Date: 2004-04-17
From: Justus Creek, Georgia

To: Trail of Tears
Miles today: 14.0

Another near sleepless night. I was cold again.I broke camp at 8:30 AM. My destination today is the shelter on the summit of Blood Mountain, the highest point on the trail in Georgia.Leaving camp, I told Chris that we'd meet up later and wished John a successful recovery with his blisters.On the trail, it became apparent that exposure to the sun was going to pose a problem for my arms and the back of my neck. I was partially burned from yesterday's hike and would have to take better precautions. I do not have sun block or lotion.During the morning, the angle of the sun exposed my right arm, so I wound around it a bandana and a buff--a versatile nylon cloth. For the back of my neck, I used another bandana that hung from under my cap. This system created aggregation. The bandanas would not stay in place, requiring me to constantly re-align them to cover the skin. A troop of Boy Scouts passed me by; they were traveling in the opposite direction. We exchanged friendly nods. After we had passed each other, one of them shouted back, "Good luck!" That simple gesture was a morale booster. He must have assumed that I was attempting a thru hike. My appearance might have helped him make that assumption. During a previous rest stop, I had descended a slope to access a stream. There were thorns and muck to contend with. I slipped and my clothes and backpack became muddied. Adding to my disheveled appearance was the sling like appearance of the bandana and buff on my right arm, plus the bandana covering my neck.By late morning, the hiking became more difficult. The highest ascent was Big Cedar Mountain, but it was those smaller ups and downs that progressively took a toll on my stamina.I came across a man in his late sixties resting beside a small brook flowing across the trail. He appeared exhausted. I stopped and chatted with him as my bare feet soaked in the brook. He told me that his plan was to hike the trail until July. During our conversation, he talked about his adventures when he was a young man. He described his best friend as a real "piss cutter."I asked him he meaning of the word. He said it was used by people in western Pennsylvania to describe a person who was, to use another colloquialism, a real character. He told me that he was a slow hiker and left the brook before I was ready to leave. When I caught up to him, I told him that his trail name ought to be Piss Cutter. He smiled and said it would be okay, so that's what I'll call him from now on.The rigors of the trail were softened by some nice moments. For example, while hiking, I looked down and noticed a butterfly (or was it a moth?) flying next to my left shoe. This was not a coincidence; it seemed genuinely interested in my shoe. The butterfly was colored powder blue, precisely the same color as my trail walking shoe.By late afternoon I was getting real tired. There was the heat, the hassles with the bandanas for sun protection, but more than anything, else, there were the ascents up one hill after another. On these slopes, I frequently stopped and leaned against trees, specifically, on the shady sides of the trunks. In spite of my slow pace, I passed by a woman who was plodding along with difficulty. Her tent was protruding from her backpack and was about to fall off. I said hello and offered to fix the problem, which she agreed to. She told me that she was attempting a thru hike, but given her current state of exhaustion, was not sure what lay in store for her. I wished her luck and moved on.I passed the vicinity of Woods Hole Shelter, close to Blood Mountain. Some hikers had erected tents on the top of a wooded ridge. Apparently, there was no room for tents around the shelter; this ridge was a spillover area. Some passing hikers reported that there was little room, if any, for camping near the shelter on Blood Mountain. It was occupied by weekend hikers and Boy Scouts. I needed to find a place to camp real soon. I was running on fumes and it was close to evening.Camping in this spillover area was Dave, one of the hikers from that first night on the trail. We exchanged greetings, happy to see a familiar face. He was sitting against a tree. His neck was beat red from sunburn, with a cream on it. He told me that his feet were blistered. He told me that he stopped walking at 3:00 PM, short of his intended destination. It was imperative that he rest. I asked him if I could take a look at his blisters. He lifted his foot. At first, I could not see anything and told him this.He looked at me with an incredulous expression, pointed to a toe, and said, "Look at this frick'n thing!"On the toe was a nasty blister.I wanted to string up my tarp and camp with Dave, but the site was windy, not good for a tarp which is vulnerable to the wind. A pair of hikers showed up and said there was a small campsites a short ways up the trail. I said goodbye to Dave and reluctantly headed back up the trail, now the slope of Blood Mountain.I could not find the camp site and was becoming exhausted. At a spring beside the trail, I met two young women who were resting. They were day hiking. I asked them where the campsite was located. They did not know. They offered me some snack food which I accepted. One of them told me the history of the area. It was once occupied by the Cherokee Indians before they were forcibly relocated and traveled the infamous Trail of Tears. Given my state of exhaustion, I felt like I too, in a manner of speaking, was hiking a trail of tears.I bid them goodbye and resumed my ascent in search of the camping spot. I was utterly exhausted. To my relief, I found the site. Only a single person was camping there.While setting up my tarp, I felt an urge to throw up, so I sat down. The urge subsided. Talk about feeling wasted!I briefly chatted with the other camper who had been reading a biography of Teddy Roosevelt. We discussed the histories of some other presidents. How odd, one minute I'm ready to puke, the next I'm engaging in an intellectual conversation. This is truly becoming an adventure.