alone in the woods?

A light blue Mercury Marquis pulled up at 6:30am...my shuttle was here to take me back to the trail to continue from where I left off. I made small talk (as best one can at 6am while driving through the twists and turns of the mountains) but I could not shake my anxiety. It's a very strange thing - to be doing something you like to do, WANT to do...but to also feel dread and fear. I felt this before my last hike so I knew it would dissolve over the miles once I was out there and hiking. It took us a long time to make it back down the long forest service road I had walked up when I came off the trail. It was still dark under the tree canopy and it just seemed like the universe was giving me all the time in the world to change my mind. Finally we pulled up to the exact spot where I had come out of the woods a couple of weeks ago. My shuttle driver helped me get my pack out and then stood there watching me struggle into it (note: I think I have figured out how to put this thing on in a less humiliating fashion. I will need to post a video!). He too seemed to be giving me time to make the decision to step back into the woods. I thanked him and turned toward the NoBo (Northbound) trail marker. Then I took my first step back into silence and solitude.

Despite the break I had taken from the trail, my body fell right back into rhythm...which is to say that my back began to ache instantly and my hip, which had started to bother me at the end of my last trip, picked right back up where it left off. So, I found myself stopping pretty early to dig through my pack for Aleve. I had set aside two bars to eat during the day...but again, stopped to dig out two more during my hike (which was a little alarming because I had only budget myself to eat two a day. The first half of the day was pretty uneventful - just absolutely perfect weather and mild terrain. The temperature was in the 60s with a glorious breeze. I stopped midday to change my socks and I noticed they weren't sweaty like the normally were by this point. As I headed out for the second half of the day, things changed quickly. I was about to meet Albert Mountain.

I had heard that Albert Mountain was a challenge. I had heard that you have to put your poles away and boulder up it using your hands and feet. When I first met Albert Mountain, I thought I must be in super human shape! I was moving quickly. I was using my poles. I was patting myself on the back. And then, I rounded a corner to see this:

Hmmm, this was a red flag for sure. These blazes mark the trail but this was the first time I had seen one on the side of a rock face. I quickly put my poles away and settled in for what was the toughest climb of my hike to date. Albert Mountain was not long, but he required you to bow to him. There is likely no way to climb Albert with any dignity. Imagine climbing a steep rock wall that dropped off behind you to, well, let's just say you didn't want to look AND add in the 45 pound pack that seemed to want to pull you down that rock wall. To keep your center of gravity low you had to basically climb on your hands, feet and knees and you couldn't take a break for fear of losing you momentum and slipping backward. I envisioned the thousands of people of all ages, shapes and sizes scrambling over the top of this. But - I LOVED IT. It was the coolest thing I had seen on the trail this far and at the top you were rewarded with a metal water tower that rewarded you with spectacular views. I should say it rewarded you with views if you were not petrified of heights because as I (attempted) to climb it I began to breathe harder than I had on the mountain itself. I clung to the metal rails and was nearly to the top when I decided that I actually couldn't even imagine stepping foot onto the platform at the top. I would just buy the postcard on this one. I turned and slowly headed back down the stairs. 

From Albert Mountain I headed toward the shelter I was planning to get to for the night...Deep Creek Gap Shelter. It was an ambitious day with over 21 miles of hiking, but again, I really felt good. My only concern was that I had only seen two other people on the trail and both were heading the opposite direction. I was sure there would be a lot of people on the trail given the holiday weekend, but my initial apprehension was creeping back in as the afternoon wore on and I began to consider a night alone on the trail. With about a mile to go to the shelter, I came around a corner and saw a black bear in the trail. I froze. It saw me and took off running. Um...do you know how fast bears can run? Because I did not. WOW! When I was hiking with The Guys, all they had wanted was to see a bear. They would be so jealous. I instantly began to root around for my camera (iPhone). I realize that it might have been a better idea to root for, say, some bear spray (I had none) or even my knife (so I could tickle it?) but I am not the first hiker whose first thought was "I have got to get a picture of this!" (Nancy, calling you out here. http://takeahikenancy.com) But there was no time. I spent the last mile to the shelter whistling, clanging my poles together and telling myself how much the bear was obviously more scared of me than I of him (he didn't try to take my picture after all). 

