Georgia

June 7, 1993 we boarded an airliner for the flight east, and during an intermediate landing in Chicago, discovered that our onward flight to Atlanta had been canceled due to bad weather. This was not good news for our shuttle driver, Wes Wisson, who had agreed to meet us at the airport there, and deliver us to the Appalachian Trail. We finally arrived in Atlanta three hours late, 10:15 pm, and while walking out the gangway we saw a fellow holding a sign displaying our names. We had not expected Wes to remain at the airport, but were mighty glad he did, and his welcome imparted an auspicious start to our summer's journey.

Soon we were whisking along the highway, admiring the many brightly lit skyscrapers of Atlanta. Wes expressed surprise that we had not gone to the baggage claim in order to retrieve our backpacks. We explained that the small "day packs" were our total outfit, and he began telling us about some of the many hikers he had seen who were carrying too much gear. Having shuttled hikers for years now, Wes said he could almost tell which ones were bound to quit. According to him there are two problem areas: "excessive packweights and fixed schedules." One or both only work to exhaust the hikers. "I've seen every piece of gear imaginable go packing into these woods" he related, "hatchets, shovels, and cast-iron frying pans. I take more folks out of the woods than I take in."

I found one of Wes's stories typical amusing: "a fellow pared down his packweight by clipping the pages from the guidebook and trimming their margins, unwrapping candy bars and putting them in resealable bags, and so forth. Still, his pack was very heavy." I thought of the analogy of the monkey reaching through a small hole in a barrel for a banana, and refusing to let go, only to be captured. (Not letting go of heavy things, only to be overcome by fatigue.)

Considering Jenny's and my lightweight packs, Wes figured we would do fine. Still, he seemed dubious of our lack of equipment, as evidenced by his request to send him a post card telling him how far we had managed to hike.

Reaching Woody Gap Click on "trail segment"
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then zoom out at 12:45 am, we paid Wes for the shuttle with an added bonus for his waiting at the airport for our arrival. He loaned us a flashlight for the evening and bid us a good night, promising to collect us again the following morning for the back-roads drive to the trailhead on Springer Mountain.

After pitching our tent at a picnic site on the hillside, we crawled in. Atlanta's heat had seemed tropical, "uncommonly muggy" according to Wes. But the temperature here at Woody Gap was in the mild 70's. Yet despite the sweet fragrance of the forest, the air smelled somewhat polluted, most likely by the nearness of industrialized civilization. Nevertheless, the night was peaceful and we were alone, save for a few meandering fireflies and the very occasional car speeding along the nearby paved road. As we lay there adjusting to our new environment, there came inexplicable droplets falling from the branches high overhead, belying the absence of clouds. Fog drip, we figured. Because of the night's warmth, we did not spread our quilt over us right away, and before long we began feeling tiny pin pricks, which we guessed were bites of no-see-ums. So, despite Wes' report of a lack of bugs on the AT, we closed the tent's netting doorway.

Day 1 of our thru-hike, June 8

The night had been rainless and we had slept well. We awoke to the chirping of birds and the buzzing of tiny insects. A trail passed through the area, and posted signs indicated it to be the Appalachian Trail itself. We could not resist hiking it a short ways, just to get the feel of it, before starting our thru-hike some 20 miles to the south. The trail seemed to draw us - come explore its further regions. And from what we could tell so far, it had a great deal to offer.

Wes's wife, Dixie, drove up and paid us a brief visit, saying that her husband would be along shortly - around 8:00, and was presently shuttling other hikers somewhere. She related having seen a small bear not far from where we had camped, and I suspected she had added the word "small" to calm our nerves.

The morning air was still and the bugs numerous and bothersome, so we were glad when Wes arrived, right on schedule. But before heading for the trailhead, he treated us to a brief tour of his nearby home town - Suches (pronounced such' us), wintertime population 50, summertime 200. Wes explained that Suches is an Indian word meaning "land of the water," there being a small lake in the vicinity.

Driving along USFS Road 42, we soon entered Chatahoochee National Forest. Wes drove at an alarming rate, considering the gravel road's roughness. And while jousting over ubiquitous rocks, large and small, I thought of the many comments we had heard about rocks on the trail. Now these comments seemed warranted. Wes had driven this road many times and seemed to know what he was doing, but the continual and loud clanking from the car's suspension suggested that the car was paying for his exuberance.

Wes Wisson delivers us to the start of our hike at Big Stamp Gap.

