As of 4:10 PM on November 4th, 2011 I completed my Southbound thru hike of the Appalachian Trail.
But before I go into detail about that, I must first pick up where I left off in North Carolina...
I had made it in to Franklin just before a heavy rain set in, so I was lucky enough to be able to take a 0 in town and wait for the weather to clear. And man, was it ever a nice trail town. Not necessarily from an attraction standpoint, but there was soooo much food there...chain restaurants, local eateries, and grocery/convenience stores...i ate pretty much constantly the whole day....walking around in the rain is no big deal when you have a nice warm hotel room to go back to and you get to eat lots of hot and delicious food!
But alas, once the weather cleared, it was time to move on. I crossed over the NC/GA border shortly after.
When I left Franklin, I had enough supplies to make it 70 miles, but I was seriously considering going into Hiawasse, GA, a town just across the border. I was still in the mindset to push hard, but I had little reason to do so since my parents weren't coming until the 5th and moving quickly would only leave me with more time to have to kill later.
I pondered the situation briefly, and once I reached the road to town, I decided I'd go in. And luckily for me, as I emerged from the woods, I saw a red pickup parked in the trailhead parking lot...with someone in the driver's seat. It was kind of odd to see a truck parked directly by the trailhead with someone inside, but I figured he might’ve been waiting for a friend or something, so I wasn’t too overly concerned. I decided to approach the truck to see if I could bum a ride. But as soon as I got within 10 feet…
"Hey man, need a ride?!"
Apparently I wouldn’t have to ask at all. It was my lucky day.
“Sure!”
“Throw your pack in the back and hop in.”
I threw my pack in the back of the truck and got in the passenger’s seat. But then I immediately noticed something odd about the truck...there was a gaping hole in the dash where the radio was supposed to be, and the ignition had exposed wires coming out of the side of the steering wheel. Sketchy.
"Where ya goin in town?"
"Umm...a motel, I guess."
"Great, I know just the place!"
The man fired up the truck and we left the parking lot. We hadn't been driving 2 minutes when the situation turned even more concerning…
"So whaddaya smoke?"
Apparently he's one of those people that thinks because I'm a hiker I have to be both a huge pothead and a huge hippie.
"Nothing, really..."
"SERIOUSLY?! You don't smoke anything?!"
No, sketchy ass redneck driving probably stolen truck, I don't.
"Nope."
"Oh..well do you drink?"
"Sometimes"
"Cool man, I know some guys that make moonshine real good! You want any?"
"No"
"Bullshit! Of course you do! You just don't know you do.”
The driver continued to try to attempt to peak my interest in other assorted illegal activities (dog fighting, puppy milling, drug manufacturing, arson, fraud, and at least a dozen other felonies) all the way to town, while simultaneously recounting pointless stories from his life that pertained to each one.
Example:
“Yeah I went out there by that river one time with a bunch of that moonshine and set a whole fuckin’ tree on fire. And they didn’t send nobody out or nuthin. I thought I was gonna catch the whole forest on fire…”
I kept my answers as close to one word as possible. Why he decided to choose a random hiker from out of the woods to confess his crimes to, I really don’t know. But luckily, grand theft auto was never brought up; there was at least a chance the truck we were riding in wasn’t stolen after all…
After about 20 minutes, we reached the motel.
“There ya go man. My name’s Mike, by the way”
He extended his hand to shake. I took it.
“Foot-z. Nice to meet you.”
Total lie. I would’ve actually preferred never to have met him. But then again, he did save me at least 3 hours of walking…
“Oh, I almost forgot, I have something to give to the owner of this place!”
Mike got out of the truck and headed to the lobby of the motel. I got my pack out of the truck bed and pulled out a small notepad and pencil. If this truck was stolen, I wanted to at least have SOMETHING to give the authorities. I took down his plate number and quickly hid the notepad out of sight. A few moments later, Mike reemerged from the lobby and started heading back toward his truck.
“I gotcha all set, Foot-Z. That guy in there’s gonna give ya a discount on your room seein as how you’re a hiker an such.”
“Thanks, that sounds good.”
“No problem. Oh and hey, you ever change your mind about wantin anything, you just tell the guy at the desk and he’ll give me a call. I can get ahold of pretty much anything. So long!”
He hopped in his truck and drove off. Criminal or not, it can certainly be argued that he did a good thing by giving a car-less hiker a ride to town. There may be hope for him after all.
I put my pack on and walked into the motel lobby. Despite being dropped off there by a sketchy redneck, the place actually looked fairly nice.
“I’d like a room for the night, please.”
“Sure thing. The hiker rate is $42.50 including tax.”
“Very well.”
I handed over my credit card to the clerk. While we were waiting for the machine to warm up, I decided to try to get the full story on Mike. The clerk obviously knew him, and it’s not like I would stir up any trouble by asking around since I was simply passing through town to begin with.
“So that guy who dropped me off here…what’s his deal?”
“Who? Mike? Oh yeah…he’s a coot. Notorious character ‘round these parts. Lives just across the border in North Carolina, but he comes over here and parks at the trail heads to offer hikers ‘free’ rides. But I’ve heard he drives ‘em halfway to town and then says ‘ok, free part’s over…if you want a full ride it’s gonna cost you’ and if they don’t pay he kicks ‘em out of his truck and makes ‘em walk…”
“Geez. I don’t get it, though, that didn’t happen to me?”
“Probably cuz he thought he could sell you sumthin…”
The machine had warmed up. The clerk swiped my card and handed me the receipt to sign.
“But if he’s such a bad guy, why do you let him come around here?”
