Day 97: Marion, VA. 1658 miles from Katahdin, 530 miles from Springer.

We got off the trail early! It's a Christmas miracle! The Greer Christmas celebration got moved up, so we are called from the rocks, roots & rain a couple days earlier than planned. 

We tromped, in the rain, of course, to the Mt. Rogers Visitor Center, about 40 miles shy of Tennessee, and laid down our trekking poles to travel to Florida like more reasonable people-- in a car.

We averaged over 17 miles a day, including our days off. Forrest took less than 6 days off from hiking. (I took a few more.) At our current pace, we need about 3 more weeks to reach the southern terminus. That's just not time we have right now. 

I'm heartbroken, as you can imagine, to start eating solid foods, and sleep in comfortable beds, and have more stimulus than rain on my face and leaves crunching underfoot.

I've learned lots of lessons over the past months, like: If you walk uphill for 6 straight miles, you won't be in Heaven, you'll just be tired. I imagine we'll be back to the last 500 or so miles, because you can't turn your back on this kind of education.

Meanwhile, Merry Christmas, God Bless, and keep your feet dry!

Day 92: Pearisburg, VA. 1554.3 from Katahdin, 634.9 from Springer

Virginia is wearing us down.

We have to walk 2-3 hours in the dark everyday to get the required miles in. We have decent headlamps, so this isn't too difficult. However, with a few miles to go the other night, we were climbing over a rock pile and heard a growl. We froze. The growl was repeated. We slowly backed up. We made noise. We talked boisterously. We sang. After a while, after shouting, clanging our poles together, and announcing ourselves to all who cared to listen, we again climbed over the same dark rock pile. Whatever it was had moved on. There are black bears aplenty in Virginia, but there are also mountain lions-- neither of which I would like to meet on a dark rock.

Yesterday, we met some locals out for a day hike and one of them had a 25-inch sheathed blade in his hand. I asked, "What's the knife for?"

"It's for the bars."

I wondered what the nightlife is like that you would carry a machete into a bar with you. Then I realized "bar" is Virginian for "bear," and thought, I'd really like to see that fight. 

Even in the daylight, I don't think these two middle-age men could wield a machete against a bear. I don't think anyone could. Except maybe Lara Croft: Tomb Raider.

Besides being growled at and not having a machete, we have gotten the best of local lore as we pass through towns. One town bragged that they hanged an elephant. As corporal punishment. Had a trial and all. The person relating the story could not recall who represented the elephant. 

In one town we were told: "When they told us we had to desegregate, we just closed the schools." Bet that showed them. By the way, what's the local literacy rate?

I haven't been able to find a bookstore in any town we've passed through to get a local trail map. The bookstore is an endangered species in America. Without a map, we rely heavily on the white blazes painted on trees marking the trail. Usually that's enough, but not in Virginia. Today we got lost, stumbled onto an old section of trail and resurfaced in an industrial complex.

With fresh batteries for our headlamps, we are headed south again. Virginia hasn't beaten us yet.

Day 88: Daleville, VA. 1461.4 miles from Katahdin, 727.8 from Springer.

We have walked from Maine to Georgia!!(in theory). If a sensible person were to drive from Mt. Katahdin to Springer Mountain, they would put 1420 miles on their trip odometer. As you can see, we have done much more than that-- but we are still only halfway through Virginia.

There are 550 miles of trail in Virginia-- a quarter of the whole AT. And, as you guessed, it doesn't exactly run in a straight line across the state.  

We are currently walking the Blue Ridge (of Parkway and John Denver fame), which runs along at about 3000 feet interrupted by a "gap" every 15 miles or so. As we climb down and back up these 3000 vertical foot gaps, I think about the millions of dollars of dental work that would be needed to repair them. 

The leaves have all fallen, which affords us spectacular views. There is a hard frost almost every night and the only greens left are the pines and rhododendrons.

We pass through former revolutionary-era ironworks, ruins of sharecropper communities, and various haunts of Virginia's ghosts.

Bill Bryson wrote: "If there is one thing the AT teaches, it is low-level ecstasy." He was spot on, because I really miss chairs. You are probably sitting in a chair as you read this and thinking nothing of it. Well, that chair is a great thing. When you are used to sitting on moldy logs, lumpy rocks, or just the ground, a chair is divine. At this point, a wooden bench or picnic table is cause for rejoicing.

Yesterday Forrest, who commendably picks up every non-bio hazardous piece of trash he comes across in the woods and packs it out, found a partial pack of gum. It was so exciting to chew gum while we walked that I was almost skipping.

If you can do math (not my strong suit), you have probably figured that we are not going to make it to Springer Mountain by Christmas. We have made our new goal the Tennessee state line. Forrest says we must walk 24 miles per day to get there. So no more time for chairs and gum. We have to get back to that slow-rolling trip odometer.

