Mountains-to-Sea Trail: 2008

Maybe later...

2009-11-08T14:51:00.004-05:00

I tend to be fairly obsessive about carrying my plans to fruition. I am open to flexibility, but when I have set my mind of something, usually it happens. It's not necessarily a good characteristic, to be so stubbornly directed in life, but it has allowed me to experience and accomplish quite a lot.

That said, my plan to raft the Neuse River is on hold. For a while. It was a good and exciting idea, due in part to its appeal as a bold and semi-disgusting proposition (being somewhat the Love Canal of North Carolina, full of leached pig-farm shit and industrial and agricultural refuse from upstream). But it was a bad idea, because for now, I am happy spending time with other people and in asphalt/concrete settings: wide frames around the copious parks and lakes of Minneapolis, Minnesota. I am working part-time and saving money to travel around Southeast Asia for a couple of months, beginning in January.

I am still more than willing to share my experiences on the MST with anyone who is interested in my trips, or in hiking it themselves. I added a bunch of daily entries, which are labeled by the date when they were handwritten in my journal, in addition to the summary blog entries I left while I was hiking. Feel free to e-mail me with any questions (my email address is on my profile page).

Raft Scheming

2009-07-06T07:38:00.003-04:00

I am sitting here in Durham eating spicy, gingery homemade sauerkraut and planning the next section of my Mountains-to-Sea Trail trip. As I somewhat described last year, I have a few remaining sections of the trail corridor to complete: the 200+ mile section between the Falls Lake dam and the Neuse River ferry crossing, the trail sections that I missed while biking (in Bur-Mil Park, the Sauratown Trail, the Pilot Mountain region and maybe trail near Hanging Rock?), a 20 mile section of the BRP that Grizzly drove me through, and the last 90 miles to Clingman's Dome.

I have ideas for how to complete three of those this fall, although I have yet to figure out how to patch together those trail sections across the western Piedmont. My first plan is to raft down the Neuse River from Falls Lake to New Bern. I am trying to plan for low water sections of the river and raft design. I want to use mostly recycled materials to build the raft. While my trip will be a lot different from those described in these links, I am swooning over their sexy raft designs:

YOUTUBE Markus Erikson
The Plastiki
Floating Neutrinos
JUNK

Set to launch in September (hurricane season!). I will post updates as I begin to garner supplies and construct the little vessel.

Eno River Festival

2009-07-04T21:49:00.000-04:00

The FMST was at the Eno River Festival, in the thick of the local music, art, and outdoor festival. I stole away from the booth a couple of times, to visit with a surprise friend who wandered past and to talk to Frog Hollow Outdoors at their booth, culling advice about rafting the Neuse River. This photo is of the booth, with Katherine and Brian of the group.

Yes, still here.

2009-02-12T03:29:00.006-05:00

Just a note to say that: yes, I will still be finishing the trail.

Someday.

Today & tomorrow, I have different plans.

Although, as my broinlaw loves to point out,

I don't even know what I am doing tomorrow.

NOW GET YER BOOTY OUTSIDE AND GO HIKE.

From an air-conditioned office...

2008-07-28T13:04:00.005-04:00

The days are long and the heat and humidity are high: it's summertime in the southeastern US. My day job is in Pittsboro, NC (a small environmental haven & research triangle bedroom community) on a 2-acre organic vegetable farm. I wish that I could say that the last 6 weeks of the internship have been totally wonderful and meditative, but mostly I am still orienting/realigning my magnets and recharging my batteries from an enervating final two years of college. In my non-existant spare time, I am working on woodblock printing (farmer portraits), volunteering once a week in Raleigh with Kate Dixon (executive director of the Friends of the MST), running on trails, swimming in ponds, having heated philosophical discussions with my housemates, and cooking fresh & healthy food. I leave the Triangle area in a few weeks for a 4-month position at an environmental education center south of Brevard, North Carolina. A las Montanas!

I am ITCHING for more mobile adventures (wool-sweater itching, not poison-ivy itching), and look forward to getting back to the Mountains to Sea Trail to complete it. I hope to finish it by the end of 2008, but funds and life sometimes get in the way, and I am kind of ready to admit... that backpacking is not enough to keep me satisfied ALL of the time. The News & Observer of Raleigh, NC is in the middle of publishing a 4-part series on the Mountains-to-Sea Trail, that you should check out (http://www.newsobserver.com/trailblazing/)

On the end of a long-distance trip

2008-03-20T11:29:00.004-04:00

Transitioning back to a “soft” lifestyle from the trail is similar to getting off of a treadmill after running for an hour: the rest of the world is static, slow, comfortable and you are speeding ahead at the same tempo, aware of sounds and movements no one else sees. At the same time, the world is multi-tasking, while you are only good at performing the automatic, instinctual movements of the trail: preparing for the day, walking measured by a mental odometer, making meals, and finding water.

Why did humans evolve from nomadic hunting and gathering when this transient lifestyle feels so good? Is there something in our DNA: our bodies’ residual nostalgia for the uncertain lifestyle of the hunt? Or maybe it is a matter of digging shallower than that, back a few generations when living was more in sync with the ebb and flow of nature. When years weren’t marked from tax-season to tax-season, vacation days to vacation days, Grammy’s to Grammy’s, but instead by the gradations of nature. The amount of daylight increasing, then decreasing, the northern hemisphere thawing, then freezing, the spring rain filling streams and aquifers and evaporation & transpiration sucking them lower, crops planted germinating growing harvested gone to seed, the flowers of the spring and summer, leaves of the fall: Are we jealous of a world operating by these gentle changes, dramatic in their contrast and subtle in their progression?

Of course we know the answer to that question. We have chosen comfort and consistency over unpredictability. And as much as I love hiking, I also like people (sometimes). And feel a responsibility to contribute in my own way to society.

This is the third time I have had to deal with the transition from the trail to town-life, and I can tell you that it gets easier with time. I am learning to apply the things that I learn from the hiking life to my non-hiking life. It is learning to revert back to domestication (showers, toilets, water faucets, small talk), without letting go of the whimsy of life on the GO. Most of all, what I have learned is that everyone has an environmental sin or two. Everyone who has any kind of environmental scruples has a hypocritical gap between what they believe is the right way to live and their day-to-day actions. Guilt, like stress, is a double-edged tool that motivates change. It is about striking a balance, between feeling guilty about lifestyle choices and adopting a laissez faire attitude with the world: learning to harness your conscience for productive means and not let guilt corrode you.

And it’s good to eat cooked food again. I don’t know how much longer I could take peanuts for every meal.

Neusiok Trail

2008-03-13T22:53:00.004-04:00

My Dad and I hiked most of the Neusiok Trail, the 18.5 miles from Mill Creek Rd to Pine Cliffs Picnic Area. We found the trail to be well-maintained, blessed with good-weather (both days stretched towards 70 degrees F), well-graded (pancake-flat), and devoid of dangerous megafauna (snakes, alligators, bears).

It made a relaxing two-day trip.

Hoorah for the swamp! Tomorrow, north to New York.

Total MST miles: 614.2 (444.9 foot, 169.3 bike)
Total trip miles: 733.9 (495.8 foot, 238.1 bike)

YouTube Debut, What Next?

2008-03-06T10:54:00.007-05:00

This is a big moment. I have compiled my photographs, gathered my thoughts, synchronized photos with miles & favorite hiking music, and learned how to use iMovie (really neat, easy application). So here it is: my YouTube debut.

Part one
5.5 minutes long, from the Outer Banks to the Appalachian Mountain foothills

Part two
7.5 minutes long, from the foothills through the Blue Ridge Mountains

Enjoy~

The last Pisgah Stretch

2008-03-05T10:34:00.003-05:00

By March 1st, I was done walking, for the time being. I don't mean that in a defeated, broken down, bored way. I was just finished.

There is something triumphant about choosing your own path, even if it means going against the flow (the "flow" in this case referring to the MST - not exactly a white-water-rapids flow, but a steady trickle of hikers at the jostling rate of 2/year). There comes a time on every trip when it's time to go home. Home, sometimes an ambiguous term, refers in this case to a "homing instinct" - the type of instinct that pets use to find their way to their owners, or trout use to find their way to their natal ground when they're ready to breed. Is home comfort? Maybe. More than that, it is effortless. For me, it's sometimes on the trail. Maybe it is more a way of following your instinct to the place where you can be most balanced.

Whatever the reason, something flipped that switch 90 miles short of Clingman's Dome, and here I am: finished with this segment of the trip.

My brain gears are spinning, trying inevitably to tie a pretty bow around this trip and conclude with a brief, witty moral to take away from my MST experience. Wouldn't that be nice? Scramble me up some thoughts, make a breakfast-tale out of the ordeal! But summaries compromise too much, so I will end this blog post as I end all of the trail posts:

Total MST miles: 595.7 (426.4 foot, 169.3 bike)
Total trip miles: 715.4 (477.3 foot, 238.1 bike)

February 29, 2008

2008-02-29T02:53:00.000-05:00

Today’s miles: 6.5
Another Art Loeb Trail shelter

It was a shamefully lazy lazy day. It is still cold – a little warmer than yesterday, but my water bottle is still frozen.

Could it be that I am finished with this trip for now? I have another 90 miles to the finish.

It is Leap Day – time to take a leap of faith.

February 28, 2008

2008-02-28T02:51:00.001-05:00

Today’s miles: 17.9
Cedar Rock A-frame Shelter

It was another cold day, morning especially, but full of blue skies and sunshine which made the cold humps seem liveable. For most of the morning, I walked on the Black Mtn Trail and got some beautiful overlooks this morning. Felt a little bit sick from the chocolate chips this morning at breakfast. Walked into town to resupply at Bi-Lo (Brevard town limits, barely) and ate a lunch special at Pizza Hut featuring a salad bar of wax-paper-translucent lettuce and a choice of 4 creamy dressings, and a very cheesy personal pan pizza with jalapenos, mushrooms, and spicy sausage. Ohh la la, and some coffee in a Pizza Hut plastic mug. I spent a while there, before thrusting (wrestling) on my pack and walking back to the trail.

On the Art Loeb Trail, I climbed upwards, passing by 3 dayhikers going to the road. Lots of ridge-jumping and one moment of fear when I saw a flash of blue through the trees. It was a discarded sleeping mattress foam pad. Kind of freaked me out. Ate an apple around sunset, then climbed down to curve around the final rocky mountain at its base and make the final push to the shelter. I saw an albino squirrel on the walk! I had to headlamp the last mile, but did see some beautiful stars above. This shelter is A-frame, literally.

February 27, 2008

2008-02-27T02:49:00.000-05:00

Today’s miles: 19.3
Buckhorn Gap Shelter

Today has been frigid cold all day. I woke up to a dusting of snow outside my tent. My water stayed frozen all day and cliff bar froze too! God almighty, it’s cold. Beautiful snow, slow start to the morning. Heard the first 15 seconds of Alison Krauss’ “So Long, So Wrong” before I lost the radio station. Got to the shelter just before dark, and saw a bobcat! Run past. It is strange to sleep in a shelter after being so used to my tent…

February 26, 2008

2008-02-26T02:47:00.000-05:00

Today’s miles: 19.3

In Another Roadside Attraction, Amanda’s mental clarity, or visions, came when there was a thunderstorm. Maybe the same is true for me. This morning, there was a rain and thunderstorm just at dawn, and it stopped at 9 am, when I ventured out to get the food and get ready to hike. And today, while hiking in the saturated morning, I had a storm of ideas, related to everything and anything. Either the thunderstorm… or the chocolate-covered espresso beans I chomped down this morning. Anyways, I saw a couple of runners and a lone hiker. It almost started to rain while I was hiking, then blew away five minutes later. 80% chance of rain or snow tonight!

It turned out to be a pretty nice day – I took some photos of turkey tail fungus. I’m on the old Biltmore Estate Shut-in Trail, which is horse-graded but does seem to jump up and down the ridges. My legs are tired after today.

February 25, 2008

2008-02-25T02:44:00.002-05:00

Today’s miles: 3.6
Folk Art Center to the woods

Coming back to the trail this afternoon after a week of eating (I gained 6 lbs in one week!) and town feels like being a beginner all over again.

I didn’t get on the trail until 3:30 pm today – maybe even 4 pm. I ran into tons of walkers and runners out in the beautiful afternoon sun. Tomorrow, shit’s supposed to hit the fan, weather-wise. I want to hike a lot. Lazy “bear” bag – tied to a tree at shoulder-height. I’m going to be pissed if anything fucks with it during the night, especially because it was the most gourmet and expensive resupply yet. Asheville has eaten my budget alive.

Back on the trail today, I saw my first 3 flowers – honeysuckle, purple ones, and daffodils. The fragrant tunnel of honeysuckle was really wonderful. Listened to a great NPR interview with Katie, an elephant and whale communication specialist, who talked about her Quaker religion and the power of listening in addition to communicating or making song or sounds.

I set up camp just off trail at sunset. I’m really looking forward to reading White Teeth again. 153.5 miles to Clingman’s Dome.

News Article of Interest

2008-02-24T10:05:00.002-05:00

Just for your edification, in case you as a hiker or trail-builder did not believe in switch-backs. Looks like I need to bushwhack my way out of the urban jungle, full of time-sapping internet filler stories.

Fastest Way Up Hills: Zigzag
By Andrea Thompson, LiveScience Staff Writer
posted: 22 February 2008 ET

A straight line may be the shortest distance between two points, but on a steep slope, zigzagging is the fastest way to go, a new study confirms.

On flat terrain, a straight line is typically still the best way to get from point A to point B. But climbing up a steep hill is a whole different ballgame; the mechanics and energy costs of walking up a hill alter the way we negotiate the landscape.

"You would expect a similar process on any landscape, but when you have changes in elevation it makes things more complicated," said study author Marcos Llobera of the University of Washington. "There is a point, or critical slope, where it becomes metabolically too costly to go straight ahead, so people move at an angle, cutting into the slope. Eventually they need to go back toward the direction they were originally headed and this creates zigzags. The steeper the slope, the more important it is that you tackle it at the right angle."

Llobera and co-author T.J. Sluckin of the University of Southampton in the U.K. developed a simple mathematical model showing that a zigzagging course is in fact the most efficient way to go up or down a steep slope.

Most people don't need a model to tell them that though, they do it without even thinking.

"I think zigzagging is something people do intuitively," Llobera said. "People recognize that zigzagging, or switchbacks, help but they don’t realize why they came about."

The work is detailed in the Journal of Theoretical Biology.

Free

2008-02-22T23:44:00.004-05:00

"If there's a higher power," I said, "it has got to be smiling down on us, grinning like a fool." We were in an artisan cupcake shop in downtown Asheville, we being the three: me, new friend MK, and old trail friend Tofurky.

