Date: 2005-03-23
From: Dick's Creek Gap, GA

To: Bly Gap, NC
Miles today: 8.8
Weather: light rain

Okay folks, this is the last entry from envelope 1. The contents of envelopes 2 and 3 shall be posted upon my return from the midwest.Day Ten: In which Jess gets email from someone offering to touch her, names her phallic objects, contemplates band names in the style of Dave Barry, continues her epic correspondence via trail register, forces people to tell bedtime stories, and finally crosses a line:I crossed my first state line today! Left the Holiday Inn Express this morning with knee braces firmly strapped on, ibuprofen ritually popped, and some trepidation-- would I be able to make it to Franklin? Or even to Bly Gap, for that matter? On the way out, I stopped at the hotel computer to check my emai one last time before leaving and was touched and startled to have received an email from the mother of a friend of mine, who is a Feldenkrais practitioner (think somatic bodywork a la Alexander Technique) and who, having heard that I was having knee troubles, had arranged for another practitioner living in Franklin to come meet me at the trailhead and give me some exercises and/or pointers on how not to injure my knees without stopping hiking. I'm continually astonished by the generosity I've encountered since coming out here-- thank you, Susie!So me and my trusty hiking poles (affectionately named Ten-Four and Goodbuddy, though the names might not quite match Domino's; his poles are named Naked and Turkey) and the bionic robot knees set out from Dick's Creek. (Query: "Ten-Four, Goodbuddy, and the Bionic Robot Knees"-- excellent band name, or overkill?) An hour or so later, stopped for a short break, Scholar asked, "How are your knees?" "Surprisingly pain-free," I said truthfully. They still ached, and they were a little wobbly, but I no longer felt as though I was actively injuring them with each step. A big plus.The day was sunny and lovely, and we stopped at Plumorchard Gap Shelter for lunch. There, reading the register, I came upon a page long missive from Longhaul, recounting his meeting with "the divine Ms. B... So nice! So beautiful! So tall! And kind to animals! He couldn't say anything remotely derogatory! A perfect 10!" I shook with laughter. "I'll kill him," I said. And picked up the pen.Come late afternoon we hit the milestone we'd been waiting for: an unassuming little sign, nailed to a tree that also (apparently) had a length of metal pipe stuck in its side: GA/NC. "Weatherman!" I yelled down the trail, where he was a short ways behind. "I'm talking to you from North Carolina!" "You are not," said Scholar. "You're on the wrong side of the tree." I looked at the tree. I looked at Scholar. "Well, anyway, Scholar's talking to you from North Carolina!" I yelled.We camped just below Bly Gap, a few minutes further up the trail, but below the exposed part of the mountain: the wind was picking up, and we wanted to stay in a more sheltered area. Serenity, Freedom, and Thatch were camped there as well. I ate enough couscous to choke a horse and made the others tell me bedtime stories, which are not fit to repeat here, except to say that they involved death wishes, the Crum Regatta, and the illicit childhood sale of pages from a sex manual.Quote of the day: (from Weatherman, adjusting a mis-clipped sternum strap) "Hoo-wee! Boy, that there just about took the hair on my nipples right off."