Date: 2003-03-12
From: Dicks Creek Gap and the Blueberry Patch

To: GA/NC line to Bly Gap
Miles today: 8.8
Weather: clear sky

This morning I awoke from my squeaky bunk at the Blueberry Patch (sorry to all below), and slipped off to the well-appointed privy - plentiful soaps, shampoos, shaving foam cans, towels, etc. On the way back, I noticed the frost on the grass. Bet it was COLD up there in the mountains. I walk back through the farms' mature organic blueberry bushes, which tower over my head.When I return, Zeus has lit the furnace, and the bunk room is toasty. His friend, Swift Sandal, wishes me a Happy Birthday. I take a few pictures of this wonderful place and comfortable companions. Here is all the enthusiasm for the Trail I could wish for. Except poor !Mickey One Sock. He loves the trail but misses his "little Irish wife" terribly. I wonder if e is about to leave the Trail.My camera has performed better and better as I navigate the learning curve. Zeus showed me last night how to reformat the CF cards, so I believe I am set.I pack up and make a flurry of calls, and search for my battery charger for the camera. Strange, it's nowhere to be found. I think back and remember it was with the "town info" section of the guidebook, in a separate ziplock bag. Oh no! That guidebook has been missing two days, since right after Blue Mt. shelter! I strain my memory to recall what else was in the bag with the charger and guidebook. Oh no #2! I had at least $150 in travelers checks - well, those can be recovered - as well as cash.As I am digesting this loss, and the sour feeling in my stomach, the breakfast bell rings. I enter a sun-washed room, large farmhouse table set with clean cloth, a glass of orange juice at every place setting, beautiful music spilling out of the stereo. The energy change is striking. We hold hands for a blessing, and the warmth and care in this light-filled room tugs my emotions in yet another direction. Though I am not religious, Gary's blessing encouraging our "eyes to be opened to the beauty and glory around us" stirs me deeply with the sincerity and truth of the words. When the blueberry pancakes come out, and the platter is handed to me, Gary gently takes it away. I look up, confused, and Lennie swings in on the left with my plate - a stack of three hot cakes with two lit candles and a genuine, loving hug. For some reason, this simple act of kindness undoes me. The mixed emotions spill over, and I tear up. Embarrassed, I try not to show it, but I must blow my nose in my paper napkin and ask for another. Cover blown!I am feeling that transparent sensation again. I had it on the Long Trail last year as well. I lost a friend while I was on that Vermont trail too, and something about loss, any loss, evokes a sensation that jolts one out of everyday thinking. Add hiking alone all day, and things ferment. I don't wish it so, but these things just work through on their own schedule.Nor is this necessarily a bad thing, though I used to think it so. Emotions, I'm learning, have their own sort of weather: now sunny, then cloudy, then rainy, then dry and brisk. Better to just let them flow through and flow on.After this fabulous breakfast of sausage, the lightest cheese biscuits in the world ("Gary is very tender with dough," Lennie says fondly), I try to recover my center. I am still knocked slightly askew, and puzzle over this. I struggle not to turn this into a personal drama, something I loathe. It's not until later, after hiking on it a bit, that I come to any insight. I saw that any loss evokes, to a greater or lesser degree, the universal sensation of "Loss" - which probably starts the moment we get ejected from our cozy womb. This has been a month of loss, letting go and saying good-bye. I don't just mean Ted's death, or selling my horses, or leaving friends, pets, family behind, although that is all mixed into it. The cumulative toll.I call Carolyn, my support person from home, who jumps right on the traveler's check thing and assures me she can get another battery charger to me. But best of all, she just beams her natural goodness down the phone line at me. An abundance of heart today! Tote up the balance, and I believe I am coming out ahead this birthday. Lennie drops us off at the Trailhead, and gives us all genuine hugs. I am sad to say good-bye to them too, but this is a skill I am slowly learning to acquire. These are truly fine people who actually live what they believe. Though I do not share their faith, I don't reject it either. I can't help but respect people who make their life their message, and not expect empty words to convey who they are. Their light shines through, and I am better for having met them.I walk the first bit in a turmoil, but the sun is relentlessly friendly, and soon I realize I'm settling into a good place.Somewhere down the line, I realize I also left Ted back at The Blueberry Patch... He was getting a little dirty, and went off to be cleaned up in a load of towels. Well, I'm sure my hosts would mail him ahead, if I call. Teddi will have to yelllow blaze awhile.Lunch with Ol' Blue and Heather and Andy at Plum Orchard Shelter. Blue is 70, and a retired Texas police officer who started the AT as a stone novice, with a 55 pound pack. He's sent 16 pounds home already, including his cell phone and second pair of shoes. His handwriting is unsteady and his hand shakes, so hye uses a rubber stamp to mark his passage in the register.Blue stays put but Heather, Andy and I push on. We notice Mickey One Sock had lingered at the Trailhead, and hope that is not a bad sign. Heather remarks that the sun is almost too hot. "Ha!" I say. "Remember it." This IS North Georgia, after all...The afternoon proceeded peacefully, including a testy little climb up Wheeler Knob - straight up. Nary a switchback in sight. Reminded me of Vermont.On a dark little patch of sidehill, I came upon the GA/NC state line sign. I woohooed. If woohooed isn't a verb, it will be henceforth. "I'm in North Carolina!" I whooped.Came back a call, from far ahead and around the bend. "You sure are!" I smile. It's nice when someone understands.I scratch a note in the dirt for Heather and Andy; who are well behind me: "We did it!"Another five minutes, and I hiked up to the camp of Carol and Yvonne, trail names Sonic and Guana. They were parked just shy of Bly Gap, so I went on up. Heather and Dan joined me shortly, and we set up camp near the famous gnarled oak, a bit down to the left. We decided to have a party, since there was a fire already laid in the fire ring. We "invited the neighbors from the next holler over for a social," and they brought a hand-penned birthday card and a tube of "Pudding To Go," apologizing for their meager present. I demurred. Any gift someone humps over the mountain is a gift indeed.I had carried an avocado from my Hiawasee shop with DaleAmerica. That baby was slated for supper, along with some extra sharp cheddar cheese, and only slightly crunched Tostitos corn chips. Ahhh, a fine birthday repast, lacking only some Pace salsa and a margarita.We yak around the campfire, and the evening temps are mellow. Guana points out the Pleaides; the night skies are sharp and clear. The company is good.Yes, all and all, in balance, a fine birthday.