Miss Janet's House

Please excuse the recent lack of updates. I have been taking a crazy emotional ride the past few days trying to come to terms with the fact that my thruhike is basically done for this year. I know I said I'd accepted the fact in a previous post, and I had, but it still comes back every now and then (read: 50 minutes out of every hour). Even if I was healed right now and started walking, I would have about 120 days to hike 2000 miles... and that's just not a speed I want to maintain. It would suck all of the fun out of hiking.

Right now, I am at Miss Janet's House in Erwin TN. I hithchiked here from Hot Springs on Saturday morning. Miss Janet's house is a trail legend... it's one of those places that is not optional: You MUST go to Miss Janet's. I have an arrangement worked out with Miss Janet: I can stay as long as I need to, to heal. In exchange, I help take care of the hikers while she is out running shuttles. She is also practically forcing me to ice my leg and take ibuprofen regularly. I've got an ace bandage wrapped around it and the swelling is finally starting to go down. I check on WebMD.com: the injury I have best fits a "Class II Groin Strain", which often takes several months to heal completely.

Miss Janet's house really is amazing, and I understand why it is such a destination. Miss Janet herself is one of the kindest people I've met, and she pulls hikers in. It's hard to leave. Most people end up staying for 3 or more days. Every morning we wake up (i've been sleeping on the couch or the floor because the place is so packed) and cook breakfast. Usually a few hikers and locals help out. There's this one local guy, kind of old, who rides his bike up in the morning and then helps set the table up and serve the food. He stands up while we all eat and runs stuff back and forth from the kitchen, telling old jokes the whole time. It's absolutely hilarious. He was thrilled to hear that I was from Great Barrington, as he'd skiied there before. After breakfast, I clean up, and the hikers head out to their various slackpacking routes. I sit on the couch all day with an ice pack and a book. I don't really get bored though because there are so many people coming and going all day.

What about the future? Well, if I heal up quickly, and am able to do small miles, I may do a little bit more hiking before coming home to the Berkshires. And just because I'm not thruhiking this year doesn't mean i'm through hiking this year. I may take a few short trips in New England, on the AT or possibly a thruhike of the Long Trail in Vermont.

I really can't say how thankful I am for all of the support I have received. I feel terrible about letting all of my fans and supporters down. If I had been a bit stronger and not gone home in February, or if I had been less stubborn and quit hiking when I got the blister in the Smokies, maybe this wouldn't have happened. There would have been a lot of ways to avoid it, but I try not to focus on that. I had invaluable learning experiences so far (and I still am), and I will have many chances in the future to come back and try again, which I fully intend to do. As for the finish date pool... one person said they wanted to revoke their bet. That's fine. I'll send back all of the bets.

Thank you so much to all of the people who sent me donations and care packages. I leave you with two options:
1) I'll give back the donation, with the promise that you may donate again next time I try, or
2) I will use the money for trail magic, to help out other hikers.

Also, to any hikers reading this, if you're ever on the AT in northern Connecticut or southern Mass, give me a call or an e-mail and if I'm in town I would love to come hike with you, maybe arrange some slackpacking and some home cooked meals. If i've met you and hiked with you, your presence is requested. Everyone else is welcome too.

So thanks again for all the support. I may not be going to Maine, but the adventure is far from over, so don't stop reading! If you're browsing around for something to read and I haven't updated, check out the Grease Frightening Saga (the link is on the upper right).

You, my readers, rock. You're the best.

Happy Trails,

Mr. Happy

Thumbin' It to Hot Springs

Yesterday, after nearly a week at Standing Bear Farm, I finally made a move. El-Train had hiked in from Newfound Gap (he bailed from the Smokies the day before I did with a sprained knee) and he wanted to make up some time, so the two of us decided to hitch-hike to Hot Springs.

Before I go into story-telling, let me just say that I am feeling greatly optimistic and rarring to get out there and hike to Maine.

Anyways, in the morning El-Train and I started packing up and Curtis offered to drive us down to hwy. 70, which would leave us with a straight shot all the way into Hot Springs. He dropped us off at 11:00 and within 5 minutes a car pulled over to pick us up. We piled into a tiny baby blue toyota that reeked of cigarettes, and met Robin, our driver. El-Train, in an attempt to be nice, commented on the beauty of the area.

"I'm not from Newport, I'm from Cosby. There all a bunch of nigger-lovers in Newport. There ain't sh*t in Newport." Robin exclaimed.

El-Train and I exchanged a look that said "If I jump out will you follow me?"

She then went on to explain that she didn't even know where Maine was, and didn't think we'd be able to find it, and that to get to Hot Springs we really should have been on a different road.

