[at-l] Magiical hiking moments/places . . .

[lbooher at pure.net (Leslie Booher)]

Since Thru-Thinker invited us all to share magical hiking moments, I'll go next.

In June of 2002, my husband David and our youngest child Maggie hiked a lot of the Camino de Santiago de Compostela in Spain.  Opinions were mixed on whether or not it was a good idea to learn some Spanish before we left.  David and I tried and failed.  Others said that they learned a little, but, when they would use it, the Spanish person to whom they were speaking would assume that they knew more than they did and just start rattling on, so it proved as unsuccessful in the end as our efforts.  

One afternoon late in the hike, David had gone up ahead a little and Maggie and I passed the ubiquitous little stone house with a 4' stone wall around it.  Inside the wall were growing absolutely fabulous calla lillies, which seemed to be native to northern Spain.  There was the homeowner grubbing in the dirt in the garden, all muddy and ragged.  I tried to make some comment on her flowers.  "Buenos flores."  Blank stare.  "Bien flora."  She got up, but still looked blank.  "Pretty flowers."  She made some motion to indicate that she would give me some.  "No, gracias."  "Agua?"  "No, gracias."  At that point, she came through the gate and took my head in her hands and kissed me on both cheeks, then did the same for Maggie.  I could feel those kisses for hours.  It was the defining moment in my whole hike.

Another defining moment in a totally different way happened years ago at Horse Gap in Georgia.  It was the first year that I had hiked on the AT.  My hiking partner's mother had come with us, and she was a fine hiker, just not a backpacker.  By the time we got to Horse Gap, she wanted off the trail.  Although we were by a road, there was a nice space, and we were too tired to go further, so we set up camp.  We had been passing through a big area that was blackened, and we couldn't tell in the rain if it was from a fire or a fungus.  I was getting hypothermic, so Kennan set up our tent and made me hot chocolate.  As we were setting up to make supper, a man came by and asked if we needed anything.  Water.  He said that he was going to take the young man in the car with him up to another trail head, and that he would get our water on the way.  Mom grabbed every water utinsel we had and shoved them at him.  After he left, we asked what we'd do if he didn't bring the water and he'd taken all our bottles away.  "Well, he had an ATC sticker in his window, didn't he?"  He did bring back the water, and Mom asked if there was any way that she could get out.  He told her that he would send his wife back the next morning at 9:00 to pick her up.  

It rained all night.  Rained and rained and rained.  The morning was drizzlyy and nasty and cold, but we got up and began our morning routine.  Every thing we picked up---cookware, packs, ground cloth, tent, shoes---had white worms all over the bottoms.  They were even between our pack covers and the packs.  It was truly hideous.  Our whole lives were wet, and all our gear had to be wiped off.  While we were sitting on our packs waiting for Mom's ride to pick her up, along came an adorable Army Ranger in his little Jeep.  He was clean, warm, dry, and had lights inside and outside the Jeep.  "Oh, you'll have such a good time.  Why you can make it over to ________ (fill in some impossible distance) today.  The lady who's coming to get you (Mom) will be here in a minute.  She wasn't really sure where you were."  Soon the trail angel's wife appeared.  "You'd better all come off the trail.  We're expecting thunder storms this afternoon, and it won't be safe for you."  And she was dry and warm and had lights.  Kennan and I looked at each other and at the Ranger pressing us on, and at the wife urging us to get off.  And we had to decide.  It was an awful decision to make.    After a bit of discussion, we decided to stay.  

The higher we hiked out of Horse Gap, the brighter it got.  By noon, we had sun, and some guy hiker caught me with my pants down taking a bird bath.  <G>  David calls those White Tail Dear stories.  We went through tunnels of Mountain Laurels, basked in the sunshine, and had an altogether wonderful day.  That night, we found beer in the shelter, which we cooled in the creek, and had one of the best evenings I've ever had on the trail.  

I know that, if I had gotten off that day, I'd never have gone back to the AT.  That would have been my only stab at backpacking.  As long as we lived in Vicksburg, whenever things would look grim, boring, impossible, Kennan and I would look at each other and say, "Horse Gap," and we'd know that it would be OK.  She quit hiking with me after we'd done the Smokies, because she didn't like daily encounters with bears, but I'm still out there slogging away.  

Those are my stories.  Next?

anklebear