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Sunday, March 19, was D-Day minus one. We were to meet the entire gang, most of whom we did not know. We got a message from Hopper that she would be arriving around noon, driven by her sister- and brother-in-law. But before she arrived, there was a knock on our door. We opened the door to an older couple: It had to be Honey and Bear, and it was. They came in and we had a bit of a visit. Honey is rather hard of hearing. Bear wanted to know what they could to help me. We really couldn’t think of anything. They offered to make a Walmart run for us. I thought that it might be wise for them to wait until Hopper arrived.

Hopper and her in-laws arrived a bit early. These are relatives through Hopper’s marriage to Mike. We had time for a little visit, although the room got pretty crowded. Hopper put down her pack and hiking poles. Then pizza arrived. Honey thought that people would be hungry, so had ordered a pizza to be delivered. She was thinking that the leftovers would feed the Clemson group, who were supposed to arrive around 2. It was such a kind and thoughtful thing to do. But a single pizza would not go far with hungry college students, particularly after five people had eaten from it.

We took the pizza out into the breakfast area where we had a chance to visit a bit. I was entrusted with the remaining few slices for the kids. Then Hopper’s in-laws headed out. Hopper and Honey and Bear set out to do a little shopping. They were concerned because there had been some reports of ice on the trail. And no one had ice cleats. They went off to try to find some and get other things from Walmart. They couldn’t find any cleats at the outfitter in town—as Hopper said, he was more a tourist outfitter than a hiking outfitter. So they called another outfitter (at Neel’s Gap?) and learned that that one had cleats. So Honey and Bear were going to go buy some. They had barely set off than Sean and his student group arrived.

I asked the woman at the front desk if we could spread out the content of the packs in the breakfast area so that we could do a pack shakedown. She said that we could not block the lobby. I said that we would be careful not to do so and that we would put back the breakfast room as we had found it.

So we met the Clemson Crew. They are Brad Bradley; Jimmy Knott; Lindsay Costin; Philip Gee. We would learn a great deal about them on the following days and come to admire them greatly. But for now we were focusing on how to pack what they needed to take.

We would be two packs short. I did not have a pack. And the person carrying would not have a pack. That meant that each pack would have content for more than one person. Hopper had bought a new, larger pack made of cuben fiber so the pack itself was light but very strong. She managed to carry most of the gear and such for Saint and me. But we had the risers for the cot that needed to be distributed: one set weighed about five pounds, and we had five sets, so each pack had one set. Thus the packs wound up being around 45 pounds or so. This is much heavier than a typical thru-hiker would want to carry. And, unlike with the Katahdin climb, there would never be a time when someone was not carrying something heavy: if it was not me, it would be a heavy pack. So people got no respite. We knew before we started that the small number was not ideal—having one or two more people would have made a huge difference because then the rotations would not have been as frequent and each pack would have not been so heavy. This was born out through experience.

Hopper took over with the pack shakedowns. Sean had done some work with the group before they came. Now Hopper had them empty their packs and went through each one with them. She also had them bring in my pile of gear and spread it out. I didn’t have to go through a real pack shakedown because Hopper had already done it with me many times over when we had weighed and listed everything that I might take. For the kids, though, it was eye opening. Hopper didn’t just tell them not to bring something: she explained why it would be an unnecessary luxury. She worked with the guys first, then took Lindsay, our lone female, off to the side and went through her pack with her. Soap, mouthwash and deodorant were all luxuries that people were told to leave behind. So were multiple changes of underwear. Hopper told Lindsay that she could always turn her pants inside out. The kids noted that they would get smelly. Hopper explained that everyone would acquire “Hiker Funk” and so it wouldn’t be noticeable. The Clemson group had a four-pack of toilet paper that got distributed. And they had a mountain of Mountain House meals that a company named “Campmor” had donated. They had food for Sunday through Wednesday, when Nate would leave us. Heidi would come pick him up and the Clemson gang would get its resupply then. So we had a definite place we had to get to by 10 a.m. Wednesday morning, when Heidi would arrive at a trailhead.

Hopper next instructed the kids on how to pack their packs—what should go in the bottom, what should go on top. She talked about pumping water and bear bags. She also asked about camping experience. None of the kids were hikers. Philip had done some camping. Jimmy is in ROTC, so they go out for field exercises on weekends and will go out for two weeks this summer. I don’t believe that Lindsay or Brad had ever camped out. For all of them this was going to be a huge stretch. But they were game.

After they had their packs packed with their items, all the packs needed to take a set of bedrisers. (There were five sets.) Someone had to take Saint’s food. Hopper took most of my things: tent, cot, air mattress, food, clothes, miscellaneous. This made for a heavy pack for her. She said the first time that she had started hiking the AT, she had weighed 110 pounds and her pack weighed more than 55. She had since learned to pack much lighter.

