“Regret for the things we did can be tempered by time; it is regret for the things we did not do that is inconsolable.” – Sydney J. Harris

Day 34

After a long, miserable night, I crawled out of my pungent tent, removed my nose plugs, and took a deep cleansing breath. I had survived and had learned a valuable lesson.

Powered by Darn Good Chili after shocks, I began the climb up the enchanting, extremely cool Unaka Mountain, which would turn in to my favorite forested summit hike of the first 400 miles. Half in Tennessee and half in North Carolina, it featured dense spruce and hemlock forests, grassy patches, and fog and mist. I kept expecting Frodo Baggins to emerge from behind a tree, on his way to destroy the One Ring in the fires of Mount Doom. Near a campsite at the summit, around mile 355, I stopped to take care of AT Business #4…at the recently named Darn Good Patch.

I descended Unaka Mountain and then began a series of ups and downs, including the picturesque Little Bald Knob. After a 13.9 mile day, I rolled into the Clyde Smith Shelter with Tetris, Mumbles, and Old School. After the noises coming from my tent last night, I was surprised Tetris and Mumbles let me stay in the shelter.

Old School is a dentist from North Carolina who recently moved to Tulsa, Oklahoma. He began a thru-hike attempt last year, going from Harpers Ferry to Maine, and then heading southward from Harpers Ferry. Unfortunately, severe winter weather ended his bid, so he’s back this year to finish his hike to Springer. He got the trail name Old School because most of his hiking gear is from the late 70s/early 80s. In fact, he said he went into some museum along the AT that showed a sampling of hiking gear by decade, and several of his items were in the 70s and 80s cases. Around the campfire, he not only answered questions about brushing and flossing, but a series of questions about what we should expect in New Hampshire and Maine. He said the AT in those final two states is every bit as tough as hikers make it out to be.

Day 35

I awoke and added a Little Debbie Oatmeal Cream Pie to my usual pop tart breakfast lineup, because today we would climb the massive, 6285 feet, highly popular Roan Mountain.

Roan Mountain can be divided into two sections, divided by Carvers Gap. Hiking from the south, the first section features Roan High Knob Shelter (the highest backcountry shelter on the entire AT) and the peaks Roan High Bluff and Roan High Knob, which are blanketed by a dense spruce-fir forest. Tollhouse Gap lies between these two peaks and features the Rhododendron Gardens, the largest of its kind in the world. The climb up to the summit was long, hot, and taxing…and the climb down was covered in foot-jarring rocks. Aside from the amazing Tollhouse Gap, I preferred Unaka Mountain over this first section of Roan.

As I descended the mountain towards Carvers Gap, I was tired, hungry, thirsty and my feet and left knee ached. It had been a beautiful, but rugged, several hours of hiking. I thought maybe…just maybe…there would be some magic at the Gap. And there was! Like angels sent from heaven, Haynes and Janice Miller from Bluff City and the Tri-County Church of God had set up a magnificent Trail Magic stop. Janice had been a life-long blood donor and that was an important part of her Christian faith and community service. Unfortunately, she suffered a stroke last Fall and her doctor told her she could no longer donate blood. He said she could find new ways to give her time and her money, so long as she didn’t donate blood. After doing some research and thinking about needs in their community, it dawned on them that perhaps they could serve the AT community as Trail Angels. They did research on things hikers crave, and this was their first day as Trail Angels. They nailed it! Comfortable chairs for multiple hikers…check. A variety of ice cold sodas…check. Grilled hot dogs with buns, homemade chili and mustard…check. Asking if the hikers are ready for another hot dog…check. Homemade brownies…check. A variety of bags of chips and sweets (like Ding Dongs)…check. Hand sanitizer and napkins…check. Trash bag for hikers to unload their trash…check. Good conversation and knowledge/advice about the upcoming towns and section of trail…check. Sufficient cold water for hikers to drink and fill their bottles…check. It was pure bliss and entirely changed my attitude and disposition for the day. The only thing missing was Haynes offering to give me a foot bath and pedicure, but if you’ve seen my feet, you know that’s a bridge too far.

With a full belly and a smile on my face, I continued on toward the second section of Roan Mountain known as Grassy Ridge. It is the longest stretch (7 miles) of grassy bald in the Appalachian Mountains, featuring Round Bald, Jane Bald, and Grassy Ridge Bald. And guess what else it is? Our new champ! Yes, I would place this section as my favorite section of the AT so far, surpassing even the section north of Spence Field Shelter in the Smokies. If you want to take the family on a day hike of the AT, park at Carvers Gap, head AT north toward the Balds, and thank me later.

On Grassy Ridge Bald I stopped and visited with day hikers Erik and Belle from Milwaukee along with their dogs, Bo and Gabe. We (the people, not the dogs) discussed my thru-hike attempt, and they suggested I pose for an “REI photo” on a rock ledge…so I did. I then took photos of them doing the same.

As I descended the Balds, I hiked along with another hiker previously mentioned in a blog, but I’ll protect his identity here. He asked if I had heard the rumor at Carvers Gap that a section hiker was bringing PBR (Pabst Blue Ribbon) to the Overmountain Shelter that night, and whether I drank alcohol. I told him I had heard the rumor but didn’t drink alcohol.  He asked why not.  I told him it was for a variety of reasons related to my faith, family history, and really just wanting to set a good example and have credibility with the many youth groups I’ve led over the past 2+ decades. I have many friends and family members who drink socially, I just think my life will be better off in the long run without alcohol and the baggage that often comes with it. In short, I don’t need it.  I get enough of a buzz hiking the AT, living in an RV, and being married to Lil Jan.

He then asked how long I’d been a Christian (was baptized in frigid waters at Dover (DE) Church of Christ on Christmas morning, 1977…age 11) and whether I had been raised going to church (yes). He told me he had an interesting story to share with me about his faith, but would save that for tonight’s campfire (he is a much faster hiker and was ready to accelerate). Sadly, that didn’t happen, but perhaps I’ll run into him again down the road so he can share his story with me.

After a 15.6 mile day, I stopped at Overmountain Shelter, a true AT classic. The shelter is a converted barn with a stunning view, the best shelter view on the AT. The barn appeared in the 1989 movie, Winter People, starring Kurt Russell (a widower) and Kelly McGillis (the unwed mother he loves). The area also has historical significance, as it was traveled by the Overmountain Men, frontiersmen who took part in the Revolutionary War. They are best known for their role in the American victory at the Battle of Kings Mountain in 1780.

