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.)