Date: 2004-05-03
From: Georgia

To: Maine
Miles today: 0.0
Weather: overcast clouds

I lay here I my new, untested tent deep in the mountains of Georgia. energy in the air outside is both magnificent and threatening.thunderheads prepare to christen our arrival here at hawk mtn shelter.I made it, nine miles today my first day on the trail and this afterfour days of scant sleep on Amtrak. ..I keep drifting off to sleep. Shit. Thunderclaps growing closer. Lightening strobe like. Lark is a cutie dropped outa Harvard t o joinus on the hike.   would already like to see more of ffffffffff Holy Jesus here comes the mother of all storms!. Bang bang lighteningand thunder and rain now, first trickling, then tearing out of somehole in the sky like a thousand screaming children released at forsummer break. Will my tent hold up? Well, there's nothing to do nowbut pray. The roar has replaced the pitter pat , the roar an d thecrash as the storm moves directly over head. then pop goes the sky and the whole Hawk Mtn world explodes!! and it suddenly occurs to methat I've left my little propane/butane stove outside the tent, not farfrom my head. If another lightening strike like that one hits anycloser it could hunt down that little bomb out there and boom. No moreRick. Would probably blow my head off. Wowwowowowow! I give over to the forces of nature and choosing not toworry simply revel in the symphony of light and sound, one of thefinest electrical storms I've experienced in years, not I don't thinksince the trailer park outside Bisbee in 1996   with Florence Drukas. Wow. Thank you God Thank you LIFE for guiding me here to this place,to this journey. I sit up and flick on my headlamp and take quickstock of the tent floor around the edges. Not a drop. And still downit comes in buckets and barrels, kegs and caboodles.. remnants ofcreation.. and God made This..BOOM and God made that BOOM wow. I amdvtrerf ig yhid I am screwed if this tent doesn't hold up against thisonslaught. I have a down sleeping bag, useless when whet, a downHimalayan jacket, and a not at all waterproof backpack. I think oflittle Lark in her tent across the way. Little Lark bound for Harvard,ballsy enough to drop out when her heart wasn't in it, to drop out andhead south to hike the AT, alone. And my friends think I'm brave! Iwonder how she's holding up in this onslaught? Hell, I've had to stoptyping several times now , my heart in my throat as another bomb ofelectrical energy explodes overhead, seemingly right outside my tent. Today we, the dozen or so thru hikers camped here at Hawk tonight areweathering this storm together yet alone, today we all made the firstbig step on a daunting journey the likes of which few men or women willever even consider. we are misfits most, and I like every one of I'vemet so far. Doug from the train last night who's doing the trek forthe second time. Nathan sweet as can be, out of shape like me andmissing a few teeth hikes to get over his lost love. John from Bostonwith his blinding white thighs , narrow and angular guy , graduate ofTufts and transitioning, trying to figure out that special questionthat lives in all of us: what next? And many, many more. Well, the storm has largely passed now and I give my tent an A plusplus. worth every one of its two hundred fifty dollars with itssilicone impregnated nylon and waterproof zippers an god knows whatkinda super waterproof floor. I love it; god just dumped a Jacuzzi onme personally and my down and I are bone dry. but we're tired too. Weshould be wiped out so bad from four daze on the train and little sleepthat we'd been passed out an hour ago. But that was too good to miss. Ha! As if I coulda slept through that cracking g open sky. Day one onthe AT, successfully completed. - RSMDay Two: I needn't look at my new purchased-for-the-trail watch to knowthat I am the absolute last man standing here at Hawk Shelter. Eventhe girl Jessica is gone, she who confided to me "It took me two hoursto get ready this morning. I don't know what I'm doing." She'd hardlymade a peep this morning while everyone packed around the table butspoke briefly, almost soundlessly to me when the others were gone. Last man standing. That's me. A merit badge for DayTwo: last tostrike his tent. Thank you, Mr. Pedophile Scoutmaster. I am proud toaccept this honor on behalf of the me that doesn't give a rat's ass howfast he moves down the trail, just so long as he keeps moving andenjoys it the whole frikken way. The storm last night was brilliant! An orgasm of light and crashingsound. "Concussion Bombs For Jesus!" Amen and we thank Oh Sacred &Indefatigable Tent for keeping us snug and dry as a pit barbecue hogin summer. There is this mentality, nay, and this instinctual desire to keep up withthe pack. This I imagine is going to be my daily sacrifice, both totaking it slow and safe and to keeping this story written down,everyday. All right, so whilst we sit here and last night's gang getsever further on ahead, let's talk a bit more about gear.For the sake of easing access to food during the day's hike, I spentthe $15 on a small fanny pack, just large enough to hold a day's worthof granola, dried fruit (including honey dates from date palm treesjust down the hill from my home base Idyllwild).. speaking of which,just as a matter of unique interest, I also carried here fromCalifornia and am still sipping from two quarts of spring water pulledright out of a hole in the ground just a stone's throw from the PacificCrest Trail, the AT's west coast cousin. Thus, aside from the factthat Idyllwild sits right on the PCT, in me here today there exists akind of a marriage of the two trails in water, as it were. So there's the fanny pack round my waist fulla stacks in easy reach asI hike. An excellent item, one I can't imagine doing without is myCamelback, a 70 oz. water bladder with a line of blue transparenttubing running from the pack to the area of your mouth. You simplyturn your head to the side, bite the nipple and you're drinking.   Ibought the thing years ago as a gift for K but kept for myself when itturned out she wanted a bigger one (ha, there's an opening for a dickjoke). Fanny pack of snacks plus water bladder equals hands-freehiking. This makes a big difference when you got a hefty load on your back and you don't want to have to offload and reload every time youwanna nosh. My pack is no mythical, hitech thing. It's simply a pack, a blackJansport bag with no internal frame or space age shit on it. It was agift from friend Emelia years ago, I think from when we did some hikingtogether in northern Cal's Trinity Alps. I must have been pack less andshe had two. Emelia will no doubt pop to mind often on this journey. A dear friend, a beautiful lady with a matching spirit, she gave mylatter college year¢s depth, Zen wisdom and the perspective of an olderfriend. Much or all of the simple yoga stretches I'll be doing everyday this trip I learned from Emelia. My "kitchenette" consists of my $40 Mountain Survival Research "PocketRocket" stove, a tiny 3 oz. miracle that screws onto a diminutivebutane canister, and a titanium cook pot, also feather light and also$40 (ouch). Oh, and I splurged weight-wise on the addition of a smallstainless coffee mug. For utensils I have one heavy-duty plastic spoonand my Swiss Army Knife. That's it. And that's it for this writing session. Close behind the storm lastnight was a cold front that currently has me sitting here freezing myass off, even in the sun. Time to get hiking and warm up from within.-RSMThe above journal entries are just a taste of a larger tale being told week to week as Rick travels the Apalachian trail from Georgia to Maine. Check out the whole enchilada at http://www.jigglebox.com/rants04.html for up to date info following Rick from beggining to end!