Into the Wild

Monday, 4/17/2006

I had been sick so long I decided to see a doctor. That day I drove Leah's car to the Lexington Urgent Care center after dropping her off at her class. The doctor examined me and among other things, decided to remove a mole from my left buttock. He was curious as to the origin of my high fever and while looking for ticks discovered the abnormal mole. He told me it was abnormally shaped and colored. I asked him about my chronic cough and cold and he told me I had an infection that had spread from my sinus to my lungs, or in other words, I had bronchitis and sinusitis. I asked him if this meant I couldn't go hiking for a while and he said yes. He acted as if that weren't the big deal, it was that mole he was thinking about. He looked off into the distance as if pondering something metaphysical and then turned to me and told me, "We don't usually remove moles here you know. But in this case, I'd like to do it. Normally we'd merely cut it off, but because of the....the area...I need to punch it out." Punch it out? I told him I didn’t usually sunbathe “down there” and didn’t understand how the mole could be cancerous. He gave me one of those looks that say, “That’s why I’m the doctor” and quickly shot out some statistics telling me that moles down there could indeed be cancerous. He quickly left and I picked up a Scientific American magazine and read about black holes.

He returned with several sharp metal devices and a long needle. He told me to drop my pants and lie on the medical chair. As I felt the cold surface of chair I coughed like an old man. All I had wanted was some antibiotics. He cleaned the area with rubbing alcohol and let me know that I’d feel a pinch and just like that, he stuck a long metal object deep into my flesh. Instead of wincing I smiled, thinking it would make the whole experience much more pleasant. The whole time we made conversation, talking about hiking and about specific areas in North Carolina. He liked to fish in the Nantahala's, and as he talked about it he ground into my skin with a circular device for a while. He took a while and looked frustrated as he ground harder and harder. Finally it broke skin in an instant and then he cut out the cylinder of skin by pressing down around it and shaving it off with a razorblade. It was about 1/3" in diameter. When he finished I was irritated and squeezed his hand in a death grip when we shook hands. He wrote me a prescription for antibiotics, and for some sort of inhaler.

For the rest of the day, I couldn't sit down without wincing in pain.

The only upside to having to stay another week was that I'd be able to attend Pascha (Easter), as well as many of the services of Holy Week. I hadn't been fasting because of the hike, but I began fasting as soon as I arrived in Columbia. I was very glad of this aspect of the delay.


Tuesday-Saturday 4/18-22/2006

In the morning I felt worse than ever and took my antibiotics. I ate a banana and then went to my sick room to read. About fifteen minutes later I ran to the bathroom where I threw up the banana and then went into a coughing fit that lasted a couple minutes and echoed in the bathroom. This was followed by dry heaves which produced only about a tablespoon on bile. I didn‘t feel good. After washing my face and brushing my teeth I went back to bed in an elderly fashion. I couldn't stop coughing so I began using the inhaler every hour to clear my lungs. The rest of the day I took it easy and went to bed early again.

The next day I felt a little better and me and Leah went to the Congaree river after she finished her classes. After the hike in the mud to the riverside we walked out onto flat hot rocks. The river is at least 30 yards across. Columbia is muggy in the summer and our skin quickly became glazed in the heat. We took our shoes off and waded into the river to some rocks in the middle. Once there, we lied in the sun for a while. I felt all right. I was frustrated with being off the trail and my own perceived fragility. Why did I have to get sick? I was always complaining, like a baby. I was sick of it. Leah and I watched the river flow by and we ate baby carrots.

As the week passed with the antibiotics I felt progressively better. I attended some of the services for Holy Friday and Saturday but had to spend much of the liturgy in the hall because the incense bothered my cough.


Saturday night-Sunday, 4/22-23/2006

Pascha.

Leah prepared both of our Easter baskets and put dark chocolate, Pascha bread and small chocolates in them. It was Sunday night and I finished putting on a button-up shirt and slacks and decided I wanted some real Pascha treats for my basket, so Aaron and I jumped in the car and drove to Wal-Mart. I got a six-pack of Guinness, some fancy cheese and crackers. On the way back I got pulled over by a Cop for Leah's dead headlamp.

