“The Hound of Hell & Two Naked Butt Cheeks”

AT Day 129

Miles Today: 19.32

AT Mile: 2037.2

(East Cary Pond)

I saw MaryBeth’s bear ass before she got the chance to introduce herself. It was right after I’d walked away from the drunk guy who was lying in the trail with a chihuahua.

It was a weird morning, to say the least. But I’ve been taking mushrooms with breakfast the last three days, so weirdness might should be expected at this point. I’ve meant to write about adding mushrooms these lasts two days, but by the time evening has arrived it’s slipped my mind and I’ve forgotten to write about it. They’ve had an impact on my days though. As they always do.

It’s bothered me just a little bit the last two days to observe how directly and how immediately a half gram of mushrooms at the start of the day have produced a dramatically more interesting and introspective hike. Bothered because I don’t like that it’s just this simple. It’s supposed to be more complex. And it also introduces the question of “dependency.” I don’t know how deeply I want to explore that idea right now, suffice to say that I don’t believe that’s what’s taking place. I think it has more to do with having explored the effects and the dosage so thoroughly that I’ve found a place where I can reliably add a small dose into my day and have a good chance for a good day. I’ve also held my finger to the pulse of my days without psylocybin as comparison and don’t find a respective “withdrawal” on the other side. But my observations are all subjective, so may my bias be shown.

—

But I’m off on a tangent now. Back to the naked ass and drunkard with one shoe and his little dog.

At first I thought that the smell of weed was coming from me, but that seemed odd since I make effort to be discrete when I smoke most of the time. It also didn’t make sense that I would be two hours into my morning and just spontaneously erupt in the smell of cannabis. Then, twenty steps and one turn down the trail later, I nearly stumbled into into some guy laying in the trail, his dog resting beside him.

I asked him if he needed help at first, as most people don’t just sprawl out in the trail like that, but he acted like he did’t even know what I was talking about. “Oh, no, no. I’m fine. I was just takin’ a break and smoking my breakfast.” He cast me a sideways grin, and that’s when I noticed that his head was resting against (or possibly hiding) a small water bottle of brown liquid that I presumed to be whiskey.

He was dirty, like all thru hikers, had a lot of rough tattoos, like some thru hikers, and his equipment was completely inappropriate for the AT, something that he did not share with most thru hikers. It was obvious that he had no idea what he was into. But he assured me that he was hiking to Georgia. “Oh, trust me, I’m hiking to Georgia. Ain’t nothing stopping me from doing that!”

I looked over to his little dog, which was shivering and looking at me as if I was there to do some kind of harm to the two. I could feel its energy wanting to rip me to shreds.

“What’s with your ankle?” I asked and pointed to his bear foot and swollen ankle.

“Oh, this is nothing. I just sort of rolled it a couple of days ago. But it’s good. It’s just that I taped it wrong, and now it hurts or maybe the tape was too tight or something.”

It was a confusing situation, but I understood what it signified. It meant that I’m getting near the end of the Appalachain Trail. It’s like hiking in the Grand Canyon. When you hike deep into the canyon on a multi day trip, you’ll sometimes go long stretches of time without seeing another hiker. Then, as you return to the rim you’ll start seeing overnight hikers, then day hikers, then as you get close to the end, you’ll start seeing morons who have no business in the canyon in the first place–often carrying grocery bags, wearing flip-flops, and sometimes attempting to find a cell signal.

This guy was the equivalent of those clueless day hikers. His chances of getting to Georgia were approximately zero. And I’ve noticed that there tends to be a lot of people early on in trails who profess that they’re going to get all the way through “no matter what” but then that rhetoric seems to settle down. My suspicion is because the kind of people who say that stuff aloud almost all drop out of the trail before too long. And the ones who still believe it to themselves but who *keep* it to themselves are the ones that are left. If I fall into either category I hope it’s the latter.

I was uncomfortable with this guy who I found laying in the trail, as he’s the archetype of some other characters I’ve met before, both on trail and off. He’s basically homeless, sees himself as better than the rest, and is potentially dangerous in his stupidity. I wasn’t especially worried about this guy, because he was obviously labored up with a busted ankle, or whatever, so I knew that he wasn’t going to be able to chase me down and do any harm. But I was still uncomfortable with him.

We talked a bit more and I asked if he needed anything, as I still felt like I should offer some kind of help seeing as he was just laying in the trail like that, but he insisted that this was just the place where he decided to take a break. I told him that there was a view point literally a hundred yards up trail, but he looked at me like that was a completely irrelevant point to the conversation.

“Did you start on Katadhin?” I asked, and he said yes right away. “And the dog? Did you bring the dog up there too?”

Then he quickly corrected himself and said, “No, I meant to say that I didn’t start on Katadhin. I started at the Greenway Bridge.”

That was all I needed to hear from him to realize that this guy was no value and moreover wasn’t even going to give me a straight version of what the fuck he was even doing out here. So I decided to step over him and go on my way, but as I did his dog lunged at me and erupted into a cacophony of barks and shrieks. It was like the hounds of hell had been unleashed.

