Serendipity – Luck that takes the form of finding valuable or pleasant things that are not looked for.

Providence – The means by which God directs all things, both animate and inanimate, seen and unseen, good and evil — toward a worthy purpose, which means His will must finally prevail.

The lucky twists, the fortunate breaks, the way a series of seemingly random events can work in conjunction to produce an unexpected favorable outcome…do you call them serendipity?  Or is it God’s Providence at work?  The older I get, the less I believe in luck or randomness…and the more I believe in a loving God orchestrating a few twists, and engineering a few breaks, to provide and sustain his children.  Even when bad things happen, God is there bringing out the good and maybe teaching us some things in the process.

Day 9

I really wanted to attend worship services Sunday morning in Hiawassee, because I need that and know that opportunities to do so will be limited over the next 6 months.  The church, though, was 10 miles out of town…hike-able, but hikers don’t really like hiking non-AT miles unless we have to.  So I googled a number associated with the Hiawassee Church of Christ…and got the former minister who is no longer there.  He gave me a possible contact of Robert Jarrard…there are a few of them.  Left a message for the first one.  The second one, Bobby, answered and said he doesn’t go there but his brother does.  He also offered me a ride!  On the way to services, we drove by his beautiful lakeside home and I commented on it. He said, “you should see inside,” and then he pulled in and gave me a tour of the place.  A kind man…being used by God to give me a “good break.”

Really enjoyed worshipping with the good folks of H CoC.  They average 12, but had 17 that morning due to several visitors.  A faithful group, despite small numbers and their long-time preacher being out for some time with an apparent serious illness.  They even extended the invitation for me to teach in their Sunday School class, so I taught on “spiritual applications from hiking the AT.”

Meanwhile, there was the issue of getting from church back to the trail…about a 20 mile journey.  How would God come up with a “lucky twist?”  Well, from out of nowhere I hear from Mark Crum, a high school (and Facebook) friend I haven’t seen in 32 years.  He said his family would be in the area and would love to take me to lunch and then deliver me back to the Trail.  Cha-Ching!  He has an adorable and extremely kind wife and 2 children….such a sweet family.  They took me to Brothers at Willow Ranch where I feasted on the Chicken Alfredo and salad.  Then, before dropping me back on the trail, they gave me a bag of assorted Girl Scout cookies!  Thank you, Team Crum!

I got on the trail at 2:20 and banged out 7.4 miles to Rich Cove Gap (elevation 3532 ft).  The temperature was dropping quickly and my watches barometer was trending downward.  As I pitched Big Agnes, the snow began to fall.  Just after getting camp set up, eating, and crawling into my tent, the snow turned to freezing rain.  Perfect timing, and luck had nothing to do with it.

Sir Fob

“Everywhere is walking distance if you have the time.”   – Stephen Wright

Day 6

As I broke camp on Rocky Mountain, two hikers came by with their dog and stopped for a rest.  The older bearded guy, Relic Hunter, was straight out of Deliverance…and I mean that as a compliment.  He completed half a thru hike several years ago.  While on the trail in Virginia, a bear grabbed a hold of his backpack which was leaning next to a tree by his tent.  He got out, changed underwear, and followed the bear at a distance.  It eventually dropped the foodless pack and moved on.  Today the pack, with 3 bear claw punctures, hangs in his garage.

The younger, thin guy, Loud Owl, looked pretty tired and worn out.  I asked him where the trail name came from and he explained that “owls can get pretty loud.”  Fair enough.  I reciprocated and told him about a time my offspring defiled a trail and that made him smile.  I also learned that he was about out of food. So I gave him my relatively heavy bag of trail mix.  His face lit up like a Christmas tree and he said, “thanks, Fob.”  It seemed like a good and decent thing to do, but I had some other motives: 1) I’ve learned out here that I never crave trail mix…especially the sweet, messy kind.  I was just carrying it up and down mountains; and 2) Reducing weight whenever possible is always a good thing.  It was a Win-Win for me and young Loud Owl.

