Date: 2003-05-05
From: Tellico Gap, NC 126.2

To: Wright's Gap, NC 135.7
Miles today: 9.5

Note: It's going well! Seven days, 136 miles down...and a couple plus thousand left to go. Today was a rest day and so only did about 10 miles in the rain, then headed into town. So much work to do, so little time. I started typing in today's journal, and by the time I was done with chores, calory stuffing, e-mail and phone calls...it's now 11 pm and I'm pooped! I love the writing...in a way it's almost as fun as the trail miles...but for now, it's all I can do to jot a few notes in my notebook in the tent late at night. Maybe I'll have a chance to do some writing later in the week. Oh well, I'll knock out one brief bit...a little riff on an incident earlier today, followed by some short notes about day 7. A BRUSH WITH DEATHToday, while commuting to work ¢- um¢¦rather¢¦heading off to the trailhead for today¢s day of fun along the AT -- I waltzed with death for a few brief and tantalizing moments. As deaths go, this particular demise would have been both ironic and macabre. Spectacularly stupid. The stuff of urban legends. It goes like this¢¦Here we are, headed toward Tellico Gap, on a narrow, twisting North Carolina road with precipitous drop-offs¢¦ Danny Boy is driving. Directly in front of me, on the floor in front of the passenger seat, is a plastic storage crate with various items. One of the items is a cannister of "COUNTER ATTACK", which is a pepper spray intended to deter bear attacks. Not that a bear is bloody likely to attack us in our car, while we speed down the highway at 40 mph. But, somehow we feel that this pepper spray cannister is one of those items that is reassuring and comforting to have near at hand, ready to grab at a moment¢s notice. It¢s not bears we¢re really concerned about. Many of you have seen the movie, "Deliverance". So imagine, if you will, how comforting a small black cannister can be, when some gap-toothed, drooling, narrow-eyed southern Appalachian hickster sidles up to the car and drawls something that is unintelligble, but clearly malevolent in tone. I should note now that the trigger guard for the bear spray has somehow become unlocked. Perhaps Danny Boy felt threatened the other day, when I started wearing skirts for my daily hikes¢¦and so slid the trigger off, just to be safe and ready to respond, in case my proclivities became more perverted. Or perhaps I can blame it on Hart. (For those of you who followed our 2001 journey, this is the same cannister of bear spray that my oldest son, Hart, tested out on day one of our Great Divide Ride, the photos of such incident which are posted on our web site). "Make sure you put the trigger back", I said -- or at least think I said ¢ after he stopped screaming. The ride to Tellico Gap is long, the quarters cramped. I stretch my foot out. Suddenly there is a loud hiss and fiery hot aerosol fills the car. Here is what should have happened: Danny Boy is blinded. The car plunges off the road. There is a moment of stunned silence, then the sound of ripped branches and sprayed rocks as the car somersaults end-over-end, careening gracefully down the mountainside. In these final moments, as time dilates, and my life slowly replays itself, I realize how the script of a man¢s life is really nothing more one long exposition of seemingly trivial and random events that somehow uncoil themselves in one brief and surprising flash to reveal one¢s miserable final destiny. A cacophony of echoes, then he forest returns to silence, except for the soft drip of blood on charred metal. Hours later, after the blood has congealed and the redolent sweet smell of dying tissue has filled the air, the animals come to this scene of carnage. They feast on eyeballs and macerated tissue, potato chips and spilled M&M¢s. Being creatures possessed of a lower order of culinary discrimination, they ignore the soy jerkey chunks and Thai and Indian pre-packaged meals. In the ensuing weeks, while hikers slog on just yards away dreaming of spicy delicacies to break the dull monotony of daily trail cuisine, the fulfillment of all their fantasies slowly turn to mildewed-goo in the relentless rain and humidity of North Carolina summer. Months, maybe years later, the wreck is accidentally discovered, and the bleached bones are identified and laid to rest. A forensics expert notes the orange, oily, still-pungent residue on objects found near the skeletal left foot of the passenger in the front seat. He astutely notes that the trigger is askew on a half-empty bear spray cannister that is found nearby. Assumptions and conclusions follow. He dryly fills out a summary death report, then files it away. Several months later, on a slow day for news, a young reporter posts a brief article in the weekly rag of a small Appalachian town, following up on some tourists who had disappeared in the area several months ago. He posts the story primarily because he wants to put a stop to the rumors that have been circulating that his mentally-troubled second-cousin was somehow involved in the tourists¢ disappearance. He is also secretly relieved to know, at least for the time being, that this cousin is not a cannibal. Like a malignancy, the story disseminates and spreads. The spectacularly stupid tale of our demise becomes a human-interest filler on page one of various newspapers until the cycle plays itself out and the story goes stale. Though factual, it is indeed classified as legend, befitting something so macabre and bizzarre. Of course, more than a few friends of mine just shake their heads and mutter that they knew that it was inevitable that such an end would come to the likes of me. We are the stuff of cocktail chatter, the fill for the empty spaces of radio blather¢¦for a few brief weeks. And this is my nightmare: that there is some alternate universe, where possible near-outcomes are played out¢¦and where our waltz with death on this rainy morning ended with a brief curtsey and a long embrace. ¢¦But in THIS universe¢¦Danny Boy holds his breath and brakes while I sputter and curse (the cannister had been aimed in my direction). We roll to a stop and I tumble out of the car, coughing and gasping, tears rolling down my face. Later, as we resume the drive, Danny Boy notes that his sniffling and congestion were gone, and wonders about the timing and mechanism of our little "accident", noting that only moments prior, I had asked him ¢ in a slightly irritated tone --if he¢d like some Kleenex for his snuffling. I give him my most ambiguous shrug and facial expression. "Hmm¢¦indeed, you did stop sniffling." The best employers know that unpredictability can be a very useful tool in the management of employees. TRAIL SCOOP: Today was intentionally a short day, as will be tomorrow. Work (business and personal) to do, and a little recuperation also is necessary. Left 7:45 AM from Tellico Gap (126.2) with a fanny pack loaded with water and a little candy. Object was Wright Gap (135.7), just north of the Nantahala River and the town of Wesser. Cool and rainy. Urged Danny Boy to leave a love offering for Daisy Cup at Tellico Gap. No Krispy Kremes, but at least a few Baby Ruths in a baggie. Highlight of the morning: Came over a rise and treated to a panorama of endless deep green hills and ridges, carpeted with pines and early spring growth, tendrils of mist trailing across the scene. Rain fun at first. Then a downpour. I now know from experience, that given enough time and enough rain, rain indeed can make your head hurt. Skirt plastered around my legs like concrete. Had to lift it to go up steep rocks. Several near disasters with near-falls. As hours passed, the AT Trail became the AT River. Literally was like walking up a river, with numerous above ankle pools to wade thru. Uggh! Walked for a brief time with Longcut, a recent Auburn College graduate who hopes to thru-hike. It¢s his 14th day out and he¢s starting to acclimate to life on the Trail. Yesterday did 18 miles in 13 hours. Last nite, a branch fell on his tent and ripped a hole in it. A wet nite for him. That¢s the AT ¢ achievement and glory followed by mishap and pain. Finished at 12:15. As soon as I got in the van, checked my dressings of Duct Tape over 2nd Skin which I had applied over my Achilles tendons in the AM. They actually held up! Felt great to change into dry clothes. Hot shower in the motel felt even better. Makes me really appreciate what a challenge most AT hikers face. Unlike me, few of them were afforded the opportunity to quit early in the day for rest and hot showers. A dry sleeping bag and an un-crowded shelter is the most they can hope for.