AT ’17 #4—Taking It Easy (But Taking It)
5/6/2021—This was the first part of the trip that really felt like a challenge. And it’s the first time the reality of how ambitious this undertaking was really hit me. It’s when I was in pain and crying and wondering if I’d be forced to quit, even though I very much did not want to.
It’s also a time when friendships started to really solidify and I felt great trust in my fellow hikers.
And it was our first real town resupply! Complete with motel parking lot beers and fast food.
Taking It Easy (But Taking It)
Written between 3/28/17 and 4/1/17
(I am sorry I have been slow to update. I haven’t had great signal since entering North Carolina. We are in Gatlinburg, TN at the moment. I plan to visit the library in Hot Springs, NC in a few days to finish updating!)
In my last post, I mentioned that my right knee began to burn which each step I took on the descent down from Blood Mountain. While I had hoped that my knee would feel better after a night of rest, I should have known better…
DAY SIX
View from Cowrock Mountain
We woke up in a bed on our sixth day. I thought it was hard to get myself out of my sleeping bag on a cold morning, but damn, it’s even harder to get out of a BED on a cold morning.
I eased slowly out of bed and was saddened to find my knee still stiff and sore. However, after a breakfast at Mountain Crossings, we continued up the trail to Low Gap Shelter.
My knee continued to hurt during each descent, but it didn’t seem to be getting worse so I ignored the pain in favor of enjoying the good views. The fog had finally cleared and, from the top of Cowrock Mountain, we had lovely views of the valleys below. This was a little extra special—it’s been mostly foggy and dreary since our first day and a lot of the overlooks have been socked in with fog, so this is one of the first times we could really clearly see the beauty that is the north Georgia hills.
We were hesitant to stay at Low Gap Shelter; we had heard of a recent outbreak of norovirus at the shelter. However, after acquiring plenty of water in advance, we figured we’d be safe as long as we avoided the water and the privy. (We camped as far as we could from both).
At the suggestion of a Mountain Crossings employee and former thru hiker, I wrapped and elevated my knee after we got to camp. I prayed it would heal quickly.
A MOUSE IN THE HOUSE (uh, tent)
We hardly sleep on level ground, that’s just the way nature is and we’re used to it. Sometimes, if I’m sleeping on the downhill side, I slowly slide into the netting on the side of the tent. I often wake up with the grid of the netting imprinted into the side of my face. During our stay at Low Gap, I ended up with my face pressed against the netting. It’s not a big deal; the fly over the tent keeps the warmth in and the wind out. I slept soundly as usual.
….Until I was suddenly startled from my sleep by a smack to my face, which was pressed against the outside of the tent. I rolled over and looked at Brian. He was fast asleep. I felt around in the dark to see if maybe something had fallen. I couldn’t find anything. I returned to relaxing in my sleeping bag.
I was kept from sleeping by a rustling outside of the tent. The sound was close to my face. Something, an animal, was near the tent. Well, that’s not new. I shook the tent a little to make some noise and scare whatever it was away.
Here’s a mouse we found (and caught and removed) at Blue Mountain Shelter the following night. HE IS SO LITTLE AND CUTE! And potentially disease-ridden. But, awwww!!! He was so little and cute! I named him Gerald.
I rolled over on to my back and stared up at the top of the tent and there it was. In between the netting and the fly was the outline of a mouse! We must have smelled like food; it was trying to find a way in.
I do not like mice. They are alright. I suppose pet mice are nice, but wild mice carry all sorts of diseases like hantavirus and, my biggest fear on the trail, Lyme disease. Not only are mice the largest carrier of Lyme, they also are a favorite of deer ticks… which is how Lyme is transmitted to humans. I had Lyme as a child. I do not want it again. Thus, I do not like mice. I wasn’t too concerned; Lyme isn’t very common down here in the south. I’ll worry more when we get close to the mid-Atlantic.
But, I did not want him near my tent.
So I woke Brian up.
“Brian, there’s something on the tent! I think it’s a mouse.”
“It’s not a mouse…. Just go back to sleep.”
“I saw it! It fell on my face!”
(Sounds of rustling outside the tent. Brian sits up.)
“It’s under the fly on top of the tent!”
“Aw, he’s kind of cute.”
Brian, like me, shook the tent in an attempt to scare it away. He soon fell back asleep. Meanwhile, I’m imagining the mouse chewing it’s way through the tent and pooping on all of my belongings. I proceeded to go through my backpack and make sure I didn’t forget any food or wrappers. I found nothing, but it seemed that I scared the mouse away making so much noise.
I went to sleep.
DAY SEVEN
We had a short 7.2 mile hike on our 7th day to Blue Mountain Shelter. I was moving slow because of the tension and pain in my right knee.
Still, I stopped to enjoy the wildflowers in bloom.
I also experienced my first “hiker hunger.” Around 11am, I HAD to stop and eat. I couldn’t wait. I was hungry. I was angry. Hangry. I made almost a pound of chocolate pudding/protein powder. I ate it all and it was beautiful.
