José

In the Summer of Infinite Horrors (the one of '06) my friend Kevin ended up staying on the couch (the back seat of a passenger van that was found on the sidewalk and brought indoors as furniture) and he and I spent the summer in mostly miserable circumstances due to job problems, housing problems and other problems.  However, we are troopers and we had a ball.  I was paying too much rent to live in a house in the mosquito-infested neighborhood of Gowanus in Brooklyn down by the canal. The house was owned by my then-girlfriend's famous artist-friend.  My then-girlfriend was away living it up in France for the summer and I was stuck in that house with no AC and lots of heat and feeling sort of confined all around.  Kevin had recently found some folks smoking crack for breakfast in the kitchen of his home and, showing his typical good judgment, bailed out of there.  I didn't mind at all that he was around for a while and it was nice having him around.

He and I barbecued with regularity, played music real loud in the basement with Ryan, and we hung the gigantic American flag in the living room next to the van-couch where it took up the entire wall.  A lot of cigarettes were rolled and smoked and cheap beer consumed as ailments were nursed and then replaced with other ailments.  The soundtrack of the summer was only the saddest of country music as our weary hearts could not identify with the more festive genres.  To further combat the loneliness I adopted a cat that we found on the street and Kevin showed me how to take care of it and comb out its fleas.

And yet some good times were to be had.  Me, Kevin, Ryan and Gordon went to upstate NY as we had been asked to be the musical entertainment of the Morris Family's Second Annual Pig Roast.  We got up there on Friday around midnight and me and the boys shared a great evening of whiskey drinking and guitar playing up in the gazebo on the hill all by ourselves as the respectable people slept down in the house.  The songs of the many Georges and Hanks and of Merle were plucked from the guitar and glissandoed from the dobro as we sang our little miserable hearts out.  We did this into the wee hours before becoming inspired by the rising sun to take Ryan's Cadillac into town and hit the diner as it opened up on Saturday morning.  Excellent diner fare was had all around and the peanut butter pie was so good that we bought the whole thing and brought it back with us.  We avoided all local authorities there and back and then hopped into the pool and had a good swim as the rest of the guests were waking up from their country slumber.

The pig got roasted and we ate a whole bunch of it.  Still more beer was consumed.  The horseshoe tournament was entered and I and Gordon took home first place trophies.  It was a great weekend.  The music was played at some point and we managed to brutalize every tune we knew.  And yet we were warmly and graciously received.  Those few days will be forever remembered by me as being some of the greatest, and I am aware that I am blessed to have been able to have had such great friends around me to share it all with.

Back at the house in Brooklyn, the misery sort of leveled off as the heat rose.  Not too much else could really go too wrong that summer and as such I was able to take it all in stride.  You could get a 22 ounce Coors for 1.25 up by the projects on 3rd Avenue and so I'd sit out on the stoop and just soak it all up.  The block was forever being developed as yuppies tried to build out the homes they'd bought and turn them into something luxurious that they were never truly capable of becoming.

Cheap laborers from all over the globe could be found on the block doing shoddy work that would have to be redone sooner rather that later.  It seemed like there was always some fiasco being meticulously planned by an amateur foreman.   Tools were routinely used outside of their typical scope; hammers were used to beat a door into the wall because they didn't set the jamb right in the first place and the whole frame swelled up as it got hot and humid.  It was pretty much endless.

One morning me and Kevin were outside looking at all the stray cats or something and down the block we hear a frantic voice with an Indian accent belting out an order to someone on the work site.  "José!  Bring Saw!" he bellowed.  And then he let it out again.  Now, we never saw José or the saw being brought or what on earth this saw was supposed to do to but the image in our minds was certainly preposterous.  Perhaps a tire needed to be changed or some electrical work needed fine tuning.  But the words "bring saw" will forever be able to rouse a smile between the two of us.  You reallly had to be there, and even then you really needed the context of the Summer of Infinite Horrors to really drive the madness home.  This is what had become of our lives.

Eventually Kevin found a room in an apartment up in Williamsburg.  The barbecues ceased as a community event and I waited around for the then-girlfriend to come home and become my ex-girlfriend thus capping off the summer and leaving me to live out my wretchedness in solitude and peace. 

Clearly it's all worked out okay, and the real point of all this is that I am happy to have such great friends.  I've got 'em all over the place now and they're each immensely important to me.  I hopped off the Appalachian trail a few weeks ago and ended up in NYC for a week and a half and was able to stay with a friend in her apartment, and now I'm in Seattle staying with another friend.  Some day I hope to be able to find a way to pay them all back for all the good stuff they've done for me.

This summer is going great so far, incidentally, and if there's any saw-bringing I am confident that it will be used in a conventional way or else as a musical instrument.

