TRAIL DAY 21
Sat, Mar 12, 2016 The morning goal was to get to the NOC as soon as possible and mail off my phone. Theo and I took a peek out of the shelter as we awoke, dug into a quick breakfast, packed up and left. The difficult descent from yesterday was ahead of Journeyman and others as the day dawned. I was glad to have it behind me and to be nearer my goal.
The trail led to a paved road. On the far side were an outfitter and store on the right and a restaurant on the left. Between the two was a walkway to a bridge across a wide river of fast-moving water, the Nantahala. The NOC had rafts and kayaks for rent to shoot the rapids. A slalom course was set up running under the bridge.
On the far side of the river were buildings for recreational use and cookouts with a playground for kids off to the right. Across and back to the right was the path to the office and several buildings for accommodations up on the hill behind. Straight across from the bridge was an old railway line with cars loaded with large ties coated in creosote. The AT was across the RR bed and up a hill that began a reputed 3,300′ climb.
The office was up a path running northbound diagonally away from the river with lodging beyond that. I made my way to there and entered with gear and Theo. I stored the gear and returned Theo to the porch. I explained my cell phone plight and, with a little effort and persuasion, managed to commandeer a suitable envelope and packing to ship it off for service.
Mission accomplished, I checked in to a room far up the hill past a couple of other lodgings. All were neat and fairly new. One just down the hill from us had a full kitchen and recreation and sitting areas. Across a path were bathrooms with multiple showers.
My building had a room with bunks to the right, a single room straight ahead and a room with bunks to the left with a small sitting area in the center. I took the bunk room on the right and chose the lower bunk back left as you entered. There were two double-deckers on the left and right. I unpacked and plugged in for charging. One or two joined me later; and “Lassie” got the single in the middle. An angry, extremely foul-mouthed guy in his 60s who complained with expletives about everything, including his severely swollen ankles, took a bunk – thank God! – in the room opposite mine. Lassie and I shared the same view of this fellow: Cool your jets, dude! He poisoned the air with little sense that others might have a gentler view of life. I tried to be nice to him and ameliorate his bitterness perhaps to some effect just by not joining his chorus or agreeing with him when I didn’t.
Once settled in, Theo and I headed down the steep hill, across the social-gathering area and the bridge to the restaurant.
Hikers and their packs were gathered at the long bench leading into the restaurant. I took Theo inside with always the inquisitive looks from staff.
“He’s a service dog,” I’d say.
“O.K. He can come in – just keep him with you.”
He’s always a little scattered about where to go or what to do in a new location. As we all know, the nose is his guide and it picks scents not in a straight line, surely, but from 360̊ prompting behavior like the medieval knight who “ran out of the castle, jumped on his horse and rode off in all directions.” Notwithstanding the scatter, Theo will follow me and obey me, no questions asked. I never was regimented enough to insist on the heel command but there are times that would have been useful. A short “come,” a tiny whistle burst, a clap of the hands or calling his name brought him to me in a flash. “A free-spirited service dog” people must have thought but noting his strict obedience and his calm stay when told, they accepted him and his elevated status.
I sat at a table near an entire wall of windows looking out on the river and ordered a nice lunch. While seated someone came up to me and introduced himself as “Applejack.” I don’t remember how he knew who I was but he knew I was from Lancaster, Pennsylvania – and he was from COLUMBIA! 10 miles to the west on the Susquehanna. “Oh, my gosh!” and “holy crow!” And other exclamations and chatter about thru-hiking and perhaps how it came about for each of us. I’d learn eventually that he was retired from the postal service. Like Journeyman, retired! I wasn’t there yet – and still am not – trusting God knows what he’s doing, even if I don’t. A little envy jab – a little “you’re a better man than I am Gungadin” and then carry on.
Applejack would weave in and out of my trail days until Pennsylvania and then he would Applejack-rabbit to the finish. We’ll meet him again together down the way.
Before I left my table, Journeyman showed up. I was surprised at how quickly he managed the difficult descent and the miles. “It’s good to see you,” he said, “I was concerned about carrying on last night.” There was a mutual care on the trail but I think I was naively oblivious to the feeling people would have for this older guy out there. Later on “Polar Bear” would say, “I’m always concerned about you.” And post-AT many would write on blogs or in emails, “I’m glad to know you made it.” I guess somewhere inside I have this belief that I’m just one of the crowd; out doin’ my thing just like the rest of ‘em. Age is irrelevant – I guess.
I was without a phone and as I headed back to my room, I asked a nice, bearded fellow named Mike and “Camo” if I could borrow his. He didn’t hesitate to let me take it for a couple of hours – “No problem,” he said taking another deep drag on one of his frequent cigarettes. There was an air of, “Hey, we’re all in this together – we’ll do what we can for each other.”
On a steep and potentially very dangerous climb out of Lehigh Gap in Pennsylvania on July 4th, I had to remove Theo’s pack to help him up a particularly difficult section. I tried to throw his pack up after him but it slid back down. After my climb up, I tried to reach it with my trekking pole when it slid farther out of reach. A weekend climber retrieved it for me.
“Thanks for your help,” I said.
“Hey, all we have up here is each other,” he replied.
What a way to look at life. The sentiment was true of thru-hikers and would prove itself time and again.
It was a little sad, down the pike, in Gatlinburg, Tennessee, to find that Camo was staying in that honky tonk town to hang around and party with “Sinatra” and “Farmer” who turned out to be the boisterous duo at the Blue Mountain Shelter some miles back. I never saw the three of them again.
It was on my way to supper later that I ran into a person whose videos I had encountered among the many I’d seen to educate myself about hiking, gear and the AT. He was at the mouth of the bridge outside the restaurant doing what he does: interviewing thru-hikers on camera. He always starts with the same two questions: “What’s your trail name?” and “Why are you thru-hiking?” It can go anywhere from there depending entirely on whether he feels you fit his definition of “Hiker Trash” – search that on YouTube and you’ll find his work.
I stood around as Hiker Trash interviewed some younger hikers and, after they left, he interviewed me. I had wondered what I’d say if I ran into this avid trail junkie and the only answer that made sense as to why I was hiking the AT was “because it’s in me.” Though pre- millennial, I felt composed and comfortable being interviewed. I explained my trail name adding that I first thought to thru-hike when I was 14, 60 years before.
I shouldn’t be too disappointed to tell you that he did not post my interview. I don’t think I was the sort he was looking for. He probably filmed me because I was there and he didn’t want to ignore me – token gentility perhaps. He was an old guy out being cool with the youth he once had been, living on the passions and purpose of others. Maybe we all do some of this as we feel life slipping away. I don’t think that is why I was out there though. It was an ancient call to which I was saying “yes” day by day, step by step. I’d have done it if I were entirely alone and no one knew but the wind in the trees.
After supper, it was off for a little conversation in the bunkhouse and then bed.
Day #21 A. Rufus Morgan Shelter > NOC 1.0 mile