Day 31: Springer Mountain, Georgia.

We are done. 

It took my pregnancy-compromised immune system 3 days to recover from whatever stomach bug I caught from another hiker. We were covering 18-20 miles per day, and were ready to finish ahead of schedule. Then I was knocked out of commission. A decision had to be made: We could both wait for me to heal, or Forrest could continue without me. As every Iditarod fan knows: "You win the race by the dogs you drop." 

Neither one of us wanted to prolong the finish by an unknown number of days, and we all know I am not a stickler for completing each and every footstep of the AT.

As Forrest marched on at his 25-30 mpd pace, my usefulness transferred to logistics. As my stomach healed, I procured a rental car in an obscure small town, got there to collect it, and needed to station it at the finish of the AT. 

I drove the windy mountain roads, getting lost and crossing the trail multiple times, checking on our lead hiker.

Seeing the small towns of northern Georgia was a mixture of bible meetings, rebel flags, single-wide trailers, gorgeous fall leaves, and then -- out of nowhere-- a little Germany. (The town of Helen, GA has enforced a strict Bavarian building code since the 1960s, all based on drawings from a soldier that was stationed overseas. The town has little to no German heritage, but they like to celebrate Oktoberfest.)

I learned that the first real gold rush in the US was in north Georgia. The rich gold deposits here caused a rush for land and claims, created many of the small towns, prompted the federal government to place a mint here, and led directly to the removal of the Cherokee via the more

famous "Trail of Tears."

Finding the southern terminus of the Appalachian Trail is no small task, and when I was well enough, I negotiated our oversized Chrysler down miles of bumpy dirt forest service roads, getting slowed by bumps, holes, curves, and covered wagon traffic. 

When the car was somewhere we could reach it from the end, I put my pack back on and hiked north to find Forrest.

We summitted Springer Mountain together, which really isn't much more than a hill.

We finished the trail from Maine to Georgia in 128 days total. Forrest walked each and every of the 2189 total miles. I walked just under 2000, about 400 of those while pregnant. We saw bears, moose, salamanders, chipmunks, squirrels, mice and way too many snakes. We went through 3 pair of shoes and 2 backpacks each.

It was difficult all of the time, and unpleasant most of the time, but we both have a lot of fond memories of things we saw, people we met, and experiences shared. For me, the highlight worth the blisters was watching Forrest strive and excel at something he's wanted since he was 12. His perseverance, skill in the outdoors, stewardship, patience, and helpfulness were inspiring and I learned more than I know from walking through this with him. Watching people we love succeed at their dreams has to be one of God's best gifts. 

Another of God's lesser gifts, a well-done brunch, is our next goal and I'm taking the Chrysler to Atlanta in search of it.

Day 27: Hiawassee, GA. 2119.6 miles from Katahdin, 69.6 miles from Springer Mt.

To exemplify the ironic laziness of long-distance hikers, we rented a golf cart to do our laundry at our last stop, rather than walk a half mile round trip to the laundromat. The next day, we got up, scarfed down pancakes, and walked almost 18 miles on the trail. 

We were cruisin' towards Georgia and just had one more resupply, which we had already shipped to the Nantahala Outdoor Center, a white water kayaking and rafting destination right on the AT.

I had a great cheat planned that would cut out 15 miles of trail where the AT took a ridiculous bend, and another trail went straight across and connected. I was so pleased that my map (which Forrest does not think we need) was helping me outsmart the trail. Then I got a stomach bug. So, I walked to the nearest road and hitchhiked to town to rest. It is much less satisfying to outright skip days of trail due to being confined to a Holiday Inn Express than to sneakily skip parts on forest service roads.

Forrest marched on into Georgia without me-- I rode across the state line with a nice church lady whose good deed of the week was "rescuing" a pregnant lady from hitchhiking. Being in Georgia has already revealed two interesting facts: 1)chewing tobacco can be purchased by the half-gallon; and 2) my husband thinks that "Gone with the Wind" is an airplane movie.

We are shooting to make Springer Mountain before the week is out... We just have to keep our tobacco weight under control.

Day 22: Fontana Dam, NC. 2024.5 miles from Katahdin, 164.7 from Springer Mt.

What could be more fun than hiking the Appalachian Trail? Doing so in a hurricane. We hiked into Great Smoky Mountain National Park on the eve on Hurricane Matthew pummelling the east coast. It's long arms of wind and rain swept all the way to the Appalachian Mountains. We had a little bit of shelter from the storm, thanks to your tax dollars.

GSMNP is America's most visited National Park-- reporting 9.5 million visitors annually. Nine million of those visitors never leave what the National Park Service calls "the front country" and the lay person calls "the road."  (Imagine driving a carload of children to a huge playground and never leaving the parking lot. I know a few six-year-olds that would call that crazy, but that's how most Americans treat our park system.)