We arrived at Pascha at 11:36pm, six minutes late. Of course, all the Russians in town swarm the local parishes when Pascha comes around so the Nave was literally teaming. When I arrived, I looked for Leah in the choir and found her familiar, comely face immediately. I settled down for the four hour service, trying to take in the songs, the chants, the ornate beauty of the most beautiful time of year.

About a half hour later as the Nave was darkened and a frighteningly pretty chant was sung I thought about my condition and felt all right about it. Soon I would be back on the trail, and I was blessed enough to have a place to stay for a few weeks. Fr. Thomas lit the first candle and soon the entire nave was illuminated with flickering candles. After three processions around the church I stood with the other parishioners watching the cloaked priest bang on the door to the front on the church. The clanging bells stopped.

“Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death- and upon those in the tombs bestowing life”

It came softly at first from Fr. Thomas’s beard-enshrouded lips and slowly the choir joined him. It was so humid and hot even though it was 12:30 at night. I began to sing, and soon everyone was singing and it became absolutely clamorous. I watched the beeswax melt down the candlestick and onto my wrist.

Later that night after the torturous, glorious service was finished and we took communion (although I didn’t) we went to enjoy the Easter feast…at 3:30am in the morning. I put my Guinness in the freezer and looked around: baskets brimming with food were everywhere. Most of the parish had been fasting from meat and dairy products for 40 days! Immediately we all dug in and it was awesome.

I went to bed at almost 5 in the morning, so full it hurt- with the tanginess of jalapeño’s on my lips, grease on my face and the bitter aftertaste of beer still in my mouth. I love Pascha.


Monday-Tuesday, 4/24-25/2006

The Picnic and Hot Springs.

I woke at 11 the next morning with a horrible taste in my mouth. I immediately jumped into the shower and brushed my teeth. I kept telling myself- a few more days and I’ll be back in action. Spring was making itself known and I ached to see it out in the mountains.

At around 2 Leah and I drove to Lake Murray for the Pascha picnic. It’s about a 45 minute drive and when we first arrived, all I could think about was basketball. Finally I was feeling better and it was time to ball on some kids. I ate a lot of food and then joined Leah on a blanket to help her study for a test. Soon I ached to play basketball and left to organize a game. It was myself and a kid against Lawrence (an older guy) and some kids, but all that’s important is my team won and I was barefoot. It felt pretty good to beat teenagers and an older guy for some reason (just kidding). I returned to the blanket and then heard Bret’s chicken salad had arrived. It’s good stuff so I got up and helped myself to some. Bret had arrived on his new motorcycle but he’s a tightwad so he wouldn’t let me ride it.
When Aaron arrived we organized a larger Basketball game and he even brought me shoes. My team lost. I don’t want to say anything more about that game.

Every year Aaron and I swim across the lake to the other side and then swim back. The Keating crowd began harassing us to do it again this year but I explained how I was just getting over Bronchitis. They didn’t care. They called me names and offered me cold beer if I did it. So Aaron and I took our shirts off and ran down to the lake and jumped in. It was pretty cold. On the way over, I realized I wasn’t able to inhale fully due to my illness. So I turned over to my back and felt the brown water soaking in my beard and looked up at the partly cloudy sky. I love swimming in brown lakes for some reason. The residue on the surface collected on my face and when I briefly went underwater I tasted the sweet water. I bet the stuff could kill you. Aaron and I felt the familiar feeling of fatigue and blood rushing to our muscles as we neared the other side, which generally feels good.

We made it to the other side and both urinated quite flamboyantly and openly and then swam with some difficulty back.

I jumped in a seat and had Bruce Keating toss me a beer. For good measure Aaron grabbed one despite condescending glances from his mother.

We drove home, and I went shopping for resupply that night.

On Tuesday we were going to leave, but we didn’t because we weren’t ready until around one and didn’t feel like leaving. So I sat one more out.