Later, I came across Driftwood who is hiking with her 20 year old special needs son, Wildwood.  He doesn’t speak, but can communicate with basic sign language.  I spent some time with them at Neels Gap and observed how good and caring and patient she is with him.  It was good to see them and I find them very inspirational.  I really want to see them finish this hike.

I descended Rocky Mountain and then began the long climb up Tray Mountain, the 7th tallest in Georgia.  On the way up, I squeezed water out of a stream while a nearby brother and sister ginger team, straight from Hogwarts, washed their hair.  It just never occurred to me to wash my hair in a Georgia stream in March.  Next, I stopped for a break and met a French-speaking Canadian from Quebec with the trail name Diguidou!, which is slang for “everything’s good”.   Neither of us spoke the other’s language, but I wanted to impress him and make him feel at home…so I said the only French words I know…”Oui, Oui, omelette du frommage” which means, “Yes, yes, cheese omelette.”  He looked at me, understandably puzzled, and decided break time was over.  I probably set U.S.-Canadian relations back by 20 years, and for that I’m truly sorry.

At mile 60.9, I stopped and had a candy bar at Young Lick Knob which is followed by a dip at mile 62.2 called Swag of the Blue Ridge.  I’m guessing the Native Americans who named these parts had a pretty wild party that night.  At Addis Gap, I hung out with Castaway, a sailor who I met on the trail on Day 1.  He’s trying to make it to Virginia in the time he has off from work.

After a final climb over Kelly Knob, I descended into Deep Gap Knob and set up camp near the shelter there.  There were around 25 tents set up in the vicinity, and some lively dinner conversation around the picnic table.  Most hikers were in their early to mid 20s, and the topic that evening was student loan debt and how to avoid paying it.  Options ranged from “just vote for Bernie Sanders” to “just don’t pay it…education is not like a house they can foreclose on…once you have it you have it.”  A ginger, with remarkably vibrant hair, suggested college was a complete waste of money.  I had thoughts on these subjects, like one should only borrow money if one has the intent and ability to pay it off eventually.  But I kept those thoughts to myself and instead focused on keeping my fettuccine Alfredo down.  It wasn’t the time and place for a lecture from an old conservative guy sitting on a log with salt formations in his Spanish Moss-looking beard.

Later, I noticed 2 German guys sitting off by themselves so I went and talked to them about trail names and my time stationed at Spandahlem Air Base.  Even later, I struck up a conversation with an impressive young man from Jackson, MS, who turned out to be The Beaver…the son of a friend of a friend who I had been asked to track down.  I only wish Diguidou  from Quebec had been there to see that I had tracked a beaver in the wilderness.

Day 7

I woke up highly motivated at 6am, because I needed to hike 3.6 miles to catch the 9am shuttle into Hiawassee for some time off.  I packed up everything in the dark and departed at 6:45am while everyone else was still in their tents.  I got a chance to use my headlamp for the first hour, and enjoyed hiking in the dark.  Just gotta watch the steep ledges.  About a half mile from the pickup point at Dicks Creek Gap, I went by a trail maintainer who was blowing leaves off the trail.  I knew these folks removed trees and limbs, but it never occurred to me they used leaf blowers to keep the trail clear.  I thanked him.

I arrived at the Budget Inn and signed up for 2 nights, in order to get a full zero day on Saturday, give my heels some time to heal, and to hopefully get to church services on Sunday.  It’s not a race and I plan to enjoy these trail towns while I’m here.  While waiting for my room to get ready, I met Pat and Meagan, a mother-daughter thru-hiking team from Vermont.  Meagan graduated from Dartmouth, taught English for awhile, and is getting married in October.   It was her birthday, and we were all craving coffee, so I took them for some coffee and conversation at the nearby Dairy Queen.  They filled me in on the Green and White mountains I’ll face up north.  Fun, random fact:  the Asian guy who made our coffee was the first non-Caucasian person I had seen in a week.

