©Copyright 10/04/02000. Fresh Ink. All rights reserved
The meeting with the General in the Lackland Auditorium had been shortly after the new year, near the end of January, 01988. This gave Airman Page plenty of time to devour Colin Fletcher's The Complete Walker III (now in it's IV edition) and order his gear through Campmor. Up until this time, Page had always worn external frame packs. Therefore he had decided to go with the Jansport D2. This was the SUV of Backpacks. Perhaps the only pack on the Trail that year bigger than the D2 was the Gregory Cassin, carried by Phoenix. The difference, however, between the Gregory and the Jansport was that the Jansport seemed like it was designed by an aircraft mechanic rather than a hiker. The hip belt was connected to these folding aluminum plates, which were secured onto the frame with nuts and bolts.
As it turned out, the pack he received from Campmor had been assembled wrong. However, since he didn't know how it was supposed to be assembled, he hadn't noticed at first. Then, a screw from his hipbelt drew blood during his second day. That was his first indication that something was amiss. The screws had been put in backwards.
But, to look at the pack now after only three days! It looked as if it had been almost completely shaken apart. It seemed to have more than a few screws loose. Düg, feeling the pain in his leg from yesterday's hike, was inclined to think that somehow Blood Mtn was to blame.
When Airman Page was purchasing gear at Campmor, he had considered a new sleeping bag as well. But he already had a bag and, in an effort to save money, decided to use that one. Unfortunately, it had seen better days. It had lost much of it's loft over the years and the early April mornings were a bit beyond it's current comfort rating. He wanted to buy a new bag at the hiking store in the Walasi-y Center but what was he to do about his pack?
Thankfully, he did not have to buy another pack. Jeff Hansen took one look at the Jansport and, with the aid of a friend, set to work making magic. They put the screws in the right way, replaced the missing ones and tightened down the rest. They adjusted the pack according to Düg's height and reset a hundred different user settings. Finally, after adding RAM, flashing the BIOS and installing the latest service packs, they were done. Needless to say, they were genuine miracle workers and Düg was able to buy a new sleeping bag after all. He purchased the Cat's Meow, by Northface, which he still uses to this day. He can not possibly thank the Hansens enough. Without Jeff's wizardry, he might never have even made it out of Georgia.
Incidentally, in the lobby was a giant quilt Dorothy Hansen had made of her thru-hike of the Trail. On it was a lightning bolt where she had been struck in New Hampshire. Like many of the people who finish the Trail, little things like this did not stop her. Thanks Jeff and Dorothy!
Before Düg left, Jeff warned him that he should be careful. Jeff mentioned that his tendonitis could flare up on the right leg as a result of over compensating for the left. But Düg thought he would be fine as the pain seemed to be going away. Besides, he was anxious to keep going. However, what he was really doing he found, was keeping up with the crowd. And, as he walked along he found himself inadvertently over compensating just as Jeff said.
Then, up from behind came Rebecca -- Hike for the Homeless, and Ken Bushpig. They were all fired up to fly, but stopped briefly as Rebecca saw Düg was not doing too well. She took the time to tell him exactly what he needed to do to get rid of his tendonitis. She told him he needed to rest and take plenty of Ibuprophen. That was the cure she said. She then gave Düg a couple of her Motrins and a fistful of Advils. She told him to wait until later in the day before taking them so he wouldn't risk making it worse. She advised that the dangers of hiking on pain killers were that they could hide real damage; you could seriously hurt yourself and not know it until later. She was very helpful. She made sure he promised not to take them before evening.
Before continuing on he asked her about her name. She explained that she was hiking the Appalachian Trail to help the homeless. She had sponsors and every mile she hiked she raised money. God bless her. Thanks Rebecca!
Düg struggled on alone, eventually reaching the summit of Levelland Mtn (3,942 ft). From there the Trail led through the Raven Cliffs Wilderness, past Turkeypen Mtn (3,550 ft) and Rock Spring Top (3,526 ft), over Wolf Laurel Top (3,766 ft) and Cowrock Mtn (3,842 ft), to the Tesnatee Gap and the Richard B. Russell Scenic Highway(Ga.348).