I stumbled upon the shelter. It was odd...it was so quiet and there was no sign to mark it. I barely noticed it in the woods off to the left of the trail. I realized instantly that there wasn't a sole there. Gulp. I made my way down to it and checked everything out. The shelter itself was solid enough. There was a covered area with a picnic table and then another three sided structure with a sleeping platform. Someone had (creepily) made wind chimes out of sticks and aluminum cans and had hung them around the shelter in what I could only assume was some satanic ritual (ok, I was over thinking it, true). The quiet was disheartening...I had honestly not considered that I would be alone at a shelter. I was told that never happened. I had never seen fewer than five other people at a shelter. Surely, SURELY someone would come into camp soon. BUT...in the meantime, I did have this fantasy of setting my tent up inside the shelter. I can't explain why I wanted to do this but it's a big no-no if other hikers are at a shelter. So, I set up in the shelter and went about making my dinner. I could barely eat. The sun was setting and there was no sign of company. I packed up my food into my bear bag and went to hang it on the bear cables. Umm, where were the bear cables?? I found the hook where they HAD been...but they were gone. They had taken them down. I had only heard of this happening at one other shelter and that was because they had closed the shelter due to three aggressive bears in the area. My heart sank...was that why no one was here?? I pulled out my map and the next shelter was 8 miles down the trail. No way I could do that and who is to say it would be any better? I began to string up my own bear cable.

Every hiker on the AT is supposed to know how to hang a bear bag. It should be hanging 10 feet off the ground between two trees at least 100 feet from where you are sleeping. Black bears are amazing climbers so just hanging it off a branch is like inviting them over for dinner. I pulled out my orange string and carabiner and began my search for the perfect trees to use. I promise you that there was not one tree with a branch below 20 feet in the air. I tried to throw that stupid featherweight string and carabiner over anything and everything. I was wrapped and tangled in 50 feet of this stupid string. It was like a comedy sketch. In the end, I would settle for dangling it from a branch approximately 7.5 feet off the ground and completely against the tree. I actually laughed out loud when I finished, it was such a pathetic attempt. 

I went back to the shelter and got ready for bed. I put everything in my pack and put my pack just outside my tent inside the shelter. It was about 9pm when I climbed into the tent to read exactly 7 words of "100 Years of Solitude" (yes, I did bring this 900 page book with me again). I was OUT. In my sleep I could hear fireworks somewhere in the distance and in my dreams they were warlike noises. I didn't even bother climbing out to see if I could catch a glimpse. I slept right through.

At 11:30pm I was startled awake by the sound of the picnic table moving. This was a very solid picnic table, I might add...these things were made to stand the test of time (this particular shelter was built in 1965). I thought it might be another hiker arriving after dark but when I looked out I saw no light of a headlamp. The realization swept over my entire body. I knew what it was. I sat up in my tent watching through the mesh top, listening as the bumping and scooting and banging continued. I heard the creepy wind chimes as something scraped past them. And then, I saw it come around the corner toward the sleeping shelter. Turns out I would have some company for the evening. The bear made it's way right over to my tent and began nudging and sniffing my pack. My heart raced as I watch its fuzzy head tipping my bag over and stuffing its nose into my pack. I thought of the bars I had been stuffing back into my side pockets while hiking. I thought of the coffee I had left in my pack. IDIOT! But mostly, I ran through all of my options...well, both of my options. 