It has been a whole lot of wonderful.

February 22, 2008

2008-02-22T14:15:00.002-05:00

It’s morning, and I have a lot of FATE and serendipity to crow over at (like a lunar eclipse, full and egg-yolk-esque, turning into an eyeball, and then an orb of glowing). Rewind.

Yesterday, MK and I decided post-lunch that it was time to venture to the downtown Asheville, and get out of the house and neighborhood. We took the bus, discussing Korean dating (or lack of – the karaoke bar scene where you pay $1000 as a group of men, get a room with karaoke for the night and snacks and drinks, and also a parade of woman to choose from for sex or escorting. And the woman come lined up by nationality, like a real parade).

We explored downtown by foot, starting at a cupcake shop where MK tucked in to get a bagel, and we promised to return later for cupcakes. Then we went browsing and window-shopping, to gourmet food, rare book shops, an artisan art and music shop (which was really fun – playing the instruments like the hammer dulcimer and harp, etc.). At the end of our browse, we swung back to the cupcake café and picked out some sweets and coffee and sat inside for a short while. We sat in heaven for half an hour, her German chocolate cupcake and my cream cheese brownie, and a girl walks into the shop and I began to stare at her. And finally, I tried, “Ren?” She turned and looked at me, confused. “It’s Bugs – I’m Bugs!” and a glimmer of recognition flashed in her eyes and gosh, what are the chances in hell of meeting up with Tofurky, a friend of mine from the Appalachian Trail, in that shop?

The three of us sat and talked about our lives and things/freeing ourselves of things. Ren recently had a bonfire at a friend’s house, a ceremony of sorts where she burned all of her old journals from age 16 and earlier. And MK talked about getting rid of her possessions. I explained to Tofu much later that evening about my theory of jellyfish strings-with-hooks attaching you to poisonous thoughts - those little nematocysts that keep you locked in place. And it’s only when you start detaching those bad people connections/relationships, and getting rid of extra possessions that you are really, mentally and emotionally, free. Like backpacking as a metaphor for life.

After we spent a good two hours in the shop, gleefully chatting and occasionally just glowing at the fates, MK needed to take the bus back to the Peacock’s and prepare for her phone interview for this position in Korea that she wants. “If there’s a higher power,” I said, “It’s got to be smiling down on us, grinning like a fool.” We walked to Malaprops and combed through the regional books section, Tofu and I intensively discussing the trail and what it will be like for her to be out on the trail again this year. Apparently, there is a girl starting the trail this year who was inspired to hike the trail by reading our trailjournals! FYI, Chunky Gal Trail is supposedly named after a volumptuous Cherokee girl who ran away across the mountains to marry a man of a different tribe. Yeppers, either that or a bastardization of the Cherokee word for that area.

We talked relationships, zillions of things, and when the bookstore closed, we left and walked back to her apartment in a little house of apartments, in the historic district. I met her roommate and two cats, and the three of us talked for a long while, until finally we realized that if we kept talking and trying to figure out what to do, we would miss all of the restaurants and I would be left with a brownie to stave me through the wild night. So we left at 10 pm to venture to a nearby awesome vegetarian joint called Rosetta’s kitchen and get some grub. I got a sweet peppermint tea and a seriously good veggie burger. Then as they were stacking the chairs on tables, after we had read the horoscopes aloud to eachother, we skipped down to the van and Cassie gave us a lift to a bar called Jack in the Woods.

Once we got there, both a little exhausted from life, we decided to stay and check out the bluegrass band on tap: a western Kentucky crew called Bawn in the Mash. They were just going on when we sat down, with our stouts – her Guiness and my local, dark, delicious beer. We sat back in a corner, discussing art and future (how does one chance encounter propel you to these lengths of conversation in one night?) and random acts of kindness. Until we could not longer stand the static nature of talking while good, energetic music was playing, so we started dancing in place, then standing, then finally abandoned our dark corner and drifted across the room to a more open area, and started to dance with drunk middle-aged men. Played a fake game of basketball on the dance floor, and eventually as the energy of the crowd piqued, we got more and more folks to dance with us and by the time we sweatily retreated outdoors, almost two hours after we had entered, gol-lee, the place was full of dancing fools. The band was awesome, full of cute young guys in flannel and with hip energy. “I’m glad you have no shame, too,” Tofu shouted over the music at one point.

Tired, we stepped outside into the cold night air, and sat there for a little bit, watching others enter. And after a little while, a fellow slurrily came up saying, “Do either of you girls have a cigarette?” We say no, and Ren adds, “I care about my lungs… not that you don’t. Just ever since I got sprayed in the mouth with a fire extinguisher.” And this guy was hooked by our quirk and intrigue! We talked for probably an hour, this guy was Hilarious, to the extreme. He was seriously scruffy with flannel and hiking boots, and when he mentioned wringing turkeys as a metaphor, we knew we had found a common soul in Rush. He grew up on a turkey farm for Christ-sake. We three bantered with Ren asking ballsy, probing questions, Rush responding with the funniest possible answers. Like, for example, in response to Ren’s question, “What’s your dream?” he said, “to play chess everyday.” (a pause) “And I’d probably rob a bank if I could.” Golly, an hour of that and then he said something along the lines of “Excuse me ladies” and ducked inside, and Ren and I decided it was time to go home. Around 2 am, fell asleep on the couch, drunk on serendipity and life.

I am moving to NC after graduation. I have just decided. That’s it. I am in love, and there are oodles of resources. And things to do, people to meet, education to be had.

I won’t be able to capture today right now (I hope I never truly “capture” as free and wild a day as I had in as clipped and constraining a form as language). I met Tofu at the library, then we headed to the Art Store to begin our mission – spreading random acts of kindness. Artstore, signs, author, coffee, cups, quotes, street musicians, hugs, homeless people magnet = free coffee, MK came, advice to sweet guy about his relationship, down the street we went, to corner, more hugs, homeless, to corner, and talking to the two girls who had just taken acid (one a year out of SUWS). Crazy homeless men, finishing coffee, and advice to girl about her boat in Costa Rica, returned coffee urn money in parking meters. Cassie called Ren – needed her roommate love and I pried myself away from her magnetism, and met MK at a Tibetian clothing shop she was in. We went to Salsa’s for dinner and had a really good time – talked about manifestation as a parallel to trail magic, and caused not necessarily by trail karma and interactions with others, coming full circle, but being a result of the resonance of good energy – from someone who meditates a lot. How did you two arrive here in my world? How can I make you moving orbs/souls stay close to me?

So filled with love, but by the end of the day totally sucked of energy. Falling asleep, drifting back… to a time before. To concerts at the Wednesday in the Park series near our house, popcorn and climbing on the statues.

Asheville and Transitions

2008-02-21T13:39:00.002-05:00

My belly is full of good food : yogurt, fresh fruit, and granola and drink: coffee.

I am pretty clean (although, with this southeast water-scarcity pressure, it sure does make a good excuse for not showering every day. Save the Planet! practice the Elizabethian habit of monthly baths!).

I slackpacked for a couple hours yesterday afternoon, trailing behind my lively host in town, the maverick David Peacock, and talking about the public education system in the US and hearing his take on Life.

One of the reasons for being in town, aside from the comforts, is to continue my organization of thoughts for my The Future, which begins officially in the middle of June, when I graduate from Carleton College with a degree in Biology and need to pursue gainful employment. Just to put this out there: if you are based in North Carolina and are hiring, or can give me a contact to a potential employer, let me know! I am looking for a position that would last anywhere from 2 to 10 months, in the areas of conservation, environmental education, ecology (or other field biology) research, naturalist positions, non-fiction writing, or sustainable farming.

Just putting that out there... someone has got to be connected. E-mail me with thoughts!

February 20, 2008

2008-02-20T12:56:00.002-05:00

Today’s miles: 5.4
To Folk Art Center with David Peacock

I have resigned myself to it: I will not be finishing the MST corridor this winter. I want to kayak the Neuse River, but it isn’t fair to subject my dad to something he sees as dangerous and on his vacation too. Instead, it seems like we will spend some time in Durham, and during the day local-adventure (I mean that as a compound verb).

Yesterday, I woke up early after a restive night in the bed, rolling around trying to get comfortable and shedding and pulling on covers. I spent the morning partly sitting with MK in the living room, then transitioning to the public library to get some internet work done. I felt really productive, sending a resume to the Echinacea prairie research project in Minnesota. And then after getting kicked off the computer an hour later, I walked back to the house and we ate lunch.

Later in the afternoon, after I had talked to my saturation point and searched through the job database to my limit, I went for a 4 mile walk down the road and back, shaking up the clutter in my brain and hoping that (for once!) when the pieces fell back together, it would be like the watchmaker complexity. And only then I went to a coffee shop, and sat down and sketched out a plan for my trip, and then we all (MK and the Peacocks) loaded into their car and drove 45 minutes away to Hendersonville, to a Japanese woman’s house for a traditional meal. On my, what a crazy crowd gathered. Michika, the crazy Japanese woman host, on a tourist visa for 3 months. Dayle, a sweet, reserved, well-traveled Lithuanian-descended woman from the US (friends with Michika). Elizabeth, this nutzo lady who ran a nearby B&B and kept referring to her “travels abroad.” As Deanne said on the way home – “she’s not real.”

We stuffed ourselves with food, had some disjointed conversation, and a few folks (me and MK teetotalled) liquored up on wine.

Today after lunch, I went on a hike with David to the Folk Art Center, walked to the library and grocery store, cooked dinner, and saw the lunar eclipse! It was like an egg to an eyeball transition.

Black and Blue (mountains)

2008-02-19T08:36:00.008-05:00

I have arrived at Mecca (or some upper-middle class, ecologically-awakened version of it). I have had fabulous (non-raining, above-freezing) weather most of the last week and a half, since Boone. The mountains have been higher (a couple above 6,000 feet!). The trails have been charmingly full of dayhikers, some of whom have really funny responses to me being out there. "Alone?" is popular, "You out for the weekend?" is another understandable question, and my personal favorite, "Are you okay?"

Am I okay? Why would you ask me that? Do I look bedraggled - has my greasy braided hair become untethered? Do my scrapped legs look like I have recently been in a scuffle with a mountain lion? Or worse of all - have my eyes begun to lose their remnant look of civilized sanity, have I developed the feral animal, HIKER STARE? Maybe, all possibilities. Or maybe "are you okay?" is another version of "how are ya'll?"

The trails have been designed with care, by I believe the Carolina Mountain Club, and they have been clear of brush mostly, whether from avoiding the high winds/ ice storm wreckage, careful maintainence, or more frequent use by dayhikers. Whatever the reason, I appreciate it.

And a grizzly little trail story to whet your hiker-tale appetite:
The weather on Sunday was gross. Fog, cold, rain, wind: recipe for misery. I will never forget the night before Katahdin in 06, in the shelter just south of Baxter with Buree and Roo, when Buree revealed to me one thing that she had learned about herself from the trail: "I do not like hiking in the rain." That has made me smile a lot on this trip. I also do not like hiking in the rain. Period, finito. But I did, 12 miles through the fog and up to the Craggy Mountain picnic pavilion. Where in the blustery fog, I set up my tent and weighted down the stakes with big stones and hoped for no tornadoes, 5,500 feet above sea level. I hunkered down for all afternoon and night, from 1:30 pm to 8:00 am, eating peanut butter and jelly (one of my only excess foods) by the spoonful, and listening to bluegrass on the radio. As it got dark, the rain poured outside, and there were two very very close strikes of brilliant pink lightening before the storm swept past. I drifted to sleep, and woke again at 4 am with the howling of coyotes across the mountains, one from nearby. At dawn, I woke in the calm morning to survey the weather. There was a spectacular, clear sky with clouds skirting the horizon and sunlight leaking through. Walking to a better view, I got within 10 yards of a coyote.

Just another day living. And now, for some serious town time.

Total MST miles: 517.3 (357.0 foot, 169.3 bike)
Total trip miles: 634.9 (393.8 foot, 238.1 bike)

February 18, 2008

2008-02-18T12:45:00.002-05:00

Today’s miles: 10.4

I had an eventful night last night – a couple of very close lightening strikes (light pink in color) and thunder. I crouched in the lightening position for about an hour, doing some form of praying. Then at 4 am, I was woken up by coyotes howling and barking back and forth in the calmed night. I could see the bright moon out.

This morning, I woke again to the bright light of a clear, cold morning on top of a mountain. There were beautiful sunrise clouds, and when I got up to take photos, I got very close to a coyote up on the hill before it ran away. By the time that I began hiking this morning, the fog had rolled back in, and I walked again on the misty trail - but through the really lovely and moss-laden forest - up and down ridges, to Rattlesnake Lodge, or rather the remnants of it, abandoned in the 1920s and then burnt down in a fire. The chimneys and some stone walls were standing, including a concrete wall of the swimming pool!

I started to run into dayhikers around the wreckage – 2 women with dogs, chatting, an older man who told me that coyotes on the east coast are 30% larger than on the west coast – evidently they interbred with wolves (he said “Sounds pretty smart to me!”) and then ran into three men and couple small children walking and the first thing one of the men asked was, “Are you okay?” That question always catches me off guard. Do I not look as though I am okay? Do I really already have that feral look in my eyes? Did my greasy hair become untethered while walking (likely)? Did I smear too much zinc oxide on my face, making me look pasty-white and scary? I said that I was doing well and one of the men proceeded to tell me that I should join their Craigslist Asheville hiking group (yippee?) because they’re going to do things like hike the MST and the 60s (peaks over 6,000 feet in NC) – they had a special acronym for that. I told them that I would consider, if I moved to Asheville. Then the last fellow was an energetic serious hiker-looking man who stopped and we talked for a long while. He’s training to hike Everest! His story, as he told it, was that he had retired at 47, 9 years ago, sold a company for buttloads of cash, and now does mountaineering and rock climbing full-time. Killaminjaro last year in Tanzania, and Nepal this year, for 2 months in March to June. We went our separate ways, sending respective words of encouragement for our upcoming journeys.

Soon after, I ran into David Peacock, a fellow with snowy hair out walking a leggy golden retriever (part Irish Setter?) with a lot of energy. We walked together to his car.

We drove the 6 miles “home” and I met Mary Katherine – a long term couchsurfer trying to get her South Korea teaching visa while in town – and Deanne, David’s tandembike co-rider and wife. I took a glorious shower, sat down to this weird meal of little lumps of prepared food that they order from a guy down the street every week (like weekly take-out?). The food was good – just strange to think about eating that way out of take-out containers! We talked for a long while, me and David and peripherally Mary Katherine, a meandering conversation that jumped from farming to biodynamic farming according to weird rituals and the cosmos involving hanging sheep inards stuffed with camomille blossoms in the sun, then making a tincture out of it to spread on the land! To soil rehab in India to the Appalachian Trail as a metaphor for life, to this trip and my goals for it and what I have learned so far.