Somehow, in spite of the pain, Düg was able to do all this and press on. The ascent out of the gap put 562 feet of elevation under his boots in under half a mile. From there it was another 2.5 miles to the summit of Poor Mtn (3,650 ft). Then, it was 2.3 miles downhill to Low Gap Shelter for the evening. All in all it had been a long, torturous day. How he managed to do it with enflamed tendons, he'll never know.
It soon became apparent why the Hiker Inn the night before had been full. Many of those occupants were now spending the night at Low Gap Shelter. That night he met up with a whole new crew of thru-hikers. There was Scott Dorloo as Pacer, Dagobert Petri as Bert, Bill Bowling as BB, Dan Chant as the Irish Rover, Paul Hillen as Pop-Pop, Dick and Nancy Hill as Gram and Grampy GoAT, Terry Cain as Swany and of course Aubrey Davis as AT and Cecilia Goodrich as Mountain Mama. Düg was ever quick to realize that to continue north, he would need to do more than rid himself of his debilitating tendonitis. He would need a Trail name as well.
The next day it was just as Jeff Hansen had predicted. Düg awoke with severe tendonitis behind his right knee. The tendons were so painfully enflamed he could barely move. But strangely enough, he pushed on. He did not stop at Rocky Knob Shelter as would have been prudent. Instead, he climbed on over Blue Mtn.(4,025 ft) then descended into Unicoi Gap. He was in excruciating pain. However, as it was only early afternoon, he did not stop. He took it slowly, one step at a time, inch by inch. From Rocky Mountain (4,107 ft) it would be only 4.5 miles more to the next shelter.
But as he reached the top he discovered a large contingent of thru-hikers nestled together on the flat of land. It was everyone from Low Gap! He decided he would spend the night there and then hike on to Addis Gap tomorrow where he swore he would stay an extra day to rest. He decided not to take any Advils until Addis, just in case the tendonitis went away all by itself.
"Well, it's now Sunday (10 Apr) and I'm forcing an entry on the grounds that if I don't start using this book, I'm going to mail it home. Much has happened and I shall attempt to get as much in as remaining sunlight allows.
"To begin, of the original 8 only three remain together - me, Cecilia and Aubrey (Poole dropped out at Neels Gap and as far as I know, the rest are behind us). Today was especially agonizing as I think I have pulled a tendon behind my right knee.
"Actually, it all began with the hell-hike from Gooch Gap to Neels Gap. I awoke the next morning (after a fantastic night's sleep in a cabin for only $8.50) with a pain behind the knee of my left leg. After a late start, well worth it because the people who work at the hostel helped adjust my pack proper and tighten up it's many loose ends, I began my 11.2 mile hike to Low Gap Shelter. It was near the day's end that my right knee began to hurt. The 11+ hike really wore me out as the 16+ from the day before still hung upon my tired muscles. But I made it and it was here I met up with the current crew. It was here I was officially christened 'Rawhide' as my Trail handle by BB."
from "Did Ed Garvey Sleep Here?"
A Record of the Thruhike of The Agnostic Monk
That night, there was a strange vibe in the air. Like a long held tension that was about to break. No one could tell what it was. It was like the long awaited climax to a story Düg had missed the beginning of. He surmised it had something to do with the quantity of thru-hikers on the Trail. Clearly nobody had anticipated thru-hiking to be this popular. Then, about 2 am Bert began to have tremendously loud and powerful farts. The entire encampment soon filled with a horrible stench. It literally woke everyone up. A few of the others got upset and yelled at Bert to stop. Bert became indignant. He said, if that was the way he was going to be treated he would leave. The next day, Bert woke up, packed his things and returned back the way he came. No one ever saw him again.
