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The Hand of God

Wednesday, July 14th, 2010

It had to happen eventually. After over six weeks of hiking on the Appalachian Trail, I was finally passed by a thru-hiker who left after my departure date of May 28th. At mile 713, I was passed by a young 22-year old recent college grad from Maine, Apocalypse. At about 7:00 last night at Lamberts Meadow Shelter, he had come in after going his typical 20 mile day. He’s not had a zero day either since he left Springer Mountain the first week of June, a little more than a week after me. He was hiking with a buddy, who hurt himself as they were going so fast, and had to drop off the trail. With the job market as it is, he decided to take the summer to hike the AT. He’s good, young, lean, and fast. I left the shelter at 6:35 yesterday morning to make the 10 miles down to Troutville before noon for my next well-deserved zero day. After about four miles, I heard Apocalypse clanking up the trail at well over 3 mph, which is fast for the AT. We hiked together for awhile, but I let him pass me. Oh well.

Maybe 34 years ago I could keep up with him, but not now. I know my physical limitations, and I’m not going to kill myself to keep up with him. I watched the MLB All-Star Game last night, and didn’t see any players over 40. Most are in their 20’s and early 30’s. Age happens, and it diminishes some of our physical abilities and skills. While hiking the AT is very physically demanding, it is not all about speed, strength, and physical skills. It’s mainly mental, with passion, determination, and as my son says stubbornness playing a major role, which is where I have the advantage over most. This deal is not all about me–it’s about others, about showing compassion. That’s why after over six weeks, I have passed about 30 thru-hikers that I know of, hundreds of section hikers, and probably well over 1,000 hikers who intended to thru-hike, but have quit before even making to central Virginia where I am right now. In fact, 30% don’t even make it out of Georgia.

After leaving Pearisburgh last week, the weather was hot, dry, and the steams and springs were drying up. Finding good water was becoming an issue, so I was carrying more water than before. It was a long stretch of about 90 miles before my next hotel and re-supply stop in Troutville, so I had to find a way to re-supply, take a shower, do laundry, etc. Ron, the local hiker who I had hiked with going into Bland last week, had the solution. He knew a young

Ron, my new hiking buddy from Virginia, taking a break at a stream.

couple that lived up in the mountains, not far from the AT. He had been J.B. Bean’s pastor and worked with him when he was a youth at church camp. So Ron gave me their number, and J.B. and his wife Dannette graciously agreed to pick me up along one of the small Virginia roads which cross the AT, about halfway into my 94 mile journey to Troutville.

My re-supply package had not made it to Pearisburgh, so I had to stop at the local grocery store to buy stuff to eat for the next few days. After getting the best $10 buzz haircut and beard trim I’ve ever had (sorry Ronnie), eating at a great little Mexican restaurant, and going for a brief swim, had a good night of sleep at the Motel in Pearisburgh.

Running a ridge in Virgina

I had over 20 miles to cover on my way up to Pine Branch Shelter. After a quick and pretty good breakfast at the Dairy Queen, I walked the mile down to where the AT come into Pearisburgh and headed north. After crossing over a large bridge over the New River, the trail eventually headed up another ridge with a climb of about 2,000′. That’s pretty common now in Virginia–climbing up to run a ridge (where I can sometimes get good cell phone coverage), with some ups and downs on top, and then dropping into a valley or town. Then you climb to the next ridge and run it awhile. I’m trying to plan so that the big climbs are in the cooler mornings, when I am fresher. After actually taking a brief nap around noon, I headed off up the trail, and as I turned the corner, there was a big, beautiful, black bear in the trail just looking at me. I scrambled to pull out my camera and IPhone to get a picture, as he was just looking at me for about 8 seconds. He then scurried up into the woods, but stopped again to look back at me to check me out. I then got a picture, which you can barely see the big black bear in the woods. He (I’m assuming it was a male, as I didn’t see any cubs) was beautiful, and I’m glad he was scared of humans, as they almost always are in Virginia I’ve been told by Ron.

The black furry blob in the middle is a black bear. He was up the mountain in a flash.

I saw few people on the trail that day, but did run into a southbound section hiker, who reminded me of a place to sty called The Captain’s Place. I remember seeing it in one of my books, but had forgotten about it. It was about a mile past my intended destination, so after visiting with a hiker at the shelter, told her I was moving on to stay at The Captain’s Place. On down the trail, I walked along a large stream, and came upon a zip line leading to a home on the other side of the creek. The Captain’s two black dogs greeted me with their friendly barking and wanting to play sticks, as I zipped

The Captain zipping my pack accross the creek

first my pack and them myself across the creek. The Captain is a Marine Vietnam Vet, who has welcomed hikers into his home for years. After greeting me, he gave me a cold pop from his fridge, which I quickly gulped, and then drank another. He had a towel and washcloth ready for me to take a shower, as I was drenched in sweat and dirty from the long, hot day. He allows hikers to pitch their tents in his lawn, but since I was the only hiker there that day, I slept in in by bag on his cool, back porch. After cooking my dinner, and drinking more pops (they were are so good after a long day of hiking), we visited in his living room for over an hour, before hitting the sack. The Captain works at the big plant outside of Pearisburgh, which manufactures much of the material that is in cigarette filters and other products. He was going to work early, and told me to just fix a pot of coffee, make myself at home, and leave whenever I wanted to. Since I had a shorter day the next day, I was going to sleep in somewhat and take my time in the morning to enjoy a rare cup of coffee.

