Wednesday 13 April 2016

It’s been a week since we started the AT. When we finally manage to get going, Jurgen’s tent is still standing. He wants to go on to Helen, a Bavarian town “on anabolics” exponentially perverted by the Americans, as Schnitzel, a German we meet later that morning, explains and animatedly shows us on his phone during our lunch break. Hailing from Bavaria, he was in a position to provide fair criticism if the town with its Stockwerk buildings we had chosen to skip.

Crossing Unicoi Gap was hard, since we passed a few hikers that opted to exit the route for a night on the town and a clean shower and were obviously in a good mood, including Casey Jones, a young lady wearing a Patagonia top and the remnants of hair dyed blue for a Halloween long past. They were taking their time to become wood bound again and drinking coffee in the parking lot. A steep ascent back into the woods took us past a few day hikers and some AT hikers we haven’t seen before. At the Indian Grave Site parking lot we spread out the tarp and had a lunch break. Schnitzel joins us and decides to rough it by lying on a few branches he sort of breaks in as an informal nest. He cuts an interesting figure, somehow managing to tie up his trendy hiking pants with his belt in a way that begs for suspenders. Casey Jones and company also arrive and take a break. She hikes in sandals and socks and the hair apparently attracted adverse commentary from her dad, who is made out to be on the conservative side and brings out the reactionary in her. The climb after lunch, especially the ascent to Tray Mountain goes on steadily and is trying. Out of nowhere Rene appears, and breezes up the Mountain past us. We can’t help wondering if she arrived with one of the busses we saw at the bottom of Tray Mountain. We are dead tired when we arrive at the Shelter on top of the mountain: I don’t feel good and lie down while Kobus fixes me up with some Rehidrate. We are about the third arrival.

At the shelter we also have a chat with Pony, who acquired his trail name because he just keeps on going, regardless of the elevation pattern. He comes from Colorado and compares the elevation with that of the Smokeys. He’s hiking the AT just because… and enquires about everybody else’s motivation for doing so. It seems he noticed us earlier that morning since we were hugging for a long time. Very meticulous and precise about drying out his cup and bowl and I get curious as to his profession: he is a writer. A guy called Kevin and his buddy stock up on water before continuing another three miles or so. At first it seems as if they lost their Sawyer bag’s top. Kobus offers to lend them his Sawyer but eventually they find their top. Rene starts talking about her “perfectly/totally legal” business. She’s in the marijuana business (legal in Colorado). Federal government apparently does not allow these types of businesses to have bank accounts, so they mainly function on cash. Pony asks whether it’s near Geally, and she answers in the affirmative. Later Susan and Betty also pitch up. Not a very crowded shelter tonight which at this point in the evolution of the privy is good: it has been filling up dangerously and really requires a strong and determined stomach. We fall asleep with the sound of smoker’s cough punctuating the otherwise quiet night.