Wednesday, 4/26/2006

I woke so excited I couldn’t contain myself. We packed the van up with my supplies and headed off for the four hour drive to Hot Springs. On the way the weather became quite menacing and I wasn’t excited about spending my first day back on, now completely out of shape, soaked in the rain. We arrived at Hot Springs and parked at the campground. It’s really a charming town, extremely small, but an atypical Appalachian town due to the hiker’s presence (the trail goes right down Main St.) and the small tourist industry there due to the springs. It has an offbeat feel to it.

Leah and I walked around in the rain, then decided to get something to eat. Most of the places were closed, but we found the ice cream parlor open. Leah ordered a root beer float and I got a dipped cone and we sat by the window watching the rain. I was anxious. I looked at the rain and imagined being soaking wet for the first few days. I saw myself soaking in some corner of the forest, crouched over and miserable. I looked up at the mountains and noticed some rocky cliffs hanging out above the French Broad River. “Hey Leah, there’s Lover’s Leap.”

In the fall of 2003 Leah and I had gone to Hot Springs together on a church camping trip. We were still getting to know each other. We hiked up a white blazed trail, not knowing what it was, to a rock overhanging called “Lover’s Leap” known as such due to a few lovers that had tossed themselves over in the 19th century. A couple hikers walked by and explained to me that it was the Appalachian Trail which went from Georgia to Maine that I was standing on. I looked at Leah slyly and related to her that I’d always wanted to do something like that. We went further up the AT to a small peak and sat on a patch of moss and both discussed how much we liked the mountains. Although I was talking to her my mind was spinning. I was gripped with endless thoughts about what an adventure it would be to hike the Appalachian Trail. I imagined continuous mountains, rustic Appalachian villages, clear mountain lakes, etc. After that day I spoke about it often, until the next summer in 2004 I announced my intention of thru-hiking the trail to my family and to Leah.

It got late and we stayed the night in Hot Springs. I didn’t want to leave that late in the rain. I bought a bottle of White Merlot and we set up our tents at the campground braving thunderstorms throughout the night.


Thursday, 4/27/2006

Second First Day.

In the morning we ate a hearty breakfast at Smoky Mountain Diner and talked about how long I had been off. The diner was full of hikers I didn’t know, talking eagerly amongst themselves. I was so out of the loop. I recognized Crutch from Franklin eating in another booth and said hello. Everyone ahead, I’m sure, thought I had quit the trail due to the abrupt way in which I left. We then drove to bridge and Leah decided to hike with me on the trail for about a half mile to see me off. It was still cloudy, but there was no rain, so I left my raincoat off. She took a couple pictures of me ready to head off again and we left together, climbing down steep steps off the side of the bridge and onto the trail along the swollen French Broad river.

White blazes! And the green trees, so green, for Spring had come while I was gone. Everything screamed out that life was struggling out of the brown winter: green shoots, leaflets, insects, moss, mushrooms, mist, centipedes, salamanders, and all at once. Leah walked a little bit behind and we were both sad to part again. My now 60 pound pack literally tore at my shoulders and I knew I was stupid for carrying such a big pack. I am a stubborn person and romanticized my weight. I thought I was more rugged then the rest, plugging up mountains faster than others with more weight on my shoulders. A bigger pack to me represented bigger penance.

I now realize this is just stupidity. Leah and I kissed sweetly and just like that, she turned around and was gone. I absorbed my new home, alone in the mountains once again. White blazes clearly marked my path ahead. “I’m back!” For a mile the trail was flat, following the river which at some points water almost flowed onto the trail. And then the trail shot straight up the mountain, switch backing viciously up the mountain. Immediately my heart began pounding and I was out of breath. The coffee and food from breakfast churned in my stomach.

Some time later I took my pack off next to a large rock because I was already too hot in my long sleeve shirt to breathe. My pack fell with a thud and almost rolled off the edge. I took my long sleeve shirt off and I was steaming, which I liked. Everything was wet due the recent rain. I sat down and my butt got wet immediately. The air was clean.