The Captain

The Captain is one of the reasons the AT is such a unique experience. Here’s a guy who welcomes total strangers into his home, trusts them, gives them free pop, and asks nothing in return. What a guy! He has hiked much of the AT in sections, and in fact he’s hiking the 100 mile wilderness in Maine and up to Mt. Katahdin in mid to late August with two other ladies. That’s when I’ll be heading south from Katahdin, so I’ll probably run into him then. I enjoyed my time at the Captains Place. It’s too bad we don’t share with and help others as much as we should, many whom we even know, as the Captain does with weary hikers whom he doesn’t even know.

The next day I met Danette, J.B.’s wife, down at the road which crosses the AT. It was a beautiful hike of about 10 miles, so was there by noon to wait for her. She had to go to Blacksburgh for a

Dannette on her porch in SW Virginia

Wal Mart stop, which was about 20 minutes down the road. Blacksburgh reminds me of Stillwater, and Virginia Tech reminds me of Oklahoma State, my university. After buying more trail food, eating at Wendy’s and drinking plenty of cold Coke, we went up to their home in the country. The Virginia valleys are beautiful. Their home overlooked a small valley with forested hills all around, with National Forest all around. After taking a shower, doing laundry, and resting somewhat, I decided to press on the next 10 miles to Niday Shelter. They had invited me to stay the night, but I was feeling great, and for some reason felt like I needed to get to Troutville earlier. My mom was very ill, and I was thinking that I may need to get home before I hit Harper’s Ferry. So after Dannette drove me the eight miles or so to the trail head where she had picked me up earlier, I was back on the AT at about 4:30.

I flew up the trail, with a climb of about 1,500′ before hitting the ridge. Along the way, I passed the largest Oak tree on the southern AT–the Kiefer Oak. It was huge, with a girth of 18′. It’s estimated to be 300 years old–even older than our country! With the sun getting lower into the evening, it was slightly cooler, so I covered the 10 miles at a pace of almost 3 mph, which is fast. I hit Niday Shelter well before dark, where two young college students, Nick and Brian from Richmond, were there. After another yummy dinner, I hit the sack at hiker bedtime–about 9:00.

The Kiefer Oak Tree

I got up early and left, determined to hike the 24 miles to Catawba, where a great place to eat was located. The Homeplace is a famous all you can eat restaurant, located in the rural Catawba valley. I was ready to eat, and eat well, so I moved at a quick pace to get there before the 6:00 closing time. All was going well, until I hit the climb up to Dragon’s Tooth. The guidebook showed it to me a moderate climb up and down, but it turned out to be one of the toughest 4 mile sections I’ve encountered on the AT. It was steep and rocky. It was very hot, and I was running out of water again. After finally reaching the top, the trail led down steep rocky inclines, many of which I had to scoot down on my rear. I was doing good to go at a pace of about .5 mph, picking down the steep, rocky path. I have heard of too many hikers slipping, falling, and ending their trip with a broken ankle or leg, sprained ankle, or other injuries, so I try to be very deliberate and careful in these situations. I decided that I was not going to make the 24 mile hike, and could catch an earlier road which would still take me into Catawba so I could eat at the Homeplace. I had to eat there at all costs. Good food is precious on the AT, especially for me in my attempt to keep a decent amount of weight on.

Dragon's Tooth Trail

At about 3:30, I made it down to VA 785 and hitched a ride for the 5 miles or so up the valley to the Homeplace. I was hot, tired, and thirsty, after 16.5 miles of hard hiking. It was busy on this Sunday afternoon as usuall, so still had to wait awhile even in late afternoon to get my table. I was not dissapointed. They served bowls of fried chicken, roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy, green beans, cole slaw, beans, baked apples, rolls, lemonade, cherry cobler with ice cream, and of course, cold pop. I got my money’s worth and took my time, taking time to visit again with a family of folks from all over on a family reunion, whom I’d met on the trail down Dragon’s Tooth who were there for dinner also.

After dinner, I walked down the road to the Catawba General Store. Although they were closed, they allow hikers to camp behind their store in the lawn, so I made my bed in the grass there behind a shed. It was the first time I’d camped out in the open away from trees or a shelter, so I could actually see the stars appear in the night sky for the first time. I wondered If my Son Jake was looking at the same stars from his vantage point in Afghanistan.

The next day the store was open, so I bought some breakfast there, got some fresh Power Aids for the trip, and had a cold Pepsi for the road. After easily hitching a ride back up to where I had kicked off the AT the previous day, I was back on the trail again. It was great hiking, through some private farmland in the valley with easments through them. I loved hiking through these sections, as it was a good change in scenery from miles upon miles of nothing but dense

Early morning in the Catawba Valley

trees and forrest. My eyeballs have probably set eye on millions of trees by now. I like trees, but it’s obvious that I love the grasslands. That’s how I make my living–caring for grass. I love to see the expanse of the landscape, with the great varieties of grasses, wildflowers, with the backdrop of towering mountains. Much of the valleys are private land though, so the government has either purchased small sections or have easments through these lands where the AT is located.