Tuesday 12 April 2016

The moment I woke up I realised I had been bitten by some eager critter: still don’t know whether it was a flea or a bed bug… Everyone needs some motivation to get back on track: the Whitley’s Shelter is 1.2 miles from the track. Before we leave we chat with Betty who is also weathering some big life changes. Her friend Susan always wanted to do this trail, so when Betty mentioned it, they decided to attempt the route. We leave after the two Environmental Studies students Nicci and Jessica and JC, an aspiring writer are gone. Susan, Betty, Nicole, Jess and Dexter stay a while longer. Hiking in the fog makes it difficult to gauge distance. It’s almost noon before the sky clears. We even come across an old man hiking with an umbrella: not sure how that helps in the fog. The first part of the route traces what looks like an old road reasonably well on its way to rehabilitation with some charming streams trickling over the rocks and through the moss. The gradient is mild and we make good progress. However, sometime after lunch the white blazes swerve toward a single track. Later on it feels like we are traversing a zebra: every so often we are forced to navigate our way across a strip of rock garden garnished with moss. It becomes a long hike: 13 miles to get to the Blue Mountain Shelter. Just when we began to wonder where the shelter is, we spot a few tents on the top of a steep incline. We spot Jurgen: he spent the previous night at Low Gap. We chat with Jurgen while preparing dinner: he had been an auditor previously and even spent some time in Timor. According to his Zimbabwean colleagues it was a third world country: which says a lot. Jurgen lives in Johannesburg, but was considering a career in chess boxing before he embarked on the AT. Tonight the shelter houses three more mature ladies and Little Foot. One lady has a painful blister beneath a callous and the pain of an infection is shooting up into her foot. She has started to use some antibiotics but needs to have her foot checked. Some time later that evening a jovial guy called Mitchell starts a camp fire. He has a way of drawing in hikers and even engages “Bandana” a guy from Japan whose English is very minimalist. Bandana comments on the distance of the water sources from the camping areas. He has completed the Camino and seems to be a fast hiker. From conversations around the camp fire it seems that hikers have been testing out a few trail names on Jurgen: “Egg man” and “Spice rack” both refer to his cooking habits. Jurgen joins us after deserting the Psychology book he has been reading. Nevertheless, his reading does not seem to be far from his mind: he later on makes comments on existentialist crises. Becoming more philosophical, he decides that Mitchell should be “Zen master” due to his wise words and a slight resemblance to the Japanese gurus. Mitchell has indeed experienced a lot: he has even at one point been a law enforcer. (Maybe that’s why he is able to judge our ages fairly accurately.) Later on he stares into the fire and talks about loving each other on a universal scale. Bandana retires in the midst of all these abstractions and later on we also succumb to the lure of our tent, still hearing Jurgen musing in the background.

Monday 11 April 2016

My face and hands seem swollen this morning, but we need to get back on the trail. My heart is heavy as well… My uncle passed away and I feel disconnected with the family. Our available communication seems blunt. The last news we got before setting out on the AT was that he was improving, and we had been hoping and praying. It is difficult to deal with these questions. A few years back doctors were almost certain he had cancer. After prayers the next test revealed no traces of cancer. We were so grateful for the miracle, which medical staff so often trivialise by categorising it as a wrong diagnosis. At least hiking provides some space for wrestling with old hurts, disconnects, unresolved issues and to talk to God about messed up and missed opportunities and about not understanding this outcome.

Before we can get back on the Trail we need to resupply. The outfitters at Neel’s Gap is outrageously expensive though and it is frightening to imagine another week without greens and other vegetables. At least we got two small oranges and two satchets of vitamin C. ‪At 12:40‬ we set out on the next leg behind the hostel. We meet Susan and Betty who also plan to sleep at Whitley’s shelter: a whole 1.2 miles from the Trail.

Along the route I manage to take a photograph of a small mouse: instead of immediately running off, he sits in the path, staring at me like a rabbit bewildered by the headlights of a car. At one point we have to top up our water supply and while sitting in a clearing we are met by an enthusiastic and thirsty dog: Dexter, as we would later come to know him.

The last ascent is incredibly steep and the extra 1.2 miles do nothing to lighten our mood. Arriving at the shelter we find two Environmental studies students already propped up on their sleeping bags and reading. Another young man JC, who did Film studies and creative writing arrives. He confesses that he has a warped image of Africa. The five of us claim the shelter platform. It is our first night in a shelter and I am a bit apprehensive about the experience. Later the two girls with the dog pitch up: Dexter belongs to “Timber”. She has a really close relationship with her dog: sharing water and food. They pitch a tent behind the shelter. Later Susan and Betty turn up and also pitch a tent outside the shelter. JC and the Environmental Studies girls play cards and later dabble in a bit of card divination with JC even venturing to explain the I-Ching. I have a restless night waking up from time to time and scanning the stripped trees in front of the shelter for bears and other imagined and disturbing things: but fortunately fall asleep again.