Once my room was ready, I took a long hot bath followed by a long hot shower, did some laundry, and then headed straight for Daniel’s All-You-Can-Eat Steakhouse!  It was so, so very good!  I had a salad, bread, potatoes, fried chicken, fried fish, fried shrimp, pees, Mac n Cheese, baked beans, strawberry dessert, 2 waters, 2 diet cokes, a tall glass of chocolate milk, and a cup of coffee.  Did I mention it was really good?  Maybe I won’t lose weight after all!

As I walked back to the hotel, I re-supplied at a Dollar General and then headed back to the Budget Inn.  Several 20-something hikers were gathered around a campfire next to the Inn drinking, smoking and sharing hiking war stories.  I stopped by for a few minutes to chat, then headed off to bed…actually a sleeping bag on top of the bed.  It was good to be in civilization.

Day 8

Saturday…my first Zero Day!  My goals were to eat, rest, take a nap, prepare my backpack, and call my wife and father.  I was able to get all that in.  I had a foot-long Italian BMT sub at Subway for brunch, and was joined by a traveling soccer team from Francis Marion University out of Florence, SC.  I finished off the day with a Quesalupa combo and a beefy 5-layer burrito for dessert.  Glad I got a single room.

It was a great zero day and I love Hiawassee.  But I’m anxious to get back on the trail tomorrow and get some more miles in.

Everything is going well.  In fact…Diguidou!

Sir Fob

“I intend to make Georgia howl.”  – William Tecumseh Sherman

Day 4

It’s only fitting that The Hunger Games and The Walking Dead were both filmed in Georgia.  In my first week on the trail in Georgia, I have experienced zombie-like stretches when all I thought about was food.

Fortunately, as I awoke at the Walasi-Yi hostel on the morning of day 4, hunger was not going to be an issue.  A friend and fellow sojourner, Maureen Welch, arrived with her family at 9am with a ton of McDonalds food and coffee!  God bless her dear soul!  There was enough for Matt and me and others to devour sausage and egg biscuits and cinnamon thingies.  I enjoyed meeting her family.  After sharing a few hiking stories, we prayed together, and I specifically thanked God for Maureen being a true trail angel early in my journey.

Matt’s legs were really bothering him, so he decided to take a zero and stay another night.  Since the weather was nice and I was feeling good, I decided to head on out.  As I left Neels Gap, I thought of my Uncle Phil who hiked the 40 miles from Amicalola Falls to Neels Gap as a 65-year-old about 15 years ago.  (Mad respect for you, Uncle Phil!)

It was another warm day and I was glad I had done a good bit of my training in Florida.  Mid-afternoon, I descended into Tesnatee Gap and discovered more trail magic!  King Tut and Angela were serving snacks and drinks, answering questions, and offering crochet winter hats courtesy of the Crochet Group from Bethlehem Georgia’s United Methodist Church.  I took one and now use it as my clothes bag cover, which is also my pillow.  Thanks, ladies!

The climb out of Tesnatee was the toughest to date, especially for my blistered right heel.  I missed Matt, but enjoyed taking a few breaks and getting to know other hikers.  First there was a guy from California who sold all his possessions and is traveling around the country in a van with his dog.  (I thought, what kind of a nut job goes and does something like that?)  Next were two ladies hiking together, one of whom lives near Tinker AFB, OK (our first AF assignment).  At Blue Mountain Shelter, I met a medically retired Marine and his girlfriend.  We shared stories of our time in Afghanistan.  He was in the lead vehicle of a convoy in Helmand Province when an IED exploded, sending him and others flying through the air.  His face was torn off and had to be reconstructed.  Kudos to his docs, because his face looks really good.  He doesn’t have a trail name yet, but it would be alright with me if people called him Hero.

After 10.5 miles, I called it quits atop Sheep Rock Top mountain.  It was a good warm day of hiking.  In fact, as I settled in for the night, I noticed salt formations from my profuse sweating had formed on my backpack straps.