Mary K and I ventured off to the thrift store where I found shorts and a t-shirt to wear in town. I am feeling good, my legs feeling strong. Mary K is interesting, she is trying to finish paying off her student loans by working nonstop in Korea, teaching ESL. And is going through a lot of cleaning, I think, right now. She had a buttload of film slides in the backseat from travels, headed for the dumpster. Photos! It’s so difficult for me to think about permanently purging that type of memory-device. She only kept some family photos, at a friend’s house in California. One of the joys of travel and backpacking is cramming everything into a backpack that you can carry and still be mobile with, and then just being in the moment, untethered by excess. It’s a glorious feeling, but to be totally unbound? By family or photographs or favorite sweaters/overalls? By that 20-degree sleeping bag? Now that is an overwhelming thought – it almost borders on agoraphobia – the fear of large, open spaces - fear if too much freedom, or not having an escape route or backup plan.

February 17, 2008

2008-02-17T12:40:00.002-05:00

Today’s miles: 12.1
To Craggy Mtn “Picnic Pavilion”

It was a Gross Day. All I saw today was blah: fog, rain, and trees cloaked in mist. I listened to flashes of top 40 countdowns on my radio. I am tented in the heavy wind at the top of Craggy Flats under a wooden structure and I intend to stay here until morning. I just hope that the wind and thunder don’t get me first.

Modeled after “In This I Believe” from NPR:

I believe in trail magic. I first was introduced to the concept on the Appalachian Trail, when I hiked from Georgia to Maine in 2006. It came in the form of some guy sitting at a card table in a gap with bologna and mustard sandwiches for hikers. Since then, I have figured out that beyond this affected (but well-meaning) trail magic, there is a greater force helping travelers on the road or trail. While studying in Ghana, I found that same type of coincidence. If you needed something, it would just appear in the market or the courtyard.

Since hiking alone in the North Carolina mountains, I have found the same, magical appearance of things that I need on the side of the road or trail, such as an unopened bottle of water sitting on the side of the road, as I contemplated flagging down cars to ask for water. It’s as if there is some greater force looking over the traveler, the hiker, and when something is needed and obtaining it is not as easy as going to the store and buying it, it is furnished. I have utmost faith in trail magic.

When you dig deeper, it is probably just a combination of factors: focusing your want or need on items of perfectly defined specificity and having the time and patience for it to fall into your path. Nonetheless, it seems to me a phenomena best described as “magic.

February 16, 2008

2008-02-16T16:37:00.000-05:00

Today's miles: 13.9

First thing in the morning, I woke up pre-dawn and could not get back to sleep, so I stayed up and read until it got light outside, then started to prepare things for the day while listening to WNCW “the state of things” with a debate/discussion between Duke Power and NC Warren – a watchdog environmental group about the new coal plant that Duke Power wants to open up north of Charlotte. It’s extremely controversial for the environmental community – because it would majorly increase CO2 emissions. It was an interesting, heated discussion. It seems like it will be decided very soon.

As I walked down the ridge to Black Mtn Campground, and onto the Mt. Mitchell Trail, I passed by loads (like a dozen!) of dayhikers, out for the nice Saturday morning to hike! Some had even been camping at the grounds. Imagine – in February. I listened to NPR (WNCW) jazz for 1.5 hours, then an hour of cartalk on the other NPR station, then on to bluegrass. I passed by about 5 hikers going up, all backpackers. The mountain trail was beautiful, and reminded me of a bit of Mt. Rogers as I got higher up.

Some trees were labeled “poison tree” and there were a lot of downed trees, cloaked in moss and lichen. Up, slowly, and steadily, the trail rose. Sections of it were coated in ice, and the temperatures began to drop. Once I got a little bit higher, I was cloaked in a cloud. At the turn-off for the summit, there was a sign saying, “Trail Closed Use Detour; Danger: Keep out” Bullshit. You cannot close a mountain summit. So I dropped my pack and climbed up, to the 6,648 foot summit, where the observation tower was under construction. Snapped some silly shots among the foggy wreckage, then descended to the main trail. I then began the easy “climb” down from the parking lot, thinking about whether or not it’s a good thing that the highest peak in the eastern US is accessible by road. Would it be better if it were hiking only? Research only? Completely closed to the public? Closed to humans? For us, the Black Mtn range seems manageable. But when Elisha Mitchell died on these mountains, there weren’t any established trails, steps, blazes on trees, or switchbacks. That would be such a different experience.

I am now on the south side of Potato Knob, sitting and reading/writing and listening to WNCW public radio, and their eight hours of bluegrass on Saturdays. I talked to Salam today, and he asked me right off the bat how my face is doing. I assured him that it is normal.

February 15, 2008

2008-02-15T12:31:00.002-05:00

Today’s miles: 16.8

Today, there was some uphill climbing - nothing major. I heard on the radio that visits to state parks were up last year, probably because people didn’t have the money to go on cruises, etc. But visits to lakes were down 50% (drought) and visits to Mt. Mitchell up 10%! One big problem with today’s hike is that there was no water for a long stretch, and I didn’t fill up this morning at that little stream by camp. The water situation climaxed with my knocking down two icicles from a rock ledge to add them to my water bottle. Soon afterwards, I came to a couple springs that I had to dig out with my hands, under all of the leaves. Another problem was that there were deep piles of leaves and lots of fallen trees and branches. Most of the trees I could climb over or through, or around (with some effort), but three times I actually had to get down on all fours and crawl under branches.

I reunited with and crossed the Blue Ridge Parkway for the first time in a while, surprising a biker when I burst out of the forest in a cacophony of leaf-crunching. He was from Marion, and said, “I’m not used to seeing hikers out here.” Apparently he mountain-bikes on the MST around here. I think I saw an owl today. I read lots and ate chocolate covered pretzels (from the Natural Food shop yesterday) to my heart’s delight. I’ve been thinking a lot about what it would feel like to be able to read people well and flex yourself to make them happy in your presence. On the morning radio show a few days ago, the hosts read a “fact” that said that “more-socially awkward couples stay together than extroverted people because the extroverts are “acting” or playing a role, not necessarily being themselves”. Very interesting…

The weather was gorgeous today – blue skies and sun and up to the 60s for most of the day. I am camped (accidentally, actually) right smack in the middle of the trail. I was getting tired, hadn’t seen the “flat area” that I thought I remembered reading about, and the sun was sinking lower. So when I saw a flattish spot down the hill, I left the trail and set up my tent on it. And lo and behold, I’m all moved in when I realize that there is a white blaze right next to my tent.
Tomorrow, up to Mt. Mitchell!

February 14, 2008

2008-02-14T12:20:00.000-05:00

Today’s miles: 6.1

Last night there was this weird, slow flashing light that would illuminate my tent, then fade, then reappear. At first, I didn’t investigate – I figured it was a spotlight or a blinking light nearby at the USFS helicopter base. But after a while, I decided to check it out, and it was the moon! Just a half moon too! And the wind was so strong, it was blowing wispy clouds across the moon’s face and away, causing a slow strobelight effect.

I hitched into town this morning with a cop (the “sheriff” as they call them down here). Who asked me if I was “wanted.” My first stop in town was the Bi-Lo (Buy Low?) grocery store, to resupply. I was asked by the woman behind me at the check-out, “Are you doing okay?” in a concerned voice, fingering the cross around her neck. I sat for a little while in the store, eating fruit and granola bars and watching the pajama-d clientele coming in to buy big balloons and flowers last-minute.

After, I have moved on to my second stop – Dutchy Deb’s Donuts (and expresso bar) for my second cup of coffee and a donut. I asked the cashier, “What’s the best type of donut?” and he said, “I don’t like donuts.” I almost replied, “I don’t like donuts either, but I have to get my sugar and fat fix while I’m in the land of plenty,” but instead I ordered a crème-filled chocolate-covered one. I talked with and then hitched a ride with a 70-year-old man at the shop. Very endearing. He’s heard of the MST! All of these folks have! Not all, but a LOT more since I’ve gotten to these mountains. I guess that makes sense – the trail is completed here, so everyone is more likely to know it.

I ate gargantuan amounts of food today – I have a full little pot-belly from all of it.
Fruit bar, granola bar, 2 cups coffee, banana, apple, 2 donuts, a carrot, a large handful of chocolate-covered pretzels, a big platter of cheese enchiladas, chips n’ salsa, rice, & pinto beans. Back on the trail, I tried to eat dinner (cheese and bread) and could get down less than half of it. That’s a lot of food, especially when my stomach has been shrinking this last week with food deprivation.

At the library book sale, I procured a book called Dick Gregory’s Natural Diet for Folks Who Eat: Cookin’ With Mother Nature. I read the first section of it, which is actually about fasting and eating only fruits and veggies and weighing 97 lbs in his case (a good thing?). I had some good talks with intelligent, curious women at the library. I stopped at the Huckleberry Farms Natural Foods Store on the way back to the trail, with a small selection of natural foods, mostly bulk-purchased and repackaged, and run by an Amish family. Very curious. I then hitched back to the trail with a man from Florida in a rental car going to visit his daughters at Sugar Mountain.

I hung a bear bag on an almost fallen (uprooted) tree, with the hopes that if a bear tries to get my food, the tree will fall and scare it off. Tricky, eh?

Tomorrow: some climbing to make headway towards Mt. Mitchell!

A hunka-hunk of burning mountain love

2008-02-14T11:02:00.006-05:00

Happy Valentine's Day!

I will admit it, I am totally head over heels in love. It started slowly, with a flirtatious glance, a hint of sunshine, the tantilizing blue humps on the horizon... but now I am consumed with a deep, passionate, heart-pounding love for these mountains (or more specifically, the Mountains-to-Sea Trail).

Let's begin in Boone, where I stayed with a friend from the AT - Grizzly - and some of his App State frat brothers, ate the most incredible breakfast, and convinced him and a friend to hike for an afternoon with me on the trail. They turned back after Rich Mtn, and I continued onward. I have found the trails in the last 5 days to be challenging, engaging, and totally gawkably gorgeous. The weather has been a little chilly, a little windy (65 mph winds the day after I left Boone!), the teeniest bit rainy, and mostly blue skies.

I have crossed or more accurately "rock-hopped" at least a dozen streams, and waded across 3 more (only fallen once!). The water sources, needless to say, have been plentiful and full of clear mountain water. After running into tons of hikers and a group of weekend backpackers (!) near Boone, I didn't talk to anyone yesterday or the day before on the trail. The Linville River was knee-high, climb UP from the gorge unexpectedly strenuous (1600' straight up at the end of the day is pretty exhausting), and leaf piles coming down from Table Rock Mountain waist-high.

I am really looking forward to the next segment, including the Big Mitch (Sir Mt. Mitchell, highest peak east of the Mississippi) and Asheville, where I will take some time off before hopping back on the trail to finish the last stretch to the Smokies!

Total MST miles: 461.5 (301.2 foot, 169.3 bike)
Total trip miles: 575.0 (333.9 foot, 238.1 bike)

February 13, 2008

2008-02-13T16:17:00.000-05:00

Today’s miles: 14.2

I woke up to a lot of rain (light, constant) last night and a wet tent in the morning. When I was packed up, I walked down to the Pinnacle to see if I could get a better view than yesterday (ie. more than a white-out) and I got some clouds interspersed with mountains which was enough for me.

Down the trail (lots of muddy logging road rock-walking today). It thankfully didn’t rain at all today. I weaved up and down (villicination – is that the GRE word?) and around the ridge to the path up to Dobson Knob and Bald Knob. The path was uphill but pretty gradual, and I enjoyed the walk. At the top of the mountain, I got some nice views of up-and-coming mountains! The one cloaked in clouds in the distance – I think that’s probably Mt Mitchell. And then, on my windy, switchback-full climb down from the Bald, the sun came out and the clouds dissipated into the distance and I was graced with a lovely chilly sunny afternoon.

I climbed down all the way (by what seemed like kind of a circuitous route…) to the Catawba River / RR tracks, where I ran into two dogs and a man – we waved – and sat down to dry out my tent, have lunch, and read some of Guns, Germs, and Steel. At this rate, I am going to need a new book by Asheville. I stayed for about an hour (just getting into the North America colonialization part!), then took my stuff and climbed gradually to a few lookout points (clear-cut areas. I wonder what the point of a clear-cut is, if you don’t take the timber?). And then down on switchbacks to this wildlife field where I am tented.

I am really excited for town (and food!) tomorrow. I don’t think that I will get a shower, or do laundry, but at least I will be full and get a cup of coffee.

It is a done by 3:30 pm kind of afternoon – “exceptionally strenuous” my ass. I haven’t talked to a soul again today, but I did see that man in the distance.

February 12, 2008

2008-02-12T16:10:00.000-05:00

Today's miles: 16.0
End: near the Pinnacle

It was on hell of a day of ascending and descending! I tried to start out early, but didn’t get going until 8 am (what with food prep, double-bagging everything to keep in dry in the forecasted rain, and taking down camp). Plus I was in a valley so I missed an early sunrise.

Before noon, I had climbed up to the gorgeous summit of Table Rock and snapped all kinds of silly photos. There was ice on some of the rocks, but I was buzzing around like a little energetic bee to and fro. I climbed down from the summit to the picnic area with a beautiful row of trash cans! Free of small amounts of trash, I frolicked with my pack down the trail to the Chimneys – lots of stacks of rocks like pillars (supporting nothing) dotting the mountain-scape. The walk was narrated by NPR and the Diane Reem show, on which she was interviewing the articulate author of Souled Out about the rise of the religious right, and more generally the role of religion in politics. Very interesting.

The trail took me through sections of young pine down to a gap and then on the ascent up to Shortoff Mountain, which was totally burnt during a fire last year. There weren’t too many blowdowns, and it was interesting observing the degrees of burn through the forest with some spots just a bit scorched to others where the heat had knocked down all of the trees, and eaten into the ground to the tree roots. From the long mountain ridge, I could see down to Linville Gorge and across it to other mountains.

I pushed hard most of the day, praying that the rain would hold off enough to keep the Linville River low so that I could cross it. It did start to rain a teeny bit but (true to tradition) once I got all of my rain gear on and pack readied for a downpour, it started to fade away. Down at the river, I had nothing to worry about – I waded across in just my shoes, not wanting to get my socks and spandex wet, and the water didn’t come up past my knees. It was pretty cold though and I was happy to be done with the 60-foot crossing. I was more inundated by the pile of leaves (to my waist) on the path down from Table Rock Mtn!

