The Practice Run

Something is wrong with the world when I get cell phone reception on the Appalachian Trail.

Shenandoah is meant to be my big solo backpacking adventure, but I decided with my full day in the Smokies, I’d do a big day hike and see how it goes. The day before, the ranger suggested a sold 10 mile loop up and down a mountain. A good relaxing walk in the woods.

I got on the trail at noon, a good 3 hours later than planned. Not because I’m a procrastinator, but because half my hitchhikers vanished for two hours to go have sex in the woods, and then I needed to drop them off somewhere to keep them entertained and out of harm’s way. I told them I’d pick them up in 6 hours. I later found out they nearly resorted to cannibalism.

The AT in the Smokies, along with really any of the trails, follows the ridgeline of the mountains. That means that the trail is narrow and on either side (frequently both) is a long plummety fall punctuated by trees. Hundreds of miles of contiguous death hazard. Sometimes you’d get a clear view of your imminent death. Other times the trees closed in with claustrophobic intimacy. And bears are wandering around. Lets do it!

I started out surprisingly well. 3 mph uphill is not bad at all for a beginner hiker. Mind you, this was the very start. By the end I was limping at a crawl, but for now I felt great. I encountered a troop of boy scouts who confused me for a thru-hiker on my way to Maine and felt compelled to line up to give me high fives. I thought about straightening out the confusion (or pushing them over the cliff), but maybe I’ll inadvertently inspire them. So far, I’ve only managed to inspire children to cruelty and petty crime.

Really, I met a lot of interesting people along the trail. The Spanish professor who happens to be the only liberal at Bob Jones University (shockingly, she hates her job), the father and daughter duo from Chattanooga whom I passed and got passed by on and off like an uphill wagon drag race, the guy shooting artsy shots with a camera older than my father which uses negatives bigger than his glasses, ect… Point is, fun people from all over use the trail, and talking to them is one of the highlights.

The trip started going downhill when it began going more uphill. I turned off the AT and on to a side trail that goes up this mountain. Well, the trail goes up, Then down. Then up, then down. Wash, rinse, repeat. It was spiteful really; if it didn’t keep going downhill, I could’ve cut my uphill in half. And when you think you’ve finally gotten to the top, U-turn! Sadistic fucks.

I looked for animals as I went. My spider, centipede, and salamander senses were tingling the entire time. And everything sounds like a bear. But alas, all I saw was trees. Mainly dead trees, and fungus and exotic bugs are killing off the entire forest. But thick layers of diseased pine needles littering the ground do put a bounce in your step.

Finally, after 2 hours of natural bliss and 2 hours of tiredness, frustration, and joint pain, I reached the top. It felt so much longer than expected it to. I checked the map.

The ranger was wrong. I’d walked 9 miles uphill instead of 7 like I’d expected. And the hike back down was 5 miles, not 3. My hike was an extra 4 miles. Worse, having dropped to 2 mph, it was going to tack 2 hours onto my trip, and I’d left my couchsurfers stranded without food or water. With newfound determination and a snack of wheat thins, I resolved to make it to the bottom in record time.

What do you think when you think a 9 mile uphill hike becomes a 5 mile downhill hike? It was less a hike and more a game of Mario. Jump the platforms without accidentally falling to your death. I mean, it was fatal enough on its own, but my speed run didn’t help things.

I made the next 2 miles within an hour before needing to stop to drink at the mouth of a huge cave. I also took the occasion to boast about my accomplishments to anyone in earshot. A particularly redneck family, where even the toddler had mullet, seemed quite impressed. But the middle aged hippy woman traveling with them for some reason, was not moved. She warned me my haste would get me nowhere. Maybe off a cliff. I raced on.

You can only run and hop so long before you get tuckered out. I think the problem was that this downhill trail STILL MANAGED TO GO UPHILL! Benton McKay can suck my dick. The constant jarring was killing my feet, my ankles, my knees. I still sped past everyone, but with quickly diminishing returns and increasing pain. The lowland forest was primeval, but I had no time to stop and admire it. I managed to pass the crowds in the last mile, which was great because I really didn’t want anyone to see me slogging, back bent and slightly limping. Finally, I could hear the sound of cars overpower the sounds of nature. Nothing sounded so beautiful.

I reached the parking lot, and realized I’d never be able to walk the 5 miles to my car. I had to hitchhike. I sat on the curb and stuck my thumb out, but only managed to get the couchsurfer treatment. Why does everyone look at my like I’m a leper? The people coming off the trail were all headed in the other direction. Well, they were when I asked. Most actually were, but one or two lied to my face with such gusto I couldn’t be angry. C’mon baby, flash those turn signals in my face.

I ultimately got a ride to my car, after half an hour of nearly spraining my thumb in failure. The old hippy woman emerged from the forest and regarded me with a smile. Warm, not self-satisfied. She told me she expected to see me here. I told her I expected she’d be the one to save me.

I got back to my wards, amazingly only an hour and a half after I promised, and half an hour before they resorted to cannibalism.