Day 5

I woke up to a beautiful sunrise this morning.  Before heading out, I spent a fair amount of time building moleskin patches for my blisters on both heels.  I descended into Low Gap Shelter to get water and then spent this 12.1 mile day doing a series of small ups and downs.

At the Blue Mountain summit, I spoke with a young, fast-hiking, red-bearded guy from Murfreesboro TN.  He spent 22 years affiliated with the churches of Christ and then moved on to the Baptists and then another group.  He said he was out here to find himself and figure things out.  I hope he finds what he’s looking for and can use this experience to re-connect with a God who loves him and is evident at every turn.

The final climb of the day out of Unicoi Gap was intense.  I try to take those fairly slowly and just keep putting one foot in front of the other.  I also think of weird things to focus on.  For example, I wondered what it would run me to have my friends Adam Key and Mickey Shrader do mold remediation on my body after the hike.

Exhausted, I set up camp on Rocky Mountain, with wonderful views from 4017 feet.  I fired up some chicken and rice on the MSR Pocket Rocket and gobbled it down way too quickly…a losing play in The Hunger Games.  I called Lil Jan and was thrilled to hear her voice.  Unfortunately, as she updated me on happenings back in the real world, I had to put her on speaker as my acid reflux kicked in and I started throwing up.  It was like, “Yes, dear” (barf)…”that’s good news” (gag), etc.  Sorry, honey!  And sorry I missed out on those carbs!  It wasn’t the most romantic, mountain top phone conversation I’d ever had…but then again I guess it was.

Fob

After much reflection and consideration, I have accepted the trail name…Sir Fob W. Pot.  It can be shortened to Sir Fob or simply Fob.

I will share the back story, or at least a version of it that I know.  I don’t know all the specifics, but I think I have the general gist of what went down.  Several years ago, when my youngest son Kyle (now a college senior) was in about 9th grade, he went on an Adventure Trek with Larry Alexander and 20 or so other teenagers.  Larry is an AT and PCT thru hiker (trail name: Baro), friend, author, and my AT mentor.  He takes groups out into the wilderness for several days of team-building, hiking, and rappelling.

One evening, as the group descended into their campsite, Kyle was left with the impression that they would be hiking out the opposite way the following morning.  About 10pm, nature called in a big way.  Kyle felt the rumble in his tummy and needed to act quickly.  As there was no privy, the proper procedure was to go into the woods, a good 30-50 yards away from camp, dig a hole, do your business, bury it, and return to camp.  Above all else, you are to “leave no trace.”  This is an established camping principle dating back at least to the time of Noah.

Kyle, with a still developing frontal lobe, decided to divert from the operating manual.  Maybe he was scared…or lazy…or simply trying to beef up his résumé to get into the Knights social club at Harding one day.  Whatever the motivation, he headed back up the same trail the group came in on, dropped his trousers around his ankles, and in a moment of moral weakness, in the light of the moon, took a massive dump in the center of the trail.  Perhaps immediately realizing his grave mistake, he sprinkled a few leaves on top for good measure and walked back down the trail to camp.

The next morning, Baro assembled the young hikers and told them they would be hiking back out the way they came in.  Kyle’s eyes widened and he immediately got a big lump in his throat (but not nearly as big as the lump he had criminally left sitting 50 yards up trail with a few leaves on it).

As they approached the Kyle pile, Baro immediately spotted it and tried to shield the eyes of the younger hikers, but it was too late.  An avid outdoorsman, Baro closely examined it and revealed what others suspected…this was a pyramid of human waste.  So he circled the troops around this disgusting mound of filth, and gave a short speech on the sanctity of trails, leave no trace principles, and accountability.  They weren’t leaving until someone owned this horrendous trail violation. After a few awkward moments of silence, Kyle shrugged his shoulders and sheepishly raised his hand.  Baro sighed, shook his head, and gave Kyle his official trail name:  Trail Pooper.