So then I began my walk farther, hoping to finish this 16-mile section to leave less walking for tomorrow. Little did I anticipate that the hike up to the Pinnacle would be STRAIGHT uphill! It started to rain a little more seriously then (the sun had opened its eye for a two minute blink at the beginning of the climb) and I just kept grunting upwards. A 1600 foot climb isn’t so bad for late afternoon. I camped out in some rhododendron and Devil’s walking stick, and jumped in my tent. I didn’t run into a single person, all day long!

Tomorrow, I cross the Catawba River (on a bridge) and go over some mountains.

February 11, 2008

2008-02-11T16:31:00.000-05:00

Today's miles: 14.8

I am camped down just past some spectacular waterfalls. I was going to go farther today buuuut found this nice place to camp. I rock-hopped seven streams and waded one stream this morning in the frigid weather (icicles hanging off of rocks and some rocks slick with ice). I didn't fall at all today! It was another sunny, cool day and the wind finally flagged sometime last night. I had lunch up on a ridge in the sunny, grassy intersection of the two long-ago logging roads. My trail routine/ camp setup is starting to become automatic! Finally, only 544 miles after I started!

My food situation is also turning up, once I realized that I had not 5 but 6 pieces of bread left, which gives me a piece of bread with cheese dinner, and 1.5 pieces of bread and pb&j for lunch! I have also been dreaming at least partly of food every night. Last night, it was eating ice cream with Amelia. And I have been scavenging crumbs from my lap when I eat. Mmmm. This is one way to get me to meditate on food.

Water at least has been super-plentiful the last few days, which is a relief. I am worried about crossing the Linville River tomorrow. Especially in the rain. I’ll just see what it is like, I suppose. It would be better to try tomorrow, after a little rain, than after a nightful and morning of rain on Wednesday.

Today was my third day in a row of no coffee or caffeine (other than dark chocolate morsals for breakfast) and I don’t even feel an effect! It probably helps that I am resting about 11 hours each night! After crossing the highway today, and down the logging road, I ran into an older couple with 2 horses who were very aware of the MST. They gave me some advice about the sections ahead and asked how close to completion the trail is. It is so nice to know that people are keeping their eyes on the trail, hoping that it will soon be done. The woman said something to the effect of, “I’m sorta envious” that I can do this. Sort of… Down here in this little hideout, I just passed a HUGE waterfall with sculpted rock and crashing water and I snapped a wholly unjust portrait of it.

It is a chilly night ahead, but maybe a few degrees warmer than last night. I’m keeping my food inside the tent tonight and I hope it doesn’t become a mistake – one ounce of solace is that I don’t have an odoriferous food that would attract animals (bears). Tomorrow, to Tablerock Mtn and Linville Gorge!

February 10, 2008

2008-02-10T16:06:00.000-05:00

Today’s miles: 14.9

It was a very very windy night last night and I awoke begrudgingly to pee in the cold windy morning sun. It’s so different living out of my tent (instead of a shelter). When I got up, I finished my last leg of the Tanawha Trail and climbed up to the (very very windy) and gorgeous view from Beacon Heights. Then back to the MST and yee good old white blazes (who blazes their trails with a hawk feather anyhow?? - the blaze for the Tanawha Trail). I walked downhill for a ways, to an old logging road, and then back to a trail in Pisgah National Forest! Where I have evidentally arrived. The trail led me over (at least) eight creek crossings, one of which I was cockily hopping across, lost my balance and plunged into the creek with pack and all. Bummer. It was a beautiful day again, and the trail hugged the creek all day. I ran into five dayhikers. One couple I talked to for a long time gave me some more Asheville advice, and we talked about the south, from an upstate NY point of view.

I’m camped out today down by a creek. Temperatures are supposed to get pretty low tonight. Morale is high. I am wondering what the next few days will hold.

February 9, 2008

2008-02-09T15:59:00.000-05:00

Today’s miles: 15.3

Days like today are the reason that I am out here! It was cool, then warm, and the sky was blue blue blue and there were lots of people out and recreating in the woods. The trail started out paralleling the Boone Fork River, and I had to take off my shoes and wade across it this morning. I passed lots of water all day, gorgeous stone boulders, rhododendron, a few fields, LOTS of dayhikers and even a group of about 8 backpackers going to the Grandfather Mountain trails. I talked to a woman named Anna about American attitudes towards global warming and water. Apparently last year Atlanta had 6 days worth of water left!

It was a rocky, wonderful climb on the Tanawha Trail up to Rough Ridge boardwalk with totally amazing views.

I ran into a group of 4 hikers from Greensboro at the end of the day. The younger man in the group said this long, beautiful prayer for me, thanking God for running into me and for the inspiration that my trip gave them. And for God to stay with me and guide me in the miles ahead. This trip is making me think so much about religion. A few days ago when I was listening to NPR, there was an interview with the documentarians who made “Seeing Purple” about the series of conversations they had about faith and religion, between a believer and a non-believer who were roommates in college at Davidson.

I almost lost my camera, but the group of 4 hikers from Greensboro found it and came looking for me. It is a good thing, because it is a prime source of entertainment for me at the end of the day. In order to process the day and keep it distinct from all of the other days, I look through that day's photos once before I go to sleep. It gives me unimaginable pleasure, which is surely a sign of how deprived I am of technological stimulation.

February 8, 2008

2008-02-08T15:55:00.000-05:00

Today’s miles: 7

Nick and his friend drove me up to the parkway, after he fixed me an epic trail breakfast. I skipped 25 miles of the parkway, speeding by in the back of his SUV. We all hiked up Rich Mountain, and then they went home to go out again to another party, and I traveled into the woods. Nick convinced me to stay on the trail for this section, as it’s supposed to be the best.

Blue Ridge Mountains

2008-02-07T16:48:00.002-05:00

If I have were forced, by gun-point, to describe this first 50 miles of mountain backpacking in 5 words or less, those words would be:

rain
blowdowns
beagle
mountain views

Because of last weekend's ice storm, there are trees and branches all over the trail (the poor FMST really has their spring trail work cut out for them!). And I would like to dispute this whole "severe drought in North Carolina" rubbish. I almost adopted a beagle. It followed me 30 miles down the trail. I don't want to talk about it.

For all of the rain and obstacles and puppy sob stories, the views have been WAHOO! worthy, the blue ridge skyline a gorgeous backdrop to this segment of the adventure.

Also, a little trail magic joy to brighten your day and give you some goosebumps:
Today I ran out of water, and even went so far as to start going to houses along the parkway and ask for water (no luck). Half mile down the trail, on the side of the road, I found a sealed bottle of water sitting in the grass.

Total MST miles: 382.5 (212.2 foot, 169.3 bike)

Total trip miles: 492.0 (250.9 foot, 238.1 bike)

February 7, 2008

2008-02-07T16:21:00.000-05:00

Today's miles: 19

I am tired and my feet smell bad. The puppy follow me all day again, after a restive night sharing my tent. So now – in addition to smelling like sweat and mildew, my stuff all smells like wet dog. At least I am staying with another backpacker (albeit a reformed hiker).

Can I let a beagle break my heart? I can’t anthropomorphize her… it. She was good company for a couple of days. I shouldn’t have fed her… but I did.. so no looking back at that. And now I am in the little “local color” Beanstalk with half a dozen overcaffeinated patrons, jabbering to each other about mugs and puzzles downstairs. And upstairs, much quieter but full of artistes scribbling amateur ART in our little notebooks. Or something like that.

I am enjoying exploring this new world of Boone. But I want to see more in-depth than I am now – and it seems strange to complete this journey without digging down somewhere. I wish that I could find a good way to balance travel and work and making new friends… and wearing blue jeans.

Today was cool and beautiful. I don’t want to think about the puppy and the puppy was on my mind most of the day. Most of today, I walked on the BRP. The Mountains to sea trail has been flagged in this area, but not yet dug or built. I did hike a cute little loop-trail with interpretive signs with the names and descriptions of trees along it. And I hiked a little bit of the unbuilt trail this morning, following the flags like the needle of a compass through the woods (elementary orienteering!!). It felt good to be tramping through the woods – “like a Daniel Boone!” I mused for a moment before reflecting that actually, if I were Dan Boone, I would have to deal with directions and no paths ever and definitely no guidebook, not to mention the unknown danger of running into a Native American in the forest, who may not treat you as a benign trade partner but instead potentially as the ENEMY. Not to mention that I would not have fleece to keep me warm and plastic to keep my things dry.

Upon reaching the highway to Boone, I hitched on the road and was picked up by a woman who declared me brave to hitchhike alone as a woman nowadays, eventhough she used to do it all the time when she was younger, between the NC mountains and the Florida beach. She said that she had “one bad experience and it was bad” and then let that drop off and I didn’t ask her to repeat the experience to me.

February 6, 2008

2008-02-06T15:54:00.000-05:00

Today’s miles: 15.2

Oh lordy, what a day she has gotten me into. “She” being the little beagle who is curled up in my vestibule after scarfing down a bowl of cereal. I came upon her early this morning while I was hiking. I was listening to NPR on my headphones and stopped when I heard a little sound. I turned around to see a little timid beagle following not 2 feet behind me. No collar. She followed me all day long, all 15 miles, most of them through the rain. I’m not sure what the “right” thing to do is. My plan of action is to make a leash for her if she’s still with me tomorrow, hitch into Boone with her, and then see if I can find the animal shelter and go in to get their advice. She’s already weaseling her way into my lonely heart.

But then again… what am I doing thinking that I can support a dog financially and stability-wise?

February 5, 2008

2008-02-05T15:25:00.001-05:00

Today’s miles: 11.4

It was an early stop today (around 4 pm) as I found a pretty good camping spot and my feet are sore from hiking (and lugging this load). Only 3 interactions with people today, one late morning when I came across a group of young men chain-sawing the brush on the side of the road, then at the trail crossing near Lauree Springs, I asked a woman if I could get water (“all drained out”) and a man pulled up while I was rummaging for a dollar for a soda and asked if the soda machine was working.

It was a beautiful, warm, sunny day. And I enjoyed it immensely. Bluff Mtn (bald) gave beautiful views towards the Blue Ridge mountains. I saw a coyote this morning around 9:30 am, across the parkway in a field! And lots of deer and wild turkeys, at least 1 grouse, and an owl.

There were a LOT of blowdowns today, mostly pine trees. The FMST have their work cut out for them this spring when they get to their trail maintenance!

I am stealth-camping in the woods off of the BRP mp 250. Two more days to Boone!! One thing that I have been frustrated with on this trail is the unaffordable-ness of hiking it legally. Campsites have been near $15/per site. And we’re not allowed to camp off of the parkway, soooo what is a poor hiker to do? Unfortunately break the law. And in winter, it is literally impossible to abide by those rules, because none of the campsites are open. It’s frustrating – I don’t particularly like breaking the law (and being paranoid about it).

After Boone, I have 300 trail miles to Clingman’s Dome!

February 4, 2008

2008-02-04T15:21:00.002-05:00

Today’s miles: 13.0

This morning, I talked to the old and lonely man with the dog, staying in the RV by the bathroom. And then 4 (four!) ranger trucks pulled up with 5 employees and they proceeded to “clean” the ground and rake gravel. I got directions from them on getting back to the trail.

I climbed up Stone Mountain on a new orange-blazed trail with nice switchbacks and stairs. It was warm enough that I shed layers until I was only in my dress. I ran down the trail, to see a man with a Canadian accent working on building the trail. I wanted to hug his not-drawling self, but instead hiked to the road, then down the road a ways to meet up with the MST at Widows Creek. I headed up into the blown-down laden trail up-up-up to Devils Garden and the Blue Ridge Parkway. Saw a pileated woodpecker! It started to rain once I got to the BRP. It’s now around 6 pm and still raining, lightly. I am crossing my fingers for no rain tomorrow! It is super-foggy tonight.

February 3, 2008

2008-02-03T15:14:00.000-05:00

Today’s miles: 4.5

Amelia and Salam then dropped me off at Stone Mountain, where I left off two days ago. Super big backpack loaded, I took off down the trail at 4:30 pm and almost immediately, a car pulled off to offer me a ride down the road. I got two peace signs flashed at me by drivers on the road tonight and stopped and got a delicious blueberry cream pie ice cream cone at the Stone Mtn general store. I tented in the dark at the campground, surrounded by glowing deer eyes. It’s raining. Tomorrow, I get to climb Stone Mountain!

Biking Across the Piedmont: Part 2

2008-02-02T21:58:00.002-05:00

The temperature plummeted to before-freezing the last few days, climaxing (as I hid snuggly in the Surry Inn) with a gnarly ice storm that shut down the area county public schools. I waited until noon, then cycled the last 15 miles to near-Stone Mountain. Other highlights from this section of trail (aside from frigid temps) have been a GEM SHOP nestled in the valley of the foothills where I purchased a very heavy jar of honey made by bees in hives behind the shop, coffee shop eavesdropping, and the bull that I slept next to in a big red barn last night.

Today, I got a ride with Steven Joines to the Friends of the Mountains-to-Sea Trail annual meeting in Greensboro. It was fun being the smelly "celebrity" in the room for a few hours and hearing about the backroom tick-tockings of a snow-balling trail organization. Tomorrow to the trail!

Total MST miles: 324.4 (154.1 foot, 169.3 bike)

Total trip miles: 425.9 (187.8 foot, 238.1 bike)

February 2, 2008

2008-02-02T15:03:00.002-05:00

Today’s miles: 3.0 on bike

I got picked up just post sunrise at the highway 12 and road intersection by Steven of Sparta. He bought me a coffee at the McDonalds drivethru, and we talked about the AT (he’s a sectionhiker and maybe future thruhiker).

We arrived at the meeting center, in Bur-Mil Park about 45 minutes early, so I got a chance to meet and greet a lot of people before the meeting began – including the guidebook clutching Harry O, eager to begin his MST hike. I talked to hikers Lee Price, Jeff Brewer, Allen DeHart, and Bruce Wisely. It was really interesting experience – we had a meeting and catered lunch, and all kinds of presentations. The meeting proceeded very step-wise. I wanted to stand up and shout, “But what about campsites and water sources!?” but I understand that although as a thruhiker I am thinking about the logistics of my experience, they are focusing on getting trails built and mission statements written. Nevertheless, it was inspiring to see so many people behind the organization, and have so many hands to shake and names and business cards handed to me “just in case” or “when you’re passing through”. The best moment may have been when they all got a good laugh at my expense, because I get to pass through wreckage from the ice storm in this next section.

After the meeting, Amelia and Salam made it to the center and we drove to Boone, to stay with their friends Kristen and Dan.

