Blood Mountain.. Slaughter Creek.. I'm feeling very optimistic.

“And is the Earth green anyway? I don't know..  The Earth outside my window is made of asphalt and noise and people walking around not looking at each other."  - Carrot Quinn; Thru-Hiking Will Break Your Heart

A while back, I got a Facebook message from a guy at church that I barely knew.  He had seen my blog and had questions about hiking gear.  I love hiking gear and can talk about it all day.  It wasn’t long after that we were talking about hiking the AT and taking training hikes to make sure he “wouldn’t die,” –his words.  So, on April 19th, Jesse, myself, and my new friend Jeremy, loaded into my truck and headed back towards the most amazing place I know, the Appalachian Trail.

Traffic wasn’t so bad and we were making decent time.  We stopped and ate at a McDonald’s/Quick Stop gas station.  We were running out of options before we drove into No Man’s Land.  I’ve been on a relatively strict diet for a while, so I was happy enough to eat cheeseburgers and apple pie without feeling guilty.  We generally burn between 5,000 and 5,400 calories per day on the trail.  Eat up.

After the dog hostel fiasco in Virginia, I booked a room at the Comfort Inn in Blairsville, GA.. a non-smoking, non-pet friendly room.  It was $120 worth of heaven.  As we’re getting settled in, Jesse realizes that he can’t find his phone.  I called it but we couldn't hear it ring, so he walked out to the truck while I kept dialing.  Finally, a very nervous female voice comes through the other end saying that she works at McDonald’s and has found this phone.  We can come get it if we want, but they close at 11.  It was 10:45 and we were about an hour and a half away.  We offered to go back and get it or even loan Jesse the truck, but he said he was fine without it, so we called her back and asked her to leave it with the 24/7 gas station adjoining the restaurant on the grounds that we’d pick it up sometime on Sunday.  They said the gas station would put it in the safe, so we decided to let it go and worry about it later.

The bed was nice.  I was sleeping pretty well until I woke up with horrible stomach cramps.  I feared the worst but it seemed to pass and I was optimistic, however, one of my new roommates was snoring so loudly that my new concern became hearing loss.  I laid there hoping that if it happened in the woods, a bear wouldn’t mistake it for a mating call.  Eventually, I dozed back off and was happy enough when it was time for continental breakfast.  We carb-loaded and headed off to Hogpen Gap, where “Donald” was supposed to be picking us up.  Jesse set up the shuttle so I was semi concerned that if this driver never showed, we would just be left to our own creativity for hiking plans since we wouldn’t have his number and he would most likely call McDonald’s looking for us.  Jesse said he gave him my number as a backup though, so we just hoped for the best.

Right on schedule, our shuttle driver shows up.  We load into the car and I immediately take note that the windows are down.  It’s all of 38 degrees outside, so this seems a bit of overkill.  Donald quickly apologizes that it has a strong gas smell and knows he should get it fixed, but insists that it was go away quickly.  Jeremy whispers, “In a ball of flames.”  When asked where Donald lives, he replied, “Yeeeaahhh, ha.  (which was customarily his prelude to all responses)  Just wherever I end up.”  Comforting.

We do however miraculously end up an hour later in the middle of nowhere at Cooper Gap some 27 miles south and unload from the car.  We take the customary white blaze photos and begin our march into the wilderness.  This particular trip didn’t lend itself to stays at shelters or even at convenient mileages, so we took into account that there’s a 5-7 mile stretch where there may or may not be water, and the fact that there’s about a 7 mile stretch after that where one incurs a $130 fine if caught camping without a ridiculously over-priced and cumbersome bear canister for storing food.  This meant we needed to cover 12 miles on day one, which is about 4 miles longer than the average Georgia hiker.  

The first 6 miles or so were pretty easy.  We stopped for lunch while filtering some water.  It went well enough.  We laughed at Jeremy’s love note on his tortilla bag that said, “I miss you so much that I don’t want to taco-bout it.”  He had two tuna wraps and I believe that would be about the last time he felt good until…  Well, we’re still waiting.

The next six miles were decidedly tougher.  I knew Jesse and I could do it.  I sort of forgot Jeremy was new to the game so I’m glad he didn’t die and we finished our 12 miles around 4 or 5 that afternoon. We set up camp at Lance Creek and of course Jesse went straight to sleep.  Being the minimalist that he is, he decided to forego basic essentials like food, and brought 4 Go-Go Squeeze apple sauces, a mini can of ravioli, and some Kind granola bars.  I can see why you’d want to sleep through dinner, but still.  Jeremy and I ate our dinners and walked back up the trail where the other hikers were out and about to socialize.  Most of them had done 8 miles and were trying to get to Neel’s Gap before the storms blew in on Sunday.  