As they packed, I got a chance to talk a bit with the kids and started to figure out who was who. Nate, because of his experience, and Sean didn’t need pack shakedowns. The Clemson Crew were very interested in me and Saint, what our goals were, what had brought us to this point.

After we left Maine and really New England in general, the highway driving changed a good deal. We recalled that the interstates were really built for commerce—so that tractor trailers could move goods. Most of the highways were two lanes wide, with sometimes passing lanes on hills. Often we were one of the few cars on the road. It wasn’t unusual to be boxed in by trucks. The trucks generally drove really well. But it could be a bit unnerving. Some of the trucks were tandem tractor trailers, so that made driving even more interesting.

We noticed other things in our driving. Maine has a billboard law. Many of the states in our travels did not. That billboard law really does a good job of preserving some of the natural beauty of the land. Maine (and apparently many New England states) must also have a law against adult entertainment stores. We had them in Michigan and North Dakota. But I don’t recall seeing them in Maine or New England. Perhaps that hearkens back to the blue laws and puritanical standards. But with the Internet, I wondered why people would need such stores.

After Pennsylvania, we were in Maryland and then West Virginia for a very short time. We did see a sign for Harper’s Ferry and gave a shout out to ATC and to Pete Roe. But we plugged on. Finally, we entered Virginia and after a bit, came to our destination for the night: Troutville, Virginia. They had been so nice before we even arrived. I had forgotten to cancel one of my nights staying there. They called me on the night of March 16 at around 10 p.m., asking if I would still be arriving. I was appalled that I had forgotten to contact them. I apologized profusely. Since they have a 6 p.m. cancelation policy, they could have easily charged me for the night of March 16. But they did not do so.

I got an education at Troutville. They are experiencing some construction, so actually getting to them was a bit of a trick. I don’t always think of Virginia as the real South, but it clearly is. The woman who called to check on us on March 16 and the woman who checked us in sounded very southern. And she described the extensive breakfast offerings, including sausage gravy and biscuits—true southern fare. It was raining in Troutville. The weather for our trip had not been fantastic—drizzly and cool, but no snow or ice. Our room had an outside entrance, but we were able to unload without too much trouble. The next day was to be a pretty short day—only about five hours to Dahlonega. When I had talked with Sean that Monday, he had suggested that Saint and I stop by on our way to Dahlonega. We debated whether to stay in Troutville for two nights. The room was very reasonable. The room at Dahlonega was much costlier. But we thought that it was probably wise to try to arrive on Saturday and then have that night to rest and catch our breath before meeting up with the rest of our team on Sunday.

Sean had suggested that we stop by to see him on our way to Dahlonega. He said that he was only about 90 minutes from there. So we decided to go slightly out of our way to visit briefly. We started off on Saturday morning in drizzle and 40s. But the weather improved as we went. We drove more in Virginia, then North Carolina then into South Carolina. We got to Sean’s in the early afternoon.

Sean welcomed us cordially. He had met with the Clemson kids that morning to go over information. He wanted to welcome us to his house, but had underestimated how inaccessible it was. It looks like a lovely colonial—with lots of steps. He had some skate board jumps that he got out of the garage, but they were much too steep. He had no planks and couldn’t borrow anything appropriate. So we sat outside for a visit. Saint and I both had some water. We met more of Sean’s family, too. We met his youngest son, Nate, who was going to go with us for three days of the hike. Nate is 15 and quite fit. He and Sean have done a lot in Boy Scouts together. They spent a couple of weeks this past summer doing an extensive hike in New Mexico. I’m not sure why Nate wanted to take part, but he was game. It would be a challenging environment for him, since the next youngest person would be 19 going on 20 and a college student.

We met Sean’s wife, Heidi, who had been napping, but came out on the steps to see us. And we met their dog, who is a Catahoula Leopard Dog. We stayed for a couple of hours, learning a bit more about Sean and Heidi’s backgrounds. They both grew up in Utah. Heidi works from home. The house is close to a lake—the one on which the movie “Deliverance” was filmed. That’s a movie in which some mountain men kidnap a group floating down a river in the south and abuse them. Probably just as well not to share that fact with the folks at home who were already worried about Saint and me.

The trip from Sean’s to Dahlonega was supposed to take a couple of hours. One thing that we were learning about the South was that almost any paved two lane road was called a highway. So we went on a lot of “highways” to Dahlonega—but no interstates. I still use my Garmin, much to Sharon’s chagrin. She much prefers Google maps on her iPhone. I should have listened to her. Garmin took us down something called “Sandy Bottom Road.” They weren’t kidding when they called it “sandy bottom”: it isn’t paved. Yet Garmin expected us to go 30 mph. No way. Then we came to a one-lane bridge. I was beginning to wonder what kind of place Dahlonega could be. But it’s a good-sized place with a number of hotels/motels, restaurants, shopping. It’s quite a tourist draw. It claims to be the site of the first gold rush in the United States.