Later On,

Jonathan

beleaguerment

Hmmm. So I got off the trail on Saturday in the AM. I awoke in the wilderness and after a series of mechanized transports found myself in New York City's Lower East Side. It's not that different. I'm not going to go into it, but there you go. Maybe another time.

I got off the trail for a variety of reasons. First, I got flat out tired of walking. I managed to hike 1,001 miles. A nice number. It took a long time. Second, I became aware that the economics of the thing were not in my favor. Such is life. You're familiar with it. Third, it's summer time and I like sitting around outside and not walking around outside in the summer. It's hot and there's lots of bugs. Fourth, ticks; the only thing that strikes fear into my heart as I trip over rocks and roots through the wilderness.

It was a great time and a good run. Will I finish the trail? How should I know?

So where does the beleagueredness come in? Well, it's a little hard to know what I should do now. At the moment I'm in NYC and it's not my cup of tea. Never really was so much my cup of tea eather. I'm not much of a tea drinker. So I'm not staying here for long. The kindness of friends puts a roof over my head. They don't let you pitch a tent in the park or the sidewalks.

I'm going to attempt to clear my head a little bit and do some thinking on my options (and by that I mean understanding if I even have any in the first place) and what I want. Always tough. You know me by now. There's nothing like me making a plan if I really want to have things go haywire. It's pretty exciting.

So hopefully I'll know soon. I'm going to visit Connecticut this weekend after working at the Fish Stand on Saturday (thanks, Steph!) and then I'll be off to somewhere next week. Where will it be?

Jonathan

The Miracle that was not to be

I've been in Waynesboro for 5 days now and I've had a great time. I've been living in a tent down by the river. Not a van. A tent. By the river. It's our own little hobo camp. We've grilled out (of course it's outside) every night and lived the life. Last night was a little celebratory in nature for some reason and there was much wine flowing and hotdogs being eaten. For no good reason, I guess, except that we are living a pretty good life. At any rate, I'm leaving today, so I don't feel too ridiculous.

Now I've mentioned before the tragedy of the male in accordance with the shortage of females on the trail. There are some females on the trail, of course, but they don't wear skirts and are as filthy as us and at this point know too much about us as dudes. They are experiencing Us as the monsters we are, that our minds do constantly wander back to girls. We are easily distracted by them as they walk by from a great distance. It does not matter. We are like cavemen.

Waynesboro is indeed a great town and it's like there's some kind of invisible line of demarcation where suddely there is a great mass of beautiful girls. It's been incredible. I'm not saying that that's why I've been here for 5 days, but I'm not saying it hasn't either. I have manage to read a couple of books (Alice Munro and Hemingway. They are both so very similar to each other you know.) but walking about this town is great. The bookstore is incredible and like an idiot I'm leaving town with 7 books. They are very heavy. Also the diner is great. Also the libray. The Y. The road. They hobo camp. In all of these places there are girls (except the hobo camp -- Sorry Lauren!).

So two days ago I'm sitting on the bench at the hobo camp chit chatting with Lauren and a car pulls around the round and slows to a halt. The Johnny on the Spot is sort of blocking my vision so all I can see is the hood. Out of this machine ascends an angel. Oh my God it's a skirt, I say to Lauren. I think she's walking this way! She is! She's carrying some kind of tray that looks like food! What's all this?

I stand up to get a better look and I can't believe my eyes. Lauren, it's Zen Master! He's pulled off a miracle! I raise my arms in exaltation to him and begin a round of applause. Solo applause because Lauren thinks we've all gone insane over this subject. She thinks it's funny and cannot comprehend the suffering we endure. It turns out to be the cutie who works at the Outfitter.

I bought too much fruit at the store for my ceramics class, she tells us, so I thought I'd bring it to you guys. When are you all leaving? You should stop by the Outfitter tomorrow on your way out of town. There is some more light-hearted talk and eventually she chooses to stop standing there in her radiance and go to her ceramics class.

Zen Master and I over-analyzed this short conversation as though it were code for all of the things we could possibly desire. Lauren sat there in awe as she was let in on even more than she'd already been able to gleen of what it is to be a guy. In its own way it is funny, I guess.

Even though we went to the Outfitters the next day she wasn't there. Where's Amy? I asked the guy at the counter. She don't work today, he said. I think she's on a bike ride. Really? Hmm. I went back to the hobo camp and finished A Farewell to Arms.

So I stayed another day. I am leaving today, I swear. I will stop at the Outfitter out of hope of one more glimpse, one more smile. It is embarassing and pathetic. Lauren just thinks it's grand.