"The interstate goes to North Carolina. You've got to get to North Carolina and then you can go to Hot Springs or wherever. You should be on the interstate." Robin then dropped us off at a parking lot in front of a bar where she worked. The place was a trailer in the middle of nowhere, about 20 miles away from Hot Springs but still on the right road, as we knew and Robin apparently didn't. Her final message was one of warning,

"I don't like North Carolina. It's always cold, even in summer."

After an hour of no luck in front of the bar, El-Train and I walked farther down to see if we could find a gas station or something less sketchy. We walked about a mile, with frequent rests for my leg, and just as we were starting to lose hope, faced with a continuous uphill and several barking dogs, a woman pulled over in her pickup truck and told us she could get us within 7 miles of Hot Springs. We hopped in the back, thanking her profusely, and set off once more. We were elated, and exchanged looks of joy. The wind rushing in our hair was pure bliss... i meant motion, progress, and being that much closer to a real meal (The food available at Standing Bear Farm, while better than trail-food, was still all frozen). I commented to El-Train,

"All of the books about the AT have pictures of trees and mountains on the cover. If I write a book about the AT, the cover will be plain white with a huge freaking cheeseburger in the middle." It's all about food -- and I'd barely hiked in the past two weeks.

Finally we were dropped off at a gas station. El-Train bought a pepsi and some beef jerky and we started walking. Finally we were picked up in another pickup truck, and taken straight into downtown. We had made the 35 mile trip in 3 hours and 4 rides. Not bad, we thought.

In Hot Springs, I checked into Elmer's Sunnybank Inn. It's an old victorian home on a hill, with a music room and several original bathrooms with large claw-foot tubs. Most describing is the book collection. Every room in the house is filled with bookshelves. Every left-wing political or social commentary book ever written can be found at Elmer's, along with a huge collection on Zen Buddhism, the entire works of nature-writer Edward Abbey, and a large shelf of books on the AT, among many other collections that I have yet to discover.

And they serve dinner. An amazing three course vegetarian meal, family style, at 7 o'clock every night. Last night we had cheesy corn chowder, a salad, and a red curry on rice, finishing with homemade cherry cobbler and vanilla ice cream. Wow! It was the best $10 I've ever spent on food.

Today I am just running errands - post office, outfitters, laundry, etc. Tomorrow I'll read and pack, and on Saturday I plan to hit the trail again... FINALLY! I am so pumped up. I want to go RIGHT NOW, but everytime I walk up steps I am reminded that to do so would be very unwise.

More on my stay at Standing Bear Farm coming tomorrow, maybe.

Thumbs Up

Yesterday I slept in as my clock had not been adjusted for DST. I awoke, quickly packed up, and checked out. I had a large breakfast at the Pancake house, then call Curtis at Standing Bear Farm. I split the $40 shuttle with a section hiker and came up here. Last night myself and three thru hikers were here. I built a fire in the wood stove but we didn't have enough wood to keep it going for long. This morning the other three left, leaving me. It was really freaking cold. I had breakfast and got back in my sleeping bag and piled 3 blankets on top. Now that the sun is shining I've poked my head out again.

I've been lost in thought for the past few days, and I've made a few important realizations. I may have said the first two before, but only now do I truely believe them: 1) I might not make it to Maine; 2) It doesn't matter; 3) It doesn't mean I have to go home...

That last realization was a big one. Before the only options I considered were "Maine or Bust!", but I now realize that even though I probably won't make it to Maine with the time and money I have remaining, I can stay out here for a few months and keeping looking for whatever it was I am looking for. More on that subject later. Anyways, I'm at Standing Bear Farm letting my leg heal at least until Monday. Tomorrow I'll go for a little day hike to test out my leg. On Monday I'll get my mail drop and try to hike (slowly) to Hot Springs. It's 30 miles and I'll give myself 4-5 days to do it. If the hike goes well, I may continue hiking North to Erwin. If not, I'll yellow blaze my way up the trail until I can hike more, and by combination of yellow blazing and hiking just get myself whereever adventure takes me, indirectly headed North towards Home. When I run out of time or money or get sick of it, I'll just go home. Thats the tentative plain, but really I'm just going to make each decision as I come to it.

Boomerang Style

On Wednessday Margaret and I drove to Sewanee, TN and spent the evening with Margaret's sister, Susie, and her friends. In the morning the three of us set out for Gatlinburg with ominous clouds on the horizon behind us. Since we left central time and entered eastern, and also because we spent 2 hours driving around looking for the trailhead, I didn't get to the trail until 4 PM. I had 9 uphill miles to go - an estimated 5 hours of hiking. No matter, hiking in the dark along a trail I'd already walked would be no big deal. I said a very painful goodbye to Margaret, and even as she drove away I thought of running after them. I had been having second thoughts all day. I resisted the urge, and saddled up. I spent the first ten minutes of walking fighting my emotional demons. I could run down to the ranger station 2 miles away and call them and they could come get me. Eventually, I conquered my demons, or at least put them away temporarily, and started to get into the swing of hiking again. And just then, when I finally actually wanted to continue, my leg started to hurt worse than ever. I stopped, but I didn't want to turn around. I kept walking, but it hurt, so I turned around. I walked back and forth over the same 100 yards about 5 times in my indecision. Finally, I turned around one last time and headed downhill, but even as I reached the parking lot I regretted my decision somewhat. My leg reminded me that I had no choice.