I got up and kept pressing up the mountain, forcing myself to take each step forward. With each step, I felt better. Soon I was hiking fast and digging my poles in enthusiastically. I turned around another switchback and suddenly things became familiar. I looked at the rocky outcropping and saw Leah and myself, both barely 18, sitting together on the rocks. I saw myself on the rock, shorter and thinner. My face was so smooth. My hair was dyed black. I crouched over and looked into my eyes. They looked back at me with wonder and blind idealism, not seeing me. I realized at the moment I would do anything to talk to myself at that moment, to warn myself. “Listen to me”, I whispered. The other me lied back on the rock and stared into space, musing to Leah about why love drew people to jump off cliffs. He wouldn’t listen.

I left the rock realizing how much two and half years can change someone.

I hiked on that day, moving at a steady pace for several hours until I came to a small concrete dam with a bench next to it. The sun came out. I ate cheese and meat together and then drank several large gulps of wine from my Nalgene and relaxed. I heard voices. Several hikers hiked up the trail and said hello. I asked them, “Hey, are you guys thru-hikers?”. “Yup!”, said a short, happy girl. “I’m Harley Hog-pit!” and then Step-and-a-Half and his wife introduced themselves. I had already met Step-and-a-Half at the Walasi Center (the first hostel at Neels Gap) and didn’t like him at all. Apparently he was really slow, as I was gone for three weeks and he was still behind me. “I’m Caveman, I just got back on the Trail”, I told them casually. “Caveman!!?? I thought I would never meet you! I love your entries, they are hilarious. Let me get your picture, here, stand here and make a caveman pose”, Harley Hog-pit exclaimed to me. I didn’t expect that at all, but I smiled and posed for her. My register entries are extremely strange, and usually consist of grunts, descriptions of food and privies, and my bad artwork.

I moved on and hiked up another mountain for several mountains and once at the top hiked a half mile off trail to reach Rich Mountain Firetower. The weather was perfect now. I spent a half hour lying in the sun on the tower and took a couple pictures. I got cell reception so I made a few calls as well.

Once down, another couple miles downhill, and then uphill led me to Spring Mountain Shelter, a small one right on the trail. My mileage for the day was only 11 miles but I was wasted. I made little conversation at first. The shelter was full and there were tents everywhere and I had to hike up a side trail to a small knob where several more tents were staked to find a clearing.

I set up my tent on the knob, got water, used the privy, and then met some new people. I was really quite gloomy and didn’t talk much. Harley Hog-pit and I stayed up a bit and talked by the fire. She was really a funny girl, we were talking about what it would be like to have kids someday. I went to bed and drank the rest of my wine and started reading “ALIVE!”, a book I had bought in Hot Springs. I fell asleep with my face in the book.


Friday, 4/28/2006

I woke several times during the night due to animals. In the morning I woke feeling fairly well but coughing. I used the inhaler and got out of the tent. Almost everyone was still sleeping but I packed up and left. A few miles onto the trail I was passed by a cross-eyed shirtless hiker carrying a staff and sporting an enormous beard. His name was Dirt Knapp, he told me, but he hadn’t thought of a trail name yet. I chuckled at what I thought was a joke but his face was dead serious. Dirt Knapp, apparently, was his legal name. He showed me his license. I hiked a few more miles trying to keep up with Dirt Knapp but he eventually was out of reach. About a mile later downhill I came to a road crossing at Allen Gap, NC208/TN70 was a very small road. On a tree there was a sign that stated if hikers went a quarter mile to the right down the road, and up the driveway just past the “Welcome to North Carolina” sign, they wouldn’t regret it. So I went.