Later On,

Jonathan

Yesterday

So today it's raining here in wonderful Waynesboro, VA and as such I decided that I was going to stay in town one more day. It was not a hard decision. Camping out at the Y is great fun and free.

Yesterday was Mothers Day and my friend and fellow hiker Zen Master's mom and dad were going to drive into town to go to dinner. Asking me if I'd like to go along I said yes. Sundays in W'boro are pretty awesome. Almost everything is closed except churches and ethnic food places. There's a few chain stores like the grocery store open, but that's about it. That morning he and I had gone to Weasie's, the local breakfast joint, for breakfast so when his folks showed up at our YMCA/hobo campground we chose to go to the outfitter and give our appetites a little time to warm up to the idea of a free lunch.

We get to the outfitters at noon and I had no motivation for going there at all except that it was something to do and there's always the prospect of there being attractive ladies to respectfully notice. I do believe I mentioned this in an earlier entry. I did nothing but do my noticing at the outfitter while Zen Master realized upon arrival that he'd forgotten to wear his shoes (we tend to wear our camp shoes whenever possible) and as such his reason for being there was nil. So off to lunch we go. It was either Meditteranean a la Virginie or Chinese Buffet and as I had had dinner at the Mediterranean joint (called Chick Peas or something cute like that) the night before I thougt it suitable for a mom on Mothers Day.

We sat at a table and me and Zen Master did our noticing of the clientele while trying to pay attention to the conversation at the table enough to not have to become distracted from our personal tasks at hand or actally get involve in the conversation. It was impossible. We ordered our lunch which was a large pizza for all of us to share and we each got pita sandwiches of some kind. I got some kind of Lamb.

So after this we went to the vegetable stand because we'd all decided that we should use the grilling facilities at the camp site and make fajitas. Rumors have soared of my culinary ability and it's not hard at all to talk people into this. I'm just saying. So we get peppers and jalapenos and onions and cactus and decide to go to the actual grocery store later as it's pretty early in the day.

We get back to camp and ZM and his folks go back to the outfitter with his shoes to get the insoles he needs, but it's no use. He returns soon enough with nothing as there's nothing that fits his shoes somehow.

It's Sunday so there's really nothing to do as the library's closed, the bookstore's closed and so forth. The Y's open so some people go swimming. Me, ZM and Long Johns go to the store for the rest of the food and libation and haul it all back to the campsite. Sort of like bums.

We start in on the beer first, of course, and just chat the day away. It was a beautiful day and the sky was just the right amount of blue. The buttercups drifted over the ground all over the place and the reeds in the pond poked at the sky while the ducks behaved stupidly. Eventually dinner got started.

It was delicious. It's not that easy cooking on a grill with no real dishes or tools. Since we live in the wilderness for the most part we were able to manage. Or thought we were. We did fine. We had aluminum foil and so I roasted the corn, peppers and cactus and eventually got around to grilling up the steak. It was a great achievement as far as I'm concerned. To my pleasure, everyone agreed.

We sat around the table at the camp site like civilized people eating with our hands and drinking too much beer, perhaps, as the night lingered on. The weird guy who showed up that morning sat around moping and talking about jumping off a bridge (I wanted to push him off of one myself, to save him the trouble) but not even this could deflate our good time. Nothing would be able to.

It began to get dark finally and I started to clean up everything and everyone prepared for the night to settle in over us. I was putting my stuff in my tent when I heard a lot of ruckus going on in the bushes behind me by the river.

"What's that?" I asked Spielberg (another hiker) and he told me it was a hiker.

"One we know?" I asked him. He said it was.

I'd figured that whoever it was was stumbling around in the bushes looking to pee somewhere (old habits die hard and even though there's a port-a-john there...well that's just how we do at the moment. I'm not proud of it but it is funny.) and had forgotten there headlamp as it had just suddenly gotten dark. I decide to see who on earth it is and perhaps help them out.

I get around the corner where the bushes start and I see Zen Master looking up at me from a great distance.

"Are you in the river?" I ask him. He tells me that yes he is.

"Would you like a hand?"

"Okay."

So I give the poor guy a hand and drag him out of the river. The bank was pretty steep and somehow he'd managed to fall into the river and go completely in over his head and everything. No real reason for it, it just happened. After establishing that he was okay and not injured or anything I ask him if he needs anything. He doesn't, so I tell him that I won't mention this to anyone that he can do that on his own. They hadn't heard anything and they're all only about 20 feet away on the other side of the bushes. Amazing. I go out and sit down at the picnic table and a few minutes later ZM comes out wearing only his drenched shorts and dripping hair and says: "I'm not that drunk, but I'm all wet because I just fell in the river. I was just looking into my own little world and slipped down. But that's why I'm all wet and smell fetid."