Fast forward to last week…as I began my AT trek, Baro suggested I be named Fob W. Pot…Father Of Boy Who Pooped On Trail.  My first hiking partner, Matt, loved it.  He suggested I add Sir in front of it to make it more dignified…and because I was the oldest person he’d seen in 3 days.  I discussed the name with several other thru hikers and they loved it and the story behind it.

In addition to the great story, it connects me to family (Trail Pooper), to my AT hiking mentor (Baro), and to my first AT hiking partner, Matt. It’s a name I earned by virtue of being partly responsible for the birth of Kyle, the Trail Pooper himself.

And who knows?  Maybe someday Kyle and Laci will have a son, an adventurer type, and all the hiking world will come to know him as Sob W. Pot.

Fob

TMI Alert — You’ve Been Warned

Day 3

Since about the time I turned 40, I’ve had 2 health things to deal with…acid reflux and frequent urination.  Both problems joined forces and made for an interesting night on Ramrock Mountain.

The Beef Ramen noodle, Chicken Ramen noodle, and tobasco sauce trifecta began working their magic both north and south of my stomach.  I popped some Tums at 2 a.m. which quelled the reflux.  The real issue that night, though, involved urination.

Apparently as men get older, their prostates grow.  I believe mine is probably about the size of a can of tuna.  The doc told me it pushes on the urethra (which, quite frankly, sounds like something only women should have) and this irritates the bladder walls, which contract, making you have to pee.  So for most nights over the past decade, I get up at 3 a.m., shuffle to the bathroom, relieve myself, then crawl back into bed.  In an RV this is really easy because you just take one full stride, do a left face, and fire away.

That’s all well and good in a house or RV, but not so fun in the wilderness at 3 a.m. in all sorts of weather.  So I brought a Mountain Dew pee bottle.  Before judging me, hear me out.  It’s ultra-light.  It fits neatly in the side pocket of my backpack.  I’m in a Flycreek 2 tent, which implies pants fly and creek or stream.  There’s a technique that can work…and did work at 3 a.m. on our first night on the trail. First you get up on your knees, placing the top of your head at the top of the tent.  Ideally you’d have 3 hands…one to hold the bottle, one to aim with, and one to hold a small flashlight.  (Headlamps are not recommended as they illuminate the tent and may cast an awkward silhouette.)  With only 2 available hands, this must be done in the dark.  You assume the position, aim, fire, put the lid on tightly, and go back to sleep.  Then empty the bottle the next day.  Why no one has written about this technique in all the AT guides and books I’ve read is beyond me.  It’s called The Johnson Method and it worked beautifully on night 1 near Hightower Gap.

Night 2 at Ramrock…not so much.  I made a critical mistake.  As I rose up on my knees, they were on the air mattress rather than straddling it.  I grabbed the bottle, aimed, and fired.  About 6 ounces in, all was well.  As the Mountain Dew bottle warms up, you know good things are happening.  Then disaster struck.  About mid-stream, my left knee slid off the side of the air mattress, sending me in to a topple.  Your instincts are to reach out and catch yourself, but there were no available hands!  In moments like this, mid-stream, job 1 is to keep the Mountain Dew bottle connected to the mother ship.  So I held on for dear life and fell over sideways with my head and shoulder hitting the side of the tent.  But I kept firing.  At age 50, there’s no way to turn off the spigot until the tank is empty.  I laid there for a moment…relieved that I wasn’t injured…and just relieved in general.  As I lay there on my side, my next issue was that the bottle cap was on the other side of the tent.  So with all the energy I could muster I swung my legs around while maintaining the link up with the mother ship.  I grabbed the bottle cap with my toes like a ballerina and swung back around.  I then leaned the bottle up, capped it, and rolled back onto the air mattress.  Tragedy averted!  It’s the unexpected things on the AT, the surprise moments, that will make or break you.  Ya gotta rise to the occasion or urine big trouble.

Matt and I left Ramrock about 8:15.  About 20 minutes into the hike, I got that rumbling in my stomach.  The tobasco-laced Ramen noodles had worked their way through my digestive track.  I knew Woody Gap was near and had an actual toilet.  And so, in answer to the question, “Woody finally go on day 3?”…the answer is he would.  In honor of the occasion, I renamed the location He Would Gap.