Once up the steep, long driveway I came to a quaint southern house. There were backpacks and boots next to the door and a dog barked from inside. I felt my stomach juices flow. The door opened and a charmingly beautiful woman opened the door and told me to take my boots off and leave my pack on the porch so I could come in and eat. I smelled a warm aroma of food and the smell of a clean womanly house flow from inside. I took my boots off and came inside. There were four hikers sitting at the table eating and the woman told me to go wash up in the bathroom. The inside of the bathroom was immaculate, wallpapered, and potpourried. I had to go, but I didn’t out of shame. I sat down at the dining table, and saw three people I hadn’t met. Dirt Knapp was there as well. A friendly looking fellow introduced himself as “Ramps”, another with an English accent said, “Just Steve” and the third was “Rock Chalk”. I introduced myself as Caveman and they stated they remembered my entries. The nice lady and her husband introduced themselves as former thru-hikers and that they bought the home specifically to help out hikers during the summer. She poured me a glass of lemonade and coffee then asked if she could start me off with blueberry Belgian waffles. “Uh-huh” I said as my eyes glazed over and I drooled openly onto the table. I looked through the register with pictures to see how far everyone I knew was ahead of me. They were everywhere from 15 to 23 days ahead of me. That wasn’t so bad. I sipped my coffee and felt a surge of gratitude. I thought to myself that these folks must be Christians and immediately my suspicions were confirmed. I could see it in their faces. She brought me my waffles, which I ate very quickly and then asked me what I wanted for lunch. I was awestruck, “Lunch too?” Yes, and homemade dessert after that. She gave me three options, all mouthwatering- and I settled with a pulled-pork barbeque sandwich with homemade coleslaw and potato salad. After that, she brought me out a warm brownie covered in fudge served with vanilla ice cream. I couldn’t believe it. They did their evangelical Christian spiel, as I expected, and offered us Calvinistic (what they called Christian) theology books for free. I think what they are doing is a good thing and I enjoyed their little talk, but I could tell my fellow hikers were extremely uncomfortable with it. Dirt Knapp challenged them a bit, but apparently didn’t feel like getting into it as they were being so generous so he stopped. They explained how some hikers were so mad at their “witnessing” that they had torn off the sign inviting fellow hikers. I would have taken one of their books if I didn’t already have one. Dirt Knapp and Rock Chalk left and Ramps and I stayed a little longer chatting and watching their dog do some tricks with a ball. We left together and got water out of a spring on someone’s front lawn.

Ramps and I started hiking together and engaged in deep conversation immediately. We started talking about India, where he had traveled extensively, and about economics. He told me a bit about himself- he’s an investment banker from Manhattan and decided to take a year off of his busy life to hike the trail. I immediately liked Ramps immensely for his good nature and thoughtfulness. Time flies when you’re lost in conversation and soon we had gone three miles to Little Laurel Shelter where I stopped and wrote “CAVEMAN IS BACK” with an accompanying drawing which I then photographed. There were 7 more miles to the shelter I was heading to and it was only 2 in the afternoon so I hung out at Little Laurel for a while and read. I headed back out onto the trail at about 2:30 and by this time I was alone.

For five miles I went up and down mountains feeling like I was starting to get back in shape again. After a long, strenuous climb up some rocky trail I came upon Dirt Knapp laying out on a rock and eating peanut butter and tortillas. I stopped and joined him and soon Steve came as well. It was a spectacular view, 360 degrees of blade sharp mountains. Dirt Knapp went on a rant on how high vistas are the crappy views, and that real views are inside of the forest: trees, streams, brushes, etc. I sort of agreed with him. We all took off together and struggled for five miles on the ridge, rocky and with steep drops on both sides, till we came to Jerry Cabin Shelter which was packed with people. I had hiked over 16 miles and my feet were burning. All the tent sites were taken so I set up my tent practically right on the trail. After a grueling hike down hill to get water I set up my stove and cooked a Lipton Side, macaroni and broccoli. Crutch was there with Wonderfoot, who generally were an item now. A huge fire was made and I stayed up talking to all the new people, and then I went into bed and read Alive!, which I was quite obsessed with by now. I felt a strange connection to Parrado, one of Uruguayan rugby players trapped in the middle of the Andres and forced to eat their dead friends raw in order to survive. As a result of reading the book I was constantly dreaming of the Andes and horrifyingly, cannibalism. This night was no different, except with a change in location. I was lost somewhere in Greenland next to a downed fuselage where I lived. Everywhere inside the fuselage were frozen cadavers with frozen facial expressions. They would whisper as I would approach them to take a piece of meat and then they would suddenly start and scream and would be animate when I would cut them.