February 1, 2008

2008-02-01T14:49:00.002-05:00

Today’s miles: 15.2 on bike
Dobson to Traphill Road, Stone Mtn area

Overcaffeinated brainstorming while waiting out the rain in the Surry Inn room…

What is it about North Carolina in particular that makes it unique? Everything about barrier islands screams change and a relative simplicity in a world where ecological excess results in a complex struggle – competition, evolution. On the outer banks, the soil is sandy, the wind and water reign supreme and everything is ephemeral and ever-changing. It is a perfect arena to study relationships – between land and sea, sand and sun and water and plants, animals migrating and year-round residents (humans included), and our relationships with the land and how attitudes have changed from even the era of colonization. From small, personal relationship to pure economic gambling paid for by federal insurance.

Historically, freshwater dictates where most life can occur (save desert and marine organisms). We have worked around rivers, floods, lakes, springs, and wells. Farming has used local water to make food for local consumption. And then we got smarter than Ecology, Mother Nature, Magic, God, whatever you want to believe is in charge of the organization of the world.

Suddenly, it made sense to irrigate a desert golf course (but those beautiful natural sand traps!) and plug up a river beaver-style with a dam strong enough to control the flow of water but disallow the flow of fish. No biggie, we chant and toss in a few fish ladders, choke-hold traditional fishing, and genetically engineer those fishies. We stop eating fish (ethics, pollutants, slimy-gook, three eyes) and begin finding the winters more bluesy. Pop some pills for depression only to find all we’ve gotta do is Tom-Sawyer it down by the river with line and hook, build a 13-year-old dream raft and feel what it’s like to be alive. Remember that feeling? Not satisfaction or full or calm but neurons vibrating (there goes the coffee bean on its orbital turn around my head!).

After I got my crazy on at the little Surry Diner, I headed out to the road at about 12:30 by which time the rain had stopped. Everything, however, was cloaked in a thin layer of ice from the freezing rain, and as I peddled chunks of it would fall down from trees and powerlines and splat! on the pavement. Chased by a couple of dogs, the afternoon was cold (sub 35 all day) and gray. I biked to the Faith Baptist Church on Traphill Road and sat for a couple hours, mostly reading Guns, Germs, and Steel by Jared Diamond. I was going to stay the night on the porch but then a couple trucks pulled into the drive and rubber-necked, so I decided to move on. I went less than half-mile down the road and knocked on a door to a well-kept house. A nervous looking woman with hair curlers came around the side. I explained my situation, and she said, “Well, I don’t know. I’ve never been asked that before.”

I waited until her husband pulled up in a big tractor, and he came out of the house about 10 minutes later, and said that I could sleep in the barn. Here I am in the barn, by the bull munching on hay and the farm equipment covered in mud. I saw a skunk outside. I hope I don’t get a smelly visitor tonight. It’s also ironic that I am sleeping on the ground of a barn as I read the section in Guns Germs and Steel about how crowded domestic animals living close to humans is the source of most infectious diseases. Uh-oh. Tomorrow, to Greensboro to the Friends of the-Mountains-to-Sea annual meeting!

“Somewhere in the archives of crudest instinct is recorded the truth that it is better to be endangered and free than captive and comfortable.” – Tom Robbins, Another Roadside Attraction

January 31, 2008

2008-01-31T16:07:00.000-05:00

Today's miles: 37.6 on bicycle

It was water-bottle-frozen cold this morning and I got up after the sun, hurriedly packed up the bike and rode down the road into the freezing air. I stopped to add layers, including the little booties that Richard lent me. It was amazing: within 10 minutes, I could feel my toes again. On Hwy 66, still in the deep countryside, I stopped to have cereal on a grassy spot by the road and meditate on the rising sun and my fabulous breakfast.

Last night, as I listened for the approach of dog (or human) footsteps, cold in my tent, I thought really carefully over what I am doing and just stayed curled up in a ball, my finger encircled in the hematite ring I was given yesterday. I thought about standing in that Gem Shop in the valley, the weight of the book (“Melody’s book”) in my hands, the type jumping off the page like proverbs, like the lettering on church signs- those Fortune cookie-length benedictions, advice, and even witticisms to-go. Especially for the transits, like me. “Aspire to inspire Before you expire”. And that man in the Gem Shop in his flannel and jeans looking at me reading, probably with no idea of the thoughts going through my head.

Somedays, you need to believe in the strength of crystals.

Pilot Mountain zoomed in and out of view as I cycled up and down mountains. I stopped at a gas station to ask for water and found 4 men with lots of hair (in hair, moustache, or beard form) in Carhartts, camouflage, and blaze orange gear. I talked to them for a little while, and then pushed off the last few miles into the town of Pilot Mtn, to grab a cup of coffee at a local establishment and pause and check on the weather. Those men had warned me of “weather this way tonight,” namely an ice storm. All day in my head, I heard the Indigo Girls’ lyrics, “the same sun that warmed that corn will suck those gutters dry; with everything its opposite, enough to make you wild or to keep this whole world spinning with a twinkle in its eye.” Everything out here seems ying and yang, positive and negative. Sunny and cold, busy roads with trucks but no dogs, ups and downs, nice campgrounds with strange abandoned sleeping bags…

In Pilot Mtn, I biked to the public library and settled down at a computer while the kooky “substitute librarian” fixed us our elevens (of coffee, not whiskey). I made a reservation at the Surry Inn, then peddled across the small town on my route, to mail the letter I wrote. I didn't stop much until got here to the Surry Inn. I talked to the lady at the desk a little bit, she was really friendly. She said that Dobson is expanding and that it recently opened to franchise business. That the vineyard has wine tours and classy dinner. That there is indeed lots of farming around here – a couple of tobacco farms, a pig farm, and a dairy farm. And she told me about this man from Canada who comes down here every year for a month, rents out the same room, and keeps his BMW and flat screen TV parked at the hotel and rides his bicycle up to Stone Mountain. Very Strange. I wonder what he does for a living, and what he gets out of the Stone Mtn bicycling.

I spent an hour at the diner connected to the inn, feasting on an odd combination of French fries, coffee, grilled cheese (white bread, fake butter and American cheese) and some homemade German chocolate cake.

January 30, 2008

2008-01-30T14:39:00.000-05:00

Today’s miles: 31.9 on bike
Stokesdale, NC to Hanging Rock State Park

For simplicity, I’ve taken to specifying “Asheville” as my destination and if pressed further explain how I’m getting there by bike and on foot. And if someone is really interested in the logistics, I start to explain the syntax and name of the whole adventure (the Mountain-to-Sea Trail). Most people don't get past the second stage of interest.

Today started out really windy. After praying with Misty’s father in Parkers – another heart warming benediction that left me buzzing with goodwill - I biked down to the MST and rolled onward towards the mountains! I caught my first view today of the gorgeous blue bumps – the Saura Mountains. The biking was hillier than it has been, today. I spent some extra time biking to the HillBilly Hideaway on Pine Hill Rd (closed, too bad, but open on Friday, Sat, Sun and with live bluegrass music on Sat). I stopped for a long break in Walnut Cove, where I spent an hour and a half at the library, then ventured to the Antique Store, dicked around a little bit and talked to an older couple about my trip.

It was a hilly route. I stopped in a valley in bedazzlement at the sign “Gem Shop.” The worker, a lean bearded man with kind-of crazy eyes, fielded my questions.

"Why do you work here?" For the kids. Drugs, alcohol recovery.

"Where do the crystals come from?" All over the world. A guy from TN goes around the world to buy them every couple of years.

"Do you get school groups that come down?"
Yes, and 4-H

"Where does the honey come from?"
Made out back, spring honey is sweeter than sourwood honey. There are still plenty of bees (no mysterious die off here anyhow).

Then Steven gave me a hematite ring. We talked about good and bad people, crystals, and he wished “perty” me a good trip and stood on the porch and waved as I biked up the hill. I stopped again in Danbury to listen to local bluegrass at the Arts Center for Stokes County.

Biking into Hanging Rock Park, had to skip the hiking part again and I just gazed wistfully at the mountains and continued on my way. I stopped at the closed Moore's Springs campground, thinking that I might stay there, but decided otherwise when I saw an abandoned sleeping bag on the ground. I’m in a previously burnt site (so says the Keep Out tape) tented in the rapidly growing pine trees. I tried to talk to someone in the house across the street, but no one answered the door when I knocked. I feel pretty good about this site. I can hear owls hooting, dogs barking, and cars passing.

I am thriving on this trip. I am talking to so many people, moving and seeing places, out-biking ferocious dogs.

Biking Across the Piedmont: Part 1

2008-01-30T12:24:00.002-05:00

I don't even know how to begin to describe how grateful I am for the generosity and openness of perfect strangers on this trip. I am in Walnut Cove, NC at the public library, and this morning I had my first gorgeous view of mountains! Blue and rounded, like I remember them fondly from the not-too-distant past. The bicycling is getting hillier by the day, to my infinite glee.

I had to skip the trail-hiking sections north of Greensboro, and bicycle around them for now. Another puzzle piece to figure out later on.

I have been winding around the countryside, taking the most circuitous route, and out-cycling those ferocious country dogs (bikers seem to incite chasing, I have learned). So far, I have avoided high fructose corn syrup on this leg of the trip (thanks in part to a long visit to Emily's Cookie Mix Shoppe, and a heart-warming talk with his its vivacious proprietor). I am working on my soo-uuuuthern accent. I slept next to that fish last night.

For any of you involved with the Friends of the Mountains-to-Sea Trail, I will definitely be coming to the annual meeting in Greensboro this weekend and look forward to meeting you all!

Total MST miles: 258.5 (154.1 foot, 103.4 bike)
Total trip miles: 352.2 (187.8 foot, 164.4 bike)

January 29, 2008

2008-01-29T15:55:00.000-05:00

Today’s miles: 41.5 on bicycle

I woke up later than usual in Greensboro, made breakfast, did some planning for the day, Travis taught me how to change a bike tube, and got on the road finally around noon. All went well (although a little sore from my 70 miles yesterday). It was a cloudy, warm day. The problem began when I got to the Bryan Park golf club and realized that I wasn’t allowed to bicycle on the trails, or at least half of them, and the other half were mountain bike trails. Anyways, I had to find a way to bike around them. I found a map partway through my detour and sat at a coffeeshop in Summersville with the map finding my route on it.

I set off to rejoin the MST and search for a ceramic studio that was supposed to be on the trail, but I think it must be closed. So I kept biking, looking for the right place to camp, passing pastoral heaven on every hill, the red clay churned up in the fields. Ending up in Stokesdale, I stopped at a gas station to ask for advice about dinner and was given an earful about Stokesdale (7,000 pop, and rapidly growing) and its highlight: the worlds largest coffee pot.

I found the coffee pot a half-mile down the road on Hwy 158 N, behind (unceremoniously) a retirement community’s sign. Well, this I was not going to miss. You don’t see the world’s largest coffee pot any ole day, so off I went to see it and bike to Parker’s to find some grub and ask for a place to camp. It was a little diner, with the waitress/mistress of the joint Misty bustling every direction to take care of things. She offered me a place to camp on the property near the restaurant, and I accepted, then a couple in the restaurant asked if I wanted to stay in a house they had nearby, and I weighed it and decided that I would just as soon stay near to my bike and things. As I was setting up my tent outside in the dark, Misty’s grandmother came out of her round house and came over to give me a hug, then dragged me to the garage and insisted that I stay inside, propped on some old couch cushions and next to a plastic sword and a large, dried fish.

I am overwhelmed by the generosity of strangers.

January 28, 2008

2008-01-28T14:29:00.002-05:00

Today’s miles: 65.3 on bike
Green wiley road in Hillsborough to the city of Greensboro

Starting around 7:30 am, all went smoothly until ran into two dogs in the middle of the road. I dismounted, walked with my bike, approaching them slowly and talking winningly to them. Well, they were just a frisky, friendly duo and they followed me down the road a ways, jumping on eachother. It was SUCH a zippadeedooda kind of day: sunny skies and the perfect temperature for biking. I took a couple long breaks, one at this little ho-dunketty post office made with cinder blocks and painted silver and blue. I sat on a rickety bench outside of the old Prender’s grocery store and wrote a short letter.

I biked down the road until I reached a “Road Crossed detour” and an oasis in the clear sunshine: a COOKIE shop?! I wasn’t going to spend money, of which I am low on, BUT geez-us what was I to do. I went inside and met Debra, a smiling bright eyed woman who runs the shop AND a Minnesotan to boot. We talked for an hour and a half about her deceased daughter Emily and my trip (“You go girl” was what she said, I believe). We talked about moving to this area of North Carolina as a Northerner and the difficulty she has had integrating, even after living there for 12 years. About the xenophobia towards Mexicans moving to the area. About the farms no longer being planted to crops, and if they are, because of the “Big Tobacco Buyout” they are planting corn instead.

Bidding a new friend goodbye, I rolled on around the easy detour, adding 4 ½ miles to my route, which ended at the 2 United Church of Christ churches – two congregations kitty corner across the street and one black, one white. They are technically the same church, but separated by race and probably to some extent, the culture associated with race.

As I rolled on down the road, high on coffee and sunshine, I missed a turnoff and ended up going all the way into Gibsonville, adding an extra 4 miles! I stopped and got directions from the two women at a new housing development (“little houses on the hilltop and they’re all made out of ticky-tacky. Little houses on the hilltop and they all look just the same…”). Last eventful moment of the day was when I biked past a school bus and a kid yelled “Bitch” and threw a pencil at me! That’s the only hostility that I’ve experienced so far.

Then I biked into Greensboro on a highway with exit ramps and everything! All the way to Walker Street, where my couchsurfing host lived. I left a message for Travis when I got there, then waited at the Laundromat (& attached bar?) to wait for him to call and to eat dinner. I ate my homemade wheat rolls. Finally, around 6 pm, Travis called and I rode a few blocks to his wonderful little house filled with mouthwatering amounts of outdoor gear!! We talked for a long while, about gear (he is a manager for REI) and travel and life.

And then another Travis came over – a guy who is also involved with couchsurfing. Travis 1 left to talk on the phone and after a few attempts at conversation, Travis 2 and I sat in silence, flipping through magazines. And then a couple other bearded men burst into the house – Rob, Travis’ musician/marathon runner roommate, and some guy named Andrew. We ended up drinking a couple beers and watching Futurama projected onto the neighbor’s house. Slept on luxurious leather couch.

January 27, 2008

2008-01-27T14:23:00.000-05:00

Today’s miles: 33.1 on bike
Old Creedmoor Rd/Hwy 50 to Green Wiley Road

The bike was late getting fixed at the shop, so I didn’t get to leave until about 1:30 pm. Which was good, I think. I believe in coincidence, like Tess. Amelia and Salam dropped me off at Hwy 50 around 2 pm, and we strapped Richard’s panniers to the rack, bungee corded my backpack to the top of the rack, cinched the brain of my other pack to the handlebars. They snapped a photo of me and the Trek-mamacita and I headed off with Amelia yelling to me, “Stay inside the lines!”