Be quiet or be loud. Consider both - quiet and maybe it doesn't notice me and goes away. I was zipped inside a mesh tent after all. Maybe that was the best option? Or make noise and scare it, which could go the way of my earlier bear sighting and the bear would flee or could invoke the bears anger or protective instincts. I sat in utter silence. I heard more noise in the picnic area and realized my friend was not alone. The bear, satisfied with his exploration of my gear, left the sleeping area but I could still hear them walking around the shelter house. They walked past the sleeping platform. They broke branches that sounded like trees cracking in half. This went on for the next 4 hours. At times, I would actually doze off, only to wake back up to the bear in my bag again. I can't explain this but at some point my fear turned to anger. I tried a new tactic. I growled at the bear. I slammed things down inside my tent. I even reached out of my tent and grabbed my hiking pole and began swinging it at anything within its reach. The bears would go away, come back, go away, come back. Finally, at 3am, I'd had enough. I took my pole and started swinging it like a crazy person. I screamed and growled. The bear walked (WALKED, did not run) away and I reached out and grabbed my pack - pulling it inside my tent. I quickly dressed and packed my things from the inside of my tent. Then I took a deep breath and climbed out of my tent. I didn't even look for the bear, I just began packing the tent into it's bag and stuffed it into my pack. I put on my headlamp and took off to grab my bear bag. I was getting the hell out of there. I would not just sit and wait. I couldn't be frightened anymore.

As I neared my bear bag it became obvious there was nothing left to retrieve. It looked like it had exploded. Bit of the bag were strewn around and food was everywhere. I turned and hiked toward the trail, guiltily leaving it all behind (I told myself I would make a big donation to the trail conservancy for this violation). I hiked through the night with my headlamp lighting the 3 feet ahead of me. After about 30 minutes I felt better. My heart rate slowed. I had done it! I hiked ahead replaying the last 4 hours and even the last few weeks. How much had this experience changed me? I was now walking through the woods in the middle of the night, absolutely fearless. A month ago I would have felt like I was in a horror movie if that had happened. I was suddenly so very grateful for this night and for the weeks that led up to it. I am not without fear, but I can't allow fear to dictate what I will try.

I came out onto a road and couldn't find the trail on the other side. I wasn't sure where I had lost it in the dark - but it didn't matter. I had no food, I had to hike out. I took a right just as easily as I could have taken a left and I walked. A few hours later when the sun rose, I promise you it was the most beautiful sunrise I had ever seen. I took out my phone and fired it up. It still didn't have service but I was able to use GPS to find a route to Franklin (a 4.5 hour walk from there). I stopped on the side of the road and made some coffee (all that I had left) and walked along while enjoying my warm beverage (it was a chilly morning). I felt amazing. 

When I reached Highway 64 (the same highway where I had been picked up by the weirdos who wouldn't let me out of the truck) I began setting my guidelines for hitchhiking. I would only accept a ride from a woman. Or a woman and a man with children who were in proper child safety seats. Or a church bus. In the end, the first truck that pulled over (and it was immediately. I hadn't gone 100 feet on the highway) was driven by a middle aged man with a South African accent. I jumped in pushing the cans and bottles aside in the floorboard. You might be asking yourself, "How could she be so stupid...again?" but I would counter that with, "Have you ever heard a South African accent? They are beautiful and kind." The man was lovely and drove me straight to Franklin on his way to work. I told him about my bear incident and about my hike in general and even about my feeling of unease...how I had come out here seeking the space to think but now it all seemed too quiet. "There is a difference between solitude and loneliness," he said. He dropped me off in Franklin and I watched him drive off before I sat down to contemplate my next move. 

round two

It's 6am and I am sitting here waiting for my ride back to the trail. I have made the decision to go out for another week - attempting to get to TN. It's difficult to describe the feeling in the moments before leaving. I have spent the last two nights in an uneasy/fearful state. The nerves are terrible but they signal a good this - they signal that I am pushing myself outside my comfort zone. 