“Well hell, I don’t like him at all. I just know he ain’t got many friends, an if he gots a problem with you he gonna find a way to get at you somehow. I ain’t lookin to see my business get hurt.”
“…He confessed to at least 4 felonies on the drive over here. It can’t be that hard to get him arrested.”
“Sure. But he ain’t never been caught doin nuthin. And you gotta have proof to get ‘im locked up.”
I signed the receipt and slid it across the counter.
“I hear ya.”
He handed me back a room key.
“Room 301.”
“Thanks.”
It’s amazing what people you can meet in these small towns. It’s even more amazing how ineffective law enforcement can be. In Fairfax, VA cops will harass you for just LOOKING suspicious…the idea that a character like Mike is free to come and go without being “encouraged” to stay away by local cops is mind boggling.
Whatever. I just hike here.
The next morning I was back on the trail once again. Only this time I had less than 70 miles to go, and was very excited to be so close to finishing. Georgia was a cakewalk, all things considered. Sure it had some rough spots, but the terrain was easy to travel on, and the elevations were more conducive to rolling hills than actual mountains…
But they got that Blue Ridge Swag. So I guess that makes them cool. Or something.
A day and a half later, I had made it to Neel’s Gap. One of the finest outfitters on the trail, and the only building the trail passes directly through:
They also have a hostel run by legendary thru hiker “Pirate.” It was truly an honor to stay there…the rules, no doubt, were written by Pirate himself:
Even more awesome was the fact that dinner was included with the bunk/shower price, and Pirate is a fairly good cook. He made us BBQ chicken, beans and cole slaw. We had healthy portions, but by this point most of the hikers at the hostel were full fledged Southbounders. Our portions were no match for our insatiable hiker appetites. All of us were still hungry after dinner. I don’t blame Pirate, though; he’s used to feeding Northbounders starting early in the season…after 30 miles, they haven’t put their bodies in an almost immeasurable caloric deficit. No matter. In a few days I would be home and have as much food as I could eat.
After dinner, I went outside to turn my phone on and check my messages. I had great cell service thanks to the fact that the hostel (and the trail) was directly by a road, but as it turns out I had an urgent message from my parents. I called home.
Turns out that my parents were NOT coming to get me as originally planned, and I would have to find my own way out of the woods and back home. Granted, they said were both sick and felt bad they couldn't make it, so I couldn't blame them. They said they would cover the cost of the hotel room and ensuing flight home, as well. So really all I needed was a ride to the airport...
I went back into the hostel, looking concerned. One of the other hikers, Folken, took notice.
Folken was an interesting character. I met him just across the Georgia border at one of the shelters I had gone into to snag water. He had come up from Miami to start section hiking the AT, and he wanted to knock out Georgia all in one shot. So he parked his car at the US Forest Service road a mile from Springer Mountain and got a shuttle out to the Georgia/NC border to hike South.
When I met him, he was getting a late start from the shelter. He was on day 2 at that point, and was already having serious blister issues. His pack looked twice as heavy as it needed to be, and he was clearly not in long distance hiking trail condition (although not blatantly out of shape). I spent some time talking with him giving advice about this and that, and I scoured the shelter for anything useful left behind to help him out…I had only gotten 1 blister within the last month, and only because I swapped out boots in Damascus. I wasn’t carrying any blister-aid stuff with me.
Luckily, I did find some super glue in a tent repair kit that was left behind. I gave the whole tube to Folken.
“Here you go.”
“What am I supposed to do with this?”
“Put it on your blisters.”
“What? Why would I do that?”
“Just trust me. You ever heard of a thing called ‘New Skin’?”
“No….”
“It seals your blisters and adds a layer of protection while your skin heals up. Super glue is pretty much the same stuff. And it won’t sweat off.”
“Oh! I see…”
“Yeah, just put a couple layers of glue on it and let it dry. You’ll be good to go in no time.”
He breathed a sigh of relief and gave an expression as if I had just saved his life.
“Thanks man! I was wondering how I was gonna get through today.”
“No problem. I’ve been doing this for a little while…”
I headed out of the shelter, thinking nothing of it and doubting I would ever see him again. But yet here he was several days later at the hostel…granted he came in around 9:30 pm (5 hours after me), dehydrated, hungry, and tired, but hey, he made it just the same.
“Dude, what’s your deal?”
“My parents got sick and aren’t coming to get me.”
“No shit?! No ride from Springer?”
“No. And now I gotta figure out what the fuck I’m gonna do. I heard there’s a hostel around here that’ll pick you up and drive you to the airport, but I haven’t done any research on that and I have no idea where it is.”
“You could always just walk home. The trail goes right near your house, right?”
“Sure. But then I’d be a damn Northbounder. Can’t let myself do that.”
Folken laughed.
“No sweat man, I’ll give you a ride.”
“Say what?!”
“Yeah, my car’s already parked there, and I have to go right through Atlanta to get to Miami. It’s totally not a problem.”
“No shit?! That’s awesome! Thanks man!”
Well….that solved that problem. Trail magic saves the day again.
I split the last part of my trip up between two days. I could’ve just knocked out the last 30 miles from Neels Gap in one day, but Folken was going to take two to get there, and I would’ve been stuck there by the road waiting for a day. So I did a 10 mile day to a hostel, and a 20 mile day to wrap up the last of my thru hike. I hit Springer in the late afternoon, but ended up doing Folken’s last mile with him back up to the summit around sunset.
And with that, Folken and I hiked back down to his car, and left for Atlanta airport.
My Prolonged Excursion on the Appalachian Trail had officially come to a close.
