Gaitlinburg

Well, despite not wanting to come into Gaitlinburg, TN, here I find myself. So how did I get here?

My Dad covered the first morning pretty well. After he left, I sat around and waited for Salamander, Juniper, and Boogie to eat lunch. From now on, I shall refer to the three of them as the "fellowship of the egg", as that's what they started calling themselves. That day I became an honorary, but temporary member. I hope to someday be properly initiated. Anyways, the fellowship had lunch, then set out with me in front, since I was pumped up and blazin' fast. Juniper was close behind me, and Boogie and Salamander took up the rear. After a few hours like this, adrenaline gave way to lactic acid and Juniper blew past me. I slowed down even more due to a hot-spot on my heel, but I knew I was almost to the shelter. Once I was there, I let out a "Hallelujah!". We all gathered firewood and Salamander built a fire. I got water for Boogie and he gave me some Snickers. Then I took off my boots and made the first of two troubling discoveries: I had a huge blister on the back of my heel. I rubbed it with neosporin and covered it with my largest band-aid, which barely covered 1/4 of it, then a layer of ducttape. The sun set, and I made a second troubling discovery: my headlamp was broken. The batteries weren't dead, but just in case I tried changing them. Still no light. Luckily, Juniper had a spare LED keychain light, which I fumbled about with all night. We passed a bottle of Apple Cider around the fire, had dinners, then went to bed. I didn't sleep through the night, but for the first time ever I was SWEATING in my sleeping bag. Mollies Ridge Shelter was great, with a fireplace inside, plenty of room, and a giant tarp to keep the wind out. The next morning was a slow start - we got going around 9:30. We stopped at a shelter 3 miles out and I took off my boots to inspect the blister. Salamander and Boogie exclaimed their disgust. "That's really bad man." the told me. And so they convinced me to carry my boots and hike in Juniper's "Crocs" (sandle/moccasin shoes). After another 3 miles, we came to Spence Field shelter, where I made refried beans and burritos for lunch.. yum.. and traded Juniper's crocs for those of Salamander, which fit a little better. The climb up Rocky Top followed. It was rough in Sandles, and Juniper said that I sounded like a kick-boxing video game with all of my grunts. I felt like I was being punched too. On the way up we passed a side trail, 5 miles to a parking lot. We also met some day hikers at the top, and I considered bailing out and getting a ride to civilization, but decided against it quickly. I was having too much fun, and it was just one little blister. From the top of Rocky Top, we enjoyed spectacular views, with thru-hiker "L-Train" who had been ahead of us but turned around due to a sprained knee. He was headed for that parking lot, where three girls from Virginia were going to meet him and take him home. I'd seen two people bail out in two days. The Smokies can be cruel. After Rocky Top was just plain miserable. I was exhausted and my legs were starting to hurt. By the time I got to Derrick Knob shelter, I had a new injury - a pulled groin. I hoped it was just sore and would heal over night. We again built a fire, had dinner, and went to bed.

Which brings us to today.

We woke up early, at 6:00, planning a 14 mile day over Clingman's Dome, the tallest mountain on the trail at 6,800 feet. By 7:00 we left the shelter. By 7:01 I had tears running down my face from the pain in my groin. Juniper asked me if I was OK. "I'm fine", I said, "just keep going." Then the coughing started. For the past two days I had been coughing and blowing my nose more than was regular. I also felt a pain in my chest, but hoped that I hadn't caught my Dad's chest cold. Now, it seemed, I had. After less than half a mile, we came to a side trail, which also led to a parking lot and civilization beyond. It was 8.3 miles. Boogie assured me that there would be a ranger station and/or a payphone. Juniper told me I was in no condition to go on. Salamander told me to send his crocs to him in Hot Springs. It didn't look like I had a choice. I was bailing out. Again. I really didn't want to go. Tears of sorrow from leaving behind the fellowship joined my tears of pain. At least the 8 mile side trail was all down hill, which hurt much less than uphill or even flat. "The fellowship goes North" I told them, and we all said goodbye. I set off on my own.