The hardest part of this is being away from my girls. Last night my youngest daughter called me crying and I know she misses me. I wonder if, from the outside, I appear to be selfish. I wonder if they will see it that way when they are old enough to judge. If I am being very honest - this is a selfish thing to do. But how many of us have stuffed down dreams, skipped opportunities that might have made us better/happier/healthier in the long run because we feared the reaction of others or other short term challenges? I know I have done it...for years...so today as I stepped out to push toward my goal I do it confident that I will come out the other side evolved into some better form of myself and my family will benefit from a better me. 

So, my goal is simple...pick up where I came off the trail a couple of weeks ago having completed Georgia and push on through North Carolina to Tennessee. I will be writing for you all along the way and will post as I can. 

Fingers crossed for dry weather (I forgot my pack cover!). Happy Fourth of July to you all!

the end?

We woke up and broke camp in the rain. I shared my coffee with The Guy (even though when he asked me if I had some extra I lied and said I did not) and he drank his from a cooking pot. Mr Grumpy rolled out of his tent and immediately started to pile his things into the fire pit. He was, honest to God, trying to set fire to his things. I begged him not to…we still had 10 miles ahead of us until their ride was picking them up. Anything could happen! But he was set on watching it all burn and putting his days on the trail behind him. Fortunately, he wasn’t able to light a fire in the soggy conditions, so we convinced him to leave his things in the shelter for some hiker who might need them. I was sort of irritated that Mr Grumpy was being so shortsighted but whatever…we all set out to make it to Deep Gap, about 8 miles away, where The Guys had a pick-up arranged and I was planning to hike out and hitch into town.

 

We headed out of camp. It was a wet morning but the terrain was mild and followed the ridge on the top of the mountains. I was in “a mood” for whatever reason. I kept thinking about my plan of coming out on the trail alone and moving at my own pace…then I met these two and had spent the couple of days of my solitude with them. And The Guy never stopped talking! He asked questions. He told stories. He psychoanalyzed me. I found myself increasingly irritated with their presence on my last day “alone” in the wood. At one point I moved out into the lead of our group and then I just took off. I hiked as if someone were chasing me. I didn’t take break. I didn’t look back. For the next 2-3 hours I hiked with my heart rate pinned at max and with zero intentions of ever seeing those two again. I looked back…no sign. I listened…no sign. I would never see those two again and I had my trail back. I was alone. I needed no one. I was self-sufficient. And then…I stopped.

 

I stopped dead in my tracks. I stood there for 30 minutes waiting. Nothing. I hiked a bit further and wrote a note in the dirt. “Hi.” I hiked a bit further and stopped to change my socks and eat something. Another 20 minutes and nothing. I continued and as I passed the last shelter (just a mile or so from the road where The Guys would be picked up), I heard voices. I stopped and stood in the middle of the trail. I wrote more notes in the dirt. I listened for the voices. Two people emerged from the shelter and said hi as they passed me. My heart sank. I had left them and it was an awful thing to do…to never even say goodbye. I hated myself.

 

I slowly started off again and then I heard it…The Guy. He literally NEVER stopped talking! I waited excitedly as they rounded the bend. “I never thought we would see you again!” The Guy said as he hiked by. I fell in behind them and followed them to the spot on the trail where USFS 71 intersected the trail. Their ride was waiting for them. We were done.

 

The Guys put their things into the car and we said goodbye. Their friend snapped a photo. They asked me…a hundred times…if I needed a ride into town. I said no. I was going to be picked up but not until 7pm that night. It was noon. I might as well hike the 7 miles out of the forest service road to the main road. The Guys gave me their email addresses so we could stay in touch. As they drove out of sight up the gravel road I looked at the card in my hand. Then, I tore it into pieces.