“JESUS FUCKING CHRIST!” I exclaimed as I lunged away, barely missing the gnashing teeth of Fluffy.

He yanked the little demon back and apologized, but I had no time for it. I was off and on my way before he could even say “have a nice hike.” I did not wish him well. I just needed to go. I also didn’t need to tell him that there was no way in hell that he and his lil’ monster were hiking to Georgia. He’d figure that out in due time. Shoot, maybe by the time I’m writing this tonight he already has.

—

That run in had been strange on its own–enough that it distracted me from keeping track of water and I missed the first water source that I was planning to fill up at this morning. It was a campsite just off trail that apparently had a spring beside it, but I was so rattled by the drunk dude in the trail with his ankle biter that I wasn’t thinking about water and I just wandered passed my chance to refill.

Then, just past the campsite, while I was still hearing the yap of that little dog echo in my head, I looked up trail at what was clearly two naked butt cheeks.

A lot of things go through one’s mind when they look up trail and encounter a naked ass, but here is what I thought:

Wow. That’s a naked ass.

I wonder why that dude has his ass out of his pants.

I wonder how long before he realizes that I’m fifteen feet away, looking at his naked ass.

I’d like to not be looking at naked ass, so I’m going to look down, mind my business, and carry on my way like I never saw anything.

Oh shit! That’s probably a lady and she’s probably peeing.

I’m not sure if all these things came in succession or all at once, but it’s a rough approximation of my internal dialogue in the moments before MaryBeth shouted, “Oh! I thought I heard someone hiking back there.”

At that awkward moment we locked eyes, me in mid-stride, her in mid-squat, and I realized that she was already too committed in her act and that my only options were to continue on, which would have been alarmingly rude, or turn around and stand there awkwardly. Faves with two shitty options, I took the latter and we proceeded to make small talk while she finished her wiz and I contemplated how much nicer the temperatures are today than they have been the rest of the week.

“Okay, all finished,” she said after what seemed like a long time, and I turned back around with the plan to continue my hike and be on my way.

Maybe it was the little bit of psychedelic in me that pushed me to comment and say, “Well, not any more awkward than the drunk guy laying in the middle of the trail back there with his chihuahua.”

The rest of our conversation need not be documented word for word, but what is worth saying is that my expectation was that she’d chuckle, I’d pass her, and I’d be on my way. We’d likely never see one another again. But for some reason or another we started talking more and ended up having a conversation for a half mile.

Now I’d just like to comment that this is the second person that I’ve caught pissing within the last two weeks, who also then wanted to have a conversation with me after they were done with their piddle. If roles were reversed, I have to believe that I’d be the type who would prefer that we both be on our way and neither of us ever speak of the run in again (or document it in an online blog, for the love of all things holy). But some people are weird.

—

The air was cool last night and I was camped at high elevation. It was just below treeline at the cole between the Bigalow peaks. If it had been just a little higher I would have been able to see the stars without the obstruction of the trees, but it also would have been illegal, as you’re not permitted to camp above treeline around here.

But I was at least fortunate to catch an amazing sunset up there before dropping down to camp last night.

The wind was heavy this morning, but the sky was clear. It was hard to believe that rain was in the forecast, but by early afternoon that had shifted and the threat of rain seemed likely. And at two o’clock it started to rain consistently for several hours.

I was in it, but for the protection of my umbrella for the first hour and a half, but then found refuge in a trailside shelter with four other section hikers who all looked at me with dismay when I arrived to hide from the rain. Right away one of them asked if I planned on staying there, a clear indication that she was attempting to claim it for herself. Up until then I hadn’t thought about whether or not I’d stay the night, it really depended on the rain, but after her comment I decided that I’d rather like to move on. Fortunately the rain passed after another hour or two and I was able to catch another five miles into the evening.

I would have liked to find more miles today now that the trail is starting to mellow out a bit, but you get what you get. If I really wanted more then I could have started my day earlier and not rested at the shelter in the rain, but I’m beyond getting down on myself for just trying to live out here and not be constantly driven by the perceived need to go go go. That will be there when I return to home and to work. I don’t need to have it with me out here for the last two weeks of my thru hike.

—

I am short on food, but I will reach my resupply at Canabeck tomorrow. Boots has sent a package there and there is also a small store resupply. There’s also a place right before there where I might be able to get some breakfast items if I get an early start to my day, but I’m doubtful. I think that I’ll roll out when the mood strikes me. Or I could tap back into my coffee that I haven’t touched in a week and let the jet fuel get me out early. Doubtful that I’ll take that route, but good to know it’s there.

—

Hiked around several big lakes today, including one called Flagstaff Lake. Camped beside one tonight. The rain has finally stopped but it’s breezy and the wind is blowing water from out of the trees and down onto my tent. It’s chilly. A nice change from the hot nights.

—

Always more to say than I have time or energy to get on the page.

Wormwood.