The laughter went on for quite a while. It was hilarious and ZM managed to warm himself over the still-warm coals in the grill and put on some dry clothes. He smelled pretty bad, but I've gone into that before, too. We all stink.

Just another day in the life out here.

Later on,

Jonathan

Hygiene

You know, I can't really remember what I've written about on this blog thing. I really want to discuss hygiene with you, but have the feeling that I've opined on this subject briefly already. At the same time if I have it would imply a sort of obsession. I can't say that I'd be able to deny it, but in a roundabout sort of way.

There's a certain smell that we hikers carry with us, and it is unfortunately not a pleasant one. It is not campfire smoke (also known as camping deoderant) and that it is not patchouli is for the best. We all smell like B.O.

You figure out early on that there's no amount of deoderant that will be able to mask the combined smells of not showering and hiking fifteen miles a day. The two smells sort of combine into a horrible mixture of stink/deoderant and eventually the stink kills the efforts of the deoderant. That's just how it goes.

On the trail, however, none of this matters. Dudes and chicks alike are out here on the trail hiking and sweating and being filthy. It's hard to tell if you get used to it or immune to it. There's a difference between the two. You become painfully aware of you stink when you hitch into town or enter into the sphere of the public. On the weekends you come across Weekenders on the trail who reek of perfume. Smells of this sort become very hard to be around because they are so false and, ironically, unnatural. To the weekender you are Wild, and have lost much of your ablity to function in society in a positive way. I understand their angst as I recently read Freud's Civilization and It's Discontent. Very informative.

There are some funny stories concerning this subject. Spaceman and Intents (we all have trail names...it's a little silly I admit but if you do this it'll happen to you, too. Mine's Honey Do) were taking a little time out in Roanoke to visit Spaceman's cousin who's in some kind of fraternity and they were all going to some frat party. It gets lonely on the trail and after a few months of not seeing town-girls you sort of really really want to. Spaceman and Intents showered and the whole nine and, this is sad, the girls at the party just said that they stank and needed showers. No action for them. I guess they just sat there watching all the other dudes make some kind of progress. You just can't scrub it off, I swear. It becomes a part of you.

Some funny stuff has happened with kids, too. I was walking up the street in my town clothes in Buena Vista and this poor kid was terrified of me (I sort of have to admit that I can, to some, look like a convict) and actually ran around the bushes and watched me pass. He did not come out until I was sufficiently past. However far that is I don't really know for the rest of them, but for him it wasn't too far. He couldn't stop staring at me. This other kid was with his mom and upon seeing me as I walked past them he yanked on mom and told her how much he wanted to look like me when he got older. That's got to be a pretty emotional thing for a mom to hear her five-year old say.

You feel guilty gettin into people's cars when they give you rides, but it's also sort of a safety net. I know that we smell much worse than a criminal can stand, so really any though of unkindness towards us is probably met with a more emphatic need to actually be rid of us. The windows go down and the air stays on. I'm not kidding.

All in all though, we strive for cleanliness in its more profound sense. You sort of have to. Out in the woods there's privies or else you did a cathole. You need to have your hand sanitizer at the ready. You don't shake hands anymore because there are all these diseases going around all the time. There was the Hiker Plague, as we called it, that chased me up the trail, got ahead of me somehow and through carefulness I never got it. It was a doozy of a bad time, though. Vomiting and expulsion of all kinds. You wash up when you can, or you try to. It's a very hard thing to do out here, staying clean.

Right now I am clean. I am camping out at the YMCA down by the river and they also let us use the showers there. They also provide soap and shampoo and towels for us for free. They are awesome.

Later on,

Jonathan

(Currently in Waynesville, VA)

pictures.

Try this. It might work for everyone...

http://www.facebook.com/profile.php?cropsuccess&id#/profile.php?id=612332309&v=photos&viewas=612332309

Just random stuff

So right now I'm at the library in Buena Vista (pronounced Byewna Vista) doing my internetting, so I'm just going to opine off the cuff about random Appalachian Trail stuff.



Hiking In General



It occurs to some people to ask what you do when it rains. Well, the answer to that is you hike. I started all this business on March 2nd and have now been out here two months. On the train ride down from NYC it rained the whole way. I kept wondering for the entir 16 hours or so what on Earth had possessed me to do this thing. Well, after I got to Georgia all the rain had turned to snow. The temperature plummeted and the first night I spent out in the wilderness it was 14 degrees, not including windchill. It's a pretty nice reward to actually wake up in the morning to see that you're still alive. It does cross your mind, you know.



But that's the coldest it ever got. It did snow more, but you get used to it. You also get used to the cold. So much so that you just end up hiking in shorts and short sleeves regardless of the temperature it seems. I know I spent many a day in such attire hiking around in 40 degree weather. There'd still be ice on the ground.