I responded into the wind, “What lines??!” and wobbled down the road, trying to figure out how to change gears and ride on Amelia’s bicycle. The day was sunny and warm, THREE dogs chased me down the road, and I passed from Wake to Durham to Orange County, with an ease that backpacking rarely feels like: flying (precariously) down hills, shifting up and down, letting the bicycle do the brunt of the work. I exceeded what I thought I was capable of, basking in the lowering sun and the bucolic scenery. The pastoral horizon is quite pretty, in its productive affirmation of human ingenuity, hard work, and ego.

I arrived at Green Wiley Rd at sunset, and knocked on a door. A young woman (28) opened the door with a smile, shushing her hyper little Chihuahuas. I asked if I could tent on their property, and she said, “Sure, but you can just stay in out house,” no questions asked. I am continuously impressed with the way people trust me – a stranger, and let me into their houses and offer me food and showers and company.

So here I am, once again indoors with Jessica and Tony. She is a dental assistant, and he is a contracted painter. They have been together for 13 years, since their mid-teens. A few people have swung by and I can already tell what it must be like to live here. Jessica is keeping me updated by linking everyone by family or friendship and the friends are usually related to other friends and family by marriage. Tony’s parents live next door, and they are surrounded by the cows of someone who leases the land next door.

They have well water (tastes good) but as soon as I filled a glass, Jessica ran and got some bottled water and filled up a glass with it for me. I didn’t have the heart to lecture my hosts about conspicuous consumption.

A Salute

2008-01-27T10:57:00.000-05:00

It is a tank-top warm morning, I am listening to bluegrass and relishing my cup of coffee, waiting for my laundry to finish drying and then! cycling westward. I do not have much "bicycling trip" experience, but if all else fails, I can always walk with the bicycle on the road.

I am very very excited about what western North Carolina will hold for me. Updates may not be regular for the next month (but they may! we will see!).

Dayhiking in the Triangle

2008-01-23T09:06:00.001-05:00

If you are a hiker or traveler, you will probably understand this feeling. Wednesday was one of those validating days. I drove to an access point of the Falls Lake Trail, with the little Huffy road bike hanging out of the trunk of the Buick. In the parking lot, I hopped on the bike and headed the 6 miles to where I had left off the day before at the end of Possum Run Rd. I locked the Huffy and set off into the cool clear day.

I had almost forgotten this feeling. The cool morning, flocks of robins squabbling in the skeletons of deciduous trees, the soft path that yielded to my steps, and flashes of green as I passed through Longleaf and Loblolly pine sanctuaries and past hardy Christmas ferns. The strobe light effect of walking swiftly past the long shadows of trees in the morning. Not every day of every trip is a high. But the good days are great. I hiked about 11 miles in 4 hours, and could have leapfrogged part of the next section to finish up some more miles. Instead, I cranked up my Ace of Base tape in the Buick, picked up the Huffy, and drove to resupply at Whole Foods and Great Outdoor Provision Company. I have one more day of the Falls Lake Trail before I am dropped off at its western terminus to bike westward to the mountains. My face is healing, after undergoing some pretty gruesome transformations this week.

Conclusion: Phook Yeah!

Total MST miles: 154.1 (all on foot)
Total trip miles: 198.3 (187.8 foot, 10.5 bike)

Drastic, complicated change of plans

2008-01-21T17:08:00.000-05:00

After a couple days of deliberation and fun, I have a new trip plan. Warning: This may get complicated if you are not intimately familiar with the geography of the MST and North Carolina. Here goes.

I hiked from Kitty Hawk to Okrakoke, took the ferry to Cedar Island, and walked on roads to the Neuse River, following the MST until I reached the Croatan National Forest and the Neusiok Trail. From the Neuse River, I hitched a ride to New Bern. From New Bern, I drove back to Durham with my sister and bro-in-law, who came out to visit. I will spend a few days sleeping indoors and dayhiking the Falls Lake section of trail, trying to continue to heal my blistering face. I will take off from the western terminus of the hiking trail on my sister’s road bike. I will bike for about a week, until I hit trail again near the Appalachian foothills. Somehow, I will transport me and the bike to Durham in the beginning of February. On the way back to the trail, I will drop by the MST annual meeting in Greensboro. Back on the trail, I will hike west from the point where I left off, visiting characters from the Appalachian Trail class of 2006 in Boone and Asheville along the way. By the first week of March, I hope to be finished with most of the trail, excepting this section between Falls Lake and the Croatan National Forest. My parents are driving down to North Carolina for a visit in the beginning of March. They will bring my younger brother’s kayak, pick me up in the mountains, and drive me to Durham. Where I will hop in the Neuse River and paddle down to its confluence with the Trent River here at the crotch of New Bern. I will finish out the trail with a two-day hike through Croatan National Forest.

And now I will interview myself to assure my oodles of fans and stalkers that I am, indeed, at least partially aware of what I am doing:

Are you still thru-hiking the Mountains-to-Sea Trail?

No. I intend to complete the trail corridor without gaps, by the end of March. I will not be HIKING the whole trail. I will be biking about one-quarter of the trail, kayaking one-quarter of the trail, and hiking half of the trail. For a few years, I have had this vision of traveling a long distance through those three types of movement with the use of mechanical machines. No terminological “purist” would call this a thru-hike. I am infinitely okay with this.

Why don’t you just walk, it would be way less complicated?

I know that I am physically capable of hiking across the state, and if I had a more noble purpose for walking every step of the way (for example, for every mile I walked, a nutritious meal was donated to feed a poor, local family), I could push through my listless wall of misery and finish the trail on foot. However, this trip is entirely selfish. I am learning, researching, and writing, and find that I am more productive when I am reveling and not wallowing. Makes sense, no?

What are you researching and writing?

I had an idea before I left for the trip that it would be really neat to write a book based on my experiences on the trail, and amazingly enough, I think that it may be a viable idea. As I see it now, it would be part travelogue/ personal reflection on the things that I see and people that I meet, mostly focusing on how the people I encounter interact with and think about the natural world, especially related to consumption (food, water, energy), with a dash of natural and human history.

What are you learning?

GRE vocab. I know what ‘mirth’ and ‘lugubrious’ and ‘libertine’ mean, and can use these words in a sentence and recite a list of near-synonyms. Can you?

This will mean you will reach the mountains a couple weeks earlier than planned. Are you really ready?

Wahoo!

It will be cold.

Zippideedooda!

You’ll probably get lonely.

My mama always said, “Lonely is as lonely does”

January 20, 2008

2008-01-20T17:12:00.000-05:00

20 January 2008
New Bern coffeeshop

This is a place to be lonely, with others. I have been wandering through town for the last half an hour, thinking about this trip from different angles and about New Bern and how things come to be the way they are.

I passed a pile of wood scraps and thought, “I could make something with that” and then “but it would be more useful to have a goal of what you want to make before you start collecting supplies” and then I began to apply that sentiment to other things – like this trip.

Being smart and doing research is a matter of enjoying the process as much as getting results. I need to remember that. I am not enjoying this process of research. I enjoy moments of it, but not the day to day, well.. not drudgery exactly but… trudgery. Normally, the process is what thrills me – of science, of dishwashing, of backpacking, and of running. Not every second, but the vast majority of them.

The joy of backpacking comes partly from the beauty and simplicity of traveling unfettered and unhurried. "The closest we can get to freedom two feet on the ground", I’ve written before. Traveling unfettered, however, has its downfalls. I can’t carry books or stop in a restaurant/coffee shop that I know will be full of friends. Free is not universally good.

I was also thinking of what it was like to live in this area or anywhere before we had modern conveniences like internal temperature control or restaurants or grocery stores. Or cars. Or fleece.

Passing pecan and oak trees with their seeds on the sidewalk, I thought about how people define living and think about the food, water, and shelter that sustains them. What does it mean to be outside of that awareness? There was a plaque down by the waterfront for a Civil War battle that was fought in New Bern. Old silo-looking buildings and huge rusting loading dock by the river – the stacks looked like grain silos but have a faint “fertilizer petroleum” written on them. The old train tracks with freight trains still running. There are a million and one things to meditate on and research and be inspired by, in the natural and human worlds. How is it possible to create a picture of the world – of the Ecology of a place - without getting bogged down in any one field? And how do others go through life ignorant of cause-and-effect and history? How are so many people dispassionate about living? How are so many people comfortable with discount or polished knowledge at institutional settings?

Hiatus in New Bern

2008-01-20T08:02:00.000-05:00

In the beginning of January, I watched a documentary on Ann Bancroft's Antarctic cross country ski expedition, partially in order to put my crazy in perspective. I watched as they got various physical ailments and struggled through doubt, and eventually, stopped at the South Pole. "Afoot and lighthearted I take to the open road" wrote Walt Whitman in "Song of the Open Road" and I try to live most of my life that way. Until the last 20 miles into New Bern, this trip was always afoot. It has never been lighthearted.

I am spending a glorious weekend with fellow free-spirit Tess, baking vegetables and bread, combing thrift store treasures, hitting up coffee shops, and not defending this trip to my surrogate trail-parents. It has been wonderful, and today I will decide whether I want to keep on walking and if so, to where.

January 18, 2008

2008-01-18T17:08:00.002-05:00

Today’s miles: 14.1
Camp Creek to the Neuse River, hitched to New Bern

I woke up early with the concise clear phrase echoing in my head, “Go. Now. Go.” I tried to quell it, and got up with the starting of engines (Friday morning commuters) and packed up and headed out into the morning cold. In Harlowe, I stopped at the little gas station, with only heavily-accented African American clientele. Some reactions I got were:

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Hey, she’s hiking across the state”

“You’re going to FREEZE. You better get yourself to a Motel 6 tonight.”
And other such encouraging talk.

I bought a tasteless 400 calorie strawberry poptart and some coffee, and sat inside the gas station with the Middle Eastern owner, listening to music in Arabic and defrosting. Shouldering the pack, I moved on down the road praying for sun and warmth. The sun finally came out and I passed by the Motha-effing Neusiok trail! Of course, despite my convinction that I would be trucking it to the Neuse River Ferry on roads, I turned into the trail and tried out the boardwalk. I walked about ¾ mile, until the boardwalk dropped off into wet mud. With a sigh, I pivoted and returned to the road. I walked to the Ferry Rd, turned right and marched on 5 miles to the river! I moved through a rich subdivision along the river, in marked contrast to the poverty I had been walking through that morning. I had no idea how much this trip would make me question and think about my privalage and ability to solicit help from strangers as a young caucausion woman

Coastal North Carolina

2008-01-18T14:59:00.002-05:00

Since leaving the Outer Banks, I have taken to the roads, winding through picturesque saltwater marshes, scaring great blue herons, squishing through the spongy grass along the highway. And the not-so-picturesque - walking through some really poor neighborhoods (reminding me that living below my means is a privelage, not a legit lifestyle), soothing very territorial dogs whilst clutching my pepper spray, trying with increasing difficulty to explain to strangers why I don't just do something "normal" - get a job, a boyfriend, an apartment.

It hasn't all been peachy-keen. Thinking about the past the good always shines through, obscuring the tough parts. My face is totally windburnt - I look like a tomato. My lips are also windburnt, and peeling. Yesterday, I walked all day through the endless rain, trying to stay positive. At the end of the day, as I searched in the rainy incoming dark for the trailhead to enter the swamp, it stopped being fun. Today, I walked on roads to the river ferry, found a woman heading to New Bern, and got a ride into the city. I am taking the weekend off and plotting my next move.

Total MST miles: 127.8
Total trip miles: 154.9

January 17, 2008

2008-01-17T17:01:00.002-05:00

Today’s miles: 17.0

It is miserable and raining outside and I am at an impasse as to what I should do today. It’s supposed to rain pretty much now until 4 pm (at least it’s not sleet and snow like in Durham). But then again, my sister Amelia will probably have classes canceled. I will have… hiking cancelled? Maybe. It would be unfortunate to be a day behind schedule, but it would be more unfortunate to be wet and cold and unhappy and on schedule. Right? A day off certainly isn’t the end of the world.

I did hike today. They didn’t offer a place to sleep for another night, and I didn’t ask so by 9:45 am, full of decaf coffee, off I walked into the dreary rain – 100% chance of rain all day. Hallelujah. Most of the day actually wasn’t so bad – I listened to music and stopped for a lunch of pizza, pop, and chocolate at a BP station. I got about 10 ride offers over the course of the day. By late afternoon, as I was looking for the Neusiok Trail and being barked at by unleashed dogs, the rain began to fall harder. After wandering around for an hour, searching for something trail-like between the ramshackle houses, I gave up and settled into a soggy strip of land tucked next to the road in the briars.

As soon as I stopped walking, the rain stopped and I set up my tent, hesitantly because it was most definitely private land and I was in the private property pride capital: the rural south. It is a wet, cold evening.

January 16, 2008

2008-01-16T15:51:00.000-05:00

Today’s miles: 17.0

It was an uneventful day until around Stacy (population 191). All morning, I listened to NPR on the radio. I was walking through town when a door swing open and out walked an attractive, young guy “Where are you walking to?” I told him (Josh) and asked to fill up my water at his house. He was watching country music videos, getting ready to go set up some duck hides. He ticked off what he does, “Guide duck huntin’, go fishin' some, and I’m a cap’n. And pretty much, when I’m not workin’, I’m drinkin’.” And then he took about two facts about my trip for his article for the local paper – name and that I was hiking from Kitty Hawk to “Asheville.” Then he recommended that I go visit his buddy Jeff, who was crazy and had done plenty of interesting things, like hitchhike to Alaska, and invent the Tigerclaw saw (ohhh… the tiger claw!). So I said I might visit, then trucked on down the road. I reached Davis (where this character lived, population 350) late morning, and went into the corner variety store. While drinking coffee and eating cookies, sitting on my backpack, a fellow climbed out of his truck and said, “You must be the traveler,” and that was Jeff. We talked for close to an hour, about near everything.

He looked to be in his late 30s, with dark curly hair and a relaxed demeanor. He sat on top of the ice cooler and me on my backpack. He’s from Wisconsin, been living in Davis for the last 4 years, finishing a house, before that Asheville for a long while. Next week, he’s actually planning on traveling back to Asheville to move there with his 15 year old son, who’s having behavioral troubles at the local school. We talked about life on the road, good hitches and drunk hitches and he seemed to be nostalgically looking back to an earlier time when he said, “It’s amazing, whatever you need, it seems to appear right in front of you, on the side of the road.”

I felt such affection for this man, an intelligent single father stuck not knowing how to reclaim the freedom of the road off the road. He gave me $15 coupons to a bar/restaurant in Asheville that he’s a partial owner of, and off I go and he goes, and for the rest of the afternoon it was as though I had a special glow all around me, from a run-in with a common soul.