Day 81: Waynesboro, VA. 1327.5 miles from Katahdin, 861.7 miles from Springer Mountain

Our 108-mile hike through Shenandoah National Park started with the most spectacular sunrise I've ever seen, and then conditions devolved into fog, mist, and rain for days, ad nauseum. (I think there's an axiom to predict this:"red sky in morning...")

We knew that to stay dry at night, we would hike soaking wet as long as it took to get from shelter to shelter until we got to town or the rain stopped. The twist was that our friend Josh and his friend Bobby wanted to meet us and do a couple days of hiking.

If there is an easy way, or an entertaining way to get anywhere, Josh will always choose the entertaining way. So it was no surprise that his entry to the Appalachian Trail involved a rental car, an ill-fated supply run to a vegan grocery store, an argument with a ranger who said the park was closed, and bribing a dad with a van-full of kids to take back roads into the park. They found us by stumbling a mile in the dark, "saving their headlamp batteries," and fortified us with whiskey for the next rainy slog.

Bobby was too smart to hike in these conditions. He climbed back to Skyline Drive and found a ranger to drive him to the next shelter. Josh sloshed out 20+ miles with us. 

The one gear instruction I had given the boys on their way out was "bring rain gear and trash bags to waterproof your gear." The response I got was: "No s%*#, Sherlock." After the first day of long hiking, Josh pulled out a soaked sleeping bag and tried to dry it with the camp stove.

We were sick of rain and ready to get to town, but to get in striking distance as quickly as possible, we had to do an actual marathon: 26.2 miles, to get to a shelter close to town. Josh, limping from his 20-mile initiation and still damp from his night in a wet bag, said he was in. 

We started and finished in the dark, squishing out a total of 27.1 miles in one day. Josh entertained us with stories and kept up for every step of the Shenandoah Marathon. 

Josh & Bobby returned to Baltimore, Forrest and I made it to town, and all of us have renewed appreciation for roofs, hot showers, and non-vegan foodstuffs.

Day 74: Front Royal, VA. 1219.8 miles from Katahdin, 969.4 miles to Mt. Springer

Less than a thousand miles to go! Never would have guessed the thought of 999 miles would be encouraging, but compared to the ground we've already covered, it's nice to have a 3 digit number left.

At the Appalachian Trail Headquarters in Harpers Ferry they have a three-dimensional map of the trail. If they had this at the beginning, it might give aspiring hikers a little more pause. 

The AT HQ people took our photo and informed us that we are #189 & 190 of people that started at Katahdin and made it this far south in 2015.

I am shocked. Fewer than 200 other nutters have done this?!? That is a fairly selective number of crazies we are now included in. There is another batch of 1300-1500 thru-hikers who have walked from the south, but still a pretty low total though all publicity claims these trails are becoming "ever more popular." It seems there is no danger of a long distance hiker boom affecting American life in any way just yet.

With 1200+ miles in 70 hiking days behind us, I was able to convince Forrest to take a 36-hour break from the trail to go celebrate Thanksgiving with nearby family. Never again will we be able to consume as many calories as our current hiking-metabolism allows, so why waste a food holiday? Re-fortified by copious amounts of butter and time in the good company of loved-ones, we are back to conquer The Shenandoahs.

Day 71: Harpers Ferry, WV 1165 miles from Katahdin, 1024 from Springer

We passed the halfway point! Since I met the boys in Pennsylvania, we crossed that marker and the Mason Dixon line-- both halfway markers in different ways.

When I got back on the trail, Travis was 5 days into the famous Pennsylvania rocks.

He had both ankles wrapped in bandages, a brace on one knee, and two sets of insoles in each shoe. 

After 5 more days, he decided to quit and go home. Forrest is bummed to lose a walking companion, but you can't fault someone for being reasonable.

We made it through the rocks of Pennsylvania and into Maryland, which was short (40 miles), but full of Revolutionary and Civil War history signs.

We followed the historic C&O canal towpath into Harpers Ferry, where we were met by Forrest's dad with beer--another great cameo appearance on the trail.

After dinner with him, we are ready to head into Virginia, the AT's largest section of trail.

Day 65: Dancannon, PA. 1051.7 miles from Katahdin, 1137.3 miles from Mt. Springer

This doesn't look like the Appalachian Trail! Because it's not. We escaped and went to Florida to celebrate my dad's 70th birthday. There were so many family members there, this is the most that could be captured on camera at any one time. 

After 5 days of feasting and sunning, Forrest returned to the AT and met his friend Travis to continue south from the EXACT point where we left off.

I, however, went to visit a friend before meeting Forrest back on the trail further south, at Duncannon. 

