Appalachia

As you better have noticed, I just changed the title of this inter-web log to better reflect the scope of my backpacking trip.

There is a very important unwritten motto of the Appalachian Trail, and it is "Hike your own hike."  There are marathon slack-packer sprinters, 50-lb military/scout external frame backpackers, hippie naturalists, and just plain people with not much better to do.  I honestly couldn't care who you are out here - just hike your own hike.  Respect begets respect, and you have to grant everyone their own goals.  Elitism is one of the seven deadly sins of the Trail, and most people have absolutely no patience for it.  Being pompous or judgemental is a prime way to get talked about.

That said, I have to say that I feel a lot of people are missing the point of the trail.  If you want to be a backpacking "purist" and hit every single foot of the trail, that's fine - but I think that is being narrow-minded, and not allowing yourself a whole experience.  I think if people take a moment to look around at their surroundings they'll see it isn't just about a 20-in wide span of rocks, soil, and roots (in that order, btw) that stretches for a long distance.  It is about an experience that people undergo out here, and that people inherently share through their commonalities that they experience on the trail.  I'm not about to tell someone that they are hiking the trail wrong - but for goodness sakes, talk to some locals, climb up some rocks to get a better view, hang out in the shelters, and drink the local beers.  This is your best chance to have an extended family that stretches out like the root systems you trip on (what clumbsy poetic!) so don't overlook it.

I noticed some of this when we travelled into Franklin, NC.  We got dropped off at the edge of town, 10 miles from the trail, and we didn't really know where to go, despite having trail guides.  You start walking around, hungry, and you see signs on restaurants like "Saturday - gone fishin'.  Sunday - gone to Church" and bumper stickers on cars that say "Power of Pride" more often than not.  I'm not saying any of this is exactly alien to me... but the whole of it is an experience.  You live in a different world for a little while, and you get to become a part of it with the closest friends you'll ever had that you've only known a week.  We ordered food from Mountain Kitchen, and someone picked up a bumper sticker advertising the restaurant.  On the sticker in the center it read, "Appalachian Cooking" and that's about when it really hit me.  This region is unique enough, and has some of its own culture.  Though the culture changes as you go North, it is always decidedly Appalachian.

Word travels quickly on the trail.  Stories about people travel up the trail before people themselves do, and hikers also leave a mark for those behind them when they write in registers.  About 5 times in the past 2 days I've introduced myself to the exclaim of, "oh, I've been reading your stuff!"  From privy-synopsis to personal laments, shelter registers are a permanent fixture of trail conversation.  Other stories can run rampant, and characters like Ron Haven or Crazy Horse are well-known by everyone on the trail.  It has impressed me what a refined art story-telling is; though it has often appeared as a "low" culture, it is practiced and trained just as painting and music are for some, and it perfected to pure entertainment.  As a sample, Ron Haven was driving us back from "his" town of Franklin (he owns many buildings there) and he was just going off about the "rules of ettiquette" in tasting moonshine.  "If someone asks you if you've ever tasted his brother's moonshine, you always say no - cause if you say you have he's gonna ask which is better.  If you say his brother's, you're gonna get hit.  If you say his, he's gonna tell his brother 'so and so said mine is better!' and now his brother is damn mad and you're gonna get hit!"

I asked a 50-yr old Marine if the trail was harder 20 years ago, which is when he'd last thru-hiked it.  He and I got talking while we were the last ones to leave camp.  He was saying how most people are in such a hurry they don't get to enjoy themselves out here - and that if you can't enjoy this, then what can you enjoy.  "Anything you have to hurry to do, ain't worth doing," and all that.  He said the trail was easier 20 years ago, much to my surprise.  Apparently the trail used to run through valleys and flats, but over the years it's been pushed up onto the high, rocky ridges.  People lost their land as the government snatched it up off the mountains in order to protect at least some of it.  The Marine recounted a story about how he was hiking on the trail once, approaching a road, and he heard a gang of dirt bikes approaching.  He though, "oh, shit" because he knew what was coming.  The bikes surrounded him, and some Southern locals asked him what he was doing on their grandpappy's land.  He felt out the leader of the group -- the biggest one -- and walked right up to him, his hand outstretched.  The kid didn't know what to do but shake his hand, and the Marine said to him, "Well you tell your grandpappy, 'Thank you."  The kids didn't really know what to do with that, so they asked if there was anyone behind him on the trail - the man said he didn't know, but he prayed that there wasn't.

Today there is very little Southern hostility - it is mostly the traditional Southern hospitality people have heard of.  The Appalachians have a simpler life, with genuine and honest folk.  There is a lot to experience out here if you take the time to look at it.  I'm not saying that backpacking the Appalachian trail should be a town-by-town culture tour - but you can't help but notice that this culture rubs off on everyone.  There is a lot to learn from talking to people you meet out here.  I've lost my 5 closest hiking buddies and friends already, but I meet more people and get closer to other people just as quickly.  Everyone should hike their own hike... but I do maintain - if you want a rough stretch of 2,175 miles to backpack, you've got it - big deal.  If that's your slice of pie you can have it, and I'll leave you to your dithers.  But there are stories out here, and there are interesting people you'll meet here that you're less likely to meet anywhere else, in a way you're not likely to find anywhere else.  You can pass that up, but I just have to say, "I'm sorry."  I'm a part of Appalachia, and when I'm through this trip, I will leave with it as a part of me.