Looking out on top of McAfee Knob in the rain

I took many breaks this day, as the scenery was beautiful, going from the grassy meadows up to the rocky cliffs and mountain ledges. I had about 16.8 miles to cover, but the weather turned cooler, as I had to bring out my rain jacket for the first time in almost four weeks. I walked the gradual climb up to McAfee Knob in the light rain, reaching the top just in time for lunch. I was greeted by a nice group of five ladies from Virginia and West Virginia, out on a day hike. We visited for about 15 minutes, took pictures of each other, and they shared some fresh brownies with me. After they left, I had to huddle under my tarp to eat my lunch out of the rain. The trail continued along the ridge, dipping into the forrest, and then rising up along the cliffs. With the rain, I was up in the clouds, so did not enjoy what normally would be a great view down into the valley.

It began to rain very hard a little after lunch, so I was passing a shelter and decided to duck in for a break and wait out the rain. After sweltering in the heat the previous day, I got chilled today, but it felt pretty good. I laid in the shelter just listening to the rain for almost two hours, collecting rainwater from the roof for my water bottles. As the rain let up, I geared up and headed up the trail, passing along Tinker Cliffs a few hours later. By this time, the clouds had lifted somewhat, allowing a partial view down into the valley below. It was beautiful.

Looking out over Tinker Cliffs

The clouds lift along Tinker Cliffs

I was only a mile or so from my destination, Lamberts Meadow Shelter, reaching it about 6:00 to be greeted by Rich, a section hiker from Conneticut. Rich has been hiking part of the AT for many years, with this being his last section in Virgina to complete. Later that evening, Speedy Gonzales, the young thru-hiker from Maine I referenced earlier showed up, but he hadn’t passed me yet! You know the drill–another yummy dinner and off to bed at 8:30 or so.

Upon hiking 10 miles and reaching the town of Troutville, I walked about 1/4th of a mile up to Wendy’s for an early lunch at 11:00. Hamburgers, fries, and Cokes taste so good after being on the trail. It was about 1.2 miles down the highway and up another highway to the the Holiday Inn Express, so I tried to hitch. After more than 200 cars drove by, I gave up. What a difference it makes hitching a ride in the city on a busy street with busy drivers leading busy lives, versus hitching a ride in rural areas, where I sometimes got a ride with the first thumb in the air. So I just walked along the busy highway, and I was really glad to see the nice, new Holiday Inn Express.

After a good shower, washing all my very dirty clothes, I picked up my package from home. I was anxiously waiting not just the re-supply, but a Fathers Day letter from my son Jake that he’d written from Afghanistan and sent home. Becky put it into the box for me to read. Allow me to be very personal, as I read a brief excerpt from his letter, which had me in laughter, and in tears at the same time. Jake was giving me some advice on how to conquer the AT.

“There have been many times in the lst year; Crucible, SOI Hikes, long runs, 3 day patrol here, where I thought I was done and couldn’t take another step. Once you break through that barrier in your mind the first time you can do it anytime you want. It wasn’t muscles or fitness that got me through, just plain determination. Anytime you think you might be wearing down just think of me out here. I had all my gear plus a missle and we had to run up the mountain under fire to get a javelin shot cause there was a squad of Marines pinned down on the other side. Halfway up I was gone but I knew my brothers on the other side needed the missle on my back to move. It felt like someone had their hand on my back pushing me uphill and I ended up being the first one up to the top. I knew it was an Angel just shoving me up the mountain. I say a prayer for you multiple times every day. Just take it day by day, step by step, and stay focused on your gaol and I know you will get there sooner or later.”

Jake with his 60 lb. Javelin Missle on his back. My little 29 lb backpack is like a walk in the park compared to his 100 lbs of gear, dodging bullets, in 130 degree heat.

Jake’s javelin missle took care of business by the way and freed up those Marines. He has taken care of many scumbags during his deployement there. There is no doubt in my mind, that it was the Hand of God, in the form of an Angel, leading and pushing Jake up that hill. He and his fellow Marines are in my and many others prayers constantly. He is one of the big reasons I am supporting the Folds of Honor Foundation as one of the charities in this AT2010 Compassionate Journey. There have been soldiers from Jake’s unit killed in action, some with families, and they deserve our support and help. I am very proud of Jake (as I am all of our kids) and am looking forward to seeing him again in a few months as he greats his new twin daughers into their growing family.

That same Hand of God has been very evident to me as He is all over this journey. In Psalms 139:5, scripture says, “You have enclosed me behind and before, And laid your hand upon me.” While my journey and current mission is not nearly as dangerous and important as Jake’s, it’s what I was born to do at this point in my life. Hiking the AT is my mission. I just don’t have to worry about stepping on an IED, or being shot at by cowards in turbins. Nontheless, that same Hand of God has guided me every step of the way. I see it in the people who help me, who are supporting me, in my circumstances and the things that occur along the trail. I have felt times that physically He has helped me, and He is here. And as Christians, we should be seeing and feeling that Hand of God in all that we do, whether in working, in our families, in school, at Church, at war, or in hiking the Appalachian Trail.

