One of two things I
did not pack was something to carry extra water with. I knew that in the south
there were plenty of streams and springs, so I thought a cup would be enough
for me make it to the first store on the trail. I was luck that someone had
left a liter neoprene bottle at the shelter. A quick rinse and a god-awful long
time with my tiny water pump to fill it, and I was off on my adventure for the
day. If only I could remember to pick up that water bottle.
I was nearly ½ mile
away from the shelter when I noticed it. I had left both the neoprene and my
cup back on the shelter table. For the first of many times I had to turn around
and get them. If I had remembered either one of them I would have carried on,
but without either of them I was fated to go back. I was hoping that at the
next shelter I would be able to return the bottle to its rightful owner, and if
they were beyond that then I would claim the bottle until someone mentioned it.
Without much adieu, I dropped my pack and used a brisk pace to get what I left
behind. I thought this would be a good lesson, and I would remember to make a “dummy
check”, before I left camp from here on out.
A few hikers passed
me with a questioning look on their face. When I returned to my pack there were
a couple of guys just passing curiously by. I gave them a quick run-down on the
circumstances and they enjoyed a mild bit of laughter at my mistake. I donned
the pack and we hiked together for the rest of the afternoon. This time, I made
it a whole 10 steps before I realized that I had left the water bottle sitting
on the ground.
Lunchtime came
around, we stopped and prepared our trail food and took a few pictures of the
natural beauty around us. A quick trip behind a tree to take care of business,
and I found the second thing I was not prepared for. It was day three and I did
not realize that I could use that much toilet paper. Luckily there was a little
town not far off the trail coming up. I had plenty of food, all the cold gear
and supplies I needed except that one critical thing. As I am terribly allergic
to poison ivy, the gathering of leaves for that purpose was just out of the
question. I resigned myself to the 2 ½ mile hike into town when I hit the
upcoming road. We packed our gear back up and off we went. 50 yards and I went
back for the water. More lighthearted laughter filled the air as I turned
around.
As time goes by, you
turn inside and the conversation will drop. You find yourself staring at the
ground before your feet, and before you know it a mountain has come and gone.
There are some hikers that will never see the beauty of the trail, as they are
determined to get their miles in and barely even look up at the forest around
them, so it was for me that day. The road appeared below my feet and without
even looking up I turned to walk the couple of miles to the closest convenience
store.
You hear that it is
easy to hitch a ride in the south you couldn’t prove it by me though. About an
hour of hiking on the road and the store was in sight before someone stopped to
offer me a ride. I made a quick trip in and out of the store, stopped and
enjoyed a snickers and a soda, and then hiked right back up the hill with no
offer of a ride. Yay, I had my toilet paper, I was ready to go. I looked up
ahead to make sure I was on the right trail, and there was a huge Forest
Service privy right there on the trail. I stopped to get rid of the soda and a
quick peek in the men’s room revealed 6 industrial sized rolls of toilet paper.
Tired of walking already I stopped for a break and to vent my frustration of
the side trip.
It wasn’t long
before I ran into my two companions as they had stopped for an afternoon break.
I stopped to briefly tell them of my adventure and we ended up in conversations
of the world. One man was an ex-police officer who was planning a thru hike for
2013. He had taken a vacation and was out to hike for a few days to make sure
his pack was prepared. As I approached he noticed right away that I had yet
again left my water bottle on the picnic table down by the road. They agreed to
watch my pack, another quick run and I returned. Everybody grabbed their pack
and after a good-hearted reminder to pick up my bottle we were off. The ex-cop turned to
me as we began to set off and said, “We are gonna call you DoubleBack”. I looked at him and said “Well, since you can’t
make it to Kathadin this year, I will take your name up there”.
DoubleBack was a
trail name that I would learn to live up to in the coming months.
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