I chose to sleep in the loft out of the wind, rather than down below to view the sunrise. Just when I thought there would only be a few of us up there, ten college students arrived, members of a recreation/hiking club from the University of Florida. I explained that I was a Tennessee Volunteer fan, an aspiring thru-hiker, and an Overmountain Man, and there would be no Gator chomps or Florida fight songs in the loft or by the campfire that night. They agreed.

Between conquering Roan High Knob, hiking the stunning Balds, devouring the fantastic trail magic, conversing with hikers and angels, and sleeping at the famous Overmountain Shelter, I would say Day 35 was my all-around favorite day on the trail so far.

Fob

My Favorite Trail Things

By:  Sir Fob W. Pot

Written:  At midnight at Kinkora Hostel, mile 418.2, with apologies to Julie Andrews

To:  All my fellow hikers…Keep hiking and never give up on your dream!

Switchbacks and privies and gaps with Trail Magic
Hitchhiking, hostels, Gold Bond for butt rashes
A trail town buffet that is all you can eat
These are a few of my favorite trail things…

Tortillas for dinner, with oatmeal cream pies
Nose ran so much that it drowned 2 black flies
Took Vitamin I for the pain in my knee
These are a few of my favorite trail things…

‘Twas cold in the Smokies, could not feel my fingers
Eight servings of chili, the pungency lingers
Met Lumpy, Ron Haven, and Bob Peoples too
These are a few of my favorite trail things…

Chorus:
When the bears bite, when my tent leaks,
When I’m feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite trail things
And then I don’t feel so bad

Hiked 400 miles, every blaze, not a cheater
Map must be wrong, I’ve gone one centimeter
A family of field mice now live in my beard
These are a few of my favorite trail things…

Read Dave Miller’s AWOL, like it was the Bible
Slept in a barn’s loft, And it all felt so tribal
When I need water, I give Sawyer a squeeze
These are a few of my favorite trail things…

I pee in a bottle, at midnight and later
Eat spuds with my Ramen, and poop ’em out later
Katahdin is calling, I’ll hike til I’m thru
The AT is one of my favorite things…

Chorus:
When the bears bite, when my tent leaks,
When I’m feeling sad
I simply remember my favorite trail things
And then I don’t feel so bad

Fob

“As human beings, we are the only organisms that create for the sheer stupid pleasure of doing so. Whether it’s laying out a garden, composing a new tune on the piano, writing a bit of poetry, manipulating a digital photo, redecorating a room, or inventing a new chili recipe — we are happiest when we are creating.” – Gary Hamel

Day 31

I began this thankfully warmer day with a 1200-foot climb up to the incredible Big Bald, every bit as scenic as Max Patch. After taking a few photos, I descended toward Bald Mountain Shelter and felt nature’s call. As I approached the shelter, I asked a fellow hiker if there was a privy. He told me no. Bummer. So, for the 3rd time on my AT journey, at mile 325.3, I found a nice secluded spot behind a tree on a hill to take care of business. Upon returning to the shelter, that same hiker said, “Oh yeah, there is a privy…just found out. My bad.” Seriously?! Before departing, I renamed the area Mount Unnecessary 90 Degree Angle.

Just after noon, I descended into Spivey Gap and discovered some…Trail Magic! Yes, Trail Angel Bob was serving drinks and goodies, and my Coke and Twinkie hit the spot.  Thanks, Bob! A couple of hours later, I came to No Business Knob Shelter and visited with Poptart, SpongeBob, and GungaDan, who had stopped for the night. Poptart, a fellow Air Force retiree, was having the common hiker problem of too much food based on unnecessary or poorly timed food mailings. I ended up trading some of my tortillas and pepperoni to him for some of his excess electrolyte tablets and Gatorade mix. Lewis and Clark would have been proud of me.

With my legs feeling good and a trail town just ahead, I decided to push on. After hiking a personal best 20.8 miles, I arrived in Erwin, Tennessee and took a shuttle over to the Super 8. This economy hotel beat out camping by the river or staying at a hostel, because rain was in the forecast and I wanted a hot bath. As I was doing laundry, I noticed a hiker box, where hikers leave items they don’t want/need for others to have for free. In retrospect, I made one really good selection from the hiker box, and one really bad one. The good one was an unopened bag of Epsom salt, which I would use in three hot baths over the next 36 hours, much to the pleasure of my aching feet. The bad choice was the package of Bear Creek Country Kitchens Darn Good Chili Mix, 9.8 ounces, 8 servings. I’ll come back to that later.

After doing laundry, cleaning (back-flushing) my Sawyer Squeeze water filter, taking a shower and bath, and cleaning my cookware, I walked to Erwin’s Huddle House restaurant, adjacent to a gas station. I feasted on a rib eye steak, 2 eggs, hash browns, bread, water, and Mountain Dew. It was marvelous! Not wanting to walk further to the grocery store in Crocs, I got the few crackers, energy bars, and Ibuprofen I needed at the gas station, then returned back to the hotel. I then called my wife and both sons to check in and get updated on their lives. It was great to hear their voices and know they are doing well. I dozed off for a Super 8 hours of sleep.

Day 32

I began my zero day with the hotel breakfast, specifically a waffle, cereal, and several cups of coffee, milk, and orange juice. I then took another Epsom salt bath, blogged, and got caught up on the news. As a bit of a news junkie, I’m surprised I haven’t missed daily dosages of news, and I certainly haven’t missed politics and election coverage. I care about elections and world events, but hiking the AT consumes most of my physical and mental energy. Television wise, I’ve only missed watching some March Madness tournament games and watching Survivor with my wife while eating a big bowl of buttered popcorn. Oh, and I miss watching sappy Hallmark movies with Ken and Syndi Butler and saying “see, I told you so” when they invariably kiss at the end of the movie.  I finished off my day at McDonalds, where I consumed a high calorie large double quarter pounder with cheese meal, 10-piece McNuggets, and hot fudge Sundae. Lil Jan told me I need to eat more, so I’m just following orders.

