Falling Down

I worry sometimes that I write more about towns than the trail itself and that you are getting the impression that this hike is not very rugged. Well, truthfully, the AT is not that far removed from the general society you are familiar with. While walking the ridgelines, we can see farms and towns nestled in the valleys below. For the past few days, the distant roar of trucks on the interstate has been omnipresent and will continue as long as we follow the I-81 corridor through Virginia. We’ve been stopping in a lot more towns because they are there, within easy reach. While hiking is certainly the biggest part of the AT experience, meeting people along the way is a close second. But, this post is not about the Konorock Crew Trail leader or the church ladies of Bland, VA, or the anonymous guy in a pickup truck who gave us a ride without saying a word – for that stay tuned.

No… this post is a reminder that we are in the woods, doing outdoors-y things, lest you think we are getting soft. We crouch on the ground to cook and eat our meals. We pray for a privy, but often don’t find one at convenient intervals, therefore forcing us to dig a cathole (following the Leave No Trace principles, of course.) And we hike. All day. Up steep grades. Across streams. Over rocks and roots. It’s pretty strenuous exercise to be undertaking for ten or twelve hours a day. Sometimes our feet get tired, and we have a little trouble getting over the obstacles in the trail. And then we fall.

I’ve had a couple of doozies. There should be a photo of one of them posted soon. Don’t worry, M asked if I was ok before taking the picture. Last week, I was trotting down relatively clear and well-graded trail when something, probably a root, caught my foot. I hit the ground so fast, I even realize I fell until my face was already on the ground into the leaves. I think I got whiplash from it and also suffered from a stigmata-like wound in my right palm. A few days later, I was holding our little AM/FM radio in one hand while I attempted to tune in this station where a guy reads from this book called "Dear John." It’s not the most interesting story, but I’ve been listening to it on and off since Tennessee. Many automobile accidents occur when somebody momentarily takes their eyes off the road to change the radio station, and I learned that a similar danger occurs when hiking. I stepped off the trail, down into a ravine and got caught up in some brambles (a jagger bush, for all you yinzers). The picture of my fall was taken a few days ago. Once again, I was trying to go a little faster than my reflexes can handle, and I did a dramatic little hop-skip-jump-crash down the trail, which at the time, was following an old and very rocky forest service road. My pack was extremely heavy that day and I found myself unable to lift up my body. While I considered my options, M asked me if I was ok, then snapped a picture before hauling me to my feet. When we got to the bottom of the hill, I assessed the damage. A skinned knee, dirt covering my legs and arms, and some injured pride were all I suffered. But, as M said, I am starting to look a little "rough."
-K