I could not sleep well last night. After staying up till midnight to watch the National League finally win an All-Star Game, I just dozed until 4:00. All the Cokes and sweet tea I had during the early and late dinner I had may have contibuted, but for some reason, I was in tears at 4:00 as I was thinking about my ailing mother, and Jake in harms way. As I was starting to write this blog this morning at the hotel, my wife called in tears and informed me that my Mom had passed away in her sleep, it seems at about the same time I was in tears. Mom has battled many health problems for the past four years, and within the past few weeks has taken a turn for the worse. A few weeks ago, I was thinking that I may not make it to Harper’s Ferry for the halfway point on my journey on August 2nd, as I would need to come home. Her health was one of the factors in my decision as to whether to hike the AT this year or not. Mom assured me many times that she wanted me to do this, and not to worry about her. That was just like her–to want the best for her son.

The week before Mom died, my wife was reading Psalms 139 to Mom. She understood, and was coherent, which has not been consistent for the past week or so. Mom is now in those same Hands of God now–forever. It’s right where she needs to be, and where I’ve prayed for her to be for sometime now. I’ll be taking a break from the AT for about a week, flying home in the morning, but hitting the trail again next week sometime more determined than ever. I was getting on a roll, stabilizing my trail weight at about 170 lean pounds, with healthy feet, and feeling great. After almost seven weeks of living on the trail, it was beginning to feel comfortable. But it will be good to be at home and see my family. And, my son Luke will be able to add to my little collection of music and podcasts on my IPod. I’m getting a little tired of listening to the same stuff day after day.

A Brad Paisley song I’ve heard countless times during the past few weeks actually speaks of the Hand of God. I suggested we play it during Mom’s funeral service, but my wife didn’t think that would be good. She said we could do it me me when I die, which would be fine with me. Here’s how some of the lyrics go:

When I get where I’m goin’ , they’ll be only happy tears. I will shed the sins and struggles I have carried all these years. And I’ll leave my heart wide open. I will love and have no fear. Yea when I get where I’m goin’, Don’t cry for me down here. When I get where I’m goin’, and I see my maker’s face. I’ll stand forever in the light of His amazing grace!

I thank God that my mother, who helped mold me into who I am today. We were able to share our lives on earth for 56 years of my life. She’s had a great life on earth for 87 years, with a great marriage of over 60 years to my Dad. She and Dad dropped off my brother and I on our very first backpacking trip in the mountains of Colorado when I was about 14 years old. She even went on one with us when her and Dad were in late 40’s or early 50’s I believe. She is where she needs to be now though–in the perfect Hands of God.

If I take the wings of the dawn, If I dwell in the remotest part of the sea, Even there Your Hand will lead me, and Your right hand will lay hold of me. Psalms 139:9-10

Posted in AT2010, Afganistan, Appalachian Trail, Charity, Marines, Prayer, Virginia | 24 Comments »

Lost

Wednesday, July 7th, 2010

It was sad to say bye to my wife again for another month as I was dropped off on the AT just north of Atkins, VA. It was a beautiful cool day under bright blue skies as I headed north through a hillside pasture before once again entering the woods. I just had under 13 miles to the next shelter that day, so I took my time, taking lots of breaks to enjoy the trail. It was a little bit of a sad and lonely day this Friday, with Becky leaving and knowing my mom back home in Tulsa was in the hospital again. I only saw one hiker that day, Old School, a thru-hiker from New York I’d passed a few days ago. He was slack packing southbound that day.

I was in at Knot Maul shelter at 3:00, and was tempted to go further. It was 9 miles to the next shelter though, and I was determined to take it easy on my feet and not wear myself out so much. So after getting my pack unpacked and laying out my sleeping bag, I actually took a nap! Now that’s a first! After re-planning the next few weeks of my hike to allow for a little less miles per day and eating dinner, I just relaxed by the shelter.

At about 6:45, a lone hiker with a full beard and single wooden hiking stick pulled up from the south. Ron was a local guy, maybe a little younger than I (as most are), who was out on a weekend section hike. It was great to have good company, as he was a fascinating guy with a lot of good information on the AT and backpacking in general. Ron has a computer consulting company, is a part-time preacher at a small church in Virginia, just one mile from the North Carolina border, and he farms a little also.

Later that evening, three young thru-hikers rolled in looking tired. We visited briefly about the water there and I asked when they started from Georgia, as I always do. They responded in early May. So when I told them I started on May 28th, they all had this exasperated look on their face like, how do you do that, old man? I must have passed them last week somewhere not knowing it. They were still asleep the next morning as I left the shelter a little after 7:00, and I’m sure they’ll be eating my dust hereafter.

Ron the preacher, farmer, and computer consultant left Knot Maul before the sun came up, not even eating breakfast. I have to eat, as I’m not going to loose weight as I’d done earlier. The day started cool, but quickly warmed under blue skies again. The cooler weather we had enjoyed this past week was giving way to hot temperatures again, making the afternoon hiking more strenuous. I crossed on of the last big balds I’ll see, Chestnut Knob, with great views into Virginia and back to Tennessee and North Carolina.