Saying farewell at Big Stamp Gap Click on "trail segment"
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then zoom out trailhead and promising to send a few post cards, Jenny and I turned and began pacing excitedly up the Appalachian Trail, south toward the summit of Springer Mountain, 0.9 miles distant. We had heard that the trail was all very steep and strenuous, so were pleasantly surprised to find this grade gentle. And with our light loads we hiked easily. Along the way we were taken by the variety of plants in their great numbers, and often we stopped to admire the many interesting species.

This year's thru-hiking journey began here, atop Springer Mt., Georgia. Besides the sleeping Quilt, we had added another home-made item to our gear inventory: our backpacks. During the hike up here, Jenny had remarked, "I've carried heavier daypacks."

After snapping a few pictures we turned and retraced our steps back down the mountain to Big Stamp Gap. En route we met a few hikers, sweating profusely and carrying walking sticks. Also we encountered a group of soldiers on a training mission; contrary to expectations, they greeted us cheerfully.

After the first hour's hiking we came to four magnum-sized backpacks sitting by the wayside, their owners obviously having left their ponderous loads to visit the nearby Long Creek Falls. Wes had figured there were about 500 through hikers who had started ahead of us, so we joked that we had reduced that number to 496.

The trail led down to some pleasant creeks where camping abounded. Then throughout the day it intersected or came close to roads at frequent intervals. Walking some of these road would have been more economical; but we had decided to keep to the trail throughout its entire length. We wanted to return home confident that we had hiked the entire AT. Our lightweight packs facilitated this greatly; However, the heat and humidity were proving major forces to reckon with. We sweated profusely, and felt as though we were hiking in a sauna. Our skin was turning pallid, and we noticed that the other hikers had likewise whitened skin. We carried no water, but had filtered at Stover Creek, mile 3.6, and then at Justus Creek Click on "trail segment"
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then zoom out mile 13.6 where we also enjoyed a refreshing dip (well down-stream).

We quit hiking at 6:05 pm at Blackwell Creek Click on "trail segment"
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then zoom out , mile 14.3.

Day's mileage: 15.2 miles

Thoughts:

• When tired and overheated, deep breathing exercises might help mitigate the over-sweating problem.
• I define steepness of trail in terms of packweight. A heavier pack makes a steep hill seem much more so.

Collecting water in our Hiker's Friend. We invented this simple device in 1987, and originated the gravity feed method of water filtration. In our books (subsequent, present and future editions) we explain how to make one.

Day 2, June 9

We set off at 6:45 after a restful if somewhat wakeful night's sleep. The morning was cool and hiking progress favorable, and at 9:15 we reached Woody Gap Click on "trail segment"
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then zoom out where we had camped the previous night. By now, the day had grown hot and the bugs were numerous.

Farther along we met a woman from VA. She asked for our names, and it turns out, she knew of us through people who had helped her on a the PCT the previous summer.

Hiking on while sweating copiously we looked the picture of ill-health, with pallid, clammy skin and increasing bug bites. We did not know what kind of bugs were biting, just yet, because we never saw one in action, and did not feel them. Each one left a small hole that oozed blood. To compound matters was the trailside poison ivy. And today it seemed to be practically everywhere. This baneful plant constrained us to remain on the trail, which was usually very narrow. The bugs pushed us to keep moving. But the tremendous heat and humidity prevented us from moving too fast. One time we stopped at a spring and donned our bug clothing and enjoyed a nice rest; otherwise, we kept moving.

We climbed Blood Mountain Click on "trail segment"
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then zoom out and marveled at rhododendrons blooming near its summit. Here we remembered our friend, Ernest Rust, who had hiked in this very area. Ernest had journeyed the Continental Divide Trail with us the previous summer, in spirit and in regular letters sent both ways, and no doubt will be eagerly following our progress this summer also. May God bless our pen pal in the Alabama State Prison.

Flame azalea

Our Journey's first camp along the AT. Jenny rests in the tent, out of the bugs, while I watch over the gravity-fed Hiker's Friend, as it automatically filters drinking water without the usual pumping.

We made the spandex Hiking Shorts, expressly to reduce the friction and associated chafe of the inner thighs rubbing against one-another.

Our first home-made backpacks did not have outside pockets. We had not thought of those quite yet.

Reminder: Here is why our backpacks look so large, in this story.

We reached Neels Gap and the Walasi-Yi Center after one and a half days of hiking.