I began to trot down to the ranger station. Margaret and Susie would be hours away by now. A couple stopped and picked me up. At the ranger station there was no phone, so we went into Gatlinburg. By the time I called Margaret, they were in Chatanooga, 3 hours away. I felt terrible even asking them to turn around. Naturally, they decided it was too far and just kept going. I checked in to the Grand Prix motel for the night to get out of the rain.

The Return (Again)

I'm going back to the trail, finally! My groin wasn't very sore yesterday, just a little stiff, and so today I am driving with Margaret to Chatanooga to visit her sister, and tomorrow the two of them are going to take me to Gaitlinburg. I'll be hiking tomorrow afternoon! My back, legs and feet are less than thrilled, but I am uber-excited.

Happy Trails!

Time Out

I really, really, really want to hike today. It's beautiful and sunny and my pack almost looks comfortable. But I can't. My leg still hurts whenever I move it or walk. The pain is excruciating on uphills and steps, but otherwise quite bearable. I am under instructions from two separate Doctors to give myself at least a week to heal. So in a few minutes I'll be getting a ride to Knoxville, whence I can get a bus to either Johnson City where my friend Wentworth lives, or to Jackson to visit Margaret. I will take a week off, and then head back to Gaitlinburg to resume my long march North. I plan to be back in Gaitlinburg next Wednesday or Thursday. I'll have to get a ride to the Elkmont Campground and hike back up the 9 mile Greenbrier trail. I'll then backtrack .1 miles to the Derrick Knob Shelter where I stayed on Tuesday, and take it easy for a week or so to get my leg back in action safely.

I spent yesterday riding the Trolleys around Gaitlinburg. I went to the post office and sent some of my warmer clothing home, as well as my faulty headlamp. I sent Salamander his shoes... I meant to include a thank you note but the woman in the post office sealed the package before I could slip it in. I guess I'll send a letter later. I am so grateful to the "fellowship of the egg". I probably could have made it without them, but it would have been much more miserable. The Guadiness of Gaitlinburg is a HUGE shock coming from the woods. Ripley's Belive It Or Not and amusement park rides, ice cream stands, tatoo parlors, indoor ice skating rinks, and motel upon motel upon motel advertising perks such as "Coffee, IN ROOM!" or "No Cleaning Service on Sunday". The Trolley drivers each felt the need to talk to me. I wouldn't have minded a conversation, but I think they couldn't hear me due to the engine noise, and so I just listened to stories about their grandchildren.

One man told me about Gaitlinburg 40 years ago, when it was just becoming a tourist attraction. Apparently it all began after World War II, when hiking became popular as a recreational sport. All of a sudden the Great Smokey Mountains weren't just for hillbillies and moonshiners, but a vacation destination. It is interesting to me that Gaitlinburg, which became a tourist town before the Automobile Age, is all accessible by foot, and packed in to 8 tight blocks, whereas nearby Pidgeon Forge, which developed later, is strip mall paradise. Truely, technology has brought us forward. When I realized this, I also realized part of the beauty of taking six months off from it all to live in the woods. I am assuming that the "living in the woods" part of my hike will come later. So far, and this isn't a bad thing at all, but really a marvelous thing, my hike has been not about mountains or miles, but about the people: Zero, Winton, Cornbread, Felicity, Cardboard Princess, Crutch, Laura & Frank, Hikernutt, Ron Haven, the Albany Georgia Boys, Jeff & Nancy, Domino, the Fellowship of the Egg to name a few.

Dam. I can't wait to get back out there.

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).