The guide book showed much of this section to the northeast much flatter, after a few moderate climbs. But as often is the case, the average may be flat, but it was constant small climbs and dips, over rocks, with lots of turns. My hike this day was 19 miles by the guidebook, but it seemed that Jenkins Shelter would never get here. I was out of water, getting hot and tired, as I finally made it to the shelter at about 5:45. Ron, my new trail-mate, had just pulled in also, visiting with a section hiker named Bruce, a teacher from Raleigh. After another dinner of freeze-dried spaghetti and cheesecake for dessert, I hit the sack early.

View from another ridgeline in Virginia

Ron again took off a little earlier than I, but after catching up, we hiked the 11 miles or so to the highway leading to Bland, VA. The trail looked exactly on paper like the section yesterday, but it was entirely different. Gradual and moderate climbs and dips, no rocks, with smooth wide paths of leaves, needles, or dirt. We cruised down easily, to be greeted with some trail magic about 1/2 mile from the end. There on the trail was a plastic bag full if iced cold Cokes and Mountain Dew. They had been left that morning, as the ice was not even melted. Probably someone on their way to church on this Sunday morning, wanting to do a little trail magic, which I hear in these parts just may get you into heaven!

Ron and I caught a ride into Bland with the first thumb I put up, and walked a few blocks up to the Dairy Queen which is on I-77 exit at Bland. Eating a big cheeseburger, fries, Mountain Dew, and a big Blizzard sure tastes great after a few days of granola bars, Gatorade, and trail food.

Doing laundry at the Big Walker Motel in Bland

After telling Ron goodbye, I checked into the Big Walker Motel, your typical old motel off the interstate in a small town. My adjusted schedule called for me to go 23 miles this day, after 19 yesterday, with another 20.5 the following day to take it to Woods Hole Hostel. My right leg was getting sore though in a tendon behind my knee, causing me to slow down on downhill or level sections. The weather was getting hot again. So I altered my schedule to take this light day and rest my leg, shower, do laundry in the motel bathtub, and yes– eat three great meals at the DQ and Subway there at the Bland exit. I also needed to charge up all my electronics, as they were about out of juice. So I decided to break up my two hard days into three lighter days, and give up my planned zero day coming up this week in Pearsburgh and still be on schedule. Normally, I would press on, but I’m forcing myself to go slower, listen to my body, and be flexible enough change my plans if needed. I feel my strength coming back with the weight I’ve put back on, so I must keep that up, and not allow any other body parts to get out of whack. My boots are helping my feet feel much better, with very little pain now. That has really helped a bunch!

I was surprised to see Daniel, the young thru-hiker from Georgia Tech, at the Big Walker when I pulled in. He had spent the night there, as he was getting tired and felt sick, and his boots were wearing out. He seemed discouraged, so that night I bought his dinner at the Dairy Queen down the road. I had time that afternoon to do my laundry in the bathtub, hanging my clothes out on the sunny balcony to dry off. It was the first 4th of July I can remember without seeing or hearing a single firework go off, as I spent a quiet, relaxing evening at the Big Walker, surfing the TV channels with the remote. I was hoping to see my Cardinals play baseball on Sunday night baseball, but was not that lucky, as the Angels were blowing out the Royals that night.

Bruce, Daniel, and I had agreed to meet at the Subway down the road at 7:15 to eat breakfast, and then catch a ride for the four miles back up to the AT trail-head. After knocking on Daniel’s door, it appeared he was sleeping in again, so we went ahead and left. We were on the trail by 8:00, with the goal of about 20 miles to camp somewhere in the woods, making the next day an easier 12 miles to the next hostel.

The day started out fairly mild, as they often do, but the heat started building quickly again. I was hiking at a faster pace than Bruce, so I headed on up, making great time by covering 10 miles to reach Jenny Knob Shelter at 12:30. I set my pack down at the table, got my two water bottles, and proceeded to follow the blue blazed trail leading to the spring for water. I was completely out of water, thirsty, and was going to take a quick break in the cool of the shelter before heading on out.

The creek was bone dry. I proceeded up stream, hiking over rocks, to try to find a little spring or pocket of water. There was nothing. So I followed the dry creek down, hoping to find an active spring with cool water coming out. Nothing still. The next water source according to the guide book was about 8 miles away, so I had to find water here, or I would be in trouble. Still following the dry creek bed, it turned back north somewhat, and eventually I found another dry creek bed coming in from up higher. I proceeded to then follow it down until there at last, was a little pocket of somewhat clear, cold water.

It really wasn’t running much, but it was cold, which was a good sign. It smelled a little funny though, as was somewhat stagnant, so I had plans on boiling it before drinking it, rather than using the purification tablets I usually use. After getting a full 2 liters, I proceeded to head up the hill somewhat Southeast, which is the direction I felt the shelter was. I normally have a pretty good sense of directions, but as I kept going uphill, I did not see any sign of a shelter. I then re-traced my steps, and went up again to where the shelter should be, but all I could see was woods, rocks, bushes, and more woods. I zigged, and zagged, went up to a high knob to see further, all to no avail. After about 45 minutes of wandering in the woods, I was officially lost! I had heard stories about people getting lost in the woods and just meandering till they die, and I thought, that can’t be me! I hollered out a few times, thinking that Bruce, Daniel, or some other hikers may have made it down to Jenny Knob Shelter, but all I could hear was the sounds of the woods.

