Day 6, Tray Mountain to Dick’s Creek Gap

Today's hike to Dick’s Creek Gap was my first opportunity to go into a town for rest and resupply. In doing this, I had several opportunities to see the trail’s community at work.

Rooster told me that a lot of effort is put into the first 30 miles of the trail. That’s where inexperienced hikers first run into problems. Overcrowded conditions are also most likely to exist in this section.

Mountain Squid, whom I met on my first day, and Smokestack, whom I met on day 2, are volunteers with similar missions, but they are not paid. They provide additional help in those first 30 miles.

Rooster works along the remaining distance of trail in Georgia. Among his duties, he checks on the welfare of hikers, reports problems to trail authorities, and cleans up messes left by uncaring hikers.

Ridgerunners talk to hikers to find out about problems up the trail. When I talked to him this morning, he already knew about an abandoned tent I passed by about a mile earlier.

After my conversation with Rooster, I hiked with Neal and Paul, two hikers who didn’t have trail names yet. Neal told me he saw a bear cub this morning and was nervous about that because he was unsure where the cub’s mother was.

When I reached a viewpoint where I could see the road that led to town, it was still about two miles away. Those felt like the slowest miles of the day.

I asked someone what was the best way to get to Hiawassee. He said this was an easy spot for hitchhiking, so I walked to the side of the road and stuck out my thumb.

Just then, a pickup truck pulled up. A hiker climbed out of the back and four kids ran out of the truck’s cab. The kids were each holding a bunch of bananas. They proceeded to pass them out to anyone they saw, hiker or not.

The driver of the pickup got out too, and after talking to the hiker he just dropped off, he walked over to me. He said his name was Rainman and had walked a lot of the trail as a section hiker.

Rainman asked me where I was headed. When I told him I was going to Hiawassee, he apologized. He would be willing to take me there, he said, but he was headed in the other direction.

"No problem," I said. "I'm sure I can hitchhike a ride."

The kids got back in Rainman's truck and they left. I walked back to the road to put out my thumb again. Less than two minutes later, Rainman's truck returned to the parking area.

He rolled down the window and shouted, "Is there anyone here needing a ride to Hiawassee? Is there a Gravity here?"

Yes, this kind man had taken time out again to help a hiker. The kids seemed to happily go along with the plan. On the ride into town, they asked how I got my trail name.

I quickly showered after I got to my room, and then cleaned up my gear. The hotel did not have laundry facilities. I resorted to washing my clothes in the bathroom sink. I knew they dried quickly, so this wasn't a problem.

When it was time for dinner, I walked next door to Daniel's Steakhouse. The name sounds fancier than it was. The restaurant was an all-you-can-eat buffet. In hiker terms, this is known as an AYCE. More succinctly, it's heaven, except this one was too soon into my hike for me to have hiker hunger. That's a condition that happens after several weeks on the trail. By that point, it doesn't feel like enough calories can ever be consumed.

I had met her once several years ago, though I couldn't remember exactly when or where. Mostly, I knew of her because of the many stories told about how she has helped hikers.

Miss Janet started helping them when she opened her house to hikers in her hometown of Erwin, Tenn. She also shuttled them around town and back to the trail. Before long, she was helping hikers up and down the entire length of the trail, following the "bubble" as it moved north.

You might say Miss Janet is an archangel among trail angels.

On one of my trips to the buffet, I stopped to talk to Miss Janet and her dinner companion, a hiker named Critter. She asked me about my hike. As I began to tell her I was averaging around 12 miles a day and had not taken any zero days, a worried and disapproving look formed on her face.

"You need to slow down," she said. "Throw away your spreadsheet."

"How did you know I had a spreadsheet to schedule my hike?" I asked.

She looked at me and smiled knowingly.

Miss Janet cautioned about starting the trail with too many miles per day, not taking enough time to relax, and not enjoying the hike.

"Yes, but..."

She would have none of my excuses. It was a wonderful conversation and further proof of her care for hikers and knowledge of the trail.

As I left the restaurant, I began to reflect on what Miss Janet told me and started an internal argument with myself.

"She's right. You need to slow down."

"But she doesn't know me. She doesn't know how well I'm prepared."

"You can burn out without even knowing it's happening until it's happened."

"I'm feeling great. I'm not overdoing it."

This argument went on in my head for the rest of the night.

As I went to bed, I was still unable to shake Miss Janet's words from my head.

"You're going too fast."

She was right, I conceded. I just didn't know how I could slow down and still stick to my goals.