Some people were upset at Bert. They did not like that he blamed them for his leaving. They felt that what he decided was his decision and that they had nothing to do with it. Others were dumbfounded as to how a case of near lethal flatulence could produce such bizarre consequences. Düg was dumbfounded as to how it could not. Still, Düg felt bad for Bert. Obviously, the Trail had its own causes of stress and thru-hikers were not immune.
Düg continued north. This would be one of his worst days on the Trail. He could barely move. His assent up Tray Mtn (4,430 ft) was filled with unbearable pain. He was going to have to take a day off to rest. It was no longer even remotely optional. He was pushing himself too hard. He needed a break or they'd be scooping him up off the Trail one piece at a time. So he hobbled on to Addis Gap Shelter where it was officially written in stone that he would stay an extra day.
Along with the gang from the previous nights, there was a new character, Frank, aka Strider. Strider said he thru-hiked the Trail in '84 and just happened to be back in the area reminiscing old times. Everyone had questions for him. So Strider toppled a few dead trees with his bear hands, made a huge fire, and stayed up late telling stories. He was a wealth of information.
That night and the next day, Düg took Rebecca's recommended regimen of relief. He started with a supplement of Advil at dinner then a Motrin before bed. That night he slept like a baby.
The next morning he awoke to find that a blanket of snow had stretched across the landscape like a fresh cotton quilt.
Everything was white with fallen snow, a veritable winter wonderland. AT, Mountain Mama and the rest of the gang moved on except Strider. He elected to stay behind and keep Düg company as he recuperated. Strider had many more stories to tell. Düg was fascinated by Strider's moose stories. He was looking forward to seeing plenty of moose when he got to Maine. One particular story Strider told was of a moose he thought was going to join him in the shelter for the evening. It huffed and rutted just outside the shelter for hours before wandering off before sunrise. Strider explained that one had to be careful of moose during rutting season.
By mid afternoon, three others had joined the Addis Family, Jim and Jim Hunt, aka The Slim Jims and Dave. Strider toppled a few more dead trees and helped them dry out their wet gear over a fresh fire.
The next day, April 13th, Düg felt amazingly better. It was as if a miracle had happened. All signs of inflammation had vanished. Like Magic, the snow was gone and with it Düg's tendonitis. What's more, it was a beautiful day! Nevertheless, Düg decided to take it easy. He did not want a relapse.
It was a long slow climb up the ridge to Kelly Knob (4,276 ft). Then, from Deep Gap, it was a leisurely climb to the top of Powell Mtn( 3,850 ft), a long descent to US 76, and an easy hike to Plumorchard Gap Shelter for the evening.
Day nine: after a steep ascent and descent of As Knob (3,440 ft), a left swing around the western side of Wheeler Knob and a skirt along the eastern side of Rocky Knob, Düg and Strider entered the Southern Nantahala Wilderness. From there the Trail followed the Blue Ridge most of the way, skirting around the side of Rich Knob, to Bly Gap (3,840 ft) and the North Carolina-Georgia Border, 77.5 miles from Springer. There, in the open clearing with breathtaking views of the Tusquitee Mountains, they had lunch. After scrutinizing the map, Strider decided he was going to skip the 21.8 miles of Trail north of Deep Gap as it made a wide, superfluous arc around the Nantahala River Valley. He said he did that section in '84 and didn't feel the need to do it again. He mentioned Albert Mtn as if to corroborate his testimony. He tried to talk Düg into going with him to Standing Indian Campground but he wanted to stay on the Trail. Albert looked fun.
Feeling much better, Düg decided not to stay at Muskrat Creek Shelter and pushed on. Shortly after the descent from Wateroak Gap, he said goodbye to Strider who strode on ahead to Deep Gap. At Deep Gap, Düg passed the blue blazed Kimsey Creek Trail that Strider had followed and continued on alone to Standing Indian Shelter for the evening. There, and for the next day, he would have the Shelters to himself. He was in a bubble between abundant bands of northbounders.
