Welcome to my blog.
Expect reflections on long distance hiking, hiking culture, nature, creativity and my undying love for backrests.
All tagged benton mackaye trail
I’m getting my trail legs, now. And it feels good to move, even uphill. It feels good to feel good.
Day of views, bears, moving goalposts, life-defying feats on rickety fire towers.
Day hikers continue to surprise me with their questions.
Day 24 involved an unscheduled trip to Cherokee. And Cherokee is definitely a trip.
There are always good things, even on the worst days. And today ranked up there as one of the worst if you were inclined to look at it that way.
The crowds thinned out on the other side of the long, creepy tunnel at the end of the creepily-named “Road to Nowhere.” No one left out here but me and a couple of fishermen. And lots and lots of big rushing creeks.
One of the big perks of hiking the Benton MacKaye Trail during a pandemic is how effortless it is to stay socially distant. I saw one other human on the 14.7 miles of trail I hiked today. Which is exactly how many bobcats I saw, too.
Not one drop of rain. Not one flesh-eating bug. Not one bramble.
Today was a good day to resume this obscure hiking project.
When I woke up this morning to a steady rain, I remembered the first rule of long distance hiking—Hike Your Own Hike. And I remembered my friend Pattie’s one rule of life—if it’s not fun, don’t do it.
So I said “Fuck it,” and went home. I’ll come back when the rain, the bugs and the brambles all stop.
At least when I found myself pushing through six foot tall weeds, unsure if I was following a hiker trail or a trail made by feral pigs, those weeds were dry and this was a second day free from rain. It wasn’t always easy to find the bright side, today.
There’s always at least one day on a long distance hike where it feels like no matter how far I hike, I never seem to get any closer to my destination. Today was that day.
