The Quest for Trudge

The following is an account of my weekend looking for Greg on the Appalachian Trail.  I thought some of you might be interested.  It's kind of long.  I'm sorry.  I just was going to jot down a short note but I got carried away.

Part One, Getting jiggy

I got to tell you.  After hearing from Greg out on the Appalachian Trail, and reading the book that Don sent about the guy who thru-hiked the AT, I was admittedly fascinated with the idea of hiking in the back country.  Trekking through the wilderness with all my possessions on my back, meeting the other thru-hikers and hearing thrilling tails of AT daring do, it was all I could do to contain myself.  I had to do it, I was going to be a thru-hiker!!!!

Then came reality, crashing in on my fantasy like an open fire hydrant on a lit paper match.  Let's be honest for a moment, I have never backpacked in my life.  Even in the Boy Scouts we didn't backpack.  We went for long hikes, but they were day hikes; and never in the mountains. And then there was my job, my wife, and my dog..  Needless to say a six month walk in the woods was not going to happen.  But I could not get it out of my mind.  Then it hit me!  Hey, I could join Greg out on the trail for a few days right now! I figured that I could hike around the mountains for a few days, get so sore and uncomfortable that my desire to do it for six months would pretty much take a dirt nap.

When I got the E-mail from Greg saying he was in Erwin TN, I thought to myself, "Hell, he's going to be in the Smokies around Memorial day weekend.  I could get an extra day off (mainly to recuperate)  and it should be simple enough to hook up with him.  Man will he be surprised to see me!!!  I had already promised him that I would pick him up from Springer Mt. GA at the terminus of the AT, bring him home, feed him, hose him down, and put him on a train back to Harper's Ferry WV to get his butt back out on the Trail. So catching him a few days early would not be too much of an interruption in his schedule (at least I hoped it wouldn't).

Between the map in the "On the Beaten Path" book, and some resources on the Internet, I figured that Greg would be coming into the Smoky Mountains on Saturday the 27th. I wasn't sure what kind of country it was so his reports of averaging 14 or 15 miles a day was all I had to go on. But the location of the shelters and the practicality of getting from one to the next made pinpointing the exact date a little more certain.  I just needed to know when he was going to hit Hot Springs TN.  Well he sent an E-mail from Hot Springs on the 24th. That was it, I knew he was going to be passing Davenport Gap on Saturday the 27th.  The only uncertainty was the extra day he mentioned he was going to take in Hot Springs; was it going to be that Thursday or Friday.  Ether way he would be heading toward or leaving the Davenport Gap shelter on Saturday.

So now I had to assemble my gear. I did have a cheesy backpack and sleeping bag.  I needed a tent in case a shelter was full.  I did not know at that time that you were required to use the shelters in the Smokies. So I bought a piece of tarp, sawed off two lengths of  ¾ " PVC that I found in my garage that I would carry by duct taping them to the outside of my pack frame. I bought some aluminum tent pegs and set this thing up in my back yard.  It seemed sturdy enough (I really hoped I would not have to use it.)  I also got some other knick knacks but I was really trying not to buy any "gear". I bought some food and a book showing the mileage between shelters on the AT and left at 6 A.M. Saturday. I figured my pack to weigh about 30 or 35 pounds when I got everything packed maybe 40.  I repacked it about 4 times getting rid of stuff along the way.

Part Two: Looking for Trudge

I got to the park about 10 AM and I was told to look for a camp store called Mountain Mamma's that catered to the hiking and camping crowd.  I was looking for the nearest place to the AT to park my car and a map. A woman with few teeth directed me to the big Creek Ranger station and there I was able to secure my map and directions to a side trail that lead to the AT.  I had made up this shirt, I wrote the words "Where is Trudge".  I hoped that this might engage other hikers to ask questions and I may get some help in my quest. So there I was, backpack packed, goofy shirt and the adrenaline pumping. The approach trail was about 2 miles long and it was to be my first introduction to mountain hiking.  You guessed it - 2 miles straight up. It was a hot humid day and as I was huffing and puffing up the last 200 yards or so, the switch backs stopped and the trail made a bee line right up to the top of a ridge.   All I could say at this point was, "Just damn!".  There was a sign at the top that said Appalachian Trail with some mileage to the next stop in both directions.  I was a little disappointed.  I didn't know what to think but I had envisioned a giant neon sign that was blinking Vegas style shouting out, "Appalachian Trail and Cherokee casino!  Follow the signs!!!"

