Reflections on Week 1.5: Our First Taste of the Trail

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Rachel and I have been in the woods for eight days now, with the ninth spent last night in Hiawassee, Georgia. We’re enjoying a “nero” (near-zero hiked miles) today in a campground near Dick’s Creek, with perfect weather for open use of electronics.

What I want to do, while my feet rest and clothes finish drying from last night’s hand-wash in the Budget Inn bathtub, is reflect. I’m going to meander a bit in this post, sharing some favorite moments and comparing how my experience so far compares to my pre-trip expectations.

On the Hike

Georgia is a medium-easy part of the AT. The terrain isn’t flat like Virginia, but it’s nowhere near the Whites of New Hampshire. The trail is well trod and well marked, aside from some boulders near Blood Mountain. The terrain gets steeper from here, peaking in the southern half at Clingman’s Dome, on the border of Tennessee and North Carolina.

With that context, you can appreciate my embarassment at feeling rather sore. I’m chalking it up to a heavier load (roughly 21 lbs base, 42 lbs packed for four days) than many prior trips and to us slightly exceeding, due to varying campsite intervals, the “don’t push it” suggestion of 8 miles per day for the first 1-2 weeks. With the Approach Trail included, Rachel and I hiked about 60 miles in our first 7 days. Although we feel more capable now, we’re heeding our orientationist (his name is Bob, so he must be right).

At our pace, we expect to cross the North Carolina border tomorrow. We expect wetter, colder, and more volatile weather, due to the forecast and to the elevation gain. We plan to continue to skip shelters, again on the advice of our orientationist, as many others are also doing. Our next town stop will be Franklin, North Carolina.

On the People

One of the top reasons I wanted to hike the AT is the community. I needed to feel a connection not just with my family and close friends, but with people from all around the country.

That may sound dramatic, but I’ve become increasingly, uncomfortably aware of what I perceive to be disjunctions between my values and interests, and those of Americans (and Missourians, and even Columbians) at large. Hiking this trail is, in part, an exercise in proving that perception false. I need to realize, or at least feel, that I live among like-minded people.

The AT is not a homogeneous cultural environment, nor would I want it to be. What it is is a place to interact with everyone, without social media or automobubbles, around the campfire and a pot of Ramen. It’s full of shared goals, like making the next site or preventing blisters, which act as building points for “real” talk.

Unsurprisingly, Rachel and I see ourselves living different lives in about half the hikers we meet. Troy and Elizabeth, recently married 25-year-olds, were a high school science teacher and organic gardener. Rob and Katherine took their dog, Drover, on their adventure with them. Doug is an excitable, always-be-prepared hiker who’s likely doing this with his ruthlessly kind wife, Karen, in retirement.

Importantly, however, Rachel and I have enjoyed everyone we’ve met. Even when it’s clear we disagree on some fundamental things, we’ve had stimulating and authentic conversations.

A key lubricant of the community experience is sharing. Rob and Katherine gave us toilet paper, after we’d resorted to leaves and rocks. Troy and Elizabeth gave us enough food to not starve between Unicoi Gap and Dick’s Creek. We gave Curtis a Gore-Tex patch for his popped sleeping pad. We’ve taken oatmeal from and left dish soap in a hiker box.

The people, Rachel and I agree, have been the best part of this adventure so far.

On the Gear

Rachel and I love gear-ogling other hikers. We see strong representation of all sides of the ultralight-light-traditional debate.

Each makes good points: Lightweight hikers risk being underprepared (read: hungry, wet, and cold). Ones carrying more weight risk unneccessary pain and difficulty. I mentioned in a previous post, which I can’t easily anchor, how Rachel and I are managing our weight.

Rachel and I sent home our pillows, which we knew were a luxury, at Neel Gap. We also shipped a pair of socks, our compass, a pair of gaiters, and some bandages. We purchased (also at Neel Gap) a new pair of outer gloves for Rachel and three days’ worth of food. We bought a Sawyer Squeeze in Hiawassee, given the higher cost and longer wait time of purification tablets.