I stopped for a late lunch at a Methodist church picnic table. As the sun was setting, I became worried, because I had not seen the campground I was looking for. Stopped a woman driving out of a driveway to ask for directions and sneakily solicit an invitation to sleep in my tent in her yard. She, being the wife of a Baptist preacher, instead offered me to stay in a trailer vacated in their yard and we went to do some errands around town, with Rhonda’s grandson the very cute Dean. She bought me a BBQ chicken dinner and we rode the whole way listening to baby songs full blast on the stereo, to stop the baby’s fussing.

I slept in their RV, getting up a few times to coat my face in cocoa butter and lips in medicated lip balm. I really do resemble a ripe tomato. Yum.

January 15, 2008

2008-01-15T16:48:00.002-05:00

Today's miles: 9.5

Back to the mainland I go. There are four men on this ferry with me, talking in really garbled accents. I mean, I am having trouble even figuring out what they are talking about, but I’m getting the impression that it is politics. And they don’t like Hillary “Chelsea’s Mama”. This is a 2 hour, 15 min ferry. I resupplied this morning at the variety store and got a new raincoat (much more heavy duty and costing $4).

What resonates most with me today are the varying reactions that I get to this trip, especially this afternoon. On the ferry, the four men all had something to say about my trip. A couple gave practical advice, told me to use my intuition. A third man, who as been living on Okracoke for 30 years, talked to me about for a long time. He told me about his jobs (commercial fishing, the Marines, and now maintenance work on the islands) and the water systems (Hatteras Island uses desalination, Okracoke uses a deep well and filtration system, but it used to be rainwater fed, and Cedar Island to Morehead City have mostly personal wells). He called hurricanes the natural water bucket of the coast. We talked about fishing, and how government regulations made it cheaper for frozen fish to be imported because fishermen can no longer make a living off of what they are allowed to catch. And then out of the blue, he asked me what my church is back home and fumbling some, I replied, “Methodist!” and we talked a little bit about religion. He gave me a benediction, kind blessings for safety during my trip.

In contrast to the third kind man, the fourth one asked me straight out – Why would you want to do that? And so I explained the circumstances, that I am almost done with college, want to explore before I get a real job and settle down, etc. And he came back with a sarcastic (I think) reply of, “No girl, you need to get a job! And apartment, settle down, make money!”

I replied, “I have the rest of my life to do that.”

And he said, “I’m 66, and the last 25 years have felt like about 3. It flies by. You need to start playing the game so you can start losing at it.”

And that was his parting sentiment. The “you are not normal” speech. I wonder what made him so cynical about life – maybe it was because his job consists of riding a 2 hour ferry back and forth on the same route, every day. The third man said that the other three used to be commercial fishermen for a living. Foraging… to service sector. Does that a cynic make?

Off the ferry, I walked until dusk on the road, past the little community of Cedar Island (population 301), getting a few unsolicited ride offers, a lot of friendly waves, and one man who wagged his finger at me. I passed through the Cedar Island Wildlife Refuge, with marsh as far as the eye could see, waves of grass towards the horizon of saltwater sound.

The Outer Banks

2008-01-14T16:33:00.002-05:00

My face is burning. I think it is from the wind on the beach. Or maybe the sun. I am in Okracoke, at the end of the 60-something mile stretch on the beach. Most of the beaches have been deserted, save for the occasional fisherman and his truck. And washed up mysterious shoes and animals and shipwrecks(!!!) The clouds and dunes and sunrises have been beautiful, I have been staying relatively warm and mostly dry. I'm too tired to fully rehash the last week.

Total MST miles: 81.3
Total trip miles: 94.8

January 14, 2008

2008-01-14T16:29:00.001-05:00

Today's miles: 20.0
Frisco to Okracoke

By morning, everything felt better, newer, drier and I was in better spirits. I woke up early for sunrise and an early 5-6 mile push to the ferry terminal to try and make the 9 am ferry to Ocracoke Island – the schedule is shortened because of roadwork on the island. I passed by a successful fisherman, carrying his arm length fish towards the boardwalk. Otherwise, it was me, the breeze, and the crazy moving clouds creating dazzling morning patterns across the sky – fish scales and puffy rain clouds, and wispy distant high clouds. My friend Seth would have had a field day with all of those cloud patterns!

I got to the ferry terminal and its little oasis comfort station by 8:30 am! I was of course the only walk-on traveler. The ferry took about 40 min to get to Okracoke Island. I chatted a little with the two ferry employees about my trip and basked in their exclamations of amazement, “You’re more of a woman than me!” one said. Off the ferry, I headed straight on down the beach in the wrong direction, where I ended up dead ending in a bog. When I finally got down to the right part of the beach, I hiked for 15 miles into the chilly wild in the bright sunshine. I finally found the wimpy, fenced-in "WILD" ponies down the trail after crawling under a fence looking for them out in the scrubby, expansive “pasture.” They were right by an observation deck, looked very normal pony-like (although they apparently have one less rib than normal ponies and are therefore uniquely adapted to the islands).

At the construction zone (the road is being re-built), I walked out to the beach to walk by the waves down the long, long stretch of beach, passing up multiple ride offers from passing vehicles. After a while, my nose and cheeks began to burn, and felt smooth and stiff – I don’t know whether it is plain old sunburn or windburn. Finally in Okracoke, a biker stopped and asked if I was hiking ‘the trail’ – the trail, imagine that?! And offered me a place to stay. I navigated myself to the library and updated me blog, wimpily. Talked a bit to a guy who is planning on thru-hiking the French part of the Camino de Santiago this summer! A backpacker! And onward to finally stay with Cassie and Jason, the gracious ex-couple who not only offered me a “couch” to sleep on, but a bed and room and shower and washer/dryer AND fajitas. I stayed up until 10 pm, watching The Life Aquatic with them.

Cassie and Jason have been living in Okracoke for two years now, both having graduated from Penn State. They said that one of the neat things about the island community is that everyone seems to have a hidden musical or artistic talent. And that some people have been living there for generations of their families and have plenty of quirks and interesting family histories. We talked about the surge of illegal immigrants on the island competing for jobs and leading to people locking their doors and cars – breaking down the trust of the community.

There are so many things that make islands interesting – their role in evolutionary history especially comes to mind. But there are so many unique things to learn from them – the community that thrives on insular trust. The input-output being a clear equation of whatever is brought in on a ferry boat or pumped into the ocean. The desalination plants making freshwater.

And then there is the history of human relation to the land – from houses on stilts that could be rolled backwards on logs with the advance of the ocean, and as the islands are pushed westward by the tides, to “crotch” structures to try and keep the beach from eroding, and McMansion beach front property insured by the only company stupid enough to insure barrier island property in the path of change, the constant wear of wind and sand and sun, and regular tropical storms and hurricanes: the federal government.

These are the scenes of colonization, WWII battles, shipwrecks since the age of exploration, pirates (near Okracoke was where Blackbeard was killed by General Maynard after his crew killed his crew). Cassie and Jason also told me that Bonner Bridge scored a 4/100 on the safety scale. A little comparison: the Minneapolis bridge was 50/100 on the safety scale. I’m glad that I heard that after walking over it!! No crops at all are grown on the islands, but goddamn they are beautiful and attract some hardy, interesting characters.

January 13, 2008

2008-01-13T16:16:00.000-05:00

Today's miles: 11.0
Avon to just east of Frisco on the dunes of Cape Hatteras Seashore

I woke up to gray skies, and the wind once again at my back. I had peanut butter and banana on a bagel for an alternative breakfast. I began by trying to find the alt-route on the other side of NC-12, the old trail listed in the guidebook that would supposedly allow me to take an old beach road parallel to Pamilco Sound. I hiked half-mile or so before dead ending in some thorny brush, so I elected to return to the Atlantic Beach. Kept thinking, “red sky in morning, sailors take warning,” all day, because of the reddish glow at sunrise. I arrived at the lighthouse site, with all of the keeper’s names in marble at its base. The old lighthouse was moved to its new site using rollers not long ago. It’s a black and white brick peppermint stick.

I talked to the woman working at the museum for a long while, about barrier island ecology and shipwrecks. There were weird weather fluctuations today.

Today I got to actually take a non-beach trail! It’s called North Pond Rd, and it is gated at either end to keep cars off of it. I knew there was a chance of rain all day, but it just kept flipping on and off, so I would shed layers when the sun came out and pile my clothes and “raincoat” back on when the clouds blew over the sun and the temperature dropped 15 degrees! Hiding under a rare large tree, I felt thankful to be so compact and to finally have some natural protection from the rain and wind. This side of the OBX is a lot calmer than the direct N-S Atlantic islands.

It was so exciting (and validating) to see trail markers along the path. There were real trail blazes, and a couple of signs with the MST logo! I ran into a dayhiker with her enthusiastic dog, but otherwise just a few chattery squirrels complaining about my intrusion on their ecosystem. The sand got deep and white, and landscape less forested, more dune-landscape and at a trail, I hopped back from the dunes to the beach. The beach on the south side was calm and the sand was good for walking. A man with headphones on passed by in his truck a couple of times. I wonder what he was listening to driving on the beach on this rainy January afternoon. All I could think of was last spring going through the carwash with Ellen, AJ et al. with Rage Against the Machine playing full blast on the stereo. I miss all of those friends, a lot. I walked until it began to rain. Maybe it was a combination of the rain and nostalgia that sent me spiraling into a maelstrom of doubt, but when I was tenting out the storm at 3:30 pm, I began to question whether I wanted to follow this trip through.

January 12, 2008

2008-01-12T16:08:00.000-05:00

Today's miles: 20.1
Rodanthe to Avon

A multifarious day filled with a dog, the wind at my back, an afternoon of rain, good people met, brownies eaten, and ending with cheesy fries, coffee, and not so stealthy stealth-camping in the backyard of some houses. I am here with hopes that noone has to take their dog out tonight, and if so, they won’t call the cops to come fine me or cart my ass into jail for trespassing or wrecking the dunes.

This morning I woke up at the same time (6 am) in bed in the dry (!!) room at Lynn’s house, down on Laughing Gull Lane. I packed up, made some instant coffee in the microwave, and trotted on down to the beach to walk backwards to the pier, where I would make up for last night’s ride from the pub to the house. I dropped my pack on the sand, walked north for about a mile, meanwhile accidentally makin friends with a golden retriever pup on the beach. We walked together for 3.5 miles, by which point I was growing attached to the Rascal. He was a really sweet pup, although he made me feel badly about walking so slowly, chasing gulls and snipers in circles, then racing back to me to side-swipe me with his wet fur. I gave him some water and left him with a couple of fishermen.

The wind was at my back all day, and it was good walking until it started to rain in the early afternoon. Cold drops of rain. I put on the Dollar Tree poncho, and kept on down the beach. I took a break to slip my feet out of my sandals, eat a cheese sandwich (picking mold off of the bread…) while sitting behind a dune away from the wind. The great thing about backpacking is that its like a marathon picnic. A couple from near Raleigh stopped and gave me homemade brownies! They were out on the beach looking for washed-up fishing lures and picking up old fishing nets that could entangle birds on the beach. I believe in the trail gods. I really do. I am remembering, however, that there are negative things too! Like this afternoon and the rain & wind.

As I walked in the rainy wind with aching feet, I sang the entire 99-bottles-of-beer-on-the-wall song to motivated myself to reach the Avon fishing Pier in the distance. I went to a shopping plaza in Avon to get some bagels and dry off/warm up in Topper’s Pizza Café. And also eat cheesy fries. I love town stops. It totally saved my cold butt today. I talked to a couple in the restaurant from Ohio. They too saw me on Hwy 12 yesterday.

January 11, 2008

2008-01-11T15:42:00.000-05:00

Today’s miles: 19.7

What a long, long day. I woke up at sunrise (a gorgeous gorgeous sunrise). Left my dune to see that someone was camped practically right on top of me down the beach. Exited the beach, crossed the highway and entered the road towards Bodie Lighthouse. I skipped onto a little pine-lined path to walk to the lighthouse. Saw a couple of deer. Arrived at the lighthouse at 8:15 am. I wasn’t expecting to see anyone around (it opens at 9) but a woman was standing on the porch smoking a cigarette. I got some water from the pump, chit-chatted with her really briefly, then headed down the trail through some marshland, flushing great blue herons and white ibises from the adjacent streams.

Next, I walked on rt 12 to the Herbert C Bonner bridge with a “pedestrian walkspace” : yeah right. I hopped down to the catwalk, unaware that it would be ending in 200 yards. When it dead-ended, I hoisted first my pack then me up to the bridge. I think that was when I lost my peanut butter (RIP). I began the windy, harrowing bridge walk, which involved me clutching the railing for dear life and hoping that everyone would see me when they drove past at 55 mph. Scary, I almost fell to the sand on the end of the 2.5 miles walk to kiss its semi-permanent surface. I wandered around the dunes for a little while before continuing walking down the road, hoping I could find cover before it started to rain. I luckily found a little “interpretive sign” with a cover just as it began to rain and ducked underneath. I balled up in a poncho until the rain (and some thunder, lightening) stopped. Counting the seconds between the lightening and thunder, hearing it the storm leave.

Once it stopped, I put my pack on top of my layers and walked down the road to the Pea Island Sanctuary bird walk, a 2.5 mile dike-top jaunt through spongy grass past salt water and freshwater marshes, teeming full of ducks and ibises and and swans and geese… In the bush, I saw lots of birds that I couldn’t identify and a red winged blackbird, male cardinal, snowbirds, etc.

Stopped at the visitors center to talk to the two volunteers. They pointed out some of the birds that they knew and I listened. I left for the beach. I passed by lots of unidentified objects on the beach today – it was mesmerizing to see something bulky or colorful in the distance, and get closer and closer, to see that it wasn’t a mirage, but I still had no idea what it was. I didn’t see (or rather, pass) anyone on the beach today. Just me and the birds and the waves. My feet started to ache after a while, so I cut back to the road for the last 2 miles or so into Rodanthe. I thought it would never come. Got to this establishment (the Pub n’ Grub) at dusk (now 5:09 pm!! Can you believe it?).

No wonder I am having so much trouble getting all of my hiking done – 20 miles in less than 10 hours is damn impressive, when you take into consideration breaks and meals. Here I was served a delicious pizza and beer by Lynn the bartender and George the cook. In addition, after finding out that no campgrounds are open tonight, Lynn offered to let me sleep in the spare bedroom in her house! Golly. It is supposed to rain all tonight and tomorrow (60% chance of some type of rain…). The trail gods are being good to me today.

As Lynn drove me to her house, she described how at her gym in Avon two men were talking with amazement about some girl who had been crossing the bridge earlier that day. I am apparently notorious already in the OBX.