As most people who follow my hiking stories know, I love to hike, but actually almost hate camping.  It’s never comfortable.  Too hot, too cold, too uphill, too downhill, too rocky, etc.  That night was no exception.  I woke up about every hour thinking it should be later than my watch actually stated.  At about 3:40, my feet got cold.  After that, it was just hanging in there until the sun came up.  In Virginia, I got up in the middle of the night feeling over-hydrated and made a quick tent exit only to find that my balance had deserted me and almost tumbled off the side of a mountain.  At least this time, it was only a creek.  

Saturday morning, we got up early-ish wish pessimistic anxiousness about the foreboding Blood Mountain, the highest imminence on the trail in Georgia.  Jesse and I have climbed higher on several occasions, but when you have to scroll up twice on your app to see the top of the elevation chart, it leaves little to the imagination about how your day is going to be.  We hit the trail..  erm, well..  a trail and started to make progress.  I quickly realized that there were no white blazes and far too many trees laying across the trail for it to be the AT.  We turned around to go find our error when Jeremy lost the aforementioned tuna wraps.  Not a lot of options at this point, however, so we proceeded back to the AT and up Blood Mountain.  The climb was actually easier than we’d expected.  Several switchbacks and mostly dirt trail, as opposed to the rock “stairs” you find in several places, made it tolerable.  Finally, we had made it.  We rounded the turn to see the oldest shelter on the entire trail.  I was horribly disappointed to immediately notice that day hikers were everywhere.  Children, dogs, shorts, all the things you don’t expect to see once you’ve just summited the Everest in front of you.  I hadn’t taken note that Neel’s Gap was 2.1 miles down the other side of Blood Mountain, whereby making it a quick day trip for those who had a few hours and the desire to climb it.

We hung out for a few minutes and started to make our way down the other side.  Of the almost 100 miles of trail I’ve been on this year, I believe the descent of Blood Mountain was my least favorite.  It was super steep, and consisted of large stone slabs that were torture for toes, ankles, and as it became quickly apparent, shins.  We did pass lots and lots of day hikers coming up the trail and as I thought more about the suffering I was enduring, I decided it was tough enough that if one chooses to strap a toddler to their back and hike up it, they deserve to see the views as well.  It was at this point, however, that I met probably my least favorite people I’ve met on the trail so far.  They were a merry band of 4, seemingly 2 parents, probably a spoiled daughter of about 20 and her boyfriend.  They stopped us to ask if Freeman Trail and the AT over Blood Mountain ever converged in a loop, making it apparent that they wanted to go up Blood Mountain and keep going, turn back on Freeman and get back to the car.  “Mom” was asking the questions.  We told them that we weren’t sure but it seemed like we remembered the sign for Freeman Trail back on the other side of Blood Mountain.  It would be a considerable challenge if we were correct.  “Well, we have a few hours,” she snapped back.  After further questioning in their “I’m offended” tone, Jesse, concerned for their well-being, asked, “Do you have plenty of water?”  Daughter snipped back, “He and I have done Blood Mountain twice.  We’re not ill-prepared.”  Well, honey, you don’t have….. a map.  I don’t hope them any serious harm, but I do hope they just got rescued.

Eventually, road noise grew louder as motorcycles raced up and down the curvy mountain roads leading to Neel’s Gap.  We crossed the highway feeling like champions and walked under the shoe tree onto the porch of Mountain Crossings.  Rumor is that as many as 25 percent of attempted thru-hikers quit at Neel's Gap.  For all the others, Neel's Gap has to be a renewing of their faith; a welcome haven in the middle of nowhere.  As we walked inside, the first thing we noticed was food.  People were walking around with pizza, burgers, Chic-fil-a and someone even had a milkshake.  We looked around for a minute and found a large freezer, the kind you might have at home, and when I opened the door, it was stacked with about a hundred Red Baron pizzas and individually wrapped burgers and sandwiches.  As I grabbed a pizza, Jeremy asked, "How much are those pizzas?"  My reply was, "...Who cares??"  For a little under $11, the staff cooked and delivered my pizza, accompanied by the best Sprite in the history of this planet.  We sat on the porch, oblivious really to the amazing view, and consumed our food and several soft drinks.  Turns out, the Chic-fil-a was brought in from a neighboring town, and we overheard someone later bragging about the almost full milkshake he had found in the garbage... the trail will do weird things to a person.

After Jeremy's losing battle with the tuna wraps, he decided to donate the rest to the hiker box.  We noticed that they were quickly grabbed by someone else.  I smiled at the thought of a new hiker enjoying his wife's note. 