We were happy to find the Holiday Inn Express, on a hillside. The weather was cool and very windy. We were also happy to check and find that our room was still reserved (some were being turned away). We asked if we could leave our van there while we hiked. The lady at the desk said that that was fine but the Holiday Inn would not be responsible.

The inn itself was overrun by hikers. There were a lot of young people, particularly young men, clad in hiking clothes. Saint and I did not exactly fit the stereotype. We wondered if people would be surprised that we are hikers.

When we went outside to get a load from the car, we heard someone call “hello.” Although I couldn’t imagine that we would know anyone there, we turned instinctively. There was Miss Janet, a lady whom we had met at the ALDHA Gathering. Miss Janet takes care of hikers—shuttles them from place to place, feeds them at a hostel, is a trail angel and does some trail magic. She asked if she had not met me at ALDHA. I said yes. She asked if we were preparing to start our hike and again I said yes. She asked if Hopper and Honey and Bear were around. I said that I expected them tomorrow. She said that Honey and Bear had been around for a while. She had been up to Springer recently and had just missed them doing some trail magic. She asked if they were staying at the campground and I said that I thought so.

I told Miss Janet that we were to meet our first hiking group, a team from Clemson, the next day. I told her that we did not have a team lined up right away for after that. She said that she had some ideas for that. She said that she would like to be there when we started out. She said that she had a friend who cannot walk whom people got through Georgia last year.

It was nice to see someone so supportive and nice. She didn’t manage to catch up with us for the start of the trail. When I mentioned seeing her to Hopper, Hopper said that Miss Janet probably wound up tending some hikers—that’s what always happens.

In our next blog I’ll talk about meeting Honey, Bear, Hopper’s in-laws and the Clemson Crew; pack shakedowns; and our exciting first week on the trail. So please check back and in the meantime, please remember that It’s All About the Journey.

For some time, we’d planned to leave Maine on Wednesday, March 15. I wanted to be well on our way for my birthday, which is March 16. By leaving on Wednesday, it would give me the chance to have one last class meeting with my students (all my classes are on Tuesdays and Thursdays). So we packed up as much as we could ahead of time and tried to shepherd our students through everything on Monday and Tuesday, March 13 and 14. But we didn’t completely count on Mother Nature. A robust NorEaster hit late Tuesday and raged through the night and into Wednesday.

My sister, Sharon, was very concerned that me being me, I’d try to head out very early on Wednesday, regardless. She pointed out that starting with an accident would not be auspicious. I’m determined but not completely foolhardy. So I decided to hedge my bets. I had scheduled an appointment for my van, Miracle, for first thing on Wednesday, March 15. But in case I couldn’t get out on time, I also scheduled time on Thursday, March 16. I had planned to break my drive south down into three stops. The first was to be close to Sharon for two nights. The next was to be in Troutville, VA, close to Roanoke. And the final stop was to be in Dahlonega, GA, the closest good-sized town to the start of the AT at Springer Mountain. To further hedge my bets, I made a reservation for the night of March 15 in Augusta. I figured that if the weather was bad in the morning but cleared, we could drive down to Augusta in the afternoon, stay the night, then go on to Gray and get Miracle fixed first thing.

So that’s what happened. We stayed late at school on Tuesday night but got out before the driving was truly terrible. Then we went home and finished getting ready and packing. By mid-morning, the snow was abating and roads were becoming clear. We left between noon and 1 p.m. It was a strange feeling leaving home for what could be a long time. We had a good support team in place: my friends Kim-Anne Perkins, Deb Roark, and Ann Osgood for sending me supplies, looking after the mail, getting bills paid, etc.; and Jason Thompson and his crew to look after the house itself. So we knew that it would be OK. But we’d never been away from home for so long before. And we were headed off for a pile of uncertainty, to say the least. So we had very mixed feelings driving off that day.

The roads were in really good shape by this time and we made excellent time to Augusta. We arrived before dark. We weren’t able to park in our usual spot that gives good access to the front door because the Quality Evergreen had not shoveled the striping beside the accessible parking spot. But we battled with the non-automatic door on the back and managed to get settled. Because I was traveling for a nonprofit, the Quality Evergreen gave us a good rate. And now a refrigerator and microwave come standard in every room, so we were able to heat something for supper.