So still carrying the two water bottles, full of water that I could not drink yet, I decided to just head uphill until I eventually hit the AT, and then find my way back to Jenny Knob. I climbed and climbed, thinking surely I did not wander this far in my search for water. After about 15 minutes of climbing through the brush and woods, I finally reached the thoroughfare of the AT. Now, I had to decide should I go north or south, to reach the blue blaze trail going down to the shelter. My hunch was I had wandered too far south, so I headed up the trail north.

After hiking about 1/4th of a mile, I did not reach the trail to the shelter, so I decided that maybe I wandered the other way. So I went back to where I had caught the AT, and proceeded another 1/4th mile south. No shelter. So I turned around, went back north, this time about 1/2 mile. Still, no blue blaze trail to the shelter. By this time, I was getting a little mad and frustrated. I was thirsty and hot, but the water bottles were of no use. I did not want to drink the water, and take a chance on getting sick. I reversed directions and went back north. You would think that I would recogniz e the trail I had been on, but woods is woods. After almost six weeks of hiking, it all begins to look the same. I finally reached some dry creeks going north that I somewhat remembered crossing a few hours ago now, after wandering for several hours. I finally reached the sign pointing to the blue blazed trail leading to Jenny Knob, a full two and a half hours after going to get water. Bruce was there, wondering where I was. He had not found any water, but lucky him, the great great great grandson of Zebulon Pike was there to save the day for him, as I had found water! I had also gotten lost, and wandered the woods, wasting over two hours and a lot of energy in the process.

Trail Magic works again! Cold pop still on ice on a Sunday morning!

So after boiling my precious water, letting it cool somewhat, I proceeded up the trail to my destination. By now it was really hot, and drinking water that was about 160 degrees did not exactly quench my thirst. By about 5:45, we made it down to a large creek that actually had water in it. I was ahead of Bruce, so I stripped down to my shorts, and took a cooling swim in the creek. That really refreshed me, as we crossed the suspension bridge over to the road. A southbound hiker we had just met told us about a store about half a mile up the road, which was not in my guidebook. Real food and cold drinks sounded really good after a long hot day, so we hiked up the road, not having any luck with hitch-hiking.

At Trent’s Store, I gulped down a big cold Coke, which is what I crave while on the trail for some reason. Had to get some ice cream also, and the cheeseburgers she was cooking sounded a lot better than freeze-dried whatever, so I had a burger and fries also, along with a big root beer. I was energized now, so after hitching a ride back to the trail-head, proceeded to go about two miles or so to find a camping place in the woods.

The lowering of the sun had allowed the woods to cool somewhat, so it was better to hike in the evening. I found a nice Rhododendron patch and made my campsite in the shade of the plants. I ate my second dinner of freeze-dried something, as darkness settled into the forest.

I slept pretty good, except for being awakened in the middle of the night to what sounded like a big animal breathing off in the woods. Ron, my trail-mate from a few days ago, had assured me that bears were rare in Virginia, but whatever it was, it was bigger than a rabbit or a squirrel. I shined my light off to where the sound was coming from, and must have scared it, as the sounds disappeared.

Woods Hole Hostel. It was a little slice of Heaven on a hot day for a tired thru-hiker!

I was off early the next day, hitting the trail at 7:00 in the morning. It was only 12 miles to Woods Hole Hostel, so I was looking forward spending some relaxing time there. It looked like a good hostel on the information I’d read. It was a good day of hiking, reaching Woods Hole at about 1:30 or so. Neville and Michael greeted me, and fixed me a pizza for lunch, along with two ice cold Cokes. Neville’s grandparents had started Woods Hole in the early 80’s, and after the of Neville’s grandmother, she and Michael decided to run it again, adding a bed and breakfast to the hostel operation. The original log cabin was constructed in 1880, with some additions and renovations being done over the years. It was a somewhat rustic, but modern and quaint place, with a lot of character and charm. I enjoyed a room upstairs rather than the hostel. Neville fixed a great dinner for three of us hikers that evening, much of it grown from their garden and homemade.

We enjoyed a great breakfast again the next morning, before hitting the trail again at 9:00. I had a somewhat moderate hike this day down to Pearsburgh, where I would stay at the Holiday Motor Lodge, do laundry, get a haircut, relax, and wait for my re-supply package from home. Today, with the somewhat more moderate schedule, all the food I’ve been eating, and with improving feet, I felt as good as I’ve felt since I started. It’s hot, but I can deal with that. I got to talk by phone last week with my son, Jake, who is a Marine serving in Afghanistan. I had not spoken with him for a month, so it was great to hear his voice. He told me, among other things, that the temperature was 132 degrees the previous day where they are. It’s all relative isn’t it? I’ll take hiking the AT in America in the mid-90’s any day, compared to hiking in Afghanistan carrying all the gear our Marines carry, dodging IED’s and Taliban bullets all the time. Pray for them, as what they are doing every day, allows us to enjoy what we do as Americans every day.