Well the sign said that the Davenport Gap shelter was one mile north so I decided to go there and check the register.  If Greg had stayed there last night he may have signed it and it would mean that he was south of that shelter on the trail. If not it could mean he hadn't gotten there yet.  I had also considered the other possibilities but I was not going to dwell on that, failure was not an option! I arrived at the shelter, took my pack off and looked around.  I read the entries in the register and didn't see anything by Trudge.  I put an entry in myself:

Out for a stroll looking for Trudge.  He's heading south so I'll head north. WKHS.

I thought the Call letters of our old High School radio station would give him cause to scratch his head if he read it and I didn't see him.

So I set out back on the trail, or what I thought was the trail.  I soon discovered that this was the path that lead to where people went to take a crap. O.K. no problem, just a short detour. Back on the trail I was feeling good, it was 10.7 miles to the next shelter and I had already hiked about 3. I thought that it might be a bit much as this was my first day ever hiking, but I felt good and it was just before noon.  My biggest concern was water. I had only brought 1.5 liters and it had been a sweltering hot muggy day.  I was soaked with perspiration.   I decided to hike out of the gap and go for a few hours and I could turn back and get to the Davenport gap shelter and stay there (I didn't have a permit at this point, didn't know I needed one).

I had some trouble following the White AT trail blazes when they crossed some service roads.  A group of hikers with a busload of kids in an SUV flagged me down and asked if I was hiking the AT.  "yes."  I said.

"Really," the man Driving the SUV answered. "Can you tell me were the trail picks up here."

"Well," I answered. "I've only been hiking it for about an hour so I'm not in much better shape then you are."  We laughed.  They told me they were a church group from Indiana. I talked to them for a while telling them about my quest and I got the impression that they thought it would be a long shot finding Greg since I told them that he didn't know I was looking for him.  I said,  "Well if you run into a tall fellow with a pleasant manner and an athletic aroma who is from Maine, tell him I'm looking for him."  About that time another SUV with more kids came up and the driver hopped out.  He was with the same group and said that he had found the other side of the trail. It was about a quarter mile back and marked by a blue bird house. I remembered seeing the bird house but I didn't see a white blaze.  I figured I must have missed it. We exchanged pleasantries and I doubled back about a quarter mile to the trailhead.

I saw the blue bird house, it was actually a box containing some information about the forest that I was entering ( Pisgah National Forest).  I did see a white blaze this time and started to walk up a crude log stairway.  I met a man and a woman coming out at a trailhead.  They looked at my shirt and as I said hi, the man said, "We know Trudge!"  I thought to myself, "Yes, First contact!"

The man introduced himself as the Privy Council and his (presumably) wife as the Baroness.  They were either thru or long distance hikers who had stayed with Greg at one of the shelters a while back. They called him, "...the boy from Maine"  I'm sure Greg will be glad to hear he's still a boy! We chatted for a while and I told him of what I was doing and that I hadn't told Greg that I was coming. They felt sure that he was back on the Trail and coming this way and that I should be meeting him late in the day. "Yes!!!"  I thought.  The shirt worked, the plan was working.  I just had to hope that I didn't run out of luck. Fueled by the news of Trudge, the adrenaline was flowing' so I pressed on feeling good and ready to hike.