But he was not alone at Standing Indian that evening. There was a lady, out for the weekend, camped in a tent on the far side of the creek. Düg introduced himself and they chatted briefly. Her name was Cathy. During the day Düg had picked a bunch of Ramps, a wild edible plant growing in profusion throughout the area, and offered her an invitation to join him for a Ramp casserole dinner. She politely declined. After dinner, Düg washed up and went to bed.
That night he slept in North Carolina for the first time.
The next day began with an assent up the impressive Standing Indian Mtn (5,498 ft). From the Summit were fantastic views of Tallulah River Gorge to the south and Albert Mtn ahead.
From Standing Indian, sidewinders led around Ridgepole Mtn to a breathtaking vista of Pickens Nose and Rabun Bald. Then, the Trail followed the ridge line of Little Ridgepole Mtn before descending into rhododendron heaven and fresh water at Betty Creek Gap.
Many people brought water purifiers with them and Düg was no exception. He had purchased an inexpensive model, the First Need, which barely made it out of Georgia. It promptly broke at Betty Creek Gap. Thankfully, Strider had given the water two thumbs up all the way to Maine. He said, this was the only place where some of the sources were really questionable. Düg carried a bottle of Aqua Pure water tablets just in case but as most of the southern Appalachians were filled with fresh piped springs, he never used them.
"21. From '87 hiker: 'Shouldn't someone point out the obvious and say you can take the fire road up Albert mountain rather than that ass-over-tea kettle White Mountains scramble?'"
The 1988 Philosopher's Guide, p16
Past Mooney Gap the Trail made a sharp left turn, at the boundary of the Coweeta Hydrologic Laboratory. It skirted over rocky cliffs overlooking the watershed of the Little Tennessee River. From there it was a brief descent to Bear Pen Gap before the first really tough climb of the Trail. From Bear Pen Gap the Trail shot up nearly a thousand feet, in less than three tenths of a mile, to the summit of Albert Mtn (5,250 ft). On the summit was a firetower and excellent views but no water. It was a cloudy, overcast afternoon with rain looking imminent so Düg lingered only briefly, just to try and take it all in. Then he continued on to Big Spring Shelter for the evening. That night it poured.
"I am here alone. It was a 15 mile hike from Standing Indian Shelter and while I did feel adventurous enough to want to hike the extra 5 miles to Rock Gap, with rain imminent and a recovering knee, I decided not to push it. But there is good cause for celebration as I have just broken a hundred miles! 100.4 to be exact. And in 11 days, I'd say that is a pretty good beginner's average. They say most people will drop out at Albert as the last few hundred feet are near vertical but I loved it. I wish more mountains were as steep as Albert!"from "Did Ed Garvey Sleep Here?"
A Record of the Thruhike of The Agnostic Monk, 01988
Day 11, Düg sped along at a good pace to arrive at Wallace Gap a little after noon. No sooner did he stumble out onto the road than who should happen to drive by but Cathy, the lady he met at Standing Indian. She offered him a ride to the Campground where they stopped for coffee. They shared a moment, then she was gone. He was left wishing there was more to tell.
Pop-tarts
Buddy Crossman was the proprietor, along with his wife Jensine, of Rainbow Springs Campground. He told Düg that all the others were already there waiting for him. He said they had been asking about him and wanted to know when he got in. Düg found that odd but sure enough the gang was all there. Some it seemed had been there for a couple of days.
"Mountain Laurel of '87 said of this place:'A home away from home. A trail landmark as much as any mountain on the Trail.'"The 1988 Philosopher's Guide, p17
After a long hot shower, Düg's second since day one, he and AT shared a ride in to Franklin, care of Buddy. They caught up on old times. AT said he should have stayed at Addis that day because hiking in the snow had been rough. AT also finally admitted that his pack was too heavy and was going to mail a lot of stuff home. He apparently had about fifteen pounds of camera equipment alone. Now he was down to about ten. At the PO Düg picked up the package he had mailed to himself from San Antonio. On it he had wrote, "please hold for thru-hiker." That was proving to work well. This was his second drop so far on the Trail. They went to the store to round out Düg's supplies and discovered that here again was another dry county. But not too dry apparently. Just as Georgia was full of fresh water springs, so too was Franklin NC full of beer, if only you knew where to go. Or, more precisely, the password. That night "pop-tarts" never tasted so good.
