Date: 2004-04-26
From: Franklin, North Carolina

To: Falling Behind
Miles today: 0.0

At 5:30 a.m., a half way decent sleep was intentionally ended so that I could perform a chore. I got out of bed in the motel room and crept over to the bathroom, where I shut the door and turned on the light. Navigator and Eric remained asleep. In the bathroom, I spent twenty minutes seam sealing (for rain protection) the nylon sack which holds my food. The glue like sealant requires several hours to dry. Each night on the trail, this sack is hoisted up a chord on the limb of a tree to keep the bears from getting at it.At the start of business hours, I began a local odyssey to obtain professional assistance in repairing my backpack, specifically, the placement of a sturdy patch on a pressure point located on the bottom of the pack where the suspension system rests.I telephoned a shoe repairman, but he told me that he had gone out of business and sold his tools. I paid a visit to a professional seamstress who told me that a sewing job would not support the downward pressure on that part of the pack. I visited a tire shop owner, wondering if a tire patch would do the job, but he said it would not. On the other side of town, I sought help from a hiking outfitter, but the result was the same.As a last resort, I telephoned the manufacturer of the pack, Osprey Backpacks, and explained the situation. They were sympathetic and said that a replacement backpack would be shipped to me at no charge via an overnight carrier. Talk about good customer service!I spent the afternoon visiting the local library and walking around town.The people in his town exhibit the Southern gentility I found in Georgia. But like any town, not everything is perfect. A woman who offered me a ride to the outfitter said that Franklin is becoming populated, in part, by transplants from up North or by people from Florida. These Floridians are regarded as Northerners even though that state lies to the south. She said that these transplants move into the area assuming that the genteel people will embrace them."They come here expecting to receive all that love, but it doesn't happen," she said.She further explained that long time residents do not associate much with the transplants and retirees.Another person who gave me a ride complained that most of the motels in town were being operated by people from foreign cultures. He pointed out a motel and went on a diatribe which I will paraphrase."That place got bought out by people from India and it's gone downhill ever since. The rooms got cockroaches. They {the owners} sprinkle curry and other crap all over the place; they think it wards off evil spirits. All it does is stink the place out."Since the beginning of the trail, I have become friendly with several hikers. Some of them were present on that first apprehensive night at Stover Creek. Others were met along the way. But it seems that one by one, I am falling behind them. For example, Navigator and Eric returned to the trail today.There are several reasons for my falling behind. Some of these people are faster hikers than me. My errant ATM card held me back for half a day at Neels Gap. And now I am languishing here in Franklin awaiting the arrival of a replacement backpack.From my limited perspective, it seems that a kind of Darwinism exists on the Appalachian Trail; it has nothing to do with survival, rather, it is based on physical stamina and pace of travel. If a hiker can not keep up with his new found companions, they will not slow down for him, nor should they be expected to on a trail extending over two thousand miles in length.So here I am, sitting alone in this motel room, lamenting the fact that almost every hiker I have become friendly with is now hiking ahead of me. I will endeavor to catch up to them. If I can not, then I will establish bonds with new people I encounter along the way. What matters is keeping things in perspective. The uncertainty of who and what lies ahead is what makes this journey an adventure.