This is "cheating" at the Appalachian Trail and I feel I could become very good at it. I didn't know a trail could have 'rules,' but my personal rules trump them. My rules have a clause something like, 'if you live in Alaska where you never get to see anyone and you walk 900+ miles within 70 miles of one of your best friends, you stop and see her.' My rules have the benefit of much more calorie consumption.

I have skipped about 120 miles of shoe tearing, rock stumbling path and feel zero remorse about it. 

It is never logistically easy to get to or from the AT, and this detour required "planes, trains, & automobiles." I took an Amtrak train to Harrisburg, Pennsylvania's Capitol, and then Ubered (a taxi service you can call from an app on your smartphone) to the trail.

Forrest, who changed to new shoes in Florida, says they are already destroyed-- the rocks in Pennsylvania are that awful.

We still have a lot of Pennsylvania to go, so I didn't even do a great job at cheating.

Day 55: Wind Gap, PA. 912.2 miles from Katahdin, 1273.7 miles from Springer

We made it into state number 8 of 14! Like George Washington, we crossed the Delaware River to get here. Unlike GW, we did it on the bridge of I-80.

Walking over 900 miles in 55 days seems like a lot, but in September, Heather Anderson set the record for thru-hiking the AT self-supported (she carried all her own gear and did her own resupplies, as we are doing). She hiked from Maine to Georgia (2180 miles) in 54 days, 7 hours, and 31 minutes. If I had gone with her, I would be done by now.

As we have walked into the more populated parts of the country, water became scarcer on the trail-- probably because most of it is being dammed and routed to cities.  In New York, kind people leave jugs of water at trail/road crossings for hikers.

The generosity we have received is unending. One guy even lets hikers stay and shower at his cabin on the trail.

We got a visit in New York from my cousin Charlie, who delivered supplies to us from Manhattan via Zipcar, which was a travel form not nearly as convenient as the name sounds.

In New York and New Jersey, many places the trail crosses the road near a deli, where hawking sandwiches to hungry hikers is an easy sell.

Bears are squashed into the little bit of wilderness left in these places. We saw two black bears on the trail, but didn't have any trouble with bears in camp.

The trail is flatter, but starting in New Jersey, it got extremely rocky-- there is no way to place your foot without the edge or corner of a rock stabbing your sole. 

The first people we saw in Pennsylvania was an Amish couple out for a weekend hike-- I could want nothing more from this state besides perhaps a Philly Cheese Steak.

Day 49: Harriman, NY. 806 miles from Katahdin, 1300+ from Springer

We talk about food a lot. We are both about 20 pounds lighter than when we started. I, prudently, brought along 20 pounds to lose, but Forrest is slowly crossing the line from skinny to invisible. Our calorie-rich diet is pretty monotonous: baby food for breakfast and dinner (oatmeal & instant mashed potatoes), toddler food for lunch (finger food), and snacks every two hours.

Forrest mentioned that he can't wait to cook a moose steak dinner when we get home. I told him, sorry, but we are all out of moose in the freezer-- collateral damage of going walking during hunting season. 

Connecticut, which is a suburb of New York, placed there to provide a buffer between New Englanders and New Yorkers, was completely covered with acorns, topped by a layer of leaves. When you step on this surface going downhill (which is about half the trail) it's like stepping on a roller skate someone left on the stairs. Somehow we made it through the 50 miles of Connecticut without breaking our necks.

Our one stop to resupply in Connecticut brought us to the home of an Italian widow who came to the States after marrying an American soldier during World War II. She gave us clean clothes to wear while we washed ours, drove us to and from the store, laundry, dinner, trail, etc., and even dried our shoes and fed us apple pie. She's hosted almost 200 hikers this year and treated them all like family.

In New York, we were promised lots of bears, but the first we saw were where the AT winds through the Bear Mountain Zoo, about 30 miles outside Manhattan.

Forrest wants to eek every walking minute out of every day, walking in rain, wind and snow, so one morning I was surprised to wake up to his concern that we get off the trail and find a hotel. He was watching the weather on his phone (running down precious battery), and storm remnants of a southern hurricane were headed for the New York woods. Our tent is decent, but wasn't crafted by Noah and can't protect from flood conditions.

We put on our rain gear and considered our options. We were at a weird point in the trail almost 35 miles between shelters, we crossed a road every 5 miles or so, but they were rural roads leading to nothing. We walked in increasing winds, and then light, then steady rain.  After nine hours of walking, we got to a road where our guidebook promised a deli within 2 miles. If we could get there, we could charge our phones and call a cab to take us to a motel. It was the best plan we had. It was raining harder. We saw no traffic.

One truck came over the hill and I stuck out my thumb. He slowed and rolled down his window to say, "Sorry, I'd normally give you a lift, but my driveway is just here..."