Rachel and I have other things we’d like, of course, but none strike us as as needs. We’d like to get Rachel a lighter pack. My camp shoes aren’t particularly comfortable, supportive, or durable. I’d prefer merino to nylon sleep clothes. We know that our gear will wear out, and we will replace it when it does (or, as we say, “Drive it ‘til it dies.”).

On the Surprises

Broadly speaking, my hike so far has been true to my expectations. The landscape is beautiful, I am hungry, and the people are wonderful. I can pick out a few surprises, however, or at least things I’ve learned:

• Instant potatoes are amazing.

Virtually every other hot dinner option takes time to cook. Potato flakes become mashed potatoes as soon as you dump them in. Plus, they’re calorically dense and cheap: At Ingles, a local grocery store, Rachel and I bought them for $0.78 per 440-calorie package.

• Town days are delicious but tedious.

Rachel and I have been warned of the allure of town. Neither of us have felt much hunger for it yet, for which we’re grateful. But food does have to be bought, and clothes occasionally washed, so we went into Hiawassee.

Hiawassee has a delicious Main Street Grill, friendly people, and a fairly priced outdoor store. But being in town has its headaches: Where are we going to put our packs, which etiquette if not rule forbids bringing into stores, before our room’s check-in time? Is the grocery store not just close enough to walk to, but to carry food back from? Must we buy a multipack of toilet paper, and why does nobody sell travel-sized toothpaste?

• Eating enough calories is all but impossible.

When you hike all day, you can easily burn 4,000 calories. To do that day after day, you have to replenish what’s lost.

Eating that much, let alone carrying it, is difficult. Rachel and I have been eating three meals and three snacks per day, often in absurd combinations. Our favorite lunch is cookies, peanut butter, and honey wrapped in tortillas. We ate chips, a candy bar, and a doughnut for breakfast the other day.

• Even more people are rooting us on than we knew.

Rachel and I have received so much encouragement from family, friends, and strangers along the trail. Each of those interactions has enriched our experience.

Everyone hiking the trail wants everyone else to make it to Maine. Townspeople we meet offer unsolicited, and sometimes strange, but always welcomed advice.

We’re also very much feeling the love from home. Andy and Tom have sent multiple clips of Alice, each cuter than the last. Friends, some of whom we haven’t spoken to in years, have reached out on social media or through this site.

• Poison ivy is still poisonous in winter.

My least favorite nemesis: poison ivy. On what was probably a wood-collecting or cat-holing expedition, I got a rash and some blisters on my hand. The oils may be stronger or easier to contact in summer, but the plant is impossible to identify in winter.

• Cell signal is fleeting, no matter the network.

Verizon does cover more of the AT than Sprint or AT&T, but that doesn’t mean service is strong. Most areas surrounding the AT are rural, and nothing blocks signal better than the mountains.

Even in cases where I do have cell signal, I likely don’t have enough to access the internet. I’m not necessarily unhappy about being detached from the “real world,” but it does make things like sending photos or updating this blog difficult.

• Loss is a common motivator.

Although I should have suspected it, I didn’t: A large proportion of the people I’ve met who hope to thru-hike the AT are doing so to cope with loss. Rachel and I are trying to be good listeners with those who want to talk about it and to be respectful of those who don’t.

Oh, and fuck cancer. That’s for you, ASAP.

• Glasses can be washed.

I currently wear clear glasses. I say “currently” because, prior to washing them in the hotel’s sink, I did not. I’m not sure why it never occured to me that glasses, including their lenses, could be washed with water and diluted soap. I feel like I just bought new glasses, and I look less ridiculous to boot.

• The best trail magic is a trash bag.

It’s the rule: pack it in, pack it out. But after a week, food trash may weigh a pound by itself. Worse, it likely stinks like rotting tuna (yet smells like candy to bears).

Rachel and I have gotten all sorts of chips, candy bars, and sodas from Morning Glory, Jim, and others. But the best gift is simply that they’ve taken the mental, sensory, and physical burden of trash off our shoulders.

Our “easy” week has been wonderful. We’re looking forward to getting our trail legs and routines down pat, which we’re told happens in the 200-300 mile range. We’ll be there soon, though hopefully not too soon, with lots of friends in tow.