Report from Mr Happy's Pappy

Even though I have a trail name "Fly By", after this past weekend at least a few hikers have begun calling me Mr Happy's Pappy. It was so great to share the experience with Mr Happy getting back on the trail. The wonderful folks at the Hike Inn - Jeff and Nancy, were so pleased to see him and welcome him back. I had hoped to hike a few days with him but after the weather delays and not feeling so good with a lingering chest cold, I opted to just day hike with him to the summit of Shuckstack about four miles up from Fontana. The day could not have been better - crisp and cool but with a warming sun and very little wind. We set off about nine and took our time with several rest stops. Mr Happy was carrying about 40 pounds - enough food for the whole of the Smokies as he was thinking of not getting off to go into Gatlinurg but continuing on to Standing Bear. He was so pleased to kwow there were other hikers at the same place and more in front and more behind. His time off got him what he wanted - company and less frigid nights. We talked a lot as we hiked up Shuckstack and I have to say it was one of the most wonderful conversations I've had with this particular son of mine. Amongst other things we talked about how the trail shows you your "demons" as you hike in thoughts and feelings, and how you can't fight them but you also don't have to let them guide your actions. Mr Happy seems to have this awareness and I was impressed. It took me the best part of fifty years to really grasp that. On the way up we ran into Stick going southbound. He was hiking with Walrus who had hurt his ankkle earlier on but it was bothering him and he didn't want to go thru the Smokies with the ice with his ankle. They were going planning to get off at Fontana and shuttle around the Smokies.

We climbed the tower on top of Shuckstack and then had lunch. Mr Happy makes the best PBJ tortillas. After lunch as we hiked down the side trail from the tower we spotted Walrus. Had a great conversation and when he found out we were Australian Americans, he delved into his sack to give Mr Happy a jar of Vegeminte which Mr Happy loves. A little while after Walrus left we were joined by Juniper, Salamander, and Backyard Boogie who had started an hour or so behind us. I figured it was time for me to head back and so bid my farewells to Mr Happy and good wishes to all. Mr Happy planned to hike with the trio to Mollies Ridge Shelter where they planned to spend the night.

On my way down I hiked with Walrus and also met a couple of ladies from Maine (can't recall their trail names) who were section hiking, as well as a couple of guys from the ATC who had come to help Walrus get to the hostel.

I spent the night in Knoxville and the flew home the following day with a lot of my flight covering the trail that Mr Happy will see in the next few months. All I can say is Virginia is a hell of a big state even from the air.

When I got home there was a voice mail from Mr Happy to say he had a great night at Mollies Ridge - wasn't cold and in good company and good spirits.

Thanks to everyone who supported him in taking his time out and in helping him get back on the trail. He still knows it won't be easy but is now more prepared for the challenges and is relishing the great support that exists among the thru hiker community.

Heading Back

My Dad and I left Saturday in his plane to get me back on the trail. We flew from Great Barrington to Raleigh-Durham to pick up Domino (AT05) but decided to stay the night as the weather in Knoxvile was really ugly - winds and severe turbulence over the smokies. Next day we set off again - unfortunately without Domino (long story) - and made it to Knoxville in time to rent a car and drive to Fontana. What a road - 300 or more hairpin bends in less than 50 miles - but really beautiful. We were greeted by Jeff and Nancy and immediately introduced to Juniper, Backyard Boogie, and Salamander - who were also staying there that night. We went to dinner with them in Robbinsville. It was great to know I was not going to be alone this time at the start of the Smokies.

Forty-Eight Hours Left at Home

Last week I went back to my old High School again, this time to go rock climbing with some of my old chums and my Biology teacher. I ended up on belay duty all day but it was still fun -- beautiful day too. The short hike out the cliffs felt great!

Then earlier this week I went to EMS with my Dad, Fly By Mike, to get him all suited up for a week in the Smokies. I got a few items -- a down vest, a new headlamp, and a belt strap for my nalgene, among other things. We also got a bunch of Mountain House meals on sale, which will be tasty. We had been planning on leaving today and starting to hike tomorrow, but we couldn't fly due to weather (I was slightly miffed but there was nothing to do about it). We're leaving on Saturday now, and Dad and Domino will only hike with me for the first day. I've already packed up my pack with food for two people for 4 days, so I've got enough to get myself all the way to Standing Bear Farm without stopping in Gaitlinburg if I so choose. I guess we'll see how I feel.

I'm starting to get anxious. My pack is sitting in the corner of my room, all loaded up, beckoning me. "Let's go Happy. We've still got 2,000 miles to walk. What are you doing sitting you your ass?!"

In other news, I saw a nutritionist. I apparently react poorly to carbohydrates, specifically processed ones. It will be difficult to change my diet much on the trail, but I'll be staying away from really bad stuff like little debbies. I'm also allergic to hops, which means no beer for me. I guess I'm safe from a freshmen-15 next year, though after being emaciated on my thru-hike I'll probably need an extra 15 pounds.

As much as I want to go back, the more I think about it the more I realize I made the right decision. Actually, the right decision would have been to just start in mid-late february, not January, but hey, that's okay. Coming home now I've been able to completely reanalyze my gear list based on my experience, come to terms with my personal goals and my reasons for doing this, and also get a little work in to make up for all of those nights in hotels.

In about 48 hours I'll be in Robinsville eating a last supper before heading back into the wild. I can't wait.

P.S. I'm working on uploading more pictures, but the internet is very sketchy. I'll post again if I get it to work before leaving.