After a peanut butter, trail mix, and beef jerky lunch at Jarrard Gap, we made our way toward Blood Mountain.  It is the 6th tallest mountain in Georgia and the tallest AT mountain in Georgia.  Some say the mountain was named after a bloody battle between the Cherokee and Creek Indians.  Others say it’s based on the reddish color of lichen and Catawba near the summit  Others say the Bloods beat the Crips there in some gang warfare. (Just 1 person said that.)  Sadly, what’s for certain is that it was the location where a hiker named Meredith was murdered in 2008.  The killer is in prison for life.

We ascended blood mountain in the rain.  On the way up, we saw a few birds…the first wildlife of any kind so far…besides one salamander.  It was a long ascent but not too difficult other than my right heel was bleeding a bit.  We hung out with some hikers at the Blood Mountain shelter for awhile and shot a video clip that wasn’t audible due to the wind.  The descent was more challenging due to the wet rocks (lots of them to scramble over) and the wind.  I’d hate to be a south-bounder going up that side.  On the way down we passed 3 New Yorkers also planning to stay at the Walasi Yi hostel for the night.  That would prove to be a key pass, as when we got there around 5, we got the final 2 remaining bunks.

First order of business, even before showering, was to eat.  I drank a Diet Coke that was magical.  Matt and I then split a large 3-meat pizza.  I then ate a burrito and then an apple and then drank a Ginger Ale and a PowerAid. I was just starting to fill kinda full when 15 students from Armstrong State University in Savannah came rolling in with baked ziti, salad, and bread. So I ate it.  These youngsters do this on Spring Break as part of a Christian ministry outreach and we really appreciated it.

We got a shower, did laundry, and got to know a wide assortment of humanity.  Among the cast of characters was Book in Boots, an Australian lady who bunked below me.  There were two Indiana University ladies who we shared a bear bag line with on Ramrock…one is a competitive cyclist and one wants to be a brain surgeon.  Next there was Emily, a very kind and interesting transgender photographer from Houston.  A lady about my age named Driftwood was there with Wildwood, her 20 year old special needs son.  They are attempting a thru and I really admire that.  Several of us stayed up til 10:30 watching The Matrix and burping ziti.

My final challenge of the night was climbing up to the top bunk with sore feet and a sore body.  I finished off the day listening to an excellent sermon by my friend and former fellow teacher, Donald Ballard.  (Thanks Ross and Crafton for putting these on the web.)

I was in a warm bed, with a bathroom nearby, and my Mountain Dew bottle was securely tucked away in my backpack.

Big Steve

The mountains are calling and I must go.  – John Muir

I don’t know how this hike will end, but the beginning was fantastic!  A fellow sojourner, Maureen, arranged for Lil Jan and me to spend 2 nights in a cabin not far from Springer Mountain.  The cabin belongs to her friend, and our new friend, Arlin…thank you, sir!  Turns out Arlin is the father of Terry Chapman, who we know from our FL Bible Camp days.  Small world.  The cabin was right on the Toccoa River and a perfect place to be.

On Friday, we headed to Amicalola Falls State Park with Maureen and Arlin, and met up with a bunch of family…my Dad, sister Ellen, her hubby Vin, her daughter Lizzie, Jan’s sister Carol, her hubby Scott, and Vin’s brother Tim.  We hiked up the Falls (killer steps!), ate at the lodge, and checked out the visitors center.  I also registered for my hike…I’m hiker #564 to start the trail this year.  That night Janet carbo loaded me up with chili and pasta.  I slept surprisingly well, even though I was a tad anxious.