Day 33

I packed up, caught a shuttle to the trailhead, and began the long climb out of Erwin. The first few miles featured several streams, springs, and footbridges surrounded by mountain laurels…really a pretty section. As I continued the climb, a 2700 foot elevation gain, I really felt the heat and the weight of my fully loaded, post-trail town backpack. Sweat poured off me and I was drinking a liter of water with electrolytes every 2 hours. Once again, I was glad that I had lived, trained, and ran in Florida for several years before my thru-hike attempt. That doesn’t make it easy, but you learn how to deal with and adapt to the heat by being out in it a lot.

At Beauty Spot Gap, mile 353.9, Tetris, Mumbles and I stopped for some…Trail Magic!  Brother Tom, a Trail Angel, hooked us up with some coffee, lemonade, and snacks.  Thanks, Brother Tom!

After a 12.3 mile, mostly uphill day, I tented at the base of Unaka Mountain, along with two twenty-somethings…Tetris (former auditor for the Department of Education in New York) and Mumbles from Lexington, Kentucky. Given the exhausting day and and my belief that my pack was too heavy, I decided to eat the heaviest food item I had. After reviewing all of them, the winning contestant was the previously mentioned (Day 31) Bear Creek Country Kitchens Darn Good Chili Mix, taken from the hiker box at Erwin’s Super 8. Weighing a whopping 9.8 ounces, and featuring three kinds of beans and a blend of spices, it seemed like a perfect choice.

Folks, the devil is always in the details. Fine print matters. As a sat there on a log, at the base of Unaka Mountain, starving and licking my salty face, I read the instructions. I noticed that it called for 7 cups of water, a 6 ounce can of tomato paste, and a simmer time of 20-25 minutes. Realistically, none of that was going to happen. That is why it was in the hiker box. That is why, if I could live Day 33 over, I would have violated Leave No Trace principles and chucked the Darn Good Chili Mix into the forest for the ants and squirrels to deal with. But no, not Fob! I was going to be creative, to adapt, to take matters into my own hands. I intended to eat those 8 servings of chili on my own terms, following my own instructions. Translation: all 9.8 ounces of the Darn Good mix, only 2.5 cups of water, no tomato paste, and just 8 minutes of simmer time. For you cooks out there, including my brother-in-law Scott, warning sirens are now going off. I had no clue. I was a stupid, exhausted, hungry hiker. And I was about to create what Hispanics call Chile Bola De Fuego Nuclear…the highly toxic Nuclear Fireball Chili! My creation smelled terrific, but was thicker than a DQ Blizzard made with 10W-40 motor oil and the brown sugar cinnamon pop tart sawdust at the bottom of my food bag. You could set fence posts with this stuff.  To make it just juicy enough to swallow, I added my final three packets of Tabasco sauce. If this were a movie, the scary music would be starting now.

As I slowly ate, a process that took 40 minutes (about 5 minutes per serving), I ignored the warning signs, including a mountain-shaking belch after every third or fourth bite. I was a hungry long-distance hiker, this was my own recipe, and I was going to eat it. All of it.  In retrospect, I was being Fobstinate.  As Tetris looked on, that’s exactly what I did. He remained silent, but had a concerned, “Is he really going to eat all that?” look on his face. A closer friend would have intervened.

(TMI Alert: Sensitive readers should bail out now.)

I finished off the last of the eight Darn Good servings, said good night, and crawled into my tent just after 9 p.m., hiker midnight. At 9:05, my stomach made the sound of a mother grizzly bear mourning the loss of her cubs.  I rolled over onto my stomach on the appropriately named air mattress. My opening salvo was a burst of about nine trouser clouds, as if to announce the arrival of royalty. I heard giggles outside and laughed myself. Then came a 7-second long, high pitched squealer that sounded like someone letting air out of a ballon. I had become a human fart app!  I could fart at will, but much more so when not willed.

Moments later, the partially cooked, partially digested, Tabasco-coated beans in my large intestine began colliding at high speeds, like atomic nuclei. My bowel matter was fusing quicker than I could say Darn Good Chili, and the highly charged particles were converted to photon energy. In other words, I had inadvertently created a nuclear fusion-powered wind tunnel in my digestive track. If I hadn’t donned my emergency travel Depends, escaping Darn Good beans would have been ricocheting all over the inside of my tent.  By 10:30 p.m. when I stopped counting, I had farted more than 220 times. Not just any farts…Darn Good ones.

As embarrassing as the noises were, that wasn’t the real issue. Pungent doesn’t begin to describe the smell in my tent.  I was nesting in a Chernobyl I had created.  Each time I raised my behind, I buried my nose further into my clothes bag. It didn’t work. Do I suffocate in my clothes bag, or die from toxic fumes?  What would they write in my obituary?  I considered opening the tent’s zipper to create a backdraft, but that could invite mosquitos, mice, and other creepy crawlies. (Although technically only the American cockroach could survive in such a toxic environment.) As the minutes passed and the salvos increased in frequency, intensity, and pungency, I became desperate. I didn’t want my thru-hike attempt to end this way. And desperate times call for desperate measures. In times like these, I ask myself, “What would Larry Alexander (my AT mentor) do?” And that’s when it came to me! I reached up with two hands, pulled both earplugs out of my ears, reversed them, and jammed them up my nostrils! Problem solved! Bear Grylls ain’t got nothin’ on Fob!

Fob

“We can’t expect people to act like Jesus when they don’t know him.” – Rachel Elizabeth Johnson

Day 30

I awoke to yet another cold morning and decided I was about ready for Spring to kick in. I heard from a fellow hiker, who heard from a foot guy at an Outfitter, who probably heard from an African witch doctor, that it takes 300 miles of hiking for your “hiking muscles” to form, and 600 miles for your “hiking tendons” to do the same. Having just hiked 300 miles, I was anxious to see if I noticed any difference in my hiking stamina.

After a few miles of downhill hiking, I saw a sign posted on a tree. It told hikers not to befriend or feed any dogs that they were about to see, and to even throw rocks at them if necessary. Apparently some dogs that lived there had followed some friendly hikers northward and never returned. It wasn’t five minutes later, as I approached a foot bridge over a creek, that I saw a pack of dogs barking and charging toward me from a distance. I have been bitten twice by dogs in my life, while jogging in Prattville, Alabama and Swansea, Illinois. I wasn’t about to be bitten again. Testing out my new 300-mile hiking muscles, I made an adrenaline-fueled 50-yard sprint for the footbridge, crossed over it, and spun around in a defensive position with hiking poles extended. My former colleagues at the National War College would have approved of this rarely used, single troop phalanx formation. As the sound of the pack of dogs drew near, the voice in my head said, “Spartans, prepare for glory!” The pack of six dogs arrived seconds later, barking ferociously at me from across the narrow creek. Their leader was a dirty poodle, flanked by a couple of schnauzers, an old hound dog with a limp, and two ugly mutts. I ran from these sorry misfits? Not a single Pitbull or German Shepherd or Doberman. I stood up, stared at my adversaries, and shouted, “Shut your pie holes, you sorry bunch of losers,” then turned and hiked on.

