Date: 2003-04-18
From: Springer Mt.

To: Springer Mt.
Miles today: 0.0
Weather: overcast clouds

SIDE TRAILS, SIDE THOUGHTSIt¢s now 11p.m. on Sunday night, the 13th of April, and I¢m sitting on a chair by a beautiful creek, watching the silvery light of the new full moon reflecting from the water, and glistening from the dew-covered grass. I found myself here because two days ago I suddenly changed my plans for the upcoming week. For four days I was stranded in the shelter on top of Springer Mountain, so I could go on and hike the Duncan Ridge Trail. And for 4 long days the weather only got colder and colder, rainier and rainier, until it climaxed on Thursday morning with a rare snowstorm extremely untypical for mid April. But as with any bad weather goes, it was finally replaced by better weather, and the last two days turned out to be some of the clearest, most beautiful days of the year. By this time, however, I had finally changed my plans. Sure, I could hike on this week, on side trails, or I could re-hike part of the Smokies. I could walk one more path, climb one more mountain, pass one more shelter. But I have done this for more than 9 months, and I¢ll be doing this at least for the next 5 months on the Pacific Crest Trail., and I realized that what I would really miss most when I leave the A.T. won¢t be the mountains or the wildlife. It would be the people. So instead of hiking on this week, I decided I would hitchhike my way north paralleling the A.T. and I immediately thought about re-visiting the place where I am now at - Blueberry Patch Hostel, 3.5 miles from the trail, and 67 trail miles from Springer. My first hitch was a long way off, to Chattanooga, TN with a lovely hiker-friendly lady. She is planning to thruhike the whole trail in a few years, and meanwhile has started to design and sew her own gear. She let me hammock on her porch, washed my clothes and gear and even gave me a really good hair cut. So after almost 10 months on the trail, I suddenly look (and smell) like a human being again. But don¢t worry, I¢m sure this transformation is temporary, and within a few days of hiking, I will look like a yeti, and you will be able to recognize me again...Today, I got a shuttle here to Blueberry Patch Hostel, and I will hitch tomorrow to Hiawassee. Hiawassee is one of my favorite towns near the trail. It has the unique combination of being big enough to contain cheap chain stores like Macdonald¢s, while being small enough for people to friendly to the many hikers that go through this town. Add to that the fact that all the important amenities here are within walking distance, and you might understand why this town is so popular with hikers. But the town of Hiawassee is not the real reason I came back here. It¢s the people at Blueberry Patch that I wanted to see again. Well, its after midnight right now, and I want to stop writing and just listen to the sounds of wildlife at night. If I¢m lucky, I might just hear the beavers working on their dam in the stream. Sunrise on Monday.Yesterday was a chilly night, and frost is still covering some of my gear. But I wasn¢t cold at night at all, sleeping on the grass below the stars, without a sleeping bag, for I wrapped myself well with a couple of wool blankets from the hostel. In this age of gortex and fleece clothing, of specially engineered down and polygard sleeping bags, we tend to forget that hikers, only a few decades ago, had to hike using gear like canvas bags and wool blankets. And they did so successfully. Don¢t misunderstand me, I am grateful to modern technology, that enabled me to hike in winter without freezing, while still leaving my pack light enough to enjoy it. Yet, as I just discovered, there is something appealing in the simplicity of wrapping yourself with blankets and lying on the grass without any fancy silnylon shelter standing between you and the stars.I am now sitting in the chair by the stream, letting the new sun warm me up, and defrost my stuff. In a few minutes the Poteats will serve their blueberry pancake breakfast. They have an organic farm here, where they grow most of their food, and they have this hiker hostel on their farm, not for a livelihood but because they think this is the right thing to do as Christians. Before they serve breakfast in the morning, they hold hands with all the hikers around the table, and thank Jesus for what they have.I have a basic problem with religion.Clergymen from almost every faith tend to tell the believers to repeat their words. People who tell you what to say are actually telling you what to think. And no one, but no one, will tell me what to think.After being in America for the last 10 months, I feel I¢m starting to understand why religion is so strong here, especially in the rural areas I¢ve been through. America is unique in that it is a country where the population is so spread out that many times you need a car just to visit your next-door neighbors. And it¢s a country where the obsession about watching crime on t.v. causes most people to be deeply xenophobic. In this kind of country the weekly meetings in the church on Sunday are probably the glue that keeps the community alive. And the repetition of the words of Christ, help regain the belief that most people are basically good. To me it seems that mainstream America has adopted, in the last decade, a cynical, cruel and mostly unjustified view that sees every Catholic priest as a potential child molester, every homeless person as a potential killer, and every hitchhiker as a potential mugger. I always believed that people who live their lives fearing the worst, never learn to appreciate the best and never really have a chance to enjoy life (when did you last see a happy hypochondriac?). People like Rogene from Chattanooga, and the Poteats from Hiawassee, would probably be considered crazy by most Americans for showing kindness and hospitality in inviting strangers to their house, but I only see them as complete optimists who see the best in people. And even if their faith in people and God might be considered by cynics to be somewhat naive, they seem to me kinder, more generous and much more happy in life than any cynic I know.Praying for Jesus isn¢t exactly my cup of tea, and yet, there is something so warm in the daily morning ceremony of holding hands around the table and giving thanks for what you have. It gave me, the last time I was here, a feeling of belonging to the Poteats¢ extended family. And that¢s the reason I came back here to see them again. I feel, that in some way, I belong to their family. And that¢s a feeling I¢ve missed so much since I arrived here...Roni