The next day, Buddy shuttled everyone back to the Trail and the herd headed north once more. Thanks Buddy and Jensine!
After a short hike from Wallace Gap to Winding Stair Gap, the Trail passed through Panther Gap before sidewinders and a side Trail brought Düg and AT to Siler's Bald Shelter. There they stopped for lunch. While at the shelter, they were sure to catch up on all the latest news via the Trail Register.
One of the many interesting facets of the "whole Trail experience" was reading the Trail Registers along the way. They were usually found in shelters but you could also find them at hostels and Inns as well the occasional Post Office. Wherever these books may be today, they are a priceless record of history. In them, almost everyone who passed by would leave a brief message, sometimes to the others who would follow. Some would be insightful, others profound and more than a few would be outrageously funny. But all were expressive of a certain latent genius. Some said this was a product of heightened endorphin activity produced by thru-hiking.
One particular character Düg was fond of checking in on, in the Registers, was somebody named Steve Trailnameless. His lavish drawings and creative genius proved to be quite a delight. All in all, it was precious enough to blue-blaze a whole mile out of the way for.
Back on the Trail, Düg and AT passed through an area decimated by fire. Strider had mentioned a stone shelter atop Wyah Bald but due to water considerations, the group had stopped short at Wine Spring for the evening. There, Düg and AT joined them.
April 18th, an early morning fog hid the summit of Wyah Bald in a tight grip. The old stone observation tower was barely visible even at less than twenty feet away. Any views to be had were lost so everyone continued on. It was a leisurely hike to Cold Spring Shelter where they stayed for the evening.
The next day, after a pleasant hike to the summit of Copper Bald (5,200 ft.), the Trail skirted Tellico Bald, Black Bald, and Rocky Bald before descending to Tellico Gap. From there it was a short hike to the summit of Wesser Bald (4,627 ft.)where Düg met many old and new faces. There was Strider, Carrie and Ken, and Gram and Grampy GoAT.
After an early afternoon siesta, sidewinders eventually brought the group, late in the afternoon, to Wesser and the Nantahala River. There, the Nantahala Outdoor Center had a bunkhouse for thru-hikers, where Düg checked in for the night.
At the Bunkhouse he met still more intrepid northbounders. There was John Frawley the 3rd, his friend Rick, and Eric, who had taken the name Zero. Zero was quite a character. One of his goals was to hike the Trail clothed entirely in plastic. Later, when he discovered he was growing a tail, he changed his name to Lizard Boy.
After peeling away the layers of dirt with a long hot shower, Düg decided to take a short walk along the river and encountered an old section of the Nantahala River which had turned into a marshy swamp. There were what seemed to be a hundred thousand frogs all effecting a strange, hyper-dimensional rift in the very fabric of spacetime itself. Their continuous croaking was hypnotic, like some Trance Beat at an all-night rave. Düg stopped and listened. Reality seemed to fold back upon itself. It was as if some form of temporal anomaly had opened up under the power of those old pollywogs. Strangely, this helped him to feel like he was heading in the right direction.
Later, back at the NOC Bunkhouse, he learned that the Trail claimed yet another northbounder. Pop-Pop was getting off the Trail. He complained about the food as if a reason were required. The next day Düg said good bye to Pop-pop and continued north.
That day's highlight was Cheoah Bald (5,062 ft). It was a beautiful day and the vistas were breathtaking. There, much of the gang spent the afternoon, basking in the sun, before settling down at Locust Cove Gap for the evening.
Day 15, after an easy hike, Düg made it to Cable Gap Shelter. He found many had pushed on. But he remembered Blood Mtn and decided the better part of valor was to spend the night. So it wasn't until the next day, the 22nd of April, that he finally made it to Fontana Dam and the infamous Fontana Hilton.