Even the "few" half million visitors annually that make it into the "back country" at GSMNP create quite an impact, so the park service insists that everyone concentrate camping to 3-sided shelters-- these were blessed protection from inches of rain and strong winds.
The Federal Government, in their wisdom, has also redirected funding from trail maintenance (which is atrocious on the AT in the park) to ensuring the few privies (outhouses) at said shelters are handicap "usable." The result is a pit toilet in a wooden box large enough for a wheelchair, complete with stainless steel lift bars and handles. You would never get a wheelchair down the miles of trails to these privies, but perhaps even more short-sighted is they didn't even outfit the stalls with ramps.
I only got to analyse a few privies,because of a long-standing Tennessee law forbidding outhouses. This law was apparently made ages ago to encourage people to convert to indoor plumbing, it's current practice results in thousands of people forced to camp and shelter in the same areas with zero waste management plan.

If the government didn't give us enough to think about, camping with packs of strangers certainly did. When it was raining, we were the only people in the shelter to hang our food bag from a tree (a method used to keep bears from eating you in your sleep while trying to get to your peanut butter). We concluded that most Americans would rather risk attack to themselves and their neighbors by large wild animals than get their backpacks wet.

The highest mountain in Tennessee is located in GSMNP: Clingman's Dome (6655'). This is also the highest mountain on the Appalachian Trail. It is adorned with an ugly concrete tower, and no other commemoration of the walker's lofty accomplishment besides recognizing, by all the crowds, that one could drive here. At least we know in our hearts that it's all downhill from here. Too bad walking downhill while pregnant is pretty difficult.

Within 2 weeks of accomplishing our goal, I stand by my original claim that hiking the AT while pregnant is not worse or harder than hiking last year, but it is slower. I also really miss Aleve, which I popped multiple times per day to ease sore joints and feet, but cannot safely ingest right now. However, the trail is a great escape from random people touching my stomach, a particularly irksome practice of our culture that has, thankfully, not transferred to the hiking community. It could be because I smell so bad, but, so long as we hang our food, I can travel through the woods unmolested.

Day 16: Hot Springs, NC. 1914.8 miles from Katahdin, 273.7miles from Springer Mt.

Fewer than 300 miles to go, I have just entered my 3rd trimester, and, in my greatest coup to date, I am about to skip 33 miles of trail. The 3s are all lining up.

I made the mistake of picking up Forrest's pack at lunch the other day, just to move it. It was almost too heavy to lift, and only then did I realize how much of my gear he has sequestered into his pack. This guy can move uphill on rocks at a walking sprint; packs out every piece of litter he sees, even though his own pack is over-full; and, he is doing 100 push-ups per day because he is "not getting enough exercise" walking 16-20 miles daily. For these reasons, we both agreed I would take a day of rest while he stomps out an "easy" 33 miles in just over 24 hours.

The Appalachian Trail in the South is much easier trail than in the North-- less steep climbs and descents and better groomed trail, for the most part. We have been walking the spine of the Blue Ridge that separates Tennessee and North Carolina and are about to plunge into the Great Smoky Mountains, the country's most visited National Park and site of a continual eating competition between obese Americans and American Black Bears.

Forrest's pack belt keeps getting smaller and smaller, and mine keeps getting bigger. I get lots of entertaining reactions from other hikers when they notice my belly:  from squeals to "you are so brave" to "do you drink a lot of beer or are you pregnant?" 

Day 12: Erwin, TN. 1846.3 miles from Katahdin, 342.9 to Springer Mt.

"I can't read, so I don't bother with signs." This is what our hitchhiking ride informed us as he drove us into town to buy supplies, where the TN/GA football game was on big screen and loud speaker at the Food Lion.

Every valley in this part of Tennessee is called a "hollow," but pronounced "holler." We've heard tales that each holler is occupied by a different family, usually feuding with the family in the next holler, Hatfield & McCoy style.

We are now picking our way along the Tennessee/North Carolina border, staying as far above the hollers as possible, except when we descend for supplies.

Fall is coming: the leaves are just beginning to change and the sky is raining acorns and chestnuts, one of which beaned Forrest, a direct hit from a mischievous squirrel.

As painful as the AT is, there are some redeeming qualities: the food, the kindness of strangers, and the appreciation it gives you for the overlooked. 

Hiking and camping for days, carrying everything you need with you, gives you a new appreciation for how wonderful a well-prepared meal is (like this one, at Mountain Harbour Hostel), or the luxury of a warm clean bed, conveniently elevated above the ground. Things we take for granted have again, after less than 2 weeks of hiking, become sources of joy-- maybe this is why many religions advocate fasting.

Appreciation of all the luxuries in our life, no matter how small, is something of which we all could use more. Today, as we trudge on, I will appreciate the ability to read.

Day 9: Roan Mountain, TN. 393 miles from Springer Mountain

Guess what the temperature is in the south in September? About the same as the South most of the time: hot with a side of humid. The locals keep threatening it will cool down, but probably not enough to make walking uphill with a pack less than sweltering.

Tennessee is chuck full of black bears and also chuck full of people and vacationers that see no reason to keep their food and trash far from the Bears. Generally, people don't want to be around hungry bears. But, if you continually feed animals, they will hang around-- look at dogs. Much of the Appalachian Trail in Tennessee struggles with so called "problem" bears and there are warnings and closures to hikers.