I climbed 4541-foot Lick Rock with a guy named Orange Pacer. He got that name due to a tendency to mix in a little vodka with his orange Gatorade. It helps him “set just the right pace”. I have no doubt. Later, I met 2 sweet ladies from North Carolina out on a section hike. They dream of hiking the AT someday and I told them to go for it. At Sams Gap, one of the ladies gave Orange Pacer and me her last two homemade chocolate chip cookies! Where there’s a gap, there’s often magic!

As I climbed out of Sams Gap, I was feeling pretty good about my stamina and 300-mile leg muscles. Then, from out of nowhere a young, blond, highly attractive gal zoomed passed me with a weiner dog in tow. I don’t mind being passed by a woman, especially one half my age wearing amazing, woman-smelling deodorant. But having a weiner dog with four 3-inch legs blow by you…totally demoralizing! If I had been carrying a bottle of mustard, I’d have squirted it down the length of his back as he went by. So much for having my trail legs.

After a 14.9 mile day, I tented with about 15 others at Low Gap, mile 321.3. There was good and bad around the campfire that night. The good…I met Cambria who not only is from my birth state, Delaware, but was born in the same hospital at Dover Air Force Base!  Since leaving Delaware at age 12, I’ve never met anyone from Delaware, much less from the same hospital where I was born. We shared a few stories and she brought me up to date on the football rivalry between Caesar Rodney and Dover High Schools and other important matters. It was great to meet her and talk to her.

Not so good around the campfire…the pot smoking, which was accompanied by heavy cursing. Several in this group were dropping F-bombs like a common adjective, with the frequency that most people would use the word “the”.  Drug use and cursing are really not compatible with my Christian faith. I don’t do it and I don’t like being around it. I also find it incredible, and a bit sad, that in an environment like the AT, with amazing sights, sounds, and sensations in every direction, that that’s not enough for some. They need additional artificial stimulation to enhance the experience, be cool, or perhaps escape something. I’m not judging them…God handles that and I need to worry about the planks in my own eyes. However, it’s my belief that the empty space in their lives that they are trying to fill with drugs can only be filled by a relationship with Jesus Christ. Such a relationship would likely do wonders for their vocabulary as well.  I didn’t make a scene or go all “campfire preacher” on them. I did decline their offer of drugs, and retired early to my tent where I said a prayer for them.

Like the rest of society, the AT has its good and bad.  Fortunately, my experience to date, including interactions with other hikers, has been overwhelmingly positive.  Positive interactions with attacking dogs…not so much.

Fob

I guess it’s about time I chime in on the blog with what the last month has been like for me while Steve’s (or should I say, Fob’s) been hiking.  I can guarantee you that I haven’t hiked any tall mountains, or slept in a tent, or slept with a bunch of strangers in one room!

As stated in an earlier blog by Steve, we had a terrific weekend in Blue Ridge and Springer Mountain, GA for the big send-off on March 12th. It was wonderful to be surrounded by family and friends, which helped me to not totally lose it mentally as my husband of 28 years takes off down a path to Maine ALONE! I can’t really describe what I was feeling inside, but I was definitely having two very specific thoughts…”I am immensely proud of my husband for sticking to a goal he has had for quite some time.” and “I am very sad that he’s leaving me and heading out ALONE!”  It was at that moment that I truly wished I was going with him.  Unfortunately, that’s not something you can decide at the last minute and fortunately, for me, I came to my senses very quickly!! I prayed, and have prayed over and over during the last month, that God will keep him safe, sane and healthy!

After the group watched Steve head up the trail, we all hugged and said our goodbyes as everyone headed back to their destinations.  My sister, Carol, and I had our own adventure ahead of us as we were heading to Florida to attend a friend’s wedding. So, after the 30-minute drive down the worst road I’ve ever been on and sharpening my Mario Kart skills, we reached the bottom and headed South for 10 hours! My sister and I had not been on a long trip together in a very long time and really hadn’t had a lot of time with just the two of us in years. I can’t say that anymore!  For the next 4 ½ days, we were going to have plenty of time to talk, sing, sleep, and enjoy just being together!

We arrived in Brandon, FL at our friends, The DeBoef’s, about 9:30 p.m. on Saturday. We were welcomed by the 3 DeBoefs and my son, Jason and his wife, Rachel. Carol and I were both tired from our day of driving, but it was wonderful to see all of them and catch up just a bit before heading to bed. Jason and Rachel were staying for church the next morning and then heading off on Sunday afternoon. It was great to see them and hear all that’s going on in their lives in the big city of Dallas. One of the many blessings in my life is watching my children become the men that God is molding them to be and watching them love the women in their lives the way they’ve seen their daddy love me. Playful and teasing, but loving and honoring at the same time. I also enjoyed seeing friends that I miss since we left this past summer. Going to church that morning at Bell Shoals was truly like a little slice of a heavenly reunion. The wedding of our friends was on Monday night on the beach in St. Pete. It was a sweet, beautiful ceremony and I am so happy for both of them. We had fun after the ceremony with good food, good fellowship and a lot of laughter thrown in! To the new couple, Bobby & Brittni, I pray that your union will be blessed everyday by the love you have for each other and for God!

As we prepared to leave Florida on Tuesday morning, Carol had a “bucket list” item that she wanted to try to complete. It wasn’t quite as drastic as Steve’s bucket item and I thought surely I can make this happen. Carol wanted to go on an airboat ride and see some gators! So we headed to Tom & Jerry’s Airboat Rides on Lake Panasoffkee, FL. It was a warm, beautiful day and the scenery was great, but better yet, Carol got to see a gator up close and personal….looked him right in the eyes.