Saturday morning we all rendezvoused at the Springer Mountain parking lot.  That was no small feat as the 6 mile Forest Road 42 leading to the parking lot was gravel and full of potholes.  Thankfully we were in a Honda Fit.  ?  We then headed up the .9 miles to the Springer Mountain summit and southern terminus of the AT.  We took some photos, I signed the logbook and then I took the first of what I hope will be about 5 million steps.  Back down at the parking lot we circled up and Vin led us in prayer.  I then hugged everyone, kissed my wife, and almost cried.  So many emotions were going through my head.  I can’t express how cool it was having all those folks there.  Or the texts and Facebook posts from all over…even high school friends that I haven’t seen in 30+ years!  I have truly felt the love and support and encouragement.  I carry a piece of each of you with me.  If you want that piece back, see my son Jason…he does prosthetics!

About 100 yards down the trail I sensed a guy on my tail.  I turned and asked him if he was going to Maine.  He said yes so I gave him a fist pump and we’ve been hiking buddies ever  since. His name is Matt and he recently graduated from UNC-Wilmington.  Loves jazz music and reminds me a lot of Luke Larsen, for those who know him.  He decided to take a year off before starting law school.  He’s a competitive rifle and pistol shooter which I thought might come in handy hunting wolverines but he’s not packin.  He has a slightly faster motor than me on the up hills…probably because hes’s not 50 and chunky.

Our first day of hiking was beautiful and unseasonably warm.  I stopped at the Stover Creek Shelter privy to relieve myself because apparently the thousands of trees in every direction weren’t good enough for me.  We met several other hikers there and later at the Hawks Mountain shelter.  We learned that a woman had to medically evacuated from there because she spilled boiling water on her leg while cooking.  Sorry to hear that.  Matt and I ended up camping on the top of the first hill north of Hightower Gap.  I had beef stew and peanut butter and crackers for supper.  We hung our bear bags, built a fire, and set up camp.  It had been a near perfect 8.9 mile day 1 and I dozed off to sleep about 9pm.

The heavy rain and wind gusts started about midnight.  I was kind of excited about it because I wanted to test everything out early on the hike.  I stayed warm and dry in my UL Flycreek 2 tent.  Matt didn’t fair so well in his hammock and tarp.  In fact he got soaked.  I felt bad for him but he bounced back pretty quickly.

I got up at 7:30, packed up in the rain, and ate the pop tart that had been sitting in the bottom of my food bag for the past 2 months of training hikes.  It was basically brown sugar cinnamon sawdust.  Sassafras Mountain, at 3347 feet, was my first butt kicker.  It’s not as difficult as what lies ahead, but it’s difficult because your lungs and legs are still getting acclimated to these altitudes.  The moderate rain didn’t help.  My glasses were fogging up so I took them off…causing my vision to fog up.

Our luck improved around noon as the sun came out and we had lunch and got water at the beautiful Justus Creek.  Later we paid a visit to Gooch Gap shelter and talked to several hikers.  One guy was a 50 year old pastor from Belleville IL (where we used to live)  who has a son who spent 2 years at Harding University where Kyle and Jason go/went.  A short time later, at Gooch Gap, we got our first trail magic!!!  A former thru hiker, Sticks, is spending his Spring break making hot dogs for hikers.  He asked if I wanted one.  That answer will always…ALWAYS, be yes!  Pretty cool, selfless thing to do on your week off.  I ate it in 2 bites.

We finished our 10.1 mile day atop Ramrock Mountain. It’s the 2 of us and 2 young ladies from Indiana University.  Don’t worry honey we’re only sharing a bear bag line as they didn’t have one.  It’s been a good day…the only downside being Matt’s soaking hammock (which eventually dried out) and a couple blisters on my heels which I treated tonight.  And I miss Lil Jan.  Supper tonight was 2 packages of Ramen noodles (beef and chicken) with a packet of tobasco sauce.  I haven’t pooped in 2 days so I’m hoping that will stir the pot.  (If that’s TMI for you,  you’re reading the wrong blog!)

Very grateful to be here, and grateful for the folks cheering me on.  Looking forward to tackling Blood Mountain tomorrow and possibly getting to Neels Gap, where we may stay the night to shower and re-supply.

God is good all the time.

Big Steve