3/10/08 The naming! Hawk Mountain shelter (8.4 miles N of Springer)

I now call myself Ishmael. He was an orphan of the seas; I am on orphan of the woods. We have begun our journeys at the same time, embarking in to the nebulous world with only a vague vision of the world. But my voyage is what matters now—for I am in the present.

               After a sentimental parting with my mom and brother I set out on the great American footpath. I think that my throbbing excitement and curiosity carried me easily through the first day. Including the additional 0.9 mile hike south to Springer Mountain, I hiked 8.4 miles in about 4 hours, an excellent beginning time suitable to 20-mile days in the future. Meeting fellow thru-hikers brought about the same awkward anxiousness as the first day of school. In the beginning we gathered around the table with terse pieces of conversation before dinner. But after progressing past names and origins, it is interesting to discover people’s separate pasts. I have already forgotten most of the other’s trail names, but I was interested in a rambler called VooDoo, and an old weathered thru-hiker who told solemn stories of his hike. Hiking time is controlled by the sunlight. I have to adjust to early dinners and bedtimes. My fragmented thoughts include: gratefulness for Vaughn Thomas’ sleeping bag; assumptions that the men smoking outside right now will not make it to Katahdin. I now use my copy of Moby Dick as a pillow.”

               Love, Ishmael

Fontana Dam

Currently I have walked out of the woods into the lush Fontana Village, where I can rest my legs with my friends furniture, free hugs, fish, and steak and shake. I don't regret leaving the boundaries of civilization, now that I realize what I have been away from. Very interesting things are underway, but I don't have enough time to elaborate. I am on the boundary of the smoky mountains, my greatest crucible of the hike. Expect new pictures soon!

Reunion with Civilization

Greeting from scenic Franklin, North Carolina. I have already conquered Georgia, and I feel well-recieved by my home state with the ample supply of steep mountain climbs and violent storms. I am glad to have an opportunity to rest and regain calories in this town, especially since recently I have undergone a slew of difficulties. I have hiked the last 100 miles in shoes that irritate my feet; originally leather boots, then resorting to crocs, and for the last 40 miles I have been using a pair of donated sneakers. On the AT, we use the term "trailmagic" to describe people willing to do excessive favors for hikers, including giving away their shoes. Now that I am in Franklin, however, I feel finally compatible with the terrain with my new shoes.
I already feel the presence of a roving yet cohesive community climbing peaks and descending valleys. We share woes, discomforts, shelters, and food, as well as our innermost ambitions and insights on life. Hiking really has provided us with a greater perspective of the simple joys binding our world, and the way that sunshine can be taken for granted in an indoor world.

Peace,
Ishmael

Week 1 Appalachian Trail..somewhere in Georgia

Day 10 on the trail...still alive!

from Michael's letter of 3/14/08...

"No matter how well read we have been in Appalachian Trail literature, experience is truly the only way to adapt to the lifestyle. Of course I cannot articulate all the ways I have changed my perspectives on the world, but when forced to carry my home on my back I have discovered what I truly need.  I am truly grateful for the help of Daddy-O and Peacock (fellow hikers) and how kindly they've treated me."

posted from the mom since Michael has little contact with the technical world....

I left Michael at the Springer Mountain Southern Terminus of the Appalachian Trail on Sunday, 3/9/08.  Eric (little brother) and I hiked the first mile with him, then said watched him walk north.. all alone, accompanied by the crunch of snow and ice beneath the mighty Limmer boots.

 

I heard from him next on Thurs, 3/13.  He had to stop for a night in a hotel in Helen, GA.  It seems that the pack weight (not too bad at 30 pounds) and the heavy boots worked together to cause huge painful bleeding blisters on his feet.  He managed to finish 20 more miles or so in borrowed Crocs to hike to Hiawassee, GA for a night in the Blueberry Patch Hiker Hostel.  He should be in Franklin by later this week and Fontana Dam, NC by Monday. So far it sounds like all is going well... except for the nasty blisters.  He's eating several luscious dehydrated meals daily in addition to high calorie snack foods. It's hard to imagine Michael eating Snickers or HoneyBuns, but they have become favorite calorie boosters.

 

 

The trail name?  Ishmael (the journeyer)   Think Melville, Moby Dick...one of Michael's favorite books. 

The Last Night

Tomorrow is the day! All of my careful planning and years of philosophical hermitage culminate at the Springer Mountain summit. I am excited and anxious, but overall just ready to get out there and walk. I am staying with my mom and brother in Dahlonega, Georgia, and I feel more gratitude and love for them than I can express. Tomorrow, I go into the wild!

The Junction

Greetings from the comfort of home! I returned from a ten day vacation in France with my friend Eugenie, a worthwhile indulgence for working in the mud all year. A glamorous countryside, a wonderful opportunity to gain weight, and a home to kind people, France was everything I could desire before setting out on  a trek through the woods. It is wonderful to absorb all the history and human presence of a foreign place. Being immersed in a sprawl of people ironically fed my eagerness to begin the AT too, for as well as reinforcing my love for travel, it gave me the itchy feet for leaving plush society. On the plane rides I read Into the Wild and Awol on the Appalachian Trail, both enthralling accounts of living in the wilderness. Into the Wild is an excellent depiction of the primal pulse that drives most of us crazy hikers into the mountains. It portrays the melancholy effects of transcendentalism on disgruntled people, which can be both sad and blissful. Awol on the Appalachian Trail is a much more lighthearted reflection of the joys and pains of discovering oneself- what I hope my journey will be like. Anyways, I now feel at the junction of adventures- both nostalgic for secure past, but excited for my nebulous future. I am at the crossroads of life!

Which is in fact very appropriate, since in two days I will leave for Springer Mountain, and become a vagrant for some time.