Wet is another situation all together. Hypothermia is tough to shake once it sets in. In Franklin, TN this kid gets dropped off at the hostel and left for dead by some old people who rescued him at a road, realized he was insane and wanted nothing more to do with him. He had somehow managed to get 100 miles with really no ability. A true miracle. He was soaked to the bone and was talking about how close to hypothermia he was. He then related more stories of how he'd nearly died under similar conditions in the wilderness. He was a short guy but with a huge pot belly and skinny legs who claimed to have ran several marathons in the past year. He was out of his mind. An actual Walter Mitty but without the wife. He did have an imaginary girlfriend out in Colorado waiting for him. He was from Ohio.



And then there's the heat. It recently got very hot in Virginia. Well, sort of. It was consistently up in the mid 80s last week which is not really too hot, but when there is no leaf-cover established on the trees yet you have to deal with all the radiation. You end up roasting. You need lots of water and many breaks. You are greatful for the creeks and rivers. There's plenty more of this on the way.



There's also a lot of fog and other cloud-related issues. You spend a lot of time up in the clouds and have no view. I kind of like this experience the most. You stay cool and it's just so relaxing.



What else is there I'd like to talk about? Well, there's the people. This is a very social trail. That's its personality. At first it bugged me to no end, but if you want to be left alone just stay at home. That was always my solution in the past. But that's just not how this is. You come across a lot of people out here who start the thing off with some kind of "searching" or attempt at discovery or what have. The bad news is that there's nothing to really discover about yourself out here that can't be done at home, church, AA or whatever it is in life. There are no secrets the univers hidden under rocks (well, not exclusively). The solution to all of your problems does not lie in the wilderness. There are as many ways to get drugs here as there are back home. There is no where to run. These people usually figure this out pretty quickly and either bail or deal with their problem in a more useful fashion. There's really not that many of them.



In the end, the people out here are basically the same as the people are anywhere. The only difference is that all of us have agreed to be out here at the same time. Other than that most of us have nothing in common. There are still people you don't like, idiots, just like everything else you get along. Or you try to. This is not a vacation from life, or a way to run from responsibility. It's just like the rest of life as far as I'm concerned. Every day is basically the same but there is inevitably an amazing twist. I look forward to dinner, to my after dinner reading, to my time in town. I look forward to the letters I write my friends, and all the rest. I miss playing my guitar and listening to music.

In the end, I have learned (or rather, have had the point driven home) that no matter what it is I find myself doing, that that is real life.

Later on,

Jonathan

Damascus, VA to Daleville/Troutville/Cloverdale VAs

First off, there's no real way for me to sum up a given day for you. In one sense it's a pretty boring thing to talk about (I am seriously walking for about 10 hours a day) and I figure enough has probably been written about the Trail by others to make it silly for me to describe the history of the AT and all that. So I've decided that I'll just tell you what's been on my mind.

Food. You think about food constantly. It is the cause of and solution to all woes on the trail. It is the heaviest thing you carry out here, but you're also constantly trying to keep your pack weight down. Essentially you end up with a Hiker Appetite which means you end up needing to eat about 5000 calories a day every day. It's very hard to do. Everything tastes good, but especially salads and fresh fruits and veggies. Remember, I wasn't really eating any prepared foods before coming out here, so the transition to this was a little rough. It's difficult to prepare a meal of good fresh foods because there aren't any. You think about the next meal all day and are constantly trying to come up with new ideas about how to relieve the monotony of your diet. I will never eat a Ramen out here. I cooked that stuff in a coffee maker in college. I doubt I could even choke it down. Even after going 700 miles there are some people who still eat that stuff. I could choke it down if I had to.

For my part, I'm going low-sodium. I can't believe how much sodium there is in anything. I think heart surgeons sneak into out food suppliers' factories and stuff it with salt. That and all that High Fructose Corn Syrup is everywhere. I'm avoiding that, too. It's not perfect yet, but it's almost all gone out of the diet. It seems to me that we'd be much much better off without that stuff anywhere near our food, but you can all do what you want. Also, there's no caffeine anymore except when I'm in town. That stuff's a bad habit, too. It just makes you tired later on, it seems. It's just not necessary out here. So on the trail I'm eating great and trying to eat healthy. I'm even taking onions and peppers to add to my meal at night to try to get fresh veggies in there for the first two days. The pasta is Whole Wheat, too.