Once we arrived back in SC, I began to settle into a regular routine of what life was going to be like as a “single, but married” woman. I kept myself busy during the day doing a few projects for the wedding and helping my niece get her house ready for new renters. Of course, in the evening we played lots of cards (Hand & Foot and Pegs & Jokers), but at the end of the day, I had to go to bed alone. I must admit, the first few days weren’t too bad, but as the days went on, I really missed that man snoring in my ear and taking up my bed space! It just doesn’t feel right! But I must look on the bright side, at least I’m sleeping in a nice, comfortable bed, unlike Steve.

My next adventure was a trip to Harding University in Arkansas for Spring Sing. I rode out there with my niece, Dana, and her family. Their oldest son is planning to attend there in the Fall and I played tour guide and entertainment coordinator for the weekend. Many of you know that I LOVE Harding and always get very excited about being there. This was a whirlwind quick trip, but still it was “great to be at Harding” (this is their cheesy slogan, but I truly believe it)! I was able to spend some time with Kyle and Laci and Jason and Rachel, along with seeing some other friends that were there. All in all, it was a great weekend and I hope that I was able to help my niece and her husband feel a little more comfortable sending their “baby” off to college 12 hours away from home. Being there with them and witnessing their feelings of letting their son go, brought back lots of memories of just a few years before when I was doing the same thing. My advice to her was, that it’s okay to be sad and to miss him, but letting him go and grow on his own is what you’ve raised him to do. Things are forever changed when they leave for college, but change is not always bad. Embrace the changes and develop a deeper appreciation for who they are as their own person…not just your kid! Having said that, I cried like a baby when I dropped both of mine off there and I expect she will do the same!!

After returning back to SC from Harding, my days have been spent with my family. I have enjoyed just hanging out and being a part of their daily routines and getting to know their church families. Everyone has been so sweet and always asks how that husband of mine is doing. I usually respond, “He’s still walking and as far as I know he’s still having fun!” My middle sister, Cathy, came down from Virginia for about a week and that was fun having us all together again under the same roof. We reminisced about old times, had chocolate gravy for breakfast, went shopping, played games and then I got to do something that I had never done. My brother-in-law, Scott, took us girls to the shooting range. I was the only one in the group that had never been shooting, so Scott gave me the short tutorial of what to do and what not to do (like don’t point the gun at anyone) and then we started shooting a variety of different guns. I have never really been a fan of guns, but I do now at least understand the thrill of pulling a trigger and hitting a target! It was actually a lot of fun and wasn’t nearly as scary as I thought it would be. Of course, in silly “Climer” fashion, we had to take a funny picture to commemorate the day.

The last little bit of excitement this month is that I met some of my old Middle School and High School girlfriends for dinner in Spartanburg. I have reconnected with several of them through Facebook and wanted to take this opportunity to get together. I’ve done this a few times when I’ve come to town and it’s always such a treat to see them and relive some old memories and just catch up with what’s going on with each of them. One of them told me the other night, that when I moved from here in the 11th grade, she was afraid she’d never see me again and she was grateful that has not been the case. I’m grateful for that as well! There’s been a lot of water under the bridge and changes in my life (for the good and the bad) since I was in Middle School, but these girls are part of who I am and of my past and I think it’s good to remember that.

Well, I’ve rambled on quite enough. I am very excited about my next trip because it will bring me back in the arms of my loving husband (after he takes a shower, oh ok probably even before!!) I plan to pick him up near Hampton, TN, and take him to a secluded cottage near Lake Wautaga for a few days. I plan to pamper him and feed him lots of good, fatty foods! So for at least a few days, I won’t have to be a “single, but married” woman and I’m going to really like that!

Lil Jan

“Youth is not a time of life; it is a state of mind; it is not a matter of rosy cheeks, red lips and supple knees; it is a matter of the will, quality of the imagination, and vigor of the emotions; it is the freshness of the deep springs of life.” – Samuel Ullman

Day 26

I awoke, packed up, and began the 7.8 mile descent into Hot Springs. Or should I say, Hot Springs!!! A couple of miles out, I passed a rare Privy Tree that I named Deuce McLarty. They really should plant these about every 10 miles along the AT for hikers on the go.

I arrived at the Hostel at Laughing Heart Lodge just after noon. Tie, the amazing caretaker, welcomed me and gave me a tour of the place. There is a nice lodge, perfect for romantic getaways…along with a hostel, perfect for hikers who just need a shower, bed, hot coffee, and some food. The first order of business was to get my mail. My wife, Lil Jan and sister, Ellen, had both sent me care packages! Among other things, I was blessed with homemade cookies with Hershey kisses on them (thanks, El!), beef jerky, gummy bears, cards, and notes. After reading Lil Jan’s encouraging card, I kept hoping Survivor’s Jeff Probst would pop his head in and tell me I had a special visit from a loved one. That didn’t happen…but will soon.

After showering, I walked a half mile to take care of the usual trail town business…doing laundry at the Wash Tub and resupplying food at Bluff Mountain Outfitter. Several hikers, including Stitch, Orbit, Mom, Moses, Deadwood (and his visiting parents) and me gathered at the Spring Creek Tavern for some food, fun, and story telling. Oddly, it felt like a family reunion. I devoured a giant cheeseburger with jalapeños and French fries, in an attempt to slow up my weight loss. I learned that Moses melted his insoles while drying them by a campfire, and that Jenga (who wasn’t with us) earned that trail name after getting drunk in Franklin and toppling over. I also learned that, sadly, a sight-seeing helicopter had crashed in the Smokies on April 4th, killing all 5 people on board.  What I didn’t know, yet, is that Deadwood’s parents would be bringing Trail Magic donuts to the hostel while I was in the shower!  Well done, Mr. and Mrs. Deadwood!

I was especially glad at dinner to sit next to Fisherman, aka Fernando, one of the Hikers Formerly Known as ABBA. He got delayed in Hot Springs waiting on a late-arriving hammock that he ordered…and plans to crush some big mileage days to catch his Swiss hiking partners. He confirmed for me what I had suspected…that Switzerland, Sweden, and Swaziland are, in fact, entirely different countries. He is a Swiss architect specializing in mountain chalets, and said he’d hook me and Lil Jan up in one next time we’re in Gothenburg. I’m holding him to that.  He also loves to fly fish and ties his own flies (thus the trail name), and plans to do some fly fishing along the AT. His favorite Swiss food is fondue and his favorite American food is steak…which costs $60 and up in Switzerland for 12 ounces. By the end of the night, he was my best Swiss friend ever.