Saturday, 4/29/2006


I slept in the next morning due to a fitful night; it was 9pm before I even got out of bed. The only people left were Dirt Knapp, Crutch, Steven, and Wonderfoot. Steve was just leaving. I was still lost in my dream when I sat down and boiled water to make oatmeal.

I set off at last with a slow start and over seemingly endless terrain. Four miles in I came to the Shelton Graves where Crutch, Dirt Knapp, and Wonderfoot were having a snack. I examined the graves closely, ate a powerbar and then kept hiking, following the trail steeply downhill along an overgrown logging road. At the bottom there was a shelter where I stopped to get water. Dirt Knapp showed up and offered me peanut butter and tortillas, which I gladly accepted as I was already low on food and still a couple days away from Erwin. Downhill a little further I ran into a somewhat overweight couple with a little poodle. They asked me if I wanted to have lunch with them and I agreed, even though I was quite full from the tortillas. We hiked together for about a mile to Devil Fork Gap where their SUV was parked. He boiled me a hot dog, and gave me a beer. Dirt Knapp joined me and we ate the hot dogs with effort. The couple’s respective trail names were Rambo First Blood, Teardrop, and Angel (the dog). Rambo First Blood had done a southbound thru-hike a few years earlier. I really liked them. They were really southern, from Tennessee. I stuck an extra beer in my pack for later.

I thanked them and took off with a surge of energy. I was getting my trail legs back and I decided I was going to school Dirt Knapp, so I hiked the next 7 miles fast. It was tough terrain - I passed a waterfall and a toilet sitting on the trail, and then shot up a mountain till I almost couldn’t take another step. The last mile was torture and Dirt Knapp was on my ass but I kept on pushing until the difficulty of the task gave me strength. I pushed hard with my poles, pushing myself uphill, breathing deeply, and soon Dirt Knapp was behind and next thing I knew I was pulling up to the sign for Hogback Mountain shelter, which is .2 miles off the trail.

I ran down the trail feeling a rush as I imagined my swollen feet boot free and massaged (by myself) once I arrived. I pulled up and saw Ramps sitting down in the shelter, a couple I hadn’t met, and Steve the Englishman. I took my beer out and opened it, talking voraciously right away. I was glad Ramps was around again. They told me a couple miles away there was a road crossing where a restaurant was only a couple miles away and I announced I would wake early to have breakfast there. Soon Dirt Knapp pulled up and I informed him that he had been schooled. He replied that I was going trail crazy already.

I took the quarter mile walk up and down hill to get my water, then I set up my tent right behind the shelter. Clearwater and a girl whose name I don’t remember had a bow, a rod, a board and rock both with holes in them and some hay with which they intended to start a fire. I didn’t believe it at first, but this guy (Clearwater) had it down pat. As he would hold the wooden rod down tight into the board with the rock with the hole in it (which was waxed) he would whip the bow back and forth quickly and regularly till black ash would appear in the hole in the board and it would smoke. Then he would pour the hot black ash onto the straw and blow until a flame started- and so on. Easier said than done. Steve the limey tried repeatedly and it took him about 45 minutes to get it right.

It got dark and after I got talking to Ramps about India I went to bed and read until owls lulled me to sleep.


Sunday, 4/30/2006

David.

I opened my eyes in the tent and got my headlamp out to read. After a while I found my cell phone and turned it on to check the time. It was 5. I jumped out of tent, dreaming of the restaurant only miles away. I got my water and manically packed up and the sun was barely creeping out of the mountains in the horizon making the sky turquoise blue and dark purple. As I propped my overweighed pack on, Ramps creeped out of the shelter rubbing his and said he thought I was crazy. I told him I’d be eating bacon and eggs while he would be eating instant oatmeal. I intentionally didn’t eat anything, wanting to enjoy my breakfast to the fullest.

