The A.T.

Chapter 12

I slept well. I was exhausted. The previous two nights I had hardly any sleep, between the party Friday night and then spending the night before setting up the tent in the living room and then waking so early to catch the plane.

I awoke on the platform alone. I grabbed my toiletries bag and slipped on my glasses and shoes.

"Mornin'," Jay greeted me, shaving his face in front of a small mirror at the picnic table.

"Mornin'," I replied. I looked around. Our shelter-mates had already left. I didn't know what time it was, but the sun was fully up so I had probably slept in more than I should have. I breathed in the crisp mountain air and stretched.

"I filled your cup with coffee."

"Thanks."

I grabbed the cup and saw a clear plastic container next to it, with some kind of plunger contraption.

"What's this?" I asked.

"A French press. I found it when I picked up the tent. Neat huh? Really light weight too."

"This made the cut but the weather radio didn't?"

"You haven't tasted the coffee yet. Try it. I roasted the beans myself. Usually I grind them fresh every morning, but it's still pretty good."

I noticed the large zip-top bag with ground coffee. I picked up the cup, inhaled deeply, and took a sip. It was good. I raised my cup in a mock cheers and headed off to wash up.

That day we hiked 15 miles. I thought I was in shape, but I had never walked for an entire day under this weight. My pack weighed in at the airport at 25 pounds, Jay's at 40, and that was the pre-water weight, which luckily Jay mostly bore. I had a good pack; a Christmas present from a couple years earlier. It was suited to my height and had an internal frame and a wide padded hipbelt, so that the weight wouldn't all be on my shoulders, but still I ached. My whole body ached. Back, hips, shoulders, and most of all, feet.

We stopped again at a lean-to. They were located all along the Appalachian Trail, on average every 10 miles. Not only did they provide off-the-ground sleeping, but they were also usually located near a water source and a privy. I hoped Jay didn't regret the tent, but I knew we would need it, when the shelters were full or if we needed to stop before reaching a shelter.

Jay cooked dinner, consisting of pasta with a side of salami and more carrot sticks. I was grateful he seemed to be comfortable taking over that role, as I wasn't a huge fan of working with an open can of flaming alcohol.

I sat at the picnic table and took off my sneakers and socks to inspect the damage. I counted 5 blisters, 3 of them burst. I pulled out some cream and began to clean them. It was demoralzing, having this many blisters after only the first full day on the trail.

"Do you want some of this?" I asked, offering the tube of cream.

"I'm good," he said. "The main thing is to keep your feet dry, that will help. I have some powder if you want to try it. You can't let your feet sweat and stay wet."

"Thanks, I'll try that tomorrow."

We were soon joined by more hikers. We made small talk, usually related to the trail. I watched a young man speaking to Jay, showing him his fancy alcohol burner that could apparently boil water in two minutes in an Alaskan winter. I was glad that Jay managed to bite his tongue and not remind him that we were in Georgia.

I went to bed early again, crawling under my blanket more to be alone than because I was ready to sleep. I thought about the day, and how difficult it had been, and how we needed to increase our daily mileage by at least five miles if not more. Mostly I felt unsettled, that this trip wasn't what I had imagined it would be. When I first thought about thru-hiking it years ago, I pictured me alone walking for 2200 miles, never encountering another soul. Later I realized that it would be impossible to carry five months' worth of food, and that I would therefore need to stop for supplies, and that in fact the trail itself crossed through many towns directly. Later still I realized there would be other people on the trail, but I pictured nodding my head and walking past. I never pictured hanging out every evening and living under the same roof with other hikers.

I tried to reason with myself, that just because it wasn't what I expected didn't mean it would be bad. In fact, everyone I had met seemed lovely. There had been a newlywed couple from Virginia, a pair of brothers from Colorado, and a man in his fifties hiking alone. They probably all had stories to tell, wisdom to impart, and insights to share. However, I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't interested. The fact was, the majority of my life had been with the same, relatively unchanging group of people: my family and friends. Then college began, and in two semesters I had met literally hundreds of new people, between classes, the dorm, soccer, parties, and other events. I'd had my fill of meeting people for a while. I wanted to be alone. I didn't mind Jay, he kept to himself, but as to everyone else...

The air cooled rapidly as night fell. We may have been in Georgia, but the mountains were far cooler than the low lands. So far I had yet to spot a mosquito. I added my additional clothes as I knew layering was an important tool to stay warm. I also found the blanket was wide enough to double-up on top of me instead of laying inside like a burrito.

I awoke the next morning again to find only Jay remained at the shelter. He handed me my coffee and asked what I'd like to eat. I decided on peanut butter on a bagel and prepared it myself.

After breakfast Jay handed me a container of powder and I applied it liberally to my feet. I passed it back and watched as he pulled his pants open at the waist and sprinkled it inside.

I stared in shock. "Did I just put your – ball powder--" I spat out, distastefully, "-- on my feet?"

He looked up at me, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "It's just powder, you can use it where ever you need to stay dry," he stated innocently.

I put my head in my hands.

"Chafing, you know?" he continued. "You can use it too, if you want."

I spread my fingers apart, looking through them at him and slowly dragging them off my face.

"It gets wet down there, right?" he asked, nodding towards my lower region. "Do girls get chafing?"

A small smile began tugging at the corner of my own mouth. "No," I replied firmly. And then gave in as the laughter bubbled up from deep within me. He laughed as well, and then slapped the side of my arm playfully.

"I'm just messin'," he said. "You doing ok? You're sleeping a lot."

"Yeah, I'm ok. I think I'm just still adjusting. And it didn't go to sleep right away when I went to bed last night."

"This is only our third day. It'll get better. You're doing fine."

"Thanks."