Day 27

I had three priorities on my zero day in Hot Springs. First, I made several phone calls to the family to let them know I was alive and well. It was great to hear their voices and get caught up on family matters. Talking to my wife is like Ramen noodles with potatoes and Tabasco sauce for my soul.  My dad continues to adjust to life without mom, and I’m proud of him.  I also got to FaceTime with Mrs. Wilkinson’s class back at Foundation Christian Academy (where I used to teach).  They are one of two classes following my journey and doing various assignments related to it.  It was fun to talk to them and answer their many questions.

Second, I decided to invest $20 for a 1-hour soak in a hot spring-fed hot tub/whirlpool at the Hot Springs Resort. After walking there for my 3:00 appointment, I realized I had no swim trunks and none were available at the front desk. The lady told me, “You won’t need any swim trunks.  You’ll be alone and the tub has three sides to it, with the open side right on the river.” I looked at her and in my best Austin Powers voice said, “Oh, behave!” Based on her reaction, either I do bad impressions or she hasn’t seen the movie.

The attendant then led me to the river, turned the jets on, and handed me a towel. As I stripped down and lowered myself into the wondrous tub of healing waters, I got that feeling you get when you’re naked in a hot tub in the woods. (If that’s not on your bucket list, it should be.) As my bare behind submerged and then floated to the top, I wondered if the local Boy Scouts ever canoe down this river. (“Look away, Joey, that’s not a rare albino manatee, that’s Fob’s behind!”)

I decided to send a hot tub selfie to Lil Jan, but only from the shoulders up.  In light of FCC Rule 438-09-b, Obscenity on Commercial Airwaves, and National Forest Service Pamphlet 10-8, Sexting from the AT, I had to be very careful what I sent. Even my chosen pose was arguably “overly sexy” and in violation of federal law.

After my 1-hour relaxing soak, I got dressed and walked to the Smoky Mountain Diner for a large, supreme pizza, my third priority for the day.  For the first time on my AT journey, I was unable to finish a meal.  (An embarrassing shame for a long distance hiker.) As I returned to the hostel with half a pizza in a box, I saw two tired, weary young hikers descend from the mountain and approach the hostel like I had done the day prior. I asked if they wanted half a large, still warm supreme pizza. Their faces lit up and they said, “Are you serious?  Absolutely!”  Watching them close their eyes and gobble it down in under 3 minutes, it felt good to be on the giving end of trail magic for a change. In fact, as awesome as it was to get the two care packages, I felt an even deeper satisfaction watching those two guys smile and devour that pizza.  Perhaps that’s the kind of thing Jesus had in mind when he said, “It’s more blessed to give than to receive.”

Fob

Serendipity – Luck that takes the form of finding valuable or pleasant things that are not looked for.

Providence – The means by which God directs all things, both animate and inanimate, seen and unseen, good and evil — toward a worthy purpose, which means His will must finally prevail.

The lucky twists, the fortunate breaks, the way a series of seemingly random events can work in conjunction to produce an unexpected favorable outcome…do you call them serendipity?  Or is it God’s Providence at work?  The older I get, the less I believe in luck or randomness…and the more I believe in a loving God orchestrating a few twists, and engineering a few breaks, to provide and sustain his children.  Even when bad things happen, God is there bringing out the good and maybe teaching us some things in the process.

Day 9

I really wanted to attend worship services Sunday morning in Hiawassee, because I need that and know that opportunities to do so will be limited over the next 6 months.  The church, though, was 10 miles out of town…hike-able, but hikers don’t really like hiking non-AT miles unless we have to.  So I googled a number associated with the Hiawassee Church of Christ…and got the former minister who is no longer there.  He gave me a possible contact of Robert Jarrard…there are a few of them.  Left a message for the first one.  The second one, Bobby, answered and said he doesn’t go there but his brother does.  He also offered me a ride!  On the way to services, we drove by his beautiful lakeside home and I commented on it. He said, “you should see inside,” and then he pulled in and gave me a tour of the place.  A kind man…being used by God to give me a “good break.”

Really enjoyed worshipping with the good folks of H CoC.  They average 12, but had 17 that morning due to several visitors.  A faithful group, despite small numbers and their long-time preacher being out for some time with an apparent serious illness.  They even extended the invitation for me to teach in their Sunday School class, so I taught on “spiritual applications from hiking the AT.”

Meanwhile, there was the issue of getting from church back to the trail…about a 20 mile journey.  How would God come up with a “lucky twist?”  Well, from out of nowhere I hear from Mark Crum, a high school (and Facebook) friend I haven’t seen in 32 years.  He said his family would be in the area and would love to take me to lunch and then deliver me back to the Trail.  Cha-Ching!  He has an adorable and extremely kind wife and 2 children….such a sweet family.  They took me to Brothers at Willow Ranch where I feasted on the Chicken Alfredo and salad.  Then, before dropping me back on the trail, they gave me a bag of assorted Girl Scout cookies!  Thank you, Team Crum!

I got on the trail at 2:20 and banged out 7.4 miles to Rich Cove Gap (elevation 3532 ft).  The temperature was dropping quickly and my watches barometer was trending downward.  As I pitched Big Agnes, the snow began to fall.  Just after getting camp set up, eating, and crawling into my tent, the snow turned to freezing rain.  Perfect timing, and luck had nothing to do with it.

Sir Fob

“Everywhere is walking distance if you have the time.”   – Stephen Wright

Day 6

As I broke camp on Rocky Mountain, two hikers came by with their dog and stopped for a rest.  The older bearded guy, Relic Hunter, was straight out of Deliverance…and I mean that as a compliment.  He completed half a thru hike several years ago.  While on the trail in Virginia, a bear grabbed a hold of his backpack which was leaning next to a tree by his tent.  He got out, changed underwear, and followed the bear at a distance.  It eventually dropped the foodless pack and moved on.  Today the pack, with 3 bear claw punctures, hangs in his garage.

The younger, thin guy, Loud Owl, looked pretty tired and worn out.  I asked him where the trail name came from and he explained that “owls can get pretty loud.”  Fair enough.  I reciprocated and told him about a time my offspring defiled a trail and that made him smile.  I also learned that he was about out of food. So I gave him my relatively heavy bag of trail mix.  His face lit up like a Christmas tree and he said, “thanks, Fob.”  It seemed like a good and decent thing to do, but I had some other motives: 1) I’ve learned out here that I never crave trail mix…especially the sweet, messy kind.  I was just carrying it up and down mountains; and 2) Reducing weight whenever possible is always a good thing.  It was a Win-Win for me and young Loud Owl.