Since being in Tennessee, I have been convinced to buy "southern" hiking socks, crossed paths with a 5-foot black racer snake, stayed in the world's grossest hostel with 14 resident cats, and been bit in the leg by a tiny dog.

The only thing keeping me in this is my talent for cheating at long-distance exercise. With a few map reading skills, I am able to shave off a mile here or there while my partner diligently walks each and every step of the trail even faster than I can skip parts.

Forrest is carrying the majority of the load and spurring us onward to victory (or at least completion), and I am ready to move onward, at least to another state.

Day 4: Damascus, VA 1719.9 from Katahdin, 469.3 from Mt. Springer

The human mind is amazingly forgetful. Women say childbirth is extremely painful, but then all sorts of people have multiple children. Well, I have been saying for the past year how painful and unpleasant the Appalachian Trail is, but was able to forget that enough to come out here again to try to finish. Guess what? It's as miserable as it was last time.

We are on the cusp on leaving Virginia and entering Tennessee. The last 60+ miles have been views of wild flowers and wild ponies, paved with wild rocks and wild roots. Our feet are blistering up and our appetites are growing.

I've changed a little bit of the hiking formula to accommodate being pregnant. First off, I got a "go for it!" from my OB doc, and a "proceed with cautionary measures" from my midwife. I'm hiking fewer miles per day (currently about 15), drinking a lot more water (thanks to a friend's hydration bladder I can just wear and drink from constantly), and wearing compression socks on my calves to help circulation. Downhills are even harder than they used to be, and downhills were never fun. The biggest difference is for Forrest-- if he sees me struggling, he takes my pack on his front (with double packs, going downhill with no view of his next footfall, he is still faster than I am).

I have to stop and pee about every mile. So, 469 more pee breaks and we'll be done.

Day 1 (or 98 with a pause): Marion, VA, 530 miles from Springer Mountain, GA

With less than 50 pounds of gear and food in two packs, and three flights to North Carolina accomplished, we thought we were ready to hit the trail. I was even amazed that we had not had any unpleasant experiences flying Delta-- something very unusual from an airline famous for their bad customer service... then I saw Forrest's backpack come off the baggage carousel.
Or, what WAS Forrest's backpack. The specimen before me was wide open, missing it's closure straps and clasps, folded, shredded, crushed and wreaking of peanut butter. The frame of the pack had been folded in half, so you could no longer even put it on your back unless you are a Cirque du Soleil performer.
One could practically examine the contents from all the holes in the bag, but we took the items out for a closer look. The Thermarest sleeping pad had multiple slashes and holes in it. The tent poles had been bent and shattered. The stuff sacks were all shredded. Our cook pot had been sat on by an elephant. Forrest's sunglasses were fine, just now in three neat pieces. The only thing unscathed was his sleeping bag.
The woman at the Delta Baggage Services Counter gave him a blank look and said, "Well, you're bag is obviously overpacked." With a loose 24 pound load, the 58 liter pack was barely half full.

What kind of pressure would crush a metal pot to this degree?

Delta requires that you file a claim for damaged luggage within 24 hours of loss. Then they allow themselves 4-6 weeks to let you know if they will compensate you for any of it. You must prove (with receipts) that you owned everything that was in your bag. They will not divulge their replacement/reimbursement policies, nor give you a copy of the claim they type up at the counter.
We have re-outfitted, thanks to the help our family in Charlotte, and are ready to embark. We may be done hiking before Delta takes a look at our claim. I am not optimistic that they will pay to replace anything, nor am I optimistic that they will explain how or why two objects can arrive in the same place at the same time, yet my backpack was evidently carried by angels with kid gloves and Forrest's went through an industrial strength trash compactor operated by The Wolverine.

Back to the Trail... with a Free Rider

We are going to try it again-- the Appalachian Trail, that is-- Forrest would really like to finish what we've started.  I would just like it all somewhere so far behind me that we never discuss returning to it again. Our packs are lighter, as it is 82 degrees in Virginia right now, but I am heavier, as I am 6 months pregnant.

There really never was a better time to be pregnant, given the popularity of lycra-based pants and La Croix sparkling water. But, alas, I will be leaving these sweet commodities behind to again take up my pack.

We believe we can finish the last 530 miles to Mt. Springer in 35 days, so start your clocks. (I actually don't believe I can do it, and being a quitter is not something I am above.)

Happy New Year through April Fools!

We left the AT and celebrated the holidays with family, friends, and lots of dogs.

Then we almost immediately launched a self-guided river trip down the Grand Canyon. Floating yourself and all your supplies with a current is a much easier form of travel than walking and carrying everything on your back.

The Grand Canyon was spectacular and I encourage anyone to travel down this river at some point. We were on the water with 16 friends for 21 days and words cannot do the trip justice; photos can try, and, since Heidi has been requesting them for sometime, here is a set of highlight pics. 

We returned home to Alaska with the news that there had been a 7.1 earthquake near Homer while we were on the river. Our house was fine, except that the Game of Life had fallen off the shelf and its pieces were strewn all over the living room. Ironic.

After ten days of opening mail and catching up on 5 months of absence, things have returned to Homer "normal": skiing, hiking, and looking for summer work.