From the summit we descended to Neels Gap Click on "trail segment"
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then zoom out where we arrived at the Walasi-Yi Center at 3:30 pm. After buying some food we sat outside eating with a group of weekend hikers wearing big boots and heavy wool socks. Feet out of sight, out of mind, I supposed.

Returning inside to sign the trail register, we met the owners, Jeff and Dorothy Hansen. We asked if they had any use for the aluminum stays we had removed from our home-made backpacks. We had designed them to help support the load internally, but were finding that they were not needed. Jeff took them, saying that one never knows when a hiker might need something like that. Jeff asked if he could weigh our packs, which contained food for the next three and half days travel, and a liter-sized bottle of water, each. Jenny's tipped the scales at 16 pounds. This didn't seem to surprise him much, as in retrospect he must have been expecting me to be carrying the lion's share. He placed my pack on the scale, and stood looking at the dial for several long moments. Finally he reported that my pack weighed 13 pounds. He asked if we had started at Springer and I replied yes, yesterday. The cashier standing nearby exclaimed, "Yesterday?" three times.

During this hike, I usually carried my backpack mainly from one shoulder only. We had trained for this hike in the cold winter climes of Oregon, and were not accustomed to the sweltering heat and high humidly of summertime Georgia. So here, in this hot weather, I needed more ventilation to my back. The one-shoulder carry worked well because my backpack was not very heavy - each was about nine pounds plus food and water.

We set off again at 4:30. The late afternoon was exceedingly hot; we had enjoyed a nice breeze throughout the day, but this died and left us sweltering. Moreover, the poison ivy grew densely and nearly closing the narrow gap of a trail in places. We called it quits at 6:45 pm, at a blue blaze and campsite, 50 yards above a small spring (4.5 miles from Neels Gap), at mile 35.0.

Day's mileage: 20.6

Day 3, June 10

We set off at 6:15, and descended to Tesnatee Gap Click on "trail segment"
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then zoom out , then climbed and descended to Hogpen Gap Click on "trail segment"
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then zoom out . From Hogpen the trail was heavily overbrushed in poison ivy. We stopped in the vicinity of Low Gap Shelter to drink water and take a much needed bath, and were more than pleasantly surprised to find a vast improvement in the trail from there on. It followed an old road grade, and rather than being a narrow rut in the all-pervasive jungle, it was much more open, permitting one to apprise the surroundings while walking.

We met a nice fellow from Virginia, and then at Chattahoochee Gap we met a couple who had through hiked the AT in 1991. "Little Guy" was massively built, hence the nickname. He and his wife, "Tagalong", remarked at the size of our packs, and that we were thru-hiking with with them, no less. Like many people met in the last few days, they politely expressed strong doubts in our ability to reach Katahdin before the trail closed in mid-October, because of too-our late start.

The trail traversed onto the shady side of the mountain for a change, and there it left virtually all the poison ivy behind. It seemed odd that rather than work in harmony with nature, the trail workers hack away at the brush incessantly every summer. But were glad that they did, for we could not imagine hiking this trail without their work.

Much farther along we met an interesting fellow, Larry Shiels. "Old and battered, gaunt and grey," he fit the image of R. Service's prospector to a tee. He said he spends a great deal of time hiking the AT. He was wearing long pants taped around the ankles as protection from chigger bites. Unlike everyone else we had met thus far, though, he was not sweating. Also, the bugs were not flying about him. When we exchanged names, he said he has a copy of our book, and said "now I've met you both: you and Ed Garvey."

"Now I've met you both: you and Ed Garvey." - Larry Shiels

Beyond Unicoi Gap Click on "trail segment"
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then zoom out the day had grown so hot and humid that we had to climb and descend at a greatly reduced pace. Normally our limits are cardiovascular; but here they were metabolic, as our bodies struggled to dissipate the heat of exertion. With humidity this high, our sweat did not readily evaporate, and so did not cool as well as it was designed to.

As long as we kept moving, the black flies could not seem to land on us, but the minute we stopped, they besieged us. At each stop we would yank off our sopping-wet hiking clothes amid a flurry of blood thirsty black flies, and throw on our insect-proof clothes. My legs now showed several welts above the ankles, where I discovered that they had been crawling up beneath the elastic of my pant legs.

Jenny trying out the single-shoulder carry.

When encountering sections of poison ivy, we donned long pants.

