Date: 2004-04-20
From: Georgia

To: Maine
Miles today: 352.0
Weather: clear sky

Unaka Mountain, TNElev: 5200 ftMile 352Phrase for the day: dream bigLast night I dreamt my father was Bill Murray. The dream took place ina garish banquet hall with bad food and plastic peopl. I like BillMurray, but it was not a good dream. Without th D or the R keysworking, the word ''dream'' comes out ''ram.'' Without th E keyworking, it's a wonder I can translate any of this gibberish. (I fixall this befor you know it)When I say dream big, however, I am talking about goals, like this oneI'm entrenched in. You can do better than this. This was more impulsethan dream for me. If I make it to Maine, it is because I am obstinatean unruly. Dream big. No one else will do it for you. In fact, fewwill do it for themselves.A girl named Skirt asks me to make her a hat (a silly-shaped hat madeof fleece, such as the one which earned me my trail name). Skirt washiking with a boy named Dingle who allegedly has agreed to dangle,behind that is, like Elly who went on before me. Thus now Dingle, likeJester, is single .Slow Walker comes from Ireland by way of 30 years in Chicago. Idiscover the Ireland part by commenting on his "perfectly charmingaccent." And charming it is. After struggling to ingest and deciferhalf a dozen heavy southern accents, Slow Walker's gentle Irish lilt ismaple syrup-on-waffles to my California ears. Self-applied, SlowWalker's name is daily earned by a cautious pace meant to tender kneesthat pulled him off th trail in years past. He has children in collegeand a wife at home. And how is the wife taking this journey of his? His reply is slow and simple: "She's supportive but incredulous." SlowWalker will proudly leave th trail briefly next month to see hisdaughter graduate college. Beyond that, I've no doubt he'll make it toMaine just fine in his own slow sweet Irish time.   Have I mentioned that the Appalchian Trail passes through 14 states, 8national forests, 2 national parks, and crosses 15 major rivers? Andmost impressive to me was th recent discoverey that we conquistadors ofth first 350 miles have already climbed Mount Everest twice. Accordingto the statistics, the 300 or so hoary beasts among us who make it toMaine will have climbed Everest an equivalent of 17 times!I'm wondering now if I ever mentioned th Family Von Trapp? You see,unlike you, my cyber audience, I cannot review what I have written. Once I press SEND on this little Palm device, it's gone from me. Outof my hands. No chance to edit. No chance to "take it back." PureGonzo Journalism, folks, alive an happening right here before you, livefrom Mount Everest, as it were.Anyway, I look back at my memos from th first month of the trip an findweird notes whose meaning I no longer comprehend. To whit:cosmic banditospanic kneeswolfsong-zipzipzing-starfireStrtches so deprsg wo know not aloneterrible wind 30one dollarthank u 2 docents-blazesankle score=5 to 3 rtopograpy no housespan scrub w bark pad thai feel like a giant truly freeboat 2 smpm-gnawng on own pineal glandjake doc ankle9-in 4 cold sprgsOkay, well for starters I brought up the Von Trapps because"wolfsong-zipzipzing-starfire" is memo code for the kid's names. Thosekids were great, singing along on the trail, all of them getting thbest education I can imagine, walking to Maine. I begin to doubt nowwhether their intension was to thruhike, as I haven't seen hide norestarfire-hare of them since Week One. Too bad. I miss em.The "thank u 2 docents-blazes" is pretty plain. The work that has goneinto this trail is awesome, the white blazes on trees every 2000 feet,constantly reassuring. I thank the volunteers silently to myself everyday. Them and God.The score on my twisted ankles is now more like 6 to 8, right. Justlast night I went down hard, wrenching the right and badly bending myleft pole in its fight to keep me upright. If I were to attribute adollar's worth to every time my $129 Leki poles have saved my ass,they'd be worth twice as much already.In the mountains of Georgia, I didn't see house one. That illusion of asolely-wooded world continued through The Smokys. Now, however, I seehouses. Th trail corridor narrows as it heads north. I am told thatat points it is no wider than a freeway, slipping silently andlikely-totally unnoticed between two thundering algael blooms ofsuburban sprawl. I nightly scrub my $40 titanium pot with bark, sticks and leaves. Onenight I feasted on pad thai, a prize find from one of the ubiquitous"hiker boxes" at every hostel, bins full of goodies no doubt woefullygiven up by hiker's with pack weight problems. This of course would beall of us at one time or another. Lastly, with a nod to HST, sometimes at night the endorfin high is sogreat that I feel as though I'm gnawing on raw pinial gland, my ownpinial gland.-RSMLater that day at Cherry Gap Shelter...Jessica and Eric have gone on without me. I miss them already. Theyleft just the day before yesterday when I, forced to go the 5 milesinto town from the hostel to mail a package, had to let them go. They're from Asheville, so this stretch of the trail is full of visitsto friends and family for them. Had a wonderful couple of daysrunning with them through the woods toward Erwin,TN. Soon they'll gooff trail for a week to a wedding and I'll likely lose them altogether.This is the bane of trail friendships. They are fleeting. I missMaine-Sail, too. He was in some rush to get to New York to meet hisgirl, had to crank it up to 20-mile days. I can't keep up. I finallysaw Tumbleweed and Underground Radio again, a week ago in Hot Springs. But they had taken a shuttle 40 miles north to come to Trail Fest, andthus had to go back to where they left off. Kristen..er, Tumbleweed,was surrounded by a bevvy of boys and happy with the attention nodoubt, though surely still missinq her Will. Underground and I spokeabout his perhaps skipping forward and joining me, but no. He had togo back. So it's forward and backward and I seem ever the more alonehere in the middle. I hope this changes soon and I make some newfriends. Thus far not usually one to write much in the shelterjournals, today I wrote: Sweet night on Unaka Mtn where the trees get up and walk on spindlylegs and the forest, devilishly dark, curls you up its downy pine bedand slips starry dreams in your evening tea. Onward. -JesterDrop Rick some snail mail and/or a care package at his next drop! (See latest post for most recent address) Snickers and little nippers of Schnapps or Whiskey are Gold to our hero but even words of wisdom are welcome! No canned goods or glass please! Weight is a big issue, anything light and compact.Thanks for your support-JKAFor the full story of Rick's journey, visit Jigglebox.com