I’ve got five hard days before hitting Troutville, VA, for my next zero day. I’ll need the off day by then, as I’ve learned the importance of pacing myself, and allowing my body to rest and recuperate. I’m thankful for the support I have from home, and for the continued donations to our charities. It’s been a great experience, but one that has been much more meaningful to me in that I’m doing it not just for myself, but for others. That continues to motivate me as I pound the trail going north. Nobody has passed me still by the way, even though I’m not trying to make this into a competition, as I continue to pass thru-hikers and section hikers on their way north. If I can just keep from getting lost, I think I’ll make it to Harper’s Ferry for my halftime just fine.

I am going north now aren’t I?

Posted in AT2010, Afganistan, Appalachian Trail, Marines | 8 Comments »

What’s Measured–Get’s Done

Wednesday, April 14th, 2010

Seven months from today, I’ll be trudging through the North Carolina Appalachian Mountains, on an 18 mile trek to Big Spring Shelter. 18 miles per day is my average distance every day on the Appalachian Trail, plus an average elevation gain/loss per day of about 3,600′. That’s the kicker. This is not like a little stroll down the River Trail–it’s up, down, then up, and down some more. I’ve read that the original designers of the AT intentionally went up and over every mountain rather than around them, in order to weed out the whimps. Don’t know if that’s true or not, but don’t plan on being one of those whimps.

I’ve still got a business to run–LawnAmerica in Tulsa. We’re doing quite well this spring also, with growth exceeding my expectations for 2010. So with this and other family responsibilites, it’s been a challenge to find the time to devote to the physical preparation needed to get this old body up to speed. May 28th is fast approaching, so I’ve needed to increase the frequency and duration of my workout routines.

One basic principle I’ve preached for many years to our staff is: What gets measured gets done. We measure about everything at LawnAmerica, and it usually gets done. So last week I slapped myself on the head and realized that’s what I need to do in order to make sure I’m putting in the time and effort to prepare myself physically. Practice what you preach, you dummy!

So I whipped up a little Excel spreadsheet, showing each day of the next 7 weeks I have before I head off to the mountains. My goal now is 20 hours per week of exercise at the gym, walking, working out on the lawns (great exercise by the way), and some actual time on a trail with a real live 38 lb backpack.

The only Turkeys I saw on Turkey Mountain were some odd teenagers.

Last week a friend of mine and I did an overnight trip at Devil’s Den in NW Arkansas. Tried out my new Osprey backpack, along with my new lightweight hammock tent. We only did about 15 miles, and we were pretty tired. Saturday I put in 18 miles (a typical day for me on the AT) at

Not exactly the AT, but it'll do for now.

Turkey Mountain in Tulsa and did well, but I was pretty tired. So tired that I fell asleep at the movie with my wife that evening, but it was a pretty boring movie also.

So I’m tracking everything, with a goal of having my 20 hours by Sunday–or else. In a few weeks I’ll go to 30 hours per week, as I get closer to the May 28th departure date.

One key to surviving and having fun on a journey such as an Appalachian Trail thu-hike is good preparation. Many of the 85% of people who don’t complete the AT are simply not prepared physically, mentally, spiritually, or logistically. Now some are just whimps, but many just are not fully prepared. They don’t have a plan.

Or, they don’t have passion. It’s a mental deal. They don’t have a cause, or a good reason to be subjecting themselves to walking 18 miles every day, with a heavy backpack, eating freeze-dried food, sleeping on the ground, etc.

I have a cause. I’m just thankful to be able to do this. I have two good legs. As I’m hiking the AT, I’ll be thinking sometimes of some of the kids at The Little Lighthouse for example, who maybe struggle just to walk around the block, due to physical challenges from birth. Or, I’ll be thinking of the Marines in my Son’s unit who have lost their legs, serving our county in Afghanistan, as they are heavily engaged with the Taliban (which by the way we seldom even hear about in the news here lately).

Join me in the cause of showing compassion to the kids and people whom these two charites serve, along with the other three that are part of the AT2010 Compassinate Journey. We are halfway towards reaching our goal of $100,000 raised, but we need more donations. We are measuring those also, as you can see the status of the donations received on each of our 5 charites at www.AT2010Tulsa.com.

Tags: AT2010
Posted in AT2010, Afganistan, Charity, Marines, Pre-hike Planning, Tulsa Charity | 4 Comments »

The Message

Monday, March 8th, 2010

I had lunch last friday with a guy that was a competitor of mine for a brief time 26 years ago, as he was a Lawn Doctor franchisee, when I started my first business in 1984. I was initially looking at buying a Lawn Doctor franchise, but decided I could do it myself. Good decision. I think I figured it out OK.

Upon getting back to my office, I saw that I had a message on my cell phone, and I listened to the following message I had missed while at lunch. “Hey Pops, it’s me. I was calling to say bye. I got the dirt, and after sprinkling it in Afghanistan, I’ll bring back some sand from there and bring it home.” I could tell from his voice that he was struggling a little to get the words out, working through his emotions and fear of leaving home and going to help fight a war on the other side of the world.