My knee still hurt, but like the day before, it did not feel worse.
…Until the last half hour of our hike for the day. While hiking downhill, the pain in my knee suddenly increased so much I could barely bend my leg. I was moving at a snail’s pace and in constant pain. Each step triggered a lighting bolt of pain that traveled up my leg to my lower back.
I cried. I didn’t cry from the pain. I could handle that for now. I cried because, for the first time since setting out, I wasn’t sure if I could make it to Maine or even to home, near Harpers Ferry. I cried because I found such a great home in the trail that just the thought of taking a break from it made me feel heartbroken and lonely. I quit my job, I moved out of my house (mostly), and I am finished with college. Other than my friends and family, not much is waiting for me back home. I belong here right now. I was scared.
With the help of Brian’s endless encouragement, I made it up hill to the shelter.
We quickly adjusted our plans to give me time to rest and heal. We quit our jobs for this trail; there was no giving up.
Despite agreeing we’d rest and work through whatever this injury was, I was still in a sour mood at camp. Theory, another hiker I’d met briefly before, stop by to check on me. He said another hiker, Amanda, who I met on my first night at Springer Mountain, was dealing with similar pain. He’d called up his sister-in-law, who was a nurse, and she said, while she couldn’t say for certain, it sounded like Patellar tendinitis. She gave us some recommendations for caring for it and I took careful note; I’l do whatever it takes to heal quickly.
While I wasn’t feeling very social and wanted very much to sulk alone, Theory’s kind conversation encouraged me to go join the others at the shelter for dinner and camaraderie. As usual, laughter and storytelling was abundant. We even captured and evicted a shelter mouse.
Shelter mice are usually deer or house mice that make their homes in busy Appalachian Trail shelters. They’re notorious to finding any and all food scraps; that’s why is so important to hang your food and never dump any food scraps—always pack them out if you can’t eat them all. Shelter mice are a nuisance. They’ll climb over your face while sleeping or get stuck inside your backpack while searching for food.
But they’re also just part of nature. Who can blame them for monopolizing on easy, good food?
Theory, far braver than I (I’m sure you all recall my aversion to mice), caught the mouse WITH HIS BARE HAND and walked it about a quarter of a mile away. I’m sure the mouse will be back, but it’s nice to dream. This led to many jokes about mouse-society, and mouse-landlords, and mouse-lawyers and laughter all around.
Sulking be damned; I am happy.
DAYS EIGHT AND NINE
Sometimes preventative care is the best option. Instead of pushing for bigger miles, we chose to take two days off in Hiawasee, GA. We had planned a Nero Day (Nero means a short day; near zero miles covered. We did 2.2 miles before getting a shuttle into town) in Hiawasee from the beginning. Our Nero Day turned into 1 Nero and 1 Zero (likewise, a zero day is when you cover zero miles on the trail) to give my knee additional time to rest. We hadn’t planned to take a true zero day until Franklin, NC, but hey, plans change.
After resting in bed with my knee elevated for a while, we headed to the grocery store to resupply our food and, of course, try some local brews.
Then we grabbed some Taco Bell. I spent the rest of my night resting my knee and sipping beer.
Photo 1—Trail Magic at the gap and road crossing while we waited for the shuttle to Hiawasee. Photo 2—Our cart full of our resupply and some booze. Photo 3—Sampling the local brews.
We stayed at the Budget Inn, a hiker trash haven. There’s not many motels where it’s perfectly acceptable for a circle of dirty hikers to drink beer and hang out in the parking lot. It definitely wasn’t fancy, but it was perfect for us hikers.
The ninth day was spent in a similar fashion: a trip out to Georgia Mountain Restaurant, a trip to the post office, a lot of rest, and some beers around the campfire with friends. The motel we stayed at hosted a party for hikers, April Fools Day Hiker Bash, and had plenty of food, good stories, and beer to go around.
The Georgia Mountain Restaurant was a real highlight—I ordered ONE biscuit with gravy (Pictured above) and ended up with a platter. The South does not mess around with their biscuits and gravy. It satisfied my hiker hunger for sure.
At the party/bonfire, we passed around a log and wrote on it what we wanted to leave behind on the trail. Many were touching and life changing goals. Mine was a little simpler. I wrote “structure” and, jokingly, “my life savings.”
I can’t be sure, since I haven’t been hiking, but I think my knee is on the road to healing. I’ve got high hopes. We’ll be in Franklin, NC this time next week; hopefully I’ll know for sure by then.
5/10/2021 Reflections—
What a little green bean I was back then. Injury is a hiker’s worst fear and this trip, forgoing employment and post-graduate apprenticeships to go hiking instead, was the first “big risk” I’d taken in my life. I had a lot of fear of failure and little willingness to make sacrifices or make adjustments.
That’s certainly changed and this hike helped me… relax, a little, and leave some of that “structure” behind. Huh, maybe that log really worked. Passing around the log at the party was a hiker named Feather’s idea; thanks Feather. I hope you’re doing well.
But this was a fun town day—a first of many fun town days in the company of friends.