Date: 2011-05-31
To: Taking Chances
Miles today: 0.0

I don't know if I've ever mentioned this little tidbit, but I've never backpacked a day in my life before. I got this little germ of an idea in my head--an epic hike--and I just couldn't shake it. I kept thinking "some day...some day..." So, my first-ever backpacking experience is a mere 2,187 miles through fourteen states on my own except for a little dog. How cool is that???? Learning as I go and having the time of my life doing it! And confirming what I knew already: that most of the folks in this world are good, kind people who are more than happy to lend a hand if only you ask. Which brings me to the story of my last day on the trail...I'd hiked to Overmountain Shelter the day before. The hike leading to it was quite pretty. I hiked over several balds to get there, and the scenery was something that would make even Tortoise's heart soar. Even better: when I arrived at Overmountain Shelter, it turned out to be the most charming and picturesque shelter I've seen thus far. And icing on an already decadent cake: the views from the shelter would take your breath away. It was a truly delightful evening. And the folks sheltering there were quite diverse. A wonderful trio of section-hikers (a newlywed middle-aged couple, both of whom were widowed before finding one another, along with an elderly but fit uncle, I believe); a couple of local boys who'd just graduated high-school and were on the trail for a couple of days; a fellow-through-hiker whose name escapes me just now (sorry), Tortoise, me, and Tessa. (Tortoise did what is known sometimes as "yellow blazing," after the yellow stripes on a road: he'd taken a ride and skipped some sections. Some folks also call this "getting a boost," because it souns less like "cheating." So, Tortoise met me thanks to a boost. Tortoise isn't interested in doing a complete thru-hike at this time. He wants to do his best and enjoy his time on the trail, which sounds perfect to me. Go, Tortoise!)We all spent a very pleasant evening around the fire, enjoying the scenic barn and its view beyond. In the morning we went our separate ways. For me, the big concern was getting off the trail at such a place as to enable me to get to a town where I could rent a car. I'd planned to hike to Mountain Harbor Hostel in Roan Mountain, TN, that day. But the weather looked threatening (again) and I was concerned about making my way home. I knew that if bad weather hit and I got stuck making shelter on the trail, my trip home would be delayed yet again. (As it was, I was already 2 days behind my originally intended return date.)As I hiked, I came across a gravel road. Assessing my situation (gray skies, gotta get home, all roads lead somewhere, right?), I decided to take a colossal risk and leave the trail and just see what happened. I took this gravel road, completely clueless about where it might lead me, and just walked. And you know what? It was a wonderful walk, and I'm so glad I took the chance! You see, when we're on the trail, our eyes are riveted, necessarily, to the approximately ten feet in front of us. We have to watch for roots, rocks, steep drop-offs, water crossings, etc., in order to keep from falling on our faces or worse. When we want to enjoy a view we actually have to stop to take it in, but that seems somehow appropriate to me. (And believe me, I make a point to enjoy every special place on the trail if I can.) So anyway, hiking this gravel road was a wonderful break. I actually got to put my hiking poles away, take my eyes off the trail, and soak in the sight of some charming little ponds, bridges, meadows, and finally, the most delightful little community I have ever seen, as I walked. The folks in this tiny community are nestled in a little gap between the mountains, and the homes are absolutely charming. All of the homes I saw seemed to house avid floral gardeners, because everyone's yard was absolutely bursting with color! I was enchanted! You just don't see such floral displays in my part of Texas, particularly displays with the luxuriant green background found here. Ours is a more rugged terrain, with cacti and yucca and our scraggly but wonderful live oak trees, which sprawl rather than soar. (I have heard them likened to "giant bonsai trees," which I think is apt.)I walked into this tiny picturesque neighborhood and up to a house that felt, somehow, likely. I tapped on the door and saw within an elderly wheelchair-bound woman. I knew she couldn't help me, so instead I just exchanged pleasantries with this sweet lady. Unbeknowst to me, her son heard our exchange and I think he realized that I was a safe and trustworthy person. I turned to leave and he appeared. I introduced myself and I told him that I was a thru-hiker from the Appalachain Trail and I needed to get home for a bit, and where was the nearest highway from which I could hitch a ride? Turns out there was no nearest highway; just a bunch of country roads (sometimes I forget just how remote I am), but this kind and wonderful man took about a nanosecond to tell me that he would gladly offer me a ride to where I needed to go. And it was a long way by car: about a 45-minute drive, maybe even more, one way. Yet there was no hesitation on his part. And it wasn't even like he was used to hikers. He'd never seen one before. Turns out my little jaunt off the trail was somewhat more than a "little" jaunt and, further, it took me in precisely the wrong direction. It ended up, happily, with me in the right place after having experienced a delightful little side-trip, so all went well. My Good Samaritan has a story to tell about this hiker who appeared on his doorstep with a dog, and I got a pleasant ride to where I needed to go to rent a car to come home, not to mention the unexpectedly delightful side-trip. (By the way, Mrs. Good Samaritan, your lemonade was to die for! The perfect treat after days on the trail. And those ice-cubes? Heavenly...)So, another example of the kindness of strangers. I had a horrible experience some days ago at Uncle Johnny's, but that will never, ever diminish my firmly-held belief that the vast majority of people in this world are kind and good, and I have seen it for myself, repeatedly, first-hand. I will continue on my way in the firm belief that everyone I meet is a potential friend. Those losers in Erwin who victimized me may have taken my money, my meds, my miscellaneous valuables, and even my treasured photographic journal of my adventure, but they will never rob me of my faith in people, or of my resolve to see this through. Maine, here I come!