Our first backpacking trip at 3-years old.

Our oldest son, Lance Corporal and soon to be Corporal Jake Johnson, has been a Marine less than a year. Last week he left his family, his 9-month old son, and a wife with twins on the way, to go serve our country in the US Marines. His unit will be deployed somewhere in southern Afghanistan along the front lines, with 1st Marines, 2nd Batallion, Bravo Company.

We’re very proud of him (and all of our kids). As a reminder of home, I left him with two little plastic vials of dirt, from the little league basefall field I built for his team when he was 10 (appropriately named Freedom Field) and from his Owasso High School basefall field. That’s the dirt he mentioned in the message that he’ll sprinkle in Afghanistan, while bringing back from sand (guess they don’t really have much dirt) to bring home.

We’ve known that he was being deployed. It came as no surprise, and we were prepared for it. It’s his job. That’s what Marines do–they protect our county, they fight and win battles, they kill the enemy. And sometimes, they get hurt, or lose their lives, as thousands of brave Marines have over the years.

What happens to young boys? They grow up quickly into young men as Marines.

Jake, on the far left. He's not playing paintball anymore.

I was and am proud that my son was going to do his part, in serving our country, to fight a war for a just cause. Yes, we are at war, but it seems that the reality of that just flies right over many Americans’ heads. I’ve always been somewhat patriotic, I believe, and have supported our servicemen and veterans. But as with anything else–until the reality of war hits you or your family directly, and you’re walking in those shoes of a parent whose son is heading off to war, only then do you really fully understand.

Yes that's me, aerating the grounds at Arlington National Cemetary last July as part of our annual PLANET service project.

Visiting the US Marine Memorial in Washington D.C.

We’ve not been fearful as parents. We know that God is in control of every situation, and our very lives. We know that the odds are in Jake’s favor of coming home safely in 7 months, as the vast majority of Marines do with the present conflicts we are in. This was not the case however in previous wars. If you ‘ve never been to Arlington National Cemetary in Washington D.C., you should go. It may change your view of the military and the sacrifice that so many have made in the past. Yes, we trust that Jake will do great as a Marine, that they’ll do their jobs well, and he’ll come home to his wife, a son that is talking and walking, and meet his two new sons or daughters.

But for some reason, when I heard Jake’s voice on the message, I couldn’t keep from thinking, that this could possibly be the last time I may hear his voice, and that he may not be coming home.

I could sense just a little fear and uncertainty in his voice. And I broke down in tears and lost it. I imploded, right there in the stillness of my office. I’m not one to get upset easily, but hearing his voice on the message gave me the reality of my son going to war, and it hit me between the eyes like a rock, and it broke my heart for a brief time. I’ll miss him for the 7 months he’s gone. But more than that, his new bride and his young son will miss him. He will not be there for the birth of their twins. That hurts me to think about it. They’ll be fine, but it will be tough. And I’m not afraid, I’m sleeping well, and other than a brief bout or two of losing my emotions, I am and will be fine.

I’ve developed a new appreciation for the military, and their families, that I didn’t fully have before. It’s more real now. It’s hit home with me. I’ve become a bigger fan of the U.S. Marines. In fact, our youngest son will be starting college next year on a ROTC scholorship, preparing to become a Marine officer in four years. So we’ll have two sons in the Marines soon.

We trust Jake’s unit will perform well, they’ll do their job, they’ll win the war, and that he’ll be home safely. But he may not. The Marines have lost some good men and women during this war on terror, and they will continue to do so. There will be spouses left alone, with the challenge of raising kids alone. That’s why I’m supporting Folds of Honor as one of our five charities on the AT2010 compassionate journey.

Folds of Honor is a fairly new organizaion, started by Major Dan Rooney, an f-16 pilot and PGA golfer also. Folds of Honor is a 501(c)(3) charitable organization with a mission to empower deserving military families with educational support and opportunities. Their website at www.foldsofhonor.com tells their story well. And, they are building their new headquarters in our hometown of Owasso, Oklahoma on the new Patriot Golf Course.

There are many veterans, families, and children of veterans who have paid the ultimate sacrifice who are in need of a little compassion. That’s what Folds of Honor does. As I broke down from just thinking about the possibility that my son could make that sacrifice, it makes it even more personal for me to help support this organization.

So as I’m walking up the steep mountains on the Appalachian Trail, carrying my 35 lb backpack, it’ll be nothing compared to what some Marines will be doing as they carry 100 lb packs, dodging bullets and roadside bombs left by the cowards who hate our country. There will be many times that I’ll be thinking of Jake, and all the other Marines and servicemen who are away from their families and fighting so that we can do things, like take off four months to hike the AT, and run a business. I’ll bring back some dirt from each of the 14 states that I hike through, as a momento of my journey. And I’ll try not to shed any tears on the dirt of those 14 states as I think about the emotions brought about by the goodbye message that Jake left me on that Friday afternoon when his unit was being deployed, flying out to war.

Semper Fi!