Later, I came across Driftwood who is hiking with her 20 year old special needs son, Wildwood.  He doesn’t speak, but can communicate with basic sign language.  I spent some time with them at Neels Gap and observed how good and caring and patient she is with him.  It was good to see them and I find them very inspirational.  I really want to see them finish this hike.

I descended Rocky Mountain and then began the long climb up Tray Mountain, the 7th tallest in Georgia.  On the way up, I squeezed water out of a stream while a nearby brother and sister ginger team, straight from Hogwarts, washed their hair.  It just never occurred to me to wash my hair in a Georgia stream in March.  Next, I stopped for a break and met a French-speaking Canadian from Quebec with the trail name Diguidou!, which is slang for “everything’s good”.   Neither of us spoke the other’s language, but I wanted to impress him and make him feel at home…so I said the only French words I know…”Oui, Oui, omelette du frommage” which means, “Yes, yes, cheese omelette.”  He looked at me, understandably puzzled, and decided break time was over.  I probably set U.S.-Canadian relations back by 20 years, and for that I’m truly sorry.

At mile 60.9, I stopped and had a candy bar at Young Lick Knob which is followed by a dip at mile 62.2 called Swag of the Blue Ridge.  I’m guessing the Native Americans who named these parts had a pretty wild party that night.  At Addis Gap, I hung out with Castaway, a sailor who I met on the trail on Day 1.  He’s trying to make it to Virginia in the time he has off from work.

After a final climb over Kelly Knob, I descended into Deep Gap Knob and set up camp near the shelter there.  There were around 25 tents set up in the vicinity, and some lively dinner conversation around the picnic table.  Most hikers were in their early to mid 20s, and the topic that evening was student loan debt and how to avoid paying it.  Options ranged from “just vote for Bernie Sanders” to “just don’t pay it…education is not like a house they can foreclose on…once you have it you have it.”  A ginger, with remarkably vibrant hair, suggested college was a complete waste of money.  I had thoughts on these subjects, like one should only borrow money if one has the intent and ability to pay it off eventually.  But I kept those thoughts to myself and instead focused on keeping my fettuccine Alfredo down.  It wasn’t the time and place for a lecture from an old conservative guy sitting on a log with salt formations in his Spanish Moss-looking beard.

Later, I noticed 2 German guys sitting off by themselves so I went and talked to them about trail names and my time stationed at Spandahlem Air Base.  Even later, I struck up a conversation with an impressive young man from Jackson, MS, who turned out to be The Beaver…the son of a friend of a friend who I had been asked to track down.  I only wish Diguidou  from Quebec had been there to see that I had tracked a beaver in the wilderness.

Day 7

I woke up highly motivated at 6am, because I needed to hike 3.6 miles to catch the 9am shuttle into Hiawassee for some time off.  I packed up everything in the dark and departed at 6:45am while everyone else was still in their tents.  I got a chance to use my headlamp for the first hour, and enjoyed hiking in the dark.  Just gotta watch the steep ledges.  About a half mile from the pickup point at Dicks Creek Gap, I went by a trail maintainer who was blowing leaves off the trail.  I knew these folks removed trees and limbs, but it never occurred to me they used leaf blowers to keep the trail clear.  I thanked him.

I arrived at the Budget Inn and signed up for 2 nights, in order to get a full zero day on Saturday, give my heels some time to heal, and to hopefully get to church services on Sunday.  It’s not a race and I plan to enjoy these trail towns while I’m here.  While waiting for my room to get ready, I met Pat and Meagan, a mother-daughter thru-hiking team from Vermont.  Meagan graduated from Dartmouth, taught English for awhile, and is getting married in October.   It was her birthday, and we were all craving coffee, so I took them for some coffee and conversation at the nearby Dairy Queen.  They filled me in on the Green and White mountains I’ll face up north.  Fun, random fact:  the Asian guy who made our coffee was the first non-Caucasian person I had seen in a week.

Once my room was ready, I took a long hot bath followed by a long hot shower, did some laundry, and then headed straight for Daniel’s All-You-Can-Eat Steakhouse!  It was so, so very good!  I had a salad, bread, potatoes, fried chicken, fried fish, fried shrimp, pees, Mac n Cheese, baked beans, strawberry dessert, 2 waters, 2 diet cokes, a tall glass of chocolate milk, and a cup of coffee.  Did I mention it was really good?  Maybe I won’t lose weight after all!

As I walked back to the hotel, I re-supplied at a Dollar General and then headed back to the Budget Inn.  Several 20-something hikers were gathered around a campfire next to the Inn drinking, smoking and sharing hiking war stories.  I stopped by for a few minutes to chat, then headed off to bed…actually a sleeping bag on top of the bed.  It was good to be in civilization.

Day 8

Saturday…my first Zero Day!  My goals were to eat, rest, take a nap, prepare my backpack, and call my wife and father.  I was able to get all that in.  I had a foot-long Italian BMT sub at Subway for brunch, and was joined by a traveling soccer team from Francis Marion University out of Florence, SC.  I finished off the day with a Quesalupa combo and a beefy 5-layer burrito for dessert.  Glad I got a single room.

It was a great zero day and I love Hiawassee.  But I’m anxious to get back on the trail tomorrow and get some more miles in.

Everything is going well.  In fact…Diguidou!

Sir Fob

“I intend to make Georgia howl.”  – William Tecumseh Sherman

Day 4

It’s only fitting that The Hunger Games and The Walking Dead were both filmed in Georgia.  In my first week on the trail in Georgia, I have experienced zombie-like stretches when all I thought about was food.

Fortunately, as I awoke at the Walasi-Yi hostel on the morning of day 4, hunger was not going to be an issue.  A friend and fellow sojourner, Maureen Welch, arrived with her family at 9am with a ton of McDonalds food and coffee!  God bless her dear soul!  There was enough for Matt and me and others to devour sausage and egg biscuits and cinnamon thingies.  I enjoyed meeting her family.  After sharing a few hiking stories, we prayed together, and I specifically thanked God for Maureen being a true trail angel early in my journey.

