Call Us Tarheels

I think a tarheel is what they call someone from North Carolina. A couple of days ago we crossed the line from Georgia to NC. The picture is Giblet sitting on the border sign. (sorry got the wrong picture. The picture of Giblet is her sitting on the sign where the Chatahoochie River gets its start. "A way down yonder on the Chatahoochie, it gets hotter than a hootchie coochie." That is for you country music fans. The second picture is the red salamander, and the third is a picture of the trail.

At the risk of being repetitive we are having an absolute blast. We end each day with sore feet and weary knees, but a good hot bowl of Ramen Noodles and a nights sleep and we are ready to travel another 10 or so miles. We are two days ahead of our schedule and getting stronger every day.

Problems? We have had a few. The day after we reached NC Jennifer got sick. She woke up nauseated in the middle of the night and lost it all in the morning. We either had to stay there or attempt to move on, she chose to move on slowly. We only made about 5 miles that day and a couple of times I left her asleep by the trail and hiked ahead a ways, put my pack down and went back for her and her pack.

We reached a road where I figured we could eventually get a ride to town. There were three "trail angels" setting up shop. They were giving away cold drinks, sandwiches, moon pies, cookies, chips, and had lawn chairs set up to sit in. So I toasted a tortilla over a fire, obtained an orange soda from the angels and spread out the Bill Richard Honorary Tarp for her and she went to sleep. Late in the afternoon we hiked another mile to a shelter where we spent the night. The next morning she felt fine and we resumed our hike.

Night before last I had the strangest two dreams. In the first we were in a panic trying to get Grace White's wedding done. (Sorry Grace, I didn't ever see the grooms face) At the last minute Mrs. White had given me this elaborate ceremony she wanted done and I was scrambling trying to make it work. Then in the next dream I had three golf balls with funny faces on them I was trying to mail to Dan Walker. But the post office wouldn't mail them in the box I had and they didn't have a suitable box. So I waited until that night when we were all at dinner together and I gave one to Dan, one to Mark Soltice, and one to Milford Misner. (Milford is a pastor in New Mexico who has played golf with my dad quite a bit, but never with me.) Who understands dreams anyway.

Last night we spent in a Motel room in Franklin, North Carolina. This is the town famous for Eric Rudolf, the Atlanta Olympic bomber who avoided the law by hiding in these mountains we are hiking through. We heard some interesting stories about him yesterday.

Later today we are going to hit the trail and hope to make Wesser North Carolina on Friday. We have traveled 106.6 miles on the trail. Only 2068 to go. We have met a lot of interesting people, and are definitely getting a different perspective on American Culture.

We saw another squirrel yesterday, that makes the grand total of wildlife, 2 salamanders and 2 squirrels. Of course we are still walking through the winter woods, just that the temperature has been perfect since the first two nights. In front of us several hours day before yesterday some of the hikers saw a couple of bear cubs up a tree. They never saw the momma.

Better go, the trail beckons. God bless you all, and talk to you in a couple of days.

Flint & Jubilee