 

I spent the next 2.5 hours hiking up the gravel road. I had no idea where this forest service road came out. My plan was to get to a main road and then figure out where I was and where I needed to be picked up or to hitch (or hike) into the nearest town. As I walked the skies grew dark…another thunderstorm. When I finally emerged from the forest service road it dumped me out directly onto a highway. I checked my phone…it was almost dead and had no service. I checked my personal locator device…it was completely dead. Ok…maybe I should have taken that ride??? I walked down the highway one direction for about half a mile. Nothing. I hiked back and on the other way for another half a mile. I saw a sign that read Hwy 64 but nothing telling me which direction would take me to the nearest town. It started to rain harder. I was out of energy. Out of food. Out of power. And I had no idea where I was. Oh, and now it was raining. Grrrrr.

 

I hiked back to the spot where the forest service hit the highway and I sat down on the road. I was holding my poncho over my head when a small read pickup truck pulled up (coming from the direction of the forest service road) and the guy driving stuck his head out the window.

 

“Are ya tired?” he asked. I said I was…it had been a long day. He asked if I needed a ride and I said no…but asked if he could point me in the direction of Franklin. He pointed in the opposite director to what I had thought. “Are you heading to Franklin?” I asked…and just then a woman jumped out of the passenger side and came over and grabbed my pack. She tossed it in the back of the truck. I can only remember that she wasn’t wearing shoes. And she was blonde. I instinctively chased my pack into the back of the truck. It was just that…an instinct, not a decision. I jumped in and the truck took off up the highway. I was hungry. I was tired. I was freezing. I was wet. And now things just got worse.

 

It occurred to me that I maybe had never ridden in the back of a pickup truck. It was novel at first. I actually snapped a quick photo. But then with every bump, I came off the bed of the truck and I envisioned my body flying through the air at 70 mph. I tried to get up toward the cab of the truck but there was too much stuff in the bed and I was trapped right up against the tailgate. I reached up and pounded on the back window. It slid open and revealed a third person…quite possibly the most frightening person I have ever seen…he opened the window and asked, “do you want a beer?” “Can you just let me out here?” I asked. “I am too scared. Can you please let me out?” He shut the window. The truck’s speed didn’t change. I started to think this might have been a really stupid decision. As the truck began up the next pass, it sputtered. The driver jerked the wheel to the side. I lost contact with the bed again and reached up and pounded on the glass. Once again, it slid open and I was face to face with Creepy. “Can you just let me out here?” I pled. The driver shouted something and Creepy translated. “We are just running out of gas. You’re fine.” The glass slid shut once again and I put my head down and I cried. I cried for 10 minutes and I just kept thinking over and over that I hoped my girls knew how much I loved them and that I only did things like this to inspire them someday…to do things they wanted to do even if it meant going without a safety net. I won’t say I prayed, but I chanted my love into the universe. I felt something on my hand and I looked up to see Creepy trying to shove a cheese stick into my hand (you know, the ones that they sell for a kids lunch or something). I shook my head. “Can I just get out?” He slammed the glass shut and I put my head back down.

 

Another five minutes probably passed before I felt the truck change speeds. I looked up and could see a traffic light up ahead. I looked off to the left and saw a BP gas station. I knocked on the window and it opened. “I need to get out here!” I said. “Please!!!” The woman spoke up this time, “You said you wanted to go to Franklin.” “No, here is perfect. Please can you just let me out?” I gathered my things, preparing myself to jump. “You are fine,” she said, “you’re with us now.”

 

Just then the driver pulled into the turning lane. “I need gas anyway,” he said. Oh THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU. He pulled into the gas station and I jumped out…my legs and arms trembling from fatigue, cold and fear.

