

So the “serious” hikers have passed us by as I begin to get my trail legs and fall into a routine, but as the AT says, “Everyone needs to hike their own trail,” which is what I intend to do. I still have two mountains to climb today including the second tallest in Georgia, Tray Mountain. Best wishes to all.

-NEWT (my trail name)