E’RE 600 miles into our walk north, and spring is overtaking us. Dogwood trees are in full bloom, with wild azalea bushes underneath. The forest floor is carpeted with wild flowers — purple violets, yellow dandelions, and a multitude of white flowers whose names we do not know. Ann says we don’t need to name things to enjoy their beauty. But the wild purple irises are our favorite. Lining the path, they look like miniature purple orchids with just a hint of gold at the base of their petals.
We like to get an early start each day. As soon as it is light enough to see, I put on water for tea and hot chocolate while Ann stuffs my sleeping bag. As she drinks her second cup, I eat a hot breakfast of oatmeal, honey, butter, milk and raisins. Then I pack
while she eats, and we’re off hiking.
Recently several of our younger friends were night hiking under the full moon. One morning we awoke at 4:30 to give it a try. Ann led the way holding the flashlight. The moon shone so brightly that she used it only occasionally. Even the 2-inch by 6-inch white blazes marking the trail could usually be seen without the light. The soft moon shadows of the woods around us gave the feeling of walking in an enchanted forest.
As we descended the mountain the moon illuminated a fog bank convering the valley floor. Soon we were in the fog, picking our way across a mountain meadow as the first light of dawn appeared. The calls of a few owls gave way to a chorus of songbirds making their way north with spring. We hiked 22 miles that day, our longest so far, but 12 to 15 miles is normal. Our feet seem to be getting acclimated to the daily pounding and no longer require periodic applications of Vaseline and Moleskin.
We like to arrive at the shelter by late afternoon. I go to the spring for water while Ann lays out our plastic sheet, Therma-rest pads, and sleeping bags. We usually have a cup of soup and time for stretching exercises, writing and reading before supper. When it’s too dark to read we’re asleep.
When we started, the majority of hikers were young men in their early 20s. Some of them have lost interest or run short of money, and the average hiker age has increased. These were our hiker companions last week:
• Hope and Blueberry, newly married couple from Maine, ages 24 and 28.
Instructors at an Eckerd outdoor camp for youth.
• Peter Pan, age 38 from Columbia, S.C. Teaches learning-disabled children.
• Doc, age 28 from Spencer, Mass. Office manager and volunteer emergency medical technician.
• Hobbitt and Evenstar, age 34 and 29, from Kentucky. He creates television advertising, she is a psychiatric nurse. They hiked the trail in ’91 and are back again this year.
• Walking Turtle, age 62, retired telephone company employee. Lives in Virginia on a farm that has been in his family over 200 years.
The hallmark of a sucessful thru-hiker is low pack weight. We’ve worked hard on keeping ours down. Yesterday Ann’s pack weighed 22 pounds. Mine was down to 31 pounds. It’s amazing how little you need to get along in this world.