There was one problem, I was starting to run out of water.  I didn't have a filter so I had put some Clorox in a medicine bottle with an eye dropper, and I had planned to fill my water bottle up from sources along the trail and use the Clorox to insure I didn't get sick.  (two or three drops in a 1.5 liter bottle)  Problem was I left the damn medicine bottle at home.  I looked all though my pack and couldn't find it.  I decided to press on, hell I had a half a bottle of water left and I was feeling good.

I caught up with the church group again after coming through the part of the trail that went under I-40. They had found a place to park and were about to get on the AT heading North.  What we didn't know is that the hike north out of Davenport gap toward the next shelter was a little less then a 4000 foot ascent.  The damn trail was going on a severe uphill climb for the next 5 miles.  They asked me if there was anything I needed at one point so I asked them if they had any drinking water.  They obliged me and I was able to refill my bottle.  I started up the trail and after about a mile I was starting to hit the wall.  My legs were starting to cramp and I was feeling light headed.  I was stopping every few switch backs trying to work the cramping out of my legs.  I took my pack off and drank some water and ate some skittles. I really didn't feel hungry but I choked the candy down and drank some more water.

After a while I stood up and started to walk again but it didn't take long and the cramping came back. At this point I was in bad shape I had walked about six or seven adrenaline fueled miles and was starting to feel the ill effects of the extremely high humidity. It had also occurred to me that I really hadn't had anything to eat.  I got up that morning and had an instant breakfast and a banana, but that had been it.  I did bring a picnic lunch but I forgot to eat before I left.  I pushed on.  Talking to hikers along the way I was told there was a campsite about two miles up the trail, I thought hell I could crawl to that if I had to.  So I thought I would walk to the next place that seemed to be suitable to take a break and have an extended rest before I pushed on to the camp site.  Well, as Greg would later tell me, anytime after you make a decision to stop at the next place that seemed to be suitable to take a break, that place would be five miles up the road.  So at one point I just stopped and moved my body off the trail, unbuckled my pack and took out my water bottle and tried to choke down a power bar.

Part three: Contact!

I felt content at that moment and was feeling a little sleepy.  The afternoon sun was drying my face and there was a slight breeze starting to kick up.  I felt so comfortable there I decided to take a short nap.  I set my watch timer for 15 minutes and laid my head back against my pack and started to drift off.  The first of the church group people who I begged some water from caught up with me and they were not happy people.  They looked worse than I did.  The man and his wife asked me how far I thought it was to the next shelter.  I told him it was at least seven miles and that I was shooting for some campsites that I had heard were about two miles up the road. The woman looked at the man, with a facial expression that plainly said, that is where they we're going to stay.

No sooner had the church group passed me and I started to continue my nap then I saw a southbound hiker coming down the path. I looked up and saw that it was indeed Greg.  I didn't know if he recognized me so I said, "It's about time you showed up.  I've been looking for you."

Greg looked at me and said, "Rick? What are you doing here?"

"I came to see you." I answered.

After some muddled and shock soaked conversation I told him my tale and asked him if it would be alright if I joined him for a day or two.  He agreed, of course, but I did get the sense that I had thrown a major curve ball into his plans. I saw the look on his face starting to calculate plans and mileage and routes and such.  We started back down the mountain together and I told him the story of how I came to be in the woods that day. After he got over the initial shock of meeting up with me, and my story of finding him,  he asked me what my plans were.

I was honest with him in that I really didn't have much of a plan other then finding him. It hadn't occurred to me that I would succeed. I hadn't thought about what I would do if I actually caught up with him.  I was blazing new trail in a manner. I asked him where he was staying tonight and he answered that his plans were to stay at the Davenport Gap shelter.  I told him that I had been there and thought I might just go there with him. That is when he told me about needing a permit.  "Where Do I get a permit?" I asked.

"At a ranger station." He said.