I didn’t have a flashlight, I had left in Columbia while sick, so for the first mile or so I tripped in the dark several times. Then the sun rose above the horizon and it was a beautiful morning and the trail was rocky and enshrouded in mist. I saw some of the first flowers on the trail, thousands of yellow and purple pedals everywhere. I was hyper and hiked extremely fast and before I knew it was at Sam’s Gap where the I-26 crossed overhead and the trail goes under the overpass on the US23. It started raining hard so I got under the overpass and took the databook out. There were no cars on the road- but then again it was barely 7 in the morning. I realized I left too early to catch a ride easily and this greatly disturbed me. I took off my rain clothes and sat in my sweaty T-shirt praying for a car. I was starving but I stayed strong and in about 10 minutes a truck came by. I stuck out my thumb and smiled but he trucked on by. I was angry so I cursed him. I was so hungry and there was a fresh poptart hanging out in the top of my pack. I took out the silver package and stroked the sprinkles beneath the foil. Another truck came and passed. Just as I was about to get angry a man in a “Disabled Korean Combat Veterans” trucker hat stops in a jet-black Ford F-350 and asks me if I am trying to get a ride for breakfast. “Yes!”, I tell him and without saying anything else I toss my pack in the back and hop in.

His name was David, a man of normal height, about 50, with a large build and a kind face with glistening eyes. He drove me two miles up the road to the Exxon where the Diner is located, but it was too early and it was closed.

“Well, if your looking for a real breakfast, I am going just 10 minutes down the freeway for that very thing myself. I eat breakfast each morning here and its good.”

I looked into his eyes and trusted him, so I accepted his offer. He liked to talk and he liked to help out hikers apparently. He told me of his tours in Korea and getting shot in the leg. I told him I wanted to join the military and couldn’t and he told me I wasn’t missing anything. I insisted I was and he insisted back that I wasn’t. It really wasn’t worth talking about, since there was no chance of me getting in.

We arrived at the exit and pulled into a Huddle House. My gastric juices went haywire as we walked in and I smelled the aroma of bacon and pancakes. He asked for “The Usual” and I asked for the biggest combination on the menu: A stack of pancakes, bacon, sausage, hash browns, biscuits and gravy and Sunnyside up eggs. He told me he was a devout Christian and through our conversation I quickly figured out he was a charismatic. I didn’t feel like cramping his style so I didn’t mention me being Orthodox, instead I just told him I was a Christian too and I let him talk about it without interruption. He looked a bit lonely in fact.

My coffee was brought and I drank it immediately.

The food came and I stopped listening, I just ate. The yolks broke out of the delicate yolk skin and got all over my biscuits and gravy and then I topped it all off with exorbitant amounts of hot sauce. I mixed the eggs with the hash browns and then piled it on buttered toast and ate it. I poured syrup on the sausage and bacon and ate them together. After I finished the main plate, I moved on to the pancakes, pouring hot syrup on the stack which melted the butter into buttery streams. He told me how he had witnessed to nonbelievers and heathens who were hiking and I thought to myself if he knew what I believed, he would probably consider me a heathen. I finished the pancake stack and was suddenly overtaken with a feeling of great grief as I was out of food.

I was finished, so I started listening again as he was telling about his theory of High Ground which he derived from a smorgasbord of arbitrary verses from the bible, as most American sects and theologies are based on. I am always amused when people begin taking this route, quoting verses authoritatively as if that should end the argument, when there are always an equal amount of verses to be found stating quite the opposite of what is being proposed.

“…that’s why the Appalachian Trail is so important, Caveman. It has been taken by the darkness. That’s why you Christians need to be sanctifying the high ground, the trail. Take back the darkness Caveman!!”

“All right David, I will. I’ll take back the high ground.”

I said this seriously even though what he was saying was out there. It was out there, but I liked him, so I agreed to do it. He then paid for my breakfast, which I didn’t expect. Even though we were finished with breakfast he wanted to keep talking which I didn’t mind since he bought my breakfast.

