Day Five, 8 miles
At 1:00 am, I quickly pop out of the tent to pee. The moon is misty, a pinkish circle around it. I heard thunder rumbling in the distance.
And the rain begins.
Moxie shared the weather radar which shows two massive storm systems heading our way. Will they bring big wind? lightning? pouring rain that ricochets through mud and up under the fly? will they crash over that giant snag near my (trying to be) sleeping body?!
None of the above.
It just rains.
It’s light rain, but it doesn’t let up when the sky lightens and won’t all day. So I get up and begin the morning routine. Hot instant coffee never tastes so good when I can see my breath in wet 40 degrees.
But it’s funny how once the gear is on and I’m up and out of my wee tent, things don’t seem too bad.
It’s about eight and half miles to the road where I hope to catch a hitch nine miles down a winding road to the little touristy German town of Helen.
But first it’s those eight-plus miles, up and down, then one last beefy up to Blue Mountain and steeply down. And the truth is, there’s not going to be any stopping.
We begin marching in a line up the hill and misery turns to curiosity – then to wonder as we tunnel through thick rhododendron with leaves over a foot long. They crowd us in, bushing against our attempts to stay dry.
Lou, Simone and I wear proper raincoats but Moxie sports a combo pack cover/hoodie and Number One attaches an umbrella to his pack, wearing shorts and top likes it’s a much warmer day.
It’s a strategy – not mine! – since all that walking uphill, even in the rain and cold, means sweating, so trying to stay dry on the move is kind of a losing strategy.
It’s really the reason not to hike all day in the rain, then set a wet tent and try to sleep comfortably.
So on we march, on a mission and not stopping.
Oh, until a wood thrush chooses to choose a branch just above me for a private concert. Floaty, gossamer, fragile, flute-like.
And it’s not just the sweetness, it’s the haunting duet he sings with himself from his two-branched syrinx or voice box.
I’m here in this moment, in this beautiful bird’s home and he comes closer seemingly so I can hear better.
All moments pass to the next and our march is moving on without me, so I say goodbye to this normally elusive creature.
I move on into the mist and a continuing chorus. It’s raining guys and you’re all so…happy!
On I go passing a tent with presumably someone inside happy to just stay there, then a hiker in a massive poncho for pack and himself sitting to catch his breath, but smiling. Eventually I meet Simone who moves at her own relaxed pace. She tells me she loves walking in the rain.
It’s really not bad. It could be worse!Maybe that should be the title of my book.
The AT website tells me Georgia can be miserably cold in March and April with temps dropping to the single digits. The southernmost state of the 14 can have worse weather than further north.
I kinda knew this before coming but happily started so deep into April, the real cold is far behind me.
I meet the rest of the group plus another hiker. Everything feels easier with other hikers around, even with a maze of slippery rocks to manage.
As I head up Blue Mountain and the last bit of heavy breathing, I meet an older hiker carrying an umbrella, just out for a stroll.
He stops to chat.
You do know it’s raining?
Fortunately I’d built up enough momentum and it pulled me clear of the scene.
Down was next, carefully now on rocks in position to twist an ankle. The highway is loud below and one of those travelers will take me to dry and warm.
A lift with a shuttle driver just nine miles is $25 so I stay in the rain and put out my thumb, smiling and sending a mental message that I will be the most interesting person they’ll meet all day.
Remember interesting can have many interpretations.
It only takes five minutes and a guy stops – a backpacker! – with room for three. I don’t flatter myself he stopped for me alone for any other reason than helping out a hiker and he seems genuinely happy to take our full grubbiness on board.
We find the Days Inn, get clean and warm then load up on German calories served by a dude in lederhösen.
A good day out of the rain – actually, it was a good day in the rain, too.