"Oh well that's where I parked my car." It was at this point that it dawned on Greg that I had a car.  "It's just over a mile off the trail and I've got some soft drinks, beer and some food in a cooler."  Now I'm sure that Greg didn't expect that I had hiked up from Georgia, but the advantages of having a car at his disposal were beginning to give him food for thought. Not to mention I was starting to get horny thoughts about the cold drinks in the trunk of my car. We decided that we should hike down into the gap and we could get off the trail and go to my car and see if I could get a permit to stay in the Davenport Gap shelter.  Greg said that since it's a holiday weekend it would be a good idea to be legit especially since that shelter is so close to the road.  I agreed and we decided to get off the trail and hike about a mile and a quarter to where my car was parked in front of the ranger station.

We still had a small climb to make between the freeway and Davenport Gap and as soon as we started uphill again I started to cramp up and get dizzy. I toughed it out till we got to the side of this picture postcard stream running over moss covered boulders.  I told Greg I needed to sit down.  He told me no problem and to take all the time I needed. He also told me that he was on the tail end of a 17 mile day and he was tired as well.   He began to quiz me on what I had to eat and drink that day.  Since I had not eaten much except for the instant breakfast and the power bar, Greg thought that I just needed some food.  So I crunched down another power bar and drank more water.  I continued to eat more skittles and drink as we sat there for quite some time enjoying the stream and the cooler temperatures it afforded.

After a while I started to feel a whole hell of a lot better and I stood up on the rock.  The moss under my sneakers was slippery and my foot started to slip.  Greg saw this and in a very calm and measured way said, "that rock is real slippery. your foot is slipping."  I looked down and noticed he was right but before I could do anything about it I slid down and into the stream like a water slide at wet and wild. So there I stood knee deep in freezing cold water and Greg on the bank trying to do everything he could from not laughing once he found out I was OK.   He offered me the end of his hikers pole and pulled me out. So now my feet were wet and it was getting late. We made our way up the short climb to the service road and I told Greg that my car was about a mile down the road.

At this point he thought I was trying to get him to "Blue Blaze" around this section of the trail. He explained how important it was that he hike this section.  I had read all about the "purity" thing in the book and that it was vital that a hiker passes every white blaze.  I assured him that I was not trying to lure him off the trail with the siren call of food and beer. We laughed and he joked that I was "Satan's little helper"  standing by the trail trying to get unsuspecting thru-hikers to miss white blazes.  I joked that it was also my job to provide the trail hookers.  Greg mused over what a trail hooker might smell like after a long day hiking in hot humid weather and how sexually appealing that might be.  We agreed that sexual attraction had a strong hygienic component and that the trail was just not all that conducive to that particular esthetic. We started cracking ourselves up and then realized that I may end up with "Satan's little helper" as a trail name.

The ranger station was closed by the time we got there and we opened up the cooler and started slamming down soft drinks. Greg started thinking out loud.  "Well we could get a bunk at Mountain Mammas." They ran a hikers hostel there as well as a small store and grill. "Or we could split a motel room."

Now here is where the story gets into a he said / she said mode. I'm sure that Greg's version went something like this:

Well gee. This inexperienced hiker comes up to the Smokies and pushes himself way too far and starts getting dizzy. I find him by the side of the trail, barely a spark of life left in him, and get him back on his feet.  I have to fashion a crude IV from the equipment in my pack and carry him back to the ranger station.  It would have been suicide to let him stay out in the wild that night.  So I decided to put my personal standards of hiking purity aside and take care of my ailing friend.

My version would have went something like this:

So he finds out I have a car and he realizes that he doesn't have to stay in the cold clammy shelter tonight.  And instead of crappy freeze dried, boil and eat dinners, he can get a crack at the all you can eat Shoney's buffet and let his "hiker hunger" go acid. Of course I protest telling him that I had come all this way to taste the adventure of the AT.  To sweat and stink and sleep exposed to the elements and shit in the woods.

"Look"  He tells me. "I've been on the trail for two months and I have had shelters up to my nostrils.  Besides I heard they have an I-MAX theater in Gatlinburg, we could get some dinner and see a show and sleep in a nice, warm, comfortable room with a hot shower and...."