But in town it's another story. We hit town and go nuts. For example, yesterday we rolled into the Interchange at Daleville and ended up at a bbq joint. I haven't had bbq the entire trip (long story) and decided that even though it's not cheap it's an OK thing to do. Besides, Carolina (a hiking buddy) has to hop off the trail for a week to do her Army training stuff and so her mom was there to pick her up and give us a ride to wherever we wanted. Also another hiker, Grace, is from New Zealand and hasn't had proper bbq in her life, so I consider it my duty as an American to make sure this happens.

We are all very very dirty. It's finally gotten hot here in Central Virginia as it's been in the mid 80s and the tree cover hasn't filled in yet so we're hiking in direct sun for most of the day. For some reason Carolina refused to clean herself up at all for the past 5 days and she looked pitiful. Dirt crusted up and down her legs. You become immune to each other's stench, too, but we are fairly certain that we smell pretty bad. Our hair hasn't been washed, and our shirts and shorts have salt rings from where our pack straps sit on our shoulders. It's awful, but this is the condition that we are in when Carolina's mother picks us up at the Pizza Hut and carts us up the way to the 3 Little Pigs bbq. We get hush puppies and beer and I get the hungry man pork dinner (I don't have Swine Flu but I do have the Swine Fever, I say!) with curly fries, slaw and more hush puppies. For $4 you can add a bbq sandwich to a dinner so I do that, too. For dessert I had peach cobbler with cinammon ice cream. I was stuffed.

There's a thing called Trail Magic out here. It's when someone leaves treats on the trail for hikers. Sometimes it's oranges and candy bars, sometimes it's Gatorade, but it's always sweet of whoever's doing it. One time these people had us in and fed us off of a menu of goodies like lemonade, soup, and a variety of homemade desserts, all of which we could have as much as we want. That was awesome. Sometimes there's an angle (like church or something) but in the end it's always appreciated and heartfelt. So you can imagine me and the Kiwi's suprise when, after eating ourselves sick, Carolina's mom picks up the tab at the bbq joint. Unbelievable. If you dwell on things at all it's food and you economics and she so sweetly took that one off our shoulders. What can you do for her? You are sincerely grateful and try to stay out of her olfactory's. Of course she's happy to see her daughter happy and healthy and enjoying her life with these strange people she's met. Perhaps to her it's a bit of magic back. I don't know and I feel it's silly to project. At any rate, Thanks!

After that me and the Kiwi (that means New Zealander...) end up at the Kroger's waiting to get picked up by a hiker-friend's dad who's willing to put us up for the night. He and his wife are longtime hiker's and maintain this section of the AT, so it's fun for them to be of help to hikers. The last thing I was expecting that day was for him to foot the bill for the Pizza Hut. If only the whole world was full of this kind of thing! But just maybe it is and all I ever needed to do was just pay better attention.

Jonathan

P.S. You should know that there are photos to be developed, but no one actually does 24 hour photo development anymore. At least not in Virginia. I have pictures of wild ponies, deer, snakes, rabbits and humans. You will have to wait.

Damascus, VA

Dear Friends,

So far I've not really been able to keep a blog going about this whole trail thing, but have decided that it's time I did as many of you seem to be interested in what it is I'm doing out here. I was keeping a whole lot of journal up until the Smoky Mountains but it's pretty time consuming and well, boring. If I"m writing I'd wrather write poems, or stories or songs. You know, dress it up a little. I have always been hesitant to start a blog because I don't feel that anyone's life is really any more interesting that anyone else's when you get down to it. So when you read what I'm up to please don't feel that what I'm doing on a given day is necessarily any more interesting that what you did. I want to know about your lives, too, because you are my friends.

Of course, I've had a lot of fun so far and have met a multitude of fun people and have seen some beautiful things and so forth. I'm doing what I want to do and that's that. I'll try to fill you in a little bit over the course of time about the previous 6 weeks but to do start this thing off in the past seems stupid to me, so I'll start it all off in Damascus, Virginia where I am right now. Here we go! Oh, I'll be including photos later as they get developed and put onto a CD.

I got into Damascus, Virginia this morning at about 10 o'clock after camping out in Tennesse just shy of the TN/VA border last night. Another lovely night out in the woods it was, too, as I found a great camp site just before it got dark at 8.30. I hit a little of the 100 proof and read a bit more of Conrad's Heart of Darkness before dozing off to the sound of the breeze slipping through the pines.

I hiked the remaining 7 miles into town and got to The Place...A hiker/biker hostel run by the Methodist Church on a donation basis. Very bare-bones, but when you're used to sleeping in the woods it's all the same. Actually it's not. I prefer the woods. Anyhow, I got to the breafast place known as Cowboys which is also part of the gas station and had a great breakfast of biscuits and gravy, eggs, bacon and coffee and also had a Lemon Moon Pie, two Raspberry Zingers and Goo Goo Cluster. I was hanging out with a few other hikers Duckie (who nearly got stranded on top of Roan Mountain) and also CRS (Can't Remember Shit) and her boyfriend who's name I now can't remember! Ha! We had a good time and before I left Jon from Johnson City in E. Tennessee had his girlfriend meet him out here and they sat down for some calories.