Matt’s legs were really bothering him, so he decided to take a zero and stay another night.  Since the weather was nice and I was feeling good, I decided to head on out.  As I left Neels Gap, I thought of my Uncle Phil who hiked the 40 miles from Amicalola Falls to Neels Gap as a 65-year-old about 15 years ago.  (Mad respect for you, Uncle Phil!)

It was another warm day and I was glad I had done a good bit of my training in Florida.  Mid-afternoon, I descended into Tesnatee Gap and discovered more trail magic!  King Tut and Angela were serving snacks and drinks, answering questions, and offering crochet winter hats courtesy of the Crochet Group from Bethlehem Georgia’s United Methodist Church.  I took one and now use it as my clothes bag cover, which is also my pillow.  Thanks, ladies!

The climb out of Tesnatee was the toughest to date, especially for my blistered right heel.  I missed Matt, but enjoyed taking a few breaks and getting to know other hikers.  First there was a guy from California who sold all his possessions and is traveling around the country in a van with his dog.  (I thought, what kind of a nut job goes and does something like that?)  Next were two ladies hiking together, one of whom lives near Tinker AFB, OK (our first AF assignment).  At Blue Mountain Shelter, I met a medically retired Marine and his girlfriend.  We shared stories of our time in Afghanistan.  He was in the lead vehicle of a convoy in Helmand Province when an IED exploded, sending him and others flying through the air.  His face was torn off and had to be reconstructed.  Kudos to his docs, because his face looks really good.  He doesn’t have a trail name yet, but it would be alright with me if people called him Hero.

After 10.5 miles, I called it quits atop Sheep Rock Top mountain.  It was a good warm day of hiking.  In fact, as I settled in for the night, I noticed salt formations from my profuse sweating had formed on my backpack straps.

Day 5

I woke up to a beautiful sunrise this morning.  Before heading out, I spent a fair amount of time building moleskin patches for my blisters on both heels.  I descended into Low Gap Shelter to get water and then spent this 12.1 mile day doing a series of small ups and downs.

At the Blue Mountain summit, I spoke with a young, fast-hiking, red-bearded guy from Murfreesboro TN.  He spent 22 years affiliated with the churches of Christ and then moved on to the Baptists and then another group.  He said he was out here to find himself and figure things out.  I hope he finds what he’s looking for and can use this experience to re-connect with a God who loves him and is evident at every turn.

The final climb of the day out of Unicoi Gap was intense.  I try to take those fairly slowly and just keep putting one foot in front of the other.  I also think of weird things to focus on.  For example, I wondered what it would run me to have my friends Adam Key and Mickey Shrader do mold remediation on my body after the hike.

Exhausted, I set up camp on Rocky Mountain, with wonderful views from 4017 feet.  I fired up some chicken and rice on the MSR Pocket Rocket and gobbled it down way too quickly…a losing play in The Hunger Games.  I called Lil Jan and was thrilled to hear her voice.  Unfortunately, as she updated me on happenings back in the real world, I had to put her on speaker as my acid reflux kicked in and I started throwing up.  It was like, “Yes, dear” (barf)…”that’s good news” (gag), etc.  Sorry, honey!  And sorry I missed out on those carbs!  It wasn’t the most romantic, mountain top phone conversation I’d ever had…but then again I guess it was.

Fob

After much reflection and consideration, I have accepted the trail name…Sir Fob W. Pot.  It can be shortened to Sir Fob or simply Fob.

I will share the back story, or at least a version of it that I know.  I don’t know all the specifics, but I think I have the general gist of what went down.  Several years ago, when my youngest son Kyle (now a college senior) was in about 9th grade, he went on an Adventure Trek with Larry Alexander and 20 or so other teenagers.  Larry is an AT and PCT thru hiker (trail name: Baro), friend, author, and my AT mentor.  He takes groups out into the wilderness for several days of team-building, hiking, and rappelling.

One evening, as the group descended into their campsite, Kyle was left with the impression that they would be hiking out the opposite way the following morning.  About 10pm, nature called in a big way.  Kyle felt the rumble in his tummy and needed to act quickly.  As there was no privy, the proper procedure was to go into the woods, a good 30-50 yards away from camp, dig a hole, do your business, bury it, and return to camp.  Above all else, you are to “leave no trace.”  This is an established camping principle dating back at least to the time of Noah.

Kyle, with a still developing frontal lobe, decided to divert from the operating manual.  Maybe he was scared…or lazy…or simply trying to beef up his résumé to get into the Knights social club at Harding one day.  Whatever the motivation, he headed back up the same trail the group came in on, dropped his trousers around his ankles, and in a moment of moral weakness, in the light of the moon, took a massive dump in the center of the trail.  Perhaps immediately realizing his grave mistake, he sprinkled a few leaves on top for good measure and walked back down the trail to camp.

The next morning, Baro assembled the young hikers and told them they would be hiking back out the way they came in.  Kyle’s eyes widened and he immediately got a big lump in his throat (but not nearly as big as the lump he had criminally left sitting 50 yards up trail with a few leaves on it).

As they approached the Kyle pile, Baro immediately spotted it and tried to shield the eyes of the younger hikers, but it was too late.  An avid outdoorsman, Baro closely examined it and revealed what others suspected…this was a pyramid of human waste.  So he circled the troops around this disgusting mound of filth, and gave a short speech on the sanctity of trails, leave no trace principles, and accountability.  They weren’t leaving until someone owned this horrendous trail violation. After a few awkward moments of silence, Kyle shrugged his shoulders and sheepishly raised his hand.  Baro sighed, shook his head, and gave Kyle his official trail name:  Trail Pooper.

Fast forward to last week…as I began my AT trek, Baro suggested I be named Fob W. Pot…Father Of Boy Who Pooped On Trail.  My first hiking partner, Matt, loved it.  He suggested I add Sir in front of it to make it more dignified…and because I was the oldest person he’d seen in 3 days.  I discussed the name with several other thru hikers and they loved it and the story behind it.

In addition to the great story, it connects me to family (Trail Pooper), to my AT hiking mentor (Baro), and to my first AT hiking partner, Matt. It’s a name I earned by virtue of being partly responsible for the birth of Kyle, the Trail Pooper himself.

And who knows?  Maybe someday Kyle and Laci will have a son, an adventurer type, and all the hiking world will come to know him as Sob W. Pot.

Fob