The car was packed to the roof. Deb Roark had been out to the house the previous Saturday, taking down the cot and packing it up along with the air mattress and other camping things. We got a lot of the camping things into a big cardboard box that we put on the front passenger seat. Al had crammed the hiking wheelchair into the space that forms an L in the back of the van. He came out to the house on Tuesday night to put in other things such as the Jac Pack. (He was staying at UMPI on Tuesday night so that he could be there early to do plowing.) As we traveled, we didn’t take out anything from the front passenger side or from the alcove in the back of the van. All along the way we tried to limit our trips at night to two or three, taking in the suitcase, the duffle bag, the computer and some food (cold and packaged). So we settled in and got ready for a big next day.

We packed up on Thursday, March 16, and got to Mobility Works just as it was opening. I was apologetic that I hadn’t called to say that we wouldn’t arrive until Thursday but Barry said that that was OK—they hadn’t even been open on Wednesday. (Good thing that we didn’t push to get down then.) We weren’t stopping for our regular servicing but because we had tried to swap the passenger seat into the driver’s position and couldn’t quite get it to lock into place. We had tried this when Teri had visited last and Al had come by with our adaptive gear to try. Al is so clever and versatile, it was hard to believe that he couldn’t make the seat lock in—but he could not. We hadn’t swopped the seat in a long time. We thought that it would be necessary to swop the seat during the ATA because we wanted to make it possible for other people to be able to drive Miracle.

They took Miracle right in. It took a bit of time to fix the seat. They had to move some parts. I asked the mechanic why that was necessary, since we had been able to move the seat in past years. He said that the seat snapped in fine on the passenger side but that in time, the weight of the wheelchair on the driver’s side had made the floor less tight. He also showed me a few tricks to get the seat locked into place. He showed me the strongest part of the seat—part of the metal frame. It’s fine to push down on that but not on the plastic, which is pretty fragile.

We were able to head out in late morning on our way to Sharon’s. We were also in conversation with Kim-Anne about trying to get some of the UMPI students to come south and hike with us. The UMPI spring break was the last week in March—about the latest of any college or university. That didn’t work out because the distance was just too great—none of the students could afford the long trip down.

We got to the Residence Inn in Avon around 3, so we could check in. Sharon was tending her dogs and came along shortly thereafter. I was getting settled. She came in and we talked for a bit to catch up. I had planned to arrive on March 15 and have a longer visit with her and also see Babe and Jo. The best laid plans…. S said that she had the ramps up for her house and that she had had her plow people shovel. She had also had help from a neighbor and her son who was home from college. So I could have gone to her house and gotten in. She had some food for me that was left from New Year’s. I pointed out that it was my birthday, which she had forgotten. So we decided to go out to Abigail’s. As she said, each time that I visit she thinks that it will be her last time to go there. We had a nice dinner and a good chance to talk. She’s having a very challenging time getting through all of the paperwork in the aftermath of Garrett’s death. And going through everything in the house seems endless. The house is so big and had so much space. So she saved everything—every paper that Megan ever produced, for example. Everything has memories and takes time. She would like to get out the house and move closer to Megan. She said that there is really nothing that ties her to the Hartford area and she never really liked it. But she can’t go without getting things much more settled.

We were up much later than I thought that we would be, talking. And I wanted to get up and on the road early to avoid traffic around major cities such as NYC and Washington, D. C. We were so impressed that Sharon dragged herself out of bed to come see us off. Parting was a bit hard. We were going off into uncertainty. And she was left sorting through memories and with so much difficulty.

Friday was March 17, St. Patrick’s Day. We wondered if there would be a lot of extra traffic around the big cities because of that and because it was the start of a weekend. This was the day that we drove through the most states.

We started out in Connecticut, then moved on to New York. There was a lot of traffic, but it moved along steadily. We were on a lot of parkways. Many of them did not allow big trucks. Although we went close to the city, we certainly didn’t go through it. We also didn’t cross the George Washington Bridge. We took the Tappan Zee into New Jersey.

As a child, I’m sure that we drove through New Jersey. Dad had taken on us trips, sometimes driving us out to Utah. But I didn’t remember anything about it. New Jersey is often the butt of jokes—perhaps because it’s like a step-sibling of New York. So we didn’t know what to expect. But during our limited time passing through, it seemed quite nice.

After New Jersey we drove into Pennsylvania. We were going to be traveling through there for quite some time. I knew that we must be in Pennsylvania, because we had barely crossed the border when we came upon a Waffle House. One of my students this semester, when we did the rural development exercise about what would be their ideal business for Aroostook County, answered without hesitation that it would be a Waffle House because the closest one was in Pennsylvania. And so it was.

Pennsylvania was really lovely. We went by signs for larger cities, but mainly were driving through the western part of the state and farm country. I would have liked to stop periodically to take photos, but this was to be our longest driving day and I didn’t know how bad the traffic would be in Virginia. So other than stopping to get gas or for a short break, we pressed on.