The Fontana Hilton was a large double duplex lean-to built to hold a small army. Coincidentally, almost everyone was there. It was quite a crowd, a major harmonic convergence. There was AT, Pacer, the Irish Rover, Beth and Chandra, Rebecca -- AT Hike for the Homeless, and Ken Bushpig. There was Zero, Ken and Carrie, Strider, Rick and John, Coot and Tumbleweed and others Düg had not met before. There was Rhode Island Red, Mr. Rogers and even Steve Trailnameless, as well as perhaps one or two others he may have missed. It would not be until sometime after Damascus that people would begin to spread out.
Pop-pop, the northbounder who had gotten off the Trail in Wesser, had gone on ahead to Fontana. There, he rented a car, and proceeded to shuttle thru-hikers back and forth between the dam and the village. He also had a hotel room, where he offered everyone hot showers. There was a free solar powered shower at the dam but from the cries of those who used it, it sounded like it was none too warm. Düg elected to use the Hotel's shower instead. This was his third drop on the Trail and his third shower since he began seventeen days ago. It was almost to the point where the high point of the Trail experience was not the hike but the shower. Even though this was yet another dry county, Pop-pop had been thoughtful enough to bring "pop-tarts" for everyone. That night, thru-hikers carbo-loaded and the Fontana Hilton rocked.
As it was foretold by the trusty Appalachian Trail Guide Book, for the next section of Trail, a permit was required to camp in the Smokies. So the next day, Düg procured one at the Tennessee Valley Authority Fontana Dam Visitor Center. One of the stipulations was that use of each shelter was limited to just one night. Düg bought a bottle of ibuprophen just in case.
Back at the Fontana Hilton, it appeared customary to stay two nights. A group which had been there two days was just leaving and everyone who had made it there yesterday was staying an extra night, except for Rick and John who had been there for three days already.
As there seemed to be major festivities going on, Düg stayed an extra day to help celebrate. Strider had just christened Rick and John with Trail names. They were now the Sandbaggers, named for their inimitable hiking style. They were the quintessential speed demons. They were the last people you'd see, before you left a trail town, and the first people you'd see when you arrived. Somewhere in-between, they went blasting past you at warp speed.
There, at the Fontana Hilton, Düg began to learn of some of the more historic characters of the Appalachian Trail. There was Benton MacKaye who originated the idea of an AT in 1921. The first mile of the AT was built two years later in the Palisades Park, NY. Then there was Myron Avery, who did much to turn the dream into a reality; Earl Shaffer, who was the first person to thru-hike the trail (GA-->ME, '48); and Ed Garvey, who thru-hiked the trail in 1970 and wrote the book, Appalachian Hiker. Ed Garvey's book did much to popularize the Trail and fuel the preservation effort. Then there was and the infamous Warren Doyle who, in 01988, held several records for thru-hiking the Trail. First, he was said to have hiked the AT more times than anyone else, although a character named Maineak was giving him a run for his money. Second, he held the speed record for hiking the Trail. Warren was also famous for creating ALDHA, the Appalachian Long-Distance Hiker Association, which meets every year and can be something of a College Reunion of sorts for thru-hikers. Lastly, there was Dan Bruce, aka Wingfoot. Düg met him only once or twice on the Trail. Dan has since gone on to host the Appalachian Trail Trailplace for Thru-hikers, dedicated to posting the journals of other thru-hikers, among other things. He has apparently also taken up the duties once undertaken by the Philosopher and produces his own guide for the Trail, the Thru-hiker's Handbook.
As Düg carbo-loaded for a second night, he sat in disbelief at having come so far. What was more, the next day he would be entering the Smokies! It was worth a day of rest just to contemplate. The highest point on the entire Trail was Clingman's Dome (6,643 ft) which he would be passing over in the next couple of days. According to the guide book, with the exception of the Black Mtns in NC, the Great Smoky Mountains were said to be some of the loftiest and most rugged mountains in the east. He could hardly wait.
©Copyright 10/04/02000. Fresh Ink. All rights reserved