“Have you ever been Whitewater rafting?”

“No, never. I’ve never really had a chance.”

“Great, because Erwin is where the Nolichucky river crosses. That’s one of the greatest places for whitewater rafting. I can’t do things like that, look at my leg! You must do it, or, I’d like you to do it if you want.”

“I would David, honestly, but I really am on a tight budget so I shouldn’t.”

“Do you have enough mone-”

“Yeah I have enough, but not enough for excursions like that. Don’t worry about it.”

“No, come with me. Come on.”

So I followed him into the gas station next to the restaurant and he went to an ATM and put his card in. I felt really awkward standing behind him, not sure what to say to convince him to not give me money. I loathe taking money from others, probably because our family used to have to fundraise for missionary work. Which by the way is a big scam. He turned around with a fold of bills smiling and he handed them to me. I stared at the 20’s wondering what to say.

“Take it. I want you to have money for excursions. Go whitewater rafting if you want.”

So I took it. I didn’t count it, I put it into my wallet feeling sort of ashamed. We got into the car, and because I had told him about my illness in Hot Springs and he had heard me coughing during breakfast he bought me a supplement called Airborne at a drug store nearby .

On the way back to the trailhead we talked more. He told me the money he gave me didn’t even make a scratch in his budget because he owns a fruit orchard in the hills. He got off at another exit and swung by several churches to show me how they built them on the high ground.

When I finally got back to the trail I didn’t know how to thank him but to say thank you . He prayed for me in his charismatic style, which was fun. I even joined in a little bit and threw some Amen’s in for good measure and then I got out and he drove away. Immediately I noticed my cell phone had fallen out of my pocket in his truck, but I didn’t worry about it because I knew he would get it back to me somehow. I took out my wallet and counted the money. It was $100.

Once on the trail again, now passed 10:30am I paid dearly for my gluttony. The trail sort of lingered at a good elevation for a few miles but then it started going uphill towards Big Bald. I was daydreaming heavily when I suddenly smelled onions. I looked around and noticed there were hundreds of Ramps (wild southern onions) around, so I picked several for later. After struggling uphill some more, I noticed a day hiker gaining on my from behind. I let him catch up and we began talking. He was going on a day hike but was planning a week long hike on the AT with his class. He’s a teacher at a small charter school. We talked for the 5 miles to Big Bald, which actually wasn’t that bad of a climb. On the bald it was freezing but the view was awesome. I sat down and pulled out a packet of tuna (one of my last food items) and my knife and began dicing up the onions into the tuna. Even though I had eaten several hours earlier, I was famished all ready and after I finished my tuna I began to give my day hiker friend the eye. He was holding fresh grapes and he had a peach. He noticed my hunger so he gave me the peach and some grapes. I noticed how high we were and I muttered a few things for David. I took some pictures then he turned around to go back and I kept going.

For the next 5 miles I tried to focus on praying constantly. At first I was speaking automatically, asking and pleading for faith. This gets tiring after a while and after a few miles I just settled down into the prayer of the heart. After a while, still muttering to myself, I came upon G-Walk sitting down on a rock. We started hiking together, both doing a long day and planning on getting to Erwin by early afternoon the next day. We saw a deer and a woodchuck. At about 7 we came upon the US19W and we decided to camp at a small campsite just off the road. I had done 17 miles. I put up my tent and G-Walk put up his tarp. We both expected it to rain. My water filter wasn’t working well so we both got water out of a nearby river and he used his chemicals to treat it. It was getting dark when we began to eat dinner. I had the last meal in my food sack, apple cobbler I had got in Fontana Dam. G-walk ate like a king, beef stroganoff and then cheese and bread. I told him after dinner I was straight out of food. We retired to our respective shelters and talked for a while about Erwin. I read Alive till late in the night. I woke up suddenly, barely realizing I had fallen asleep or where I was, and realized it was pouring rain. I took out my cell phone and turned it on. It was only 11:30 so I went back to bed to the sound of rain and its accompanying clean aroma and cool air.