Day 2 of My Camino de Appalachia 2023

Maybe I should take a moment and explain my use of the phrase “Camino de Appalachia?”

The Camino de Santiago is a famous 500-mile pilgrimage across Spain to a cathedral which is said to hold relics from the apostle James.

The word “camino” in Spanish can be translated way, road, path, trail, etc. So “camino de Appalachia” might literally mean the Trail of Appalachia. But in my usage, I mean to imply the idea of pilgrimage and not just the literal path. For me, time on the trail has the simultaneous intention of integrating the physical act of hiking with a spiritual and prayerful journey towards deeper intimacy and connection with God.

Of course, the Appalachian Trail is simply a long hiking trail and not necessarily a destination for religious pilgrims, but I have found that many AT hikers do have para-physical motivations for spending time on this less ancient footpath.

Now, what I have found is that many of my days on trail begin in a very thoughtful, contemplative and prayerful manner but end with a focus on the physical challenge. So I love to enjoy solitude during the first few hours of each day’s hike until usually the lunch stop. At that point, I start longing for some good company and conversation to distract my mind from what can become a grueling effort to achieve my mileage goal. My 2nd day was one of those days that seemed a bit more difficult physically. My first good distraction that day was bumping into Tom at the Chestnut Knob Shelter (third photo) which is at an elevation of about 4400 feet and overlooks a valley called Burke’s Garden. Tom was an old codger of a hiker with some fun stories and a deep desire to tune into college football. He had an mp3 player with a radio tuner and was trying desperately to get the Tennessee (Go Vols!) game to tune in since he was from the Nashville area.

After having lunch and drying out a bit at Chestnut Knob, I hiked another 9 miles or so through a completely “dry” area (no water sources). Thankfully, I stumbled across a water cache that day where some trail angel had left a few dozen gallons jugs of water for hikers. If there’s a section of trail that is especially difficult for sourcing fresh water, occasionally, some magnanimous soul (often a former thru hiker) will stash a bunch of water like this near a road crossing. (fourth photo)

And just before dark, I made it to the Jenkins Shelter where I bumped into a fun couple from Greenville, SC who shared some great stories and general trail banter that got my mind off of the pain in my knees and feet! Before I knew it, we had been chatting for about an hour and I still needed to cook some dinner and put up a tent. ha! Floppy and Flower Power (second photo) were a real treat to hangout with at camp that evening.

Day two culminated in about 17 miles of hiking from the Lick Creek campsite to Jenkins Shelter which was near a creek that still had a bit of water flowing through. yay!

Trail Names & Faces

Me & May

Some people seem confused when I talk about my Appalachian Trail experience, that I’m throwing in lots of stories about community and the people I was hanging out with on the trail.

“Didn’t you go hiking alone?” they might ask.

So here’s the deal. Lots of people hike the Appalachian Trail. Some for a few days, some for a few weeks, and even some for a few months. There was only 1 night during my 23 days on the trail that I was completely alone at a shelter or campsite at the end of the day.

In the picture above, “May” was one of the people who joined our “shelter family” that first evening at the Stover Creek Shelter. I didn’t know it at the time, but he and I would hike together for a little over two weeks. His trail name was “May” because when he was 19, he shattered his femur in an accident and one of his doctors said “You MAY never walk again.” Over those two weeks, “May” and I got to know each other pretty well and spent several hours each day chatting about his life in Charlotte and my life in Cincinnati. So the relationships on the trail really became a substantial and great part of the experience!

Trail names are also an interesting part of the hiking experience and community on the Appalachian Trail. Some people can get a trail name when they do something weird or interesting. Like one thru-hiker we met was “Subway” because when he started hiking at the northern terminus, he had several Subway sandwiches in his pack so he didn’t have to cook anything for the first few days. Folks started calling him “Subway” and it stuck.

JavaMan & Catfish

One of the other guys I hiked with (actually the first hiker I met when I was signing in at the visitor center in Amicalola Falls) whose real name is Jim almost got the trail name “Boyscout” because I noticed him wearing a Philmont t-shirt. But then I learned his nickname in the Navy had been “Catfish” because of his mustache…so we called him “Catfish!”

My manual coffee grinder

My trail name didn’t take long to stick because I woke people up each morning with the sound and aroma of grinding fresh coffee. “JAVAMAN” quickly became my moniker.

One of the younger guys we found ourselves trying to keep up for a few days was “Boots.” He seemed to be intent on experiencing maximum pain & suffering because he had a 50lb pack and boots that must not have been quite right. There were several times when I saw blood as he removed his hiking boots and socks to doctor the feet. But he was an ROTC-engineering student at Princeton who was just trying to develop his ability to withstand intense physical struggle in preparation for future military training. Super smart kid and fun hiker connection! Here he is with May & I shortly after (or before) we cross the state line from Georgia to North Carolina.

Boots, JavaMan, & May set off for the day’s hike

And there were lots of other hikers we spent time with along the way…like Sherpa, Smiles, Duct Tape, Veggie Delights, the Gossip Girls, another “Sherpa”, Stone Legs, etc!

The Appalachian Trail has this power to create community. It brings together a diverse group of people who share this passion to be outdoors and challenge themselves physically. Any amount of suffering (sometimes what hikers may call “embracing the suck”) tends to create some extra relational bonding energy that catalyzes community more quickly than what we usually experience in our normal day-to-day lives.