I woke up early to the sounds of others packing up their tents and getting breakfast but it was still cold outside the hammock and I had a slightly shorter day planned so I decided to stay in the warmth a bit longer.

But when a dog ran under my hammock, I finally called it. I got out of bed and mosied over to the breakfast the kind folks from last night had set out. A bowl of cinsmon toast crunch, a sausage and cheese English muffin, a banana and 2 cups of coffee, had me finally ready to hit the trail. I was the last one left from last night and more hikers were starting to come in who had stopped at earlier sites. 

I said a few quick hellos and made a few tentative plans to see folks at Jarrards gap and, at long last, headed out. 

The day warmed up quickly and soon I found myself hiking at a decent speed in just a t shirt. It was a far cry from the other night spent shivering and blown around. 

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After a fast ascent up a short steep section, I really felt like I was hitting my stride for the day and was about to walk through a parking lot to the trail on the other side when I heard someone call out “are you a thru hiker?”

She led me over to a table full of candy, Coca Cola, fruit and packs of wet wipes. Three of them had driven up from Atlanta and were spending the day feeding us. I’m starting to get used to this free food thing and feel like I’m going to get sorely dissapointed over the rest of the trail. 

Two of the three worked at Emory’s alumni center. “We send you the emails that you probably ignore! By the way, can I sign you up for our annual giving pledge?”

Most of the rest of the hike was pretty flat and spent in mostly silence. I had a quick conversation with a 75 year old man (trail name: old man) who was walking the AT for the second time. He had already done the PCT, the CDT, biked across the US, biked from Alaska to San Diego and who knows what else. He told me he thought about writing a book but no one would want to read it. I wasn’t sure I agreed with that. 

I was one of the first into camp which meant most of the folks I was planning on meeting here had headed onwards. That was too much commitment for me, without a bear canister you aren’t allowed to camp over the next 7 miles. I don’t have one and didn’t think another 7 miles were in the cards. So I fought the wind and set up shop.

I fell into a conversation with a Brit who was just out for a weekend over nighter. Chatting about what we did (past tense for me and a chemist designing next gen contact lenses for him) for work and where we lived and other pleasantries. Pretty soon we decided we had enough of that and it was time to make a fire. Instantly we had it going, without even cheating. I say we because I put a lot on at the end but really it was all him. 

We sat around chatting until slowly the rest of the campground came to join us. The family of 8 (7? 9? I don’t know. They don’t stay still long enough to count) came through with  a tornado of energy. Poking the fire, complaining about their packs, making fun of the youngest before they left almost as quickly as they had come. We sat around in shock for a minute just trying to process what happened. 

“So you’re just out here overnight,” I said to the Brit. “Did you happen to bring any whiskey?”

He looked at me with the saddest face and said “I left it on the counter. I meant to bring the bottle but when I got here it wasn’t in my pack. I know exactly where it is too.” A groan echoed around the camp fire. “But I do have some cucumber face wipes if that helps?”

After a few days without a shower, it did help. It also allowed us to give him the trail name “cucumber face wipe” which he proudly introduced himself as for the rest of the night. 

Key stats:

Miles: 7

% of peanut butter jar remaining: ~25%