January 10, 2008

2008-01-10T15:56:00.000-05:00

I woke up again with the first strains of dawn, making sure to pack up my things in a hurry, seeing as I was essentially camped out on someone’s backyard dune. In my stealth gear (black fleece, black spandex, black Chaco sandals) I left the dune to continue down the beach. After a mile, I cut into the town of Kill Devil Hills to find Nags Head Forest Preserve, for a little change of pace from the beach-walking. Following eery little back roads, where the roads were half paved, half overgrown grassy lanes. With the help of some directions, I got into the park. Algae covered swamps passed on either side of me, lots of vines covering the canopies of trees, some of them green in the middle of winter. I wonder what it’s like in the summertime when everything is green – probably wild and intimidating.

I was surprised to see private driveways and a few historic cemeteries along the road – what kind of person chooses to live in a SWAMP? Seriously. Back in the 19th century, people did live there, apparently. Ominous “keep out” signs crowned every road. I finally reached what looked like the end, as a sand cliff dove 15-20 feet to a bit of sand and the Palmilco Sound. I tried to walk down by the beach, but changed my mind, deciding instead to take the private road connected to the rode I was on to see where it led – to see if I could connect it to Jockey’s Ridge State Park (the official start of the Mountain-to-Sea Trail). Eventually, I navigated a series of road to find a coastal area and managed to squirm my way along the coast, over grassy tidal zones, into the park.

I took the back route to the top of the tallest dune on the Atlantic Coast (90-100 feet depending on the day). It was pretty spectacular. On the top, I met a girl who works for Outdoor Provision in Raleigh! I’m going to visit the shop when I get there. When I get there. I introduced myself at Jockey’s Ridge visitors center, to the 3 women who work there (and were very excited for my journey). I passed the first blaze of the trail and headed to the beach for some MST loveeeee.

Passed by a fisherman who I saw yesterday. Another bad catch, he said. I watched the clouds with curiousity. In Nags Head, I walked into town for some coffee, chocolate resupply, and Taco Bell. I talked for about half an hour to a gentleman on a bicycle who has always wanted to do the Appalachian Trail. We talked about, of all things, evolution. I walked on the road a little as I now have 3 blisters. At dusk, I headed to the beach to find someplace to camp. I am in the crotch between a couple dunes and my tent is hopefully more secure than last night, when it nearly collapsed on me! I have just entered Cape Hatteras National Seashore. I am feeling the OBX love. My legs are a little sore tonight. It was a long day.

2:15 am
It seems as though I just cannot stay asleep for longer than 6.5 hours. It doesn’t help that the wind is shaking my tent like a Polaroid picture. My back stake came out so I had to go out and tack it back down. A day and a half on the beach and already I feel weather-worn from the elements. What happens when it rains? Or gets cold? Hopefully then I will have a better tenting spot (or longer tent stakes). I swear, I must have ingested enough sand to make an ordinary gizzard very happy… if humans had grinding gizzards like chickens do.

I have yet to get into the rhythm of this trip. It still feels first date awkward, hopefully one of those times we can look back on together and laugh about.

January 9, 2008

2008-01-09T15:42:00.000-05:00

Today's miles: 6.5

Yesterday I took the Greyhound halfway across the state and arrived in Elizabeth City at the Greyhound station, that had moved about 5 miles outside of town. I had to take a taxi, which I shared with a young woman with a small baby and ketchup red hair to the Days Inn. I stayed up last night watching the results roll in from the New Hampshire primary. Now today I’m going to bring on the risk, by hitchhiking across the bridge and down US-158 towards Kitty Hawk.

What am I, as a young woman, supposed to do after the Blood Mtn incident? Back down, cancel my trip?

Today two good people (Phil and Macon) gave me a tag-team hitch from Elizabeth City to Kitty Hawk. I started out from the Elizabeth City hotel full of apprehension about hitchhiking but ready to give it a whirl. It was either hitch once or spend a couple days walking and camping on a busy road – which is safer when those are your options, eh?

I was out by the Elizabeth City bridge, awkwardly wriggling my thumb at passing vehicles, trying to look as reputable as possible, when a white SUV pulled up and an older gentleman motioned for me to jump inside. We talked a lot on the ride, passing through swampy areas, narrow inlets, towards the town of Grandy, where he was meeting his mother for breakfast. Phil bought me an Outer Banks map. He then bought me coffee, and when his mother arrived (an 84 year old spunky woman), breakfast. Sweet potato biscuit and eggs and country ham. They taught me some basic southern accent techniques, told me most of the history of their family. Phil, upon learning that I was an amateur birder, rushed back to get a spare ½ binocular from his truck. So begins my trip as usual: unsolicited gifts from caring strangers.

At the end of breakfast, Macon said, “You need to be a little nutty to enjoy life.” And I could not agree more. I drove east with Macon to the mechanic, then her house in Southern Shores, then to the bank (and just when I thought I had been taken hostage by the sweetest little old lady) to the beach in Kitty Hawk where I was set free with a half pack of gum and her address.

From Kitty Hawk, I walked down the beach to my current campsite on the dunes. "Yip! Ee-yo yippee yay" I sang in a sing-songy delighted way, happy to be out in the cool sun, walking on the beach alone. I detoured to the Wright Brothers memorial site, commemorating their first flight. Back on the beach, I passed commercial fishermen pulling in nets full of spiny dogfish (bycatch) and only one striper (~30 lbs of fish). Passed by a girl about my age and a portly fellow in a bucket hat, fishing with a pole from his lawn chair. “Catch anything?” I asked “Never do,” he answered with glee. I camped in the sandy backyard of an absentee house-owner, falling asleep early to the wiling sound of the ocean pushing and pulling sand, deep tissue massaging the beach. Woke up at 2:30 am thinking it was dawn, started to pack up before realizing my folly. Strange dreams.

Prep Entry #5

2008-01-07T09:39:00.000-05:00

Weighing down in my mind the last few days, as I prepare to hike across the state, is the 24-year-old woman believed to have been kidnapped on the AT near Blood Mountain, Georgia on New Year’s Day. She was a dayhiker, and my thoughts are with her and her family. These are the creeps and psychopaths that go bump in the night – the reason that my dad furrows his forehead every time I mention backpacking alone, and why I get scolded by plenty of surrogate parents while on the road for hiking alone. This is the unfortunate validation that despite all of the wonderful, kind people in the world willing to help the traveler, there are truly twisted, dangerous people. I hope that against all odds she is okay.

Prep Entry #4

2008-01-06T09:42:00.000-05:00

I spend much of yesterday north of Durham on the Mountains-to-Sea Trail. It was invigorating. Close to fifty people were there to volunteer, of all ages. Including 2 of the successful 12 thru-hikers of the MST – Jeff and Bruce, both of who are also on the board for the MST. I talked to them about my questions, they gave me answers (and advice that I had not thought of - like bringing sunglasses for blowing sand on the coast?!). Everyone was really enthusiastic about my hike. It’s nice to have support. We also dug out about half-mile of the trail through the woods, twisting around Falls Lake (the water supply for Raleigh and the rest of Wake County). The lake is really low.

It was inspiring to see over 50 volunteers out there hacking away at the hillside to flatten a trail through the woods. These guys have a big vision for the trail: that it will eventually be more appalachiantrail-like, the half of it that is on roads moved to trails. It will be a long way to get there. Most of the land in eastern North Carolina, between Raleigh and New Bern, is privately-owned. It feels fantastic to be a part of something that people care about, like the MST. I don’t know what the volunteers were thinking, but no one told me that I was crazy for hiking in the winter, or out of my mind for being a lone female hiker. That’s a start.

I plan to bus east on Tuesday, as soon as my dog-pepper spray arrives in the mail. Otherwise, I am ready.

Prep Entry #3

2008-01-04T09:54:00.000-05:00

“The whole of nature is a conjugation of the verb to eat, in the active and passive.” –William Ralph Inge

One of my new year’s resolutions is to be conscious of what I eat. Or more appropriately, to eat consciously: to think about what I am consuming and where it comes from and how it is grown or raised. Eating is one of the most concrete ways that the average American interacts with the environment today, however unwittingly – you will be hard-pressed to find someone who can tell you where the proverbial twinkie comes from. I think one of the biggest problems facing our national psyche is the disconnect between us and our natural resources: water, energy, and food. I recently read Barbara Kingsolver’s Animal, Vegetable, Miracle and Michael Pollan’s The Omnivore’s Dilemma. The two authors approach the subject of food in different ways and with slightly different rhetoric, but the end conclusion is the same: in the United States, we have a backwards way of thinking about food.

The way I see it, to decrease the cost of food, we have industrialized the whole system, choking out small farms from the marketplace in favor of expansive monocultures and harvesting machines. The whole of the problem is that we are treating agriculture as separate from the ecosystem. By applying the laws of economics (about which I don’t have the foggiest) we are trying to fit complex interactions and slow human-driven selection into a formula of: genetically modified seed + pesticide + herbicide + nitrogen fertilizer = large, cheap yield. Anyone who has taken an ecology course or spent time watching interactions in nature knows that ecology is at its core complex. Ecology is one of the least advanced scientific fields, due in part to macrophobia: how do you fit the world into a set of theories that don’t contradict eachother? How do you look at the world on different levels (population and ecosystem ecology, for example) and at different scales (a square foot of soil, a tree, a meadow, a continent) without getting lost in the sheer volume of information? Modern food production is reductionist, reducing a complex system to a set of controls (various –cides, a root meaning “kill”) and inputs (seed, chemical fertilizer) leading to a predictable output (yer sterile vine-ripe tomato in January).

That tirade was mostly inspired by Pollan’s book. On this trip, I will be hiking (or cycling!) through a lot of North Carolina’s farmland. I am curious about what types of crops are grown on this low-nutrient soil. Not that I’ll see any of it; if I were really interested in learning about agriculture, winter would clearly not be the time to cross the state. I am more interested in talking to the farmers, and trying to piece together a history and story by first-hand experiences. Last summer, I hiked south through Virginia, following the Appalachian Trail for 500 miles. I received an independent research fellowship from Carleton College to test stream quality using aquatic invertebrate sampling. I wrote this a week before I started the hike/study:

A thought I have been mulling over a lot is what it will be like to intertwine two completely different interests of mine (1) backpacking, which for me is at its heart personal control over movement and direction, arguably the closest that we can come to freedom with two feet on the ground. and (2) science, which at its core is rigorous, thorough, quantitative. This could either equal balance, or chaos.

While I wouldn’t describe it as “chaotic,” this contradiction ended up being the problem. I was on a schedule and had regimented stops, which detracted from the inherent whimsy of backpacking. And the unpredictable nature of rainfall or lack of rain confounded some of the results. The challenge of field studies is trying to apply control to a system that at its heart is variable and dynamic. I had a fantastic summer. All but one of the streams were rated as “acceptable conditions” due to invertebrate presence, absence, and diversity. At the end, however, it was clear to me that the most valuable part of the research was not the scientific data, but the conversations with other hikers and people in towns about water quality. Which of course got me thinking, “The next time I do I long hike…” I could just hike. I love hiking. But why settle for something simple when it could be so much more educational?

Today is the third day I have been fasting with Amelia and Salam, which is a perfect way to begin a year of eating consciously. We have been waking up early to make breakfast and drink water before sunrise (6:58 am). All day long, there is no eating, no drinking, nothing can enter your mouth. Salam says it is a way to think about those who don’t have access to food and clean water. At sunset (5:48 pm), we drink water and eat to our heart’s delight. Amelia and Salam will continue until the end of January, as a belated observance of Ramadan (October of 2007). Today is my last day fasting, but I hope to continue with this pattern of appreciating food and water.

Prep Entry #2

2007-12-31T10:20:00.000-05:00

I have a zillion things to consider in preparation for this trip. Weather. Clothing appropriate for the weather. Footwear. Water availability (there is a drought in North Carolina). Potential dangers (lightening, scary people, flesh-ripping angry dogs, being the proof that mountain lions have returned to the Appalachians). To cook food or eat raw/ precooked food? Music - radio or fancy new iPod nano? Getting to Outer Banks. Tent or tarp? How do I find a bike at the right time and place? And how am I going to hike without my lucky orange mug that I accidentally left in Minnesota?

So I just make lots of arbitrary decisions:
The weather looks good for the next 10 days. Dress, spandex, long underwear, long-sleeve shirt, sleeping bag and liner. Chacos. Bring two liters to start and hope that I don't end up dehydrated, weather-worn and dead as a doorknob when the Outer Banks tourist season begins in the spring. 1% pepper spray (long-term safe for dogs). Raw. Radio. Greyhound to Elizabeth City. Tarp. Serendipity. Courage.

I will be carrying my cell phone, checking messages and updating this blog with photos and stories when I find public libraries.

Prep Entry #1

2007-12-31T01:27:00.000-05:00

This is a ridiculous idea; what other explanation can there be for choosing to spend my last months of commitment- and loan-free existence hiking in the winter alone across North Carolina? I mean, seriously. Half of the trail isn’t even off-road. Only 12 people have thru-hiked or thru-hiked/biked the route Ever. Kind of ominous, my sister Amelia goads me. My Malian bro-in-law Salam likes to remind me that it is too cold to go hiking much less sleep outside. My parents have been surprisingly enthusiastic about this last-minute change of plans (from getting a job to unemployed hiker bum status). I haven’t told a lot of people about this hike, actually. I’m not hiding it, exactly. I have a blog online practically advertising it (Want to be my wealthy benefactor, so I never have to get a real job?). But I am approaching the subject with wariness, I think partially scared that I might not be able to finish the trail and will blemish my hiking resume.

I have a pretty good idea about why I like hiking so much. I like being physically active. I love natural areas. I like to meet new people and learn about why things are the way they are. I think more clearly and more creatively when I am hiking (I blame it on accidental-meditation), making the trail an ideal place to study for the GREs, write something substantial and non-fiction, and finally read Guns, Germs, and Steel. What better way to mine ideas than feast on a buffet of things that make me happy. Amelia thinks that I am fond of hiking because it allows me to eat as much chocolate as I want. And alas, there is a Type A personality deep inside of me (I try to quell it) that wants to be the 13th person to through-hike the Mountains-to-Sea Trail.

Without further ado, I introduce you to the trail I’m lusting after: the Mountains-to-Sea Trail from The Outer Banks to Clingman’s Dome.
Over 40 miles of beach walkin’,
the highest dune on the Atlantic coast,
3 ferry rides,
a 2.5 mile long bridge,
a swamp (yessir, a goddamn swamp),
the potentially dull Piedmont,
the Linvale gorge,
Boone,
the Blue Ridge mountains and snow,
Mt. Mitchell (highest peak east of the Mississippi!!),
Asheville,
and the Smokies in late February when will be doubtlessly be hiking adventures abound.
Nine-hundred miles.

This may be crazy. Or totally brilliant. I'm banking on the latter.