I went back to the hostel to shower before I hit town and went out to buy a pair of pants to cut off into some shorts. It's cold and all right now, but I anticipate summer will arrive shortly and want to be prepared. Besides, in these town settings you really want to wear different clothes. I bought a shirt for $3 in Erwin, TN a week and a half ago, and I was lucky enough here to find some jeans I then cut off into shorts. Not as short as Steven Tanner, but with courage I will get there! Now I'm at the library doing all this.

So the most interesting stuff to happen really happened last week. I left Erwin, TN a week ago Sunday and was set to hit Damascus in about 5 days. I got out later than I wanted to (2 PM) but managed to get about 10 to 12 miles in. I was hoping to night hike, but every time I thought I'd get to do so it go cloudy on me. I got up the next morning and headed off, hoping to get over Roan Mountain, notoriously the coldest spot on the AT. I get through Greasy Creek Gap with sleet starting to fall, and then snow and the cold is setting in for sure. I get to the next shelter (there are lean-tos or shelters about 7 - 10 miles along the trail) and see my friend Saw Man (he was a machine gunner in the Marines) and even though it's only 3 in the afternoon we both decide to hole up and get over it the next day. Duckie, Bryan and Selena go for it. The snow just keeps on coming.

I wake up the next morning and there's snow everywhere and more coming down. I am able to eventually get my gear packed up and hit the trail only to discover myself in a snow drift up to my knees after about 50 yards and an infinite amount of effort. I hike back down to the shelter to tell Saw Man that I'm heading back to the Gap to try to find some hidden hostel in the mountains even though it's very very hard to go backwards. I see no other viable option. It would turn out to be a wise move, and as it happens Saw Man and I embark on an adventure in the snowfall to find this hostel.

After a wrong turn, a complete lack of directionality and a few whims and a lark, Saw Man and I finally find this hostel known as Greasy Creek Friendly which is packed with plently of other filthy hikers by now. It's run by Connie, or CC, and it's about as cute as it gets. Stuck back in the mountains and heated by a wood stove we all sit around and play cards, watch movies and lament the weather. A few others straggle in throughout the day, but most hikers are stuck in Erwin at Uncle Johnny's place anyway at this point. Either that or they were able to get over Roan Mountain the previous day and were able to keep on keeping on.

The next day is much much nicer and Mule leaves after breakfast for Roan Mountain and beyond. He's been there for 4 days and can't take any more idleness. I decide to wait it out with the rest of everyone and hope that his footprints are there in the snow the next day for all of us to follow and not have to blaze it ourselves. You see, the blazes on the AT are 2x6 inch vertical rectangles and white. Snow is also white, and it's pretty tough to find them if the snow hits the tree the right way. We all go in to Johnson City, which is the nearest town to Greasy Creek Friendly and 45 minutes away and restock on our vices and food and gorge ourselves on Golden Corral. If you're not familiar with it, Golden Corral is a buffet of magnificent proportion, and these proportions of food are directly proportional to their clientele. It is all massive and awesome. There's several of us, including Saw Man, Jon, Patrick, Detour, and General and we gorge ourselves on Mac and Cheese, okra, steak, chicken, pizza, beans, pie, cake, ice cream...anything you can imagine. And all for less than $8. We hit the resupply, cram back in CC's jeep and go back to the tranquility of the Greasy Creek Friendly.

That night proves to be more resting than the previous because her crazy neighbor does not run his lawnmower at 4 in the morning or beat on pots and pans. He's a crazy old logger who just hates hikers for some eason, and he's under the delusion that by waking up at 4 in the morning and making noise he ruins our lives, but he's terribly mistaken. The lawnmower's actually kind of soothing and the stereo plays decent music. Local color.

The next morning I high-tail it out of there and get up to Roan Mountian. It's sunny and awesome out and it looks like a winter wonderland. The snow is very deep, but Mule (or maybe Ketchup's) footprints have led the way up the side of this monster and I find myself up at the top eventually. There used to be a motel up on top of it way way back in the day and it straddle the TN-NC state line. Drinking was legal in TN but not in NC, so the sherrif of NC would hang out on the NC side ready to arrest those who wandered over from TN with a drink. What a pain. That's people for you.