Forrest looked over my shoulder and saw the guy was wearing an Alaskan beer sweatshirt. "We live in Alaska!" 

The driver said, "Alaska! No way! Get in!"

We crammed our soaking wet selves into the back and told him our plan. He told us he hunts and fishes in Alaska every summer and was happy to take us to the deli. When he dropped us off, he gave us his number and said, "If you can't find anything, call me." He drove away.

We dried off and ate pizza and charged our phones to search for lodging. We were in a deli in the middle of nowhere. Before we could find anything, our driver walked back in the door. He said, "I changed my plans for the evening, I've got bunk beds in my guest room. You can come stay at my house. I'll drop you where I picked you up in the morning on my way to work."

His house was a taxidermy palace and we dried our shoes by the fire and swapped Alaska tales and photos with our new friend. When we were all settled in his home, he said, "Since you guys are here from Alaska, I'm gonna thaw out some moose steak-- killed it last fall in Alaska."

It rained 2 inches overnight. Multiple trees came down. We sat inside by a fire in rural New York and ate moose steak.

Day 43: Salisbury, Connecticut: 690 miles from Katahdin, 1495 from Mt. Springer

Massachusetts: Ticks or Treats

Shortly after crossing the Vermont/Mass stateline, Forrest discovered he had been bitten by a deer tick. Ticks are tiny, bloodsucking insects that carry all kinds of diseases. If you want to get one of these diseases, you should walk the AT: The Northeastern U.S. Is basically Deer Tick Alley. Deer ticks are famous for bringing Lyme Disease to any party.

We called our favorite doctor who rescues us from all the travel scraps we get ourselves into. She got him a magic potion that-- fingers crossed-- has squelched the tick's powers. 

Then we pressed on to climb Mt. Greylock, Massachusetts highest mountain, which is a pretty easy hike compared to what we've done, but still frustrating because a road goes to the top where there is a war memorial. When we reached the summit parking lot, I was mobbed by Filipino women who declared me brave and took my picture.

The trail in Mass is the best we have seen, but they make it wiggle waggle back and forth to keep you in the small state as long as possible.

 In Dalton, a man who offers water to AT hikers let us have lunch at the picnic table in his yard. As we happily munched our pack lunch, he disappeared in his house and brought out two steaming bowls of homemade soup and fresh-baked muffins.

We thought Massachusetts couldn't be friendlier, but our dear friend Anna had other plans. While driving across the state with her mom a couple weeks ago, they crossed the Appalachian Trail and decided to leave us a prize. Armed with treasure hunting instructions, we dug for buried treasure south of where their road crossed ours. 

We were so excited for the treasure hunt and then for the contents: the 3 Bs were represented--Booze, Butter, Beef Jerky.

We sat right down on the ground and had a cocktail, cold from its underground storage, the best I may have ever tasted, and read this note:

"Two roads diverged in a yellow wood,

And sorry I could not travel both

Took the one on which the snacks stood,

Hidden sneakily 'twixt the undergrowth."

Day 38: Williamstown, Massachusetts. 597 miles from Katadin, 1589 from Mt. Springer

We walked all the way through Vermont since last I spoke with you: in one side, out the other, just one 20-mile day at a time. We have over one quarter of the Appalachian Trail behind us.

In Vermont, the trail winds along small town roads, cuts through cow pastures, and then goes through the Green Mountain National Forest along the same path as the Long Trail (America's oldest ridiculously long hiking trail). 

It is neat to see how much cooperation goes into making the Appalachian trail possible: right-of-ways, multiple parks and agencies working together, and just local folks saying, "Sure, you can run a trail through my field, just don't let the cows out." If the trail happens by a house, sometimes folks leave coolers at the end of their driveway with treats for hikers, this is referred to as "trail magic."

My mom keeps asking me: "Are you having fun?" Scientists believe there are at least 3 degrees of fun:

1st degree fun is pure fun while you are doing it. Examples: eating ice cream, waterskiing

2nd degree fun is positioning yourself for first degree fun, sometimes there is some work involved. Examples: paddling out to catch a wave, skinning/hiking up to ski down a mountain.

3rd degree fun is not any fun at all while you are doing it, but later it's fun to talk about and you may have learned something from it. Examples: near death experiences, being arrested, studying for the bar exam.

Hiking the AT, for me, is long periods of 3rd degree fun, punctuated by brief moments  of 1st degree fun, like stopping in a town to eat ice cream, catching a beautiful view, seeing every color of leaf carpeting the forest floor, or having the time to have conversations with my husband that I may have never otherwise had. Example: me:"if you could morph into any animal to finish the Appalachian Trail, what animal would you be?" 

Him: after thinking for a moment: "An eagle, so I could just fly the whole thing." 

Honestly, Didn't I offer to fly the whole thing before we started!? Boys.