Well the truth is somewhere in the middle as you can guess.  We did go down to Mountain Mammas and ask about the hostel accommodations.  There was another toothless woman there and she said it was ten dollars a night.  "You can take a look if you like. We have four bunk houses." She said. "The nicest one is the pink one; that one has mattresses.  The rest are nothing special just bunks. The only one that you can't stay in is the gray one. There was an odd looking Israeli here and he took off.  We haven't seen him for a long time but his stuff is still there.  He looks crazy to me so you can't stay in the gray one in case he comes back."  We looked over the bunk houses and agreed that since there were no thru-hikers there to give the joint atmosphere, that a motel room would be as much of an AT experience as any other option available to us.  Besides the thought of dying at the hands of some crazed Israeli, pissed off and going postal because someone moved his stuff didn't sound very appealing.

So we went out and found a trucker type motel room, gave Greg a crack at the Shoney's seafood buffet (he ate three plates full and another plate full of fruit).  Drank beer and caught up on what has been going on in our lives.

Part four:  Back up the damn mountain.

Greg normally wakes up early and hikes most of the day.  He said that for him that was the secret of racking up big miles.  If you get up at 6:30 and get on the trail by 8, you can hike till five or six and get 17 to 20 miles depending on your breaks and the terrain.  We got up at a more comfortable hour - about eight I think. Greg told me not to worry because we were not on any kind of a schedule. After some discussion over a high fat meal at the truck stop diner we decided that we would go to the ranger station, get me a reservation and a back country permit. I would drop him off at the spot where we got off the trail.  I would park the car and hike back up the approach trail that I went up the first day and meet him at the trail crossing and then head for the Cosby Knob shelter

Greg started arguing with me about the plan saying that I he didn't think I was reading the map right and it would be closer for me to hike up a service road than to go back up the approach trail. I told him that I had hiked both yesterday and that this was the right way to go.  Greg was suffering under a misconception about where Mountain Mammas was located on the map. He had heard it was on Rt. 32.  It might have been but we were right there at the ranger station and like I told him, I hiked and drove around this whole area yesterday prior to hooking up with him, so I kind of knew the area.  I drove him to his spot and doubled back in the car, parked and took one last crack at the outhouse realizing that it was the last time I would be around accommodations even that luxurious.

My plan worked perfect. I got to the top of the approach trail and Greg was standing there chatting with another hiker.  I asked him if he had been there long and he said no. He realized by this time that having me swing around and enter the trail with him would have added an additional mile to my hike. Hey no problem, I figured that if I couldn't dazzle him with my hiking stamina, I could impress him with my map reading skill (grin).

There was an observation tower on a side-trail between that point and our destination, the shelter at Cosby knob. We decided that we would hike there and have lunch.  Greg had been lamenting that all the northbound thru-hikers that he had talked to said that the views in the Smokies had been obscured by weather and that it was supposed to be cloudy today.  As it turns out the late start in the day gave us a break.  The Sun came out and we were able to get a great view at the observation tower.

We were thinking about leaving our packs at the head of the 0.6 mile trail that leads to the tower.  But bear anxiety had been high in the park since an alleged attack that killed a woman a week prior. Both packs had food in them so we gave up on that idea.  The thought that we were going to add another 1.2 miles on to our walk just for a view was curious to me.  But after having a big breakfast I was feeling good and even though the trail was mostly up hill that day I felt much stronger (hell I should have, I was all hopped up on Advil at this point).

We saw the same hiker that was chatting with Greg at the trail crossing in the tower and we chatted with him as we ate lunch. This fellow apparently knows the mountains well and was able to give Greg some tips about which shelters he liked best. The conversation eventually turned around to the bear situation at the park and about bear behavior in general. He told us they were having some bear problems in a subdivision that they were building.  It seems that the bears were digging up and chewing on the freshly laid PVC pipe at the new homes.  He was telling us that there was something in PVC pipe that attracted bears.  At this point I look at Greg because I have two lengths of PVC pipe strapped to my pack for my bivy tarp. So now we're thinking ok good thing we didn't leave the packs, but now I'm wondering if I shouldn't ditch the PVC.