It's sunny, but stopping starts the body cooling down so I start off down the mountain to Carver Gap. Low and behold there's Trail Magic waiting for us. Ketchup (I'll telll you about Ketchup later on) has been manning the Trail Magic fort for several hours for El Jefe who's here with his wife from Chicago. Trail Magic is a term used to describe the benevolent act of those sit at roadsides waiting for through-hikers (as opposed to section hikers) to pass through so they can give them free food and stuff. It's as awesome as it sounds. El Jefe had chili, burgers, hotdogs, cornbread, cookies and even beer. After about a half hour there were many of us there having a ball.

I take off for the next destination of the day which is Overmountain Shelter, named after the Overmountain Men of the Revolutionary War. It's an old barn where a lot of of weekenders go because there's a road not too far from it I guess. The night was beautiful and we had a whole slew of us there just hanging out as the sun went down and the campfire rose. It was supposed to be a full moon that night, and low and behold it started to rise out of the next day's challenge - Hump Mountain. The forecast called for more rain, but you just don't know what's going to happen. The full moon rose over the mountain and out of the few whispy clouds and I do have to say it was one of the more incredible things I'd ever seen.

The next morning was clear and I hustled to get my stuff together. Clouds were starting to come over hump mountain and I figured it'd be a race to get over it before the rain began to fall.

You sort of feel ridiculous on the top of these old bald mountains as the rain and thunder beckon in the distance because you are the tallest thing up there and, unless your young, you inevitable have to aluminum poles in your hands to act as lightning rods. I hustled and flew over the thing and it began sleeting up there and then it began to rain. I got my rain jacket on just in time and managed to get back into the forest as the rain really began coming down.

The weather cleared out that afternoon, and it was a great hiking day. I got into the next shelter area around 6 o'clock or so and chose to stay. I do prefer tenting, but sometimes prudence dictates that you stick it out in a shelter. Besides, this shelter, also, was pretty awesome. A bizarre structure with two full levels and even an elevated third one way up in the rafters. I hang my poor socks up to dry and start dinner for the day which is mashed potatoes with tuna and hot chiles and garlic. People start rolling in, but so do more clouds and after a little bit we end up with a proper thunder storm. Saw Man comes in all drenched and joins me, Unplugge, Sam the Jam, Ketchup, Carolina and Spokes. A whole bunch of weekenders show up in full-on camo gear and take up the second tier with Saw Man and hang their stuff up to dry. Zen Master and General show up pretty late as they'd gotten lost on the same stretch that I and others did, too.

Then next morning was an early rise out of the shelter and on to Kincora, a famous donation-hostel run by AT legend Bob Peoples. It is also by now Saturday before Easter and a few of the hikers would like to get in for church. I get in at around 2 in the afternoon, and manage to catch a ride to town with everyone to do some resupply. I offer to cook dinner for the masses that day and everyone's cool with that so we ended up eating pasta with meat sauce, salad, garlic bread, brownies and ice cream. It was awesome. We also had eggs, biscuits and bacon the next morning too, and it only cost us each about $5. We stay up pretty late playing Hearts and chit-chatting. It's pretty cool again, but the sun does come out eventually.

I take off about 10.30 on Easter after calling the parents and manage to get about 20 miles out. It was a fantastic hike that day and I passed a massive waterfall, got to scramble over the rocks around a river and found a whole bunch of flowers that I was unfamiliar with, the most impressive of which were the Wild Bleeding Hearts. The flower book has come in very handy! I'm hoping to get close to Iron Mountain shelter, but due to more cloud cover coming in after dusk my night hiking experience is not to happen. At least not yet. I pitch my tent and camp solo. It's not too cold out there, but the wind picks up as I am on the ridge. It rains that night and the wind is howling in the morning, so I don't get moving until 10.30 again! I do manage to have another 20-plus mile day and even catch up to those who left well before me on Easter. I stopped at the Nick Grindstaff Memorial earlier on. Nick was a Hermit who had gone west to find his fortune in the 1800s but got robbed. He then went back to Iron Mountain to live the rest of his life, and the memorial is on a chimney which is, perhaps, the chimney he himself had built. It read: He Lived Alone, He Suffered Alone, He Died Alone. And yet there's this memorial to him! I bet you he'd be a little annoyed about it if he knew now. Maybe not, though.

I camp out that night not too far from the Virginia state line at a great camp site. I'm down off the top of the mountains and the wind is much calmer and the temperature much warmer (you know, about 4 or 5 degrees warmer...). I leave the next morning for Damascus, and, as you are aware, that's where I'm at now.

I'm staying here again tonight, and last night we all hung out at Dot's Inn where the jukebox is pretty good and the beer's pretty cheap. I'm leaving tomorrow for Mt. Rogers, and the it's supposed to be sunny skies and much warmer soon! The next stop will probably be Pearisburg, VA.

Later On,

Jonathan