From Thru-Hiker to Section Hiker

The toughest day to sleep late is your off day. Right? I awoke at 7:30, on a day I'd like to have slept the entire day. No matter how hard I tried to go back to sleep, it was futile. So, I got up, got dressed and went out to the lobby for the Continental Breakfast. (The Chinese Restaurant wasn't open yet.) Surprisingly, the breakfast was very good, although the coffee just wasn't up to my CC's standards. But I wasn't complaining.

My knee was doing a bit of complaining though. It was still tight and a bit swollen, but wasn't painful. I began to consider leaving the trail. There was talk of another storm approaching, and I figured it would take at least a few more days before my knee would be ready to take on the trail. While I generally throw caution to the wind, yesterday sobered me greatly. I was worried about another winter storm, possibly worse, and given my condition, I'd been unable to get to safety if things got ugly.

As a friend of mine mentioned to me in an email, “This is going to be the hardest thing you ever do." Until now, I really didn't know the magnitude of his remarks. The 15+ miles of AT I hiked in the previous two days was the hardest thing I'd ever done. The one thing I didn't realize was how rugged and dangerous it could be.

The hotel phone rang about 10:00 AM and a strange voice clamored, “How you doing?" I hesitated for a few seconds, trying to figure out who knew I was in this room at this hotel. Befuddled, I said “Fine. Thank you. Who is this?" He responded, “Why this is J.P. Jones, the fella that picked you up at Coopers Gap yesterday." I smiled and replied, “Hey Mr. Jones. How are you?"

He asked me what were my plans today, and how could he help. It was at this point I had to decide whether to go back out on the trail or to head back home. Before I could say anything he said, “You know, it was close to zero up there in the mountains last night. You're not thinking of going back up there?" His response reminded me of my late grandmother.

I thought for a moment and told him I could use a ride into Gainesville. I was heading home. It was a moment of defeat, a moment of failure, a moment of sadness. I suppose I knew it was coming since the night before, but didn't want to face it. Even though it was the end of this effort, it still feels like failure.

However, on the bright side, in the last five miles of the trail, I realized something. I'm always up for an adventure. This was an epic adventure. It was more about discovery and a quest to find something than it was about fun and excitement. In those last miles on the trail I realized that what I was seeking, I'd already had at home. It took a very different perspective, in a very different environment to realize it.

Mr. Jones asked, “Well what time do you want me to pick you up?" Feeling awfully fortunate for his kindness, I told him any time was good for me. So he said he'd see me at 3:00.

Realizing check out was at noon, I called right back to tell him to pick me up in the lobby. He'd already left the house, so I left a message with the Mrs. that I'd be waiting in the lobby. Well, he arrived at 12:30. He got my message and decided to pick me up early.

Now, just when I thought my adventure was over, a new one had just begun. Mr. Jones took me for the ride of my life. We headed out from Dahlonega toward Gainesville, about 30 miles northeast. In the next 5 hours, I learned more about Mr. Jones than I know about some of my friends. His mother was nearly 100, and in a couple of months, there would be 5 generations of Joneses living. He was 80, retired Army, and for most of his life he operated heavy equipment grading the mountains of Georgia. He'd owned his own business doing the same and at one time owned more than 30 pieces of heavy machinery. He said he was down to only three pieces, but still did work from time to time.

We arrived in Gainesville, and I'd asked if he'd mind stopping at a bookstore. The bus ride would be long, and I was looking for something to keep me busy. He kindly obliged, and we soon found a mall with a bookstore. We browsed around for a while until we found a Michael Chricton novel and a few word puzzles books.

Once we left the book store, Mr. Jones wanted a pair of coveralls. The Walmart in Dahlonega didn't have coveralls, so we were going to check the Walmart in Gainesville. Sadly, they were out of his size, so we browsed the videos in the electronics department. I ended up getting a DVD for the bus ride. I almost forgot my computer plays DVDs. Now, we were off to find the bus station. It had been moved recently, so we stopped at the St. Ives Coffee plant, where Mr. Jones had a buddy who might be able to help us find the bus. I'll tell you, it only took a few minutes to get directions to the bus station, but only after we talked about tractors, hunting, fishing and all of our families did we head out to find the bus station. Mr. Jones suggested I stay in the Best Western a few blocks from the station. He also suggested I check the train station. It might be faster, he thought.

Before we got to the bus station, we stopped at an industrial hardware store and browsed for a while, and visited with a few more of his buddies. I think he was showing me off; kind of like his little pet he'd picked up on the mountainside at Coopers Gap. He told everyone the story. Even though that sounds bad, it was really very endearing.

Once we left the hardware store, we stopped at the bus station and then the train station. Mr. Jones was a very thorough man. He wanted to make sure I had everything I needed, including knowing exactly where the stations were. That too was comforting.

It's not often you end up stranded in a strange place, and a stranger takes you in like one of their own, going to great length to make sure you have whatever it is you need, and not once expecting anything in return. Wow! That is amazing.

Interestingly, while we were at the bus station, we ran into another thru-hiker from Tennessee headed back home. He too had blown out his knee on the trail. I felt bad for him. He didn't have a Good Samaritan, as I did. A shuttle had picked him up at Gooch Gap early today and took him to Dahlonega. And then another took him into Gainesville. There's no telling how long he was sitting there.

When Mr. Jones and I reached the Best Western, it was a sad departure between two good friends. Even though we'd only spent a few hours together, Mr. Jones seemed like an old friend. Again, he refused to take any money. I expected he would, but felt it polite to offer. Before we said goodbye, we planned to reunite in about a year. This time we'd meet in Lafayette and I'd be his host. Mr. Jones was a man well traveled and he was itching for a fishing expedition in Cajun Country. He'd been around the world, and at one time served time at Camp Livingston. So he knew about the fishing in Louisiana.

So, it has passed. I am no longer a thru-hiker, but a section hiker; one of those patient souls who hike the AT one section at a time…instead of the whole darn thing at once.