When encountering sections of poison ivy, we donned long pants. then when retiring them back into the packs, we rolled them from the leg cuffs upward, to reduce spreading of the poisonous oil.

At the second crossing of Tray Mountain Road (USFS 79) we collected water at a roadside seep, then enjoyed a bracing shower by pouring water over each other and scrubbing with hand towels. We carried a second bagful for drinking to the top of the rise and made camp at 7:30 pm.

Day's mileage: 20.4

Ironically, we had arrived at this camp feeling not very tired, mainly because of the decreased pace - due to the heat and poison ivy. But we were determined to adapt, knowing that the first week of a long hike is more difficult because of the sudden change in living conditions, food, exercise, type and mineral/bacteriological content of the drinking water, climate (temperature humidity), altitude, air quality, and jet lag.

Day 4, June 11

We started off at 5:57 am, and hiked through the morning without finding a trail-side water source. Already many of the springs seem to be drying. The air was still and the morning quite warm, necessitating a slow pace. Typically, we hiked until we were dripping with sweat, and then would slow down to a pace which stopped the dripping. Curiously, we sweated the most during the descents, as we were not accustomed to reducing our pace going downhill.

We were very low on food and our body reserves seemed to be running low. We felt weak and nauseous, and as the day wore on, our condition only seemed to worsen. By late afternoon we were fairly dragging along. The contrast between our exuberant beginning, and our lack of energy and enthusiasm now, was worth noting. The high humidity had sapped us. We endured many bug bites - me on the lower legs, and Jenny on her torso where they crawled under her shirt. We wonder if we shouldn't have started earlier - hiking north, or now - hiking south. In exchange for the rain of early season, ours is the heat, humidity, bugs and poison ivy. In retrospect though, we have felt listless at this stage of our other arduous journeys. This, we know, is the usual First Week "Trail Shock," which we should have anticipated. It happened to us in East Glacier, Mt. Laguna, Terwilliger, and Palms to Pines. It seems that the newer we are to an environment, the sooner the Trail Shock will hit. Dispiriting, but also an indication that we were adapting.

Another phenomenon we've noticed on the AT: a constant, slow drip from the trees, which we have concluded is due to condensation. This grows especially fast on our Hiker's Friend and water bottle. Even the rocks sweat. Jenny remarked "It's hard being a rock, you know. They work up a sweat while lying still."

I was experiencing an increasing knee discomfort at the left, outer joint. The orthotic wasn't helping much, but eventually I realized I was setting my foot down with too much force with each step. With a lighter foot fall the problem greatly lessened.

Blackfly bites.

We met three or four interesting couples that day, trekking contiguous stretches of the trail in preparation for the ATC annual meeting. We were much bolstered in our conversations with these occasional hikers. We were pleasantly surprised to encounter such nice people out here in the eastern states.

As the afternoon wore on, we became even more enervated, and not from the physical exertion. The high humidity was again thwarting our bodies' natural cooling mechanisms and reducing our pace to sometimes less than one mile per hour. We found we could hike half again as fast in a wafting breeze, but often this was entirely lacking. We took numerous and long rest stops simply to cool off. We felt nauseated, weak and pallid with clammy skin - all the symptoms of heat exhaustion. Because of our slow pace we began questioning our ability to reach our next way-post (rainbow Springs Campground) with our meager supply of food. Our shortage of provisions drove us ever ahead, slowly and as steadily as possible.

Night hiking to Bly Gap.

Dicks Creek Gap Click on "trail segment"
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then zoom out

Winding Stair Gap Click on "trail segment"
select "terrain"
then zoom out

At the N.C border.

At 6:00 pm the day began cooling somewhat and we began feeling better. We reached our evening's objective at 7:30: a campsite with water above Blue Ridge Gap. The spring was nearly dry and we wasted some time trying to collect water, but without success. So we pressed on up the hill, racing the setting sun against the fear of thrashing through poison ivy in darkness. (We didn't have a flashlight.) We reached the spring and campsite at Bly Gap at 9:00 pm, glad to hear the sweet sound of water gurgling from a pipe. We were extremely thirsty and dehydrated. So after a soothing sponge bath and many long draughts, we retired into our portable home, and for a few moments lay watching the fireflies, which intrigued us to no end.

Our Hiker's Friend has seen a lot of use during previous Thru-hikes.

At this camp we were two tenths of a mile into North Carolina. We had traversed the Georgia section of the AT in three and two-third days.

Day's mileage: 20.2

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