About the same time, Jesse noticed a stack of clearance trail shoes and began to seriously consider replacing his ankle-blistering boots with some new kicks.  Amidst all the other hiker-trash (an endearing trail term for hikers) and all the macho bikers, Jesse screamed while his blisters ripped as I had to use all my weight to pull his boot off for him.  Despite the consequence of having to carry his 47 pound steel-toe boots out on his pack, he still decided to buy the new shoes.  He was very happy.

We filled up on the pumped well water and decided we should make our way to Bull Gap for the night.  It was a 1.8 mile uphill hike.  We got there early and lounged around telling stories and jokes and just enjoying a cool evening.  Unfortunately, nothing makes you thirsty like knowing you are either limited or out of water.  We had enough, but I had to ration, thus my thoughts were consumed with my beloved Sprite, and I seriously considered leaving my pack and hiking the 3.6 miles back to get another one.  I do believe they were tired of hearing about it.

The wind blew relentlessly all night, but fortunately, my inflatable pillow is a complete piece of crap, thus leaving me laying completely flat and allowing the wind to blow just above my head.  At around 38 degrees, it was possibly the most comfortable night I've spent on the trail.  I hated to get up early the next morning, but we had about 6 miles to go, and rumor had it that rain could move in anywhere between 8 and 11am.  

We packed up in chilly morning air and started to hike.  As seemed to always be the case, we started out going straight up hill.  Jeremy was still struggling with nausea but was hanging in strong, keeping closer than usual.  Five miles later, we walked out onto a paved parking lot at Tesnatee Gap.  I knew we had .9 miles left to the truck, and we had seen on the map that it was going to be tough.  After a few minutes of discussing hitch-hiking options, even one ill-conceived idea to steal a Jeep and leave the owner a note that he could find it .9 miles up the road, we decided to man up and climb the hill.  I don't even know the name of that incline, but it was a soul-crusher.  For what seemed like an hour, we climbed rocks, the equivalent of taking stairs 2 or 3 at a time, and at that point, everything hurt.  We had spaced out because no one could stop to wait.  Jesse pulled on ahead and eventually I left Jeremy.  It was probably the only point that we had all been alone on the trip.  The fog was thick and blew across in visible waves.  I eventually stopped for a minute to make sure Jeremy wasn't passed out somewhere, but unfortunately decided that if he was, I'd be better off to drop my pack at the truck and go back for him so I carried on.  After topping the hill, it was a quick rush down the decline and eventually across the highway to the truck.  We had made it!  Just like that, the misery is over and the sense of accomplishment is monumental.  In 2.5 days, we had climbed about 6,500ft, or the equivalent of 4.75 of the first World Trade Center towers stacked up while carrying 30lb packs.  It was time.. time for food.

We piled in the truck and hit the road for Blairsville.  We were looking for a local joint.. well, I was.  Jesse is easy to please and Jeremy was in a state of confusion about which end.. well, nevermind.  So, we ended up at a place called "Hole in the Wall."  I ordered lunch and the waitress checked her watch to confirm what I already knew..  10:31.. lunchtime!  We determined that the cold shoulder we were getting from all the servers must have been the outdoorsy aroma.  We ate up and decided we'd better get moving.

Since we had no idea what town Jesse's phone was in, we had to just go back the exact same way we'd come.  We finally found our McDonald's and went into the adjoining gas station.  Jesse waited in line and asked the attendant to go to the back to retrieve his phone.  I walked up as the guy was coming back out, not making eye contact with Jesse.  "Didn't see it," he mumbled and went on about his business.  I said, "She said something about putting it in the safe."  "Oh..  that'd be unfortunate," he quietly retorted, "I can't open it.  Maybe you should talk to him," he said, and pointed to his partner who was outside smoking. 

Jesse waited patiently and when the guy came in, we explained the situation.  "Can't open it," he said, but eventually went to go look.  We were getting pretty aggravated, which isn't good because I know my temper and both of theirs.  I was envisioning a Hangover type scenario in which something we said was taken out of context and we ended up in some accidental hostage situation.  Fortunately, after calls to the manager and assistant manager, and some motivational speaking on our behalves, we collected the phone and hit the road.  We made it home in one piece and to all of our surprise, we were relatively okay.. not too sore and not too blistered or bloodied.  All-in-all, we had a great trip and although I'm good for now, I suspect the itch will be back soon enough. 

 

To my hiking brothers, thanks for the memories.  I always love a chance to get outside and seek adventure.  The world outside really is green, and it's worth a visit!