We ate lunch, took some pictures and got back on the trail. There was another group of guys that were heading to the same shelter.  We actually passed them on the trail.  Greg was astonished that we passed someone. I knew he was kidding because we were keeping a good pace as the trails kept going up. The AT through the Smokies is not the gentle sandy foot path that is shown on the cover of the "On the Beaten Path" book.  No, it's a rocky, root veined, slumgullyian of mud, moss, compost and horseshit. (horses are allowed on many sections of the AT in GSMNP.)  So far the fact that I was wearing Nike tennis shoes was not hurting me in the least. We were going up hill where the walking is slower and more deliberate.  I was worried about coming down tomorrow and how it was going to kill me in the wet muddy shoes with the soft, pliable soles.  Note to self.  The next time you decide to do this, get some good sturdy hiking shoes.

When we got to the shelter we met the guys that we had passed, they also did a short detour to the lookout but only stayed for a few moments. Greg showed me his camp routine, filtering water (I got to pump!) and cooking dinner.  Since he had eaten at Shoney's the night before, he let me have one of his freeze dried meals.  I didn't have a spoon so being the resourceful guy I am I whittled a spoon for myself out of a piece of dead wood.  It was functional enough following the wooden ice cream spoon idea.  It would not have worked for soup.

Greg and I  talked "gear talk" and he showed me all the stuff that he packed.  The cooking gear, the stove, the high tech fabrics of his clothes. It was all fascinating.  I was learning why cotton was not a good choice and also starting to think of how many different clothes come in Gore-Tex.  At this point I'm tempted to go out and buy Gore-Tex and Poly Pro everything. Here I am trying vainly to dry my tee shirt and cotton socks.

We finished dinner and the other group of five was cooking over an open fire away from the shelter.  One of the guys, an older fellow from Alabama about 50 or so, clearly the oldest one of the five, came over to talk to us and was somewhat hesitant and anxious. "Say listen fellas. ah ya know. we've camped with lot's of different kind of people and you know attitudes. and uh well geez I don't really know how to even ask you this but a.."  We were both wondering where this was going.  I had thought that they might want to know if Greg and I were gay or perhaps they were hiking homosexuals. "Anyway." he continued. "We was wondering if it was alright if we smoked. and I don't mean cigarettes."  I let out a brief sigh of relief that I wasn't going to be involved in some kind of deliverance scenario.

We assured him that it was OK with us and with that he offered to have us join in their ritual "after dinner" smoke.  I now learned the meaning of the phrase "trail magic".

Everyone was walking around the shelter with the "hiker waddle", Greg included. He said that the legs never really "get used to it".  I imagine though that like everything there is degrees.  His soreness had a different character to it.  Softer and defused.  Mine, I imagined,  was sharper and more focused. Even the other guys, two of which sounded like experienced hikers, had the waddle.  I didn't feel so bad.

After the sun went down everyone went to sleep.  I did have to wake up in the middle of the night to pee.  The thick fog that literally gave the Smoky Mountains their name had enveloped the shelter giving it a spooky aura.  I fumbled for my flash light and opened up the bear cage gate as quietly as I could.  Standing there with my flashlight in one hand and my dong in the other I started to realize that I wasn't all that far from the spot were we hung the food bags. With all the fog I couldn't see five feet in front of me.  I started to think about the food, and the bears, and my PVC pipe.  After thoroughly scaring myself half to death I high tailed it back to the shelter and behind the protection of the bear cage.  OK so I'm a wussie.

Epilogue:

The next day I got up with my legs stiff and sore but it wasn't long after slinging the pack on my back and heading down the mountain that I was feeling good again.  I left Greg heading south while I hiked back the eight miles to my car.  It had rained very hard that night and the mountain was wrapped in fog.  As we parted Greg asked me if there was anything I needed and I said no.  He asked me if I would be able to find my way back and I answered, "I found you, didn't I?"