My feelings on the way down were strange and new. From the moment I set foot on the side trail, I became positive that I was going home for good once I got out. This was it, the final set-back, the straw that broke the camels back. I had had enough. But it wasn't the same feeling of wanting to go home that I had suffered through over the past two months. It was a more logical and less irrational feeling. I was having fun on the trail, and didn't want to leave, but for some reason I felt like it was the only thing left to do. I had just bailed out too many times. I started getting angry that I had to leave, and yelling. Then I started to get depressed about it, but eventually, despite a cliff-bar with peanut butter and 2 EmergenC packets, exhaustion took over. I wasn't depressed, or angry, or happy. I was just tired. My snack-bag fell out of my pack and tumbled down a 100 ft. ravine. "Fuck" I thought quitely to myself, and then continued on, not caring. My entire pack could have fallen and my reaction would have been the same. My legs could have fallen off, and I would have just started crawling. I reached the state of tiredness where I didn't give a shit anymore. This would have worried me, had I been able to worry, because I knew that the next stage of tiredness was break down. That would come about a half mile later. My water bottle fell out of the same pocket, and tumbled down the ravine. I stopped. This water bottle had been everywhere with me: Mount Washinton, Katahdin, Italy. It had a love note from Margaret written on the lid that cheered me up a bit every time I saw it. It had been MY nalgene for the past 5 years. I had to get it! FUCK! I threw my pack down on the ground, and sat down. I screamed profanities at the sky. I am a radical atheist (atheist, not agnostic), and I started to doubt my faith. I started to believe in God, and ask him to help me. Then I started to ask out loud, "Please god please help me! I need help please god!" I didn't know what he would do -- a troop of search & rescue trainees would have been best but I would have settled for a day hiker or two. I was still 6 miles away from the parking lot, and most day hikers don't do 12 mile hikes to random spots in the middle of the woods. They hike up to peaks with views, or waterfalls. Then I thought to myself, "God only helps those who help themselves." I think Boogie slipped something in my oatmeal, but anyways, I had to help myself. I had to get my water bottle. And so I grasped my hiking poles and took the first step down the ravine. I slipped, and slid about 3 feet, just managing to stop myself. "Screw this." I said, and hiked back up to flat ground. I put my pack back on and continued on. At that same point I lost my boot off the back of my pack, though I didn't notice it at the time.

After about 4 miles, I met some trail maintainers who said they would give me a ride if I was still there that evening when they came down. I told them about my water bottle and snacks. I wonder if they got them. Nearer the bottom, I met two day hikes who also offered a ride. I thanked them and continued on. At the parking lot I lay out my sleeping pad and read until the day hikers came back down, proudly bearing my lost boot. "The Ride's free," they told me, "but we charge for the boot!" I thanked them profusely and got in the jump seat of their pickup. Barry and Charlie. We dropped Barry off at his truck, and then on the way to Gaitlinburg I learned that Charlie was headed to Atlanta tomorrow. I got his number thinking I would hitch a ride. It's a lot easier to get to Western Massachusetts from Atlanta than it is from Gaitlinburg TN.

In Gaitlinburg I checked into the Grand Prix motel, which is decent and cheap. They are very hiker friendly. I showered, took a nap, and spoke with my mom. I told her about my feelings about coming home. They still hadn't changed much. She suggested I rule out the option of going to Atlanta. I should just sit tight and heal, then make a decision, as usual. I agreed, and so that is what I am doing. I went to the outfitter - the Happy Hiker - and asked about a job, since I may be "healing" for a few days. They told me to come back in the morning and speak with the owner, then recommmended a good Italian place for me to eat. It wasn't that good, and I've got half of my lasagna leftover for later. Now it's off to bed. Tomorrow I'll write more about my feelings. They're still sort of cloudy.

You do not conquer mountains. They let you climb them (or don't).