 

I threw my things under a small overhang on the outside of the BP. It looked a lot like heaven. I sat down and pulled my knees into my chest and waited for the next three hours for my family to pick me up. I had a lot of amazing experiences on the trail. I met people who have changed my life and made me see the world differently, each in their own little way. And in the end…even the view from the back of the pickup sparked the feeling that life doesn’t need to be routine. Everything is a choice and you can choose the easy and safe path or you can see what happens when you take the first step in another direction. 

thunderstorms on mountaintops

I woke up and checked to see what time it was. It was 5am. The sun was not up yet, there was still an hour before that would happen. I pulled my bear bag down as quietly as I could and went about the business of breaking camp. By 6am when everyone was beginning to stir – I was ready to head out. I had made the decision during the night that I would not be escorting The Cop the remaining 10 miles he needed to cover in order to get off the trail. While I felt for him and wanted him to make it out safely – I had to be a little selfish. I had 16 miles to cover to make it to the next shelter. And it was a tough day…it started with a lot of descending which can be harder than going uphill, especially if your feet are blistered. It was uncomfortable because I could tell he was sitting (still in the shelter) thinking “what the heck?” and I was obviously not holding up my end of our gentleman’s agreement.

 

I hiked off telling myself that it wasn’t like I had left him alone, there were other people at the shelter and most of them were hiking to the same spot he was aiming for – Unicoi Gap, where the trail crossed Hwy 75 taking you 9 miles into Helen. I spent the first couple of hours of my hike justifying having left The Cop behind but in the end I decided that I came out into the woods alone and I didn’t expect anything from anyone…no one should expect anything from me. But that wasn’t entirely true, I had relied on so many people along the way if for nothing other than knowing there was another human being nearby. I hope The Cop made it out though I would end the day without knowing…and feeling a little bit like a jerk.

 

When I came out of the woods at Unicoi Gap, the highway seemed like the surface of the moon. There was nothing but a gravel parking lot along the side of the highway. A few clusters of hikers sat scattered in the gravel sunning themselves. I passed two young kids and asked if they were hiking. They said they were looking for a ride into Helen. I sat down by myself in the middle of the parking lot. Not long after I had stripped my socks off to air out my feet The Swiss Family Robinson came out of the woods. They sat down near me (on their little, perfect blanket seats) and began eating their lunch. They were waiting on a ride – they were coming off the trail before the bad weather was supposed to hit. I sat there chatting with them. I really liked them – they operated as a unit and they were just all so comfortable. This was easy for them. I asked if I could buy any bars (power bars) off them because I was out and had resorted to making myself peanut butter, sunflower seed and raisin burritos (ok, now I am gagging). They fished around and gave me a couple and I began putting my socks back on.

 

Just then a pickup truck pulled up and two guys jump out of the cab. I can just hear the old man driving offering one of them some words of wisdom as they grabbed their packs out of the back. It was a lucky break for the two kids waiting to hitch into Helen – the two guys jumped out and the two kids jumped in and everyone was happy. The two guys joined us in the parking lot. We all chatted a bit and asked where everyone was heading. I told them I was planning to make it 6 miles over the top of Rocky Mountain and Trey Mountain to the Trey Gap shelter. By then they had both cracked a beer and were saying they too planned to get to Trey Gap. The thought of a beer before climbing these mountains in the heat made me giggle. These guys were jokers. I tied my shoes and headed up the mountain. There was no sign of The Cop.

 

I was halfway up the first of the two mountains when I heard something coming behind me. I looked back and was SHOCKED to see they guys from the parking lot. I mean, I hike pretty fast and watched them drink a beer (or three) before starting. Regardless, they made some snarky comment and I liked them instantly – so I jumped in behind them and we made our way toward Trey Gap together. The weather was moving in and we were racing the storm to get into camp. We finally saw the sign for the shelter and hiked in. I was telling The Guys my dream – that no one would be at the shelter and I could set my tent up IN the shelter and let it dry out. It had been wet for days. As we came around the final bend, it became apparent to us that someone else was living my dream. There was a family (of some strange sort) set up in and around the shelter. They had THEIR tent in the shelter. They had other tents set up all around the shelter. Two little girls, maybe 10 years old, ran up to great us wearing princess crowns. What the hell is going on here? I immediately asked The Guys if they were also seeing the fairies. We hiked straight on past the weird family and found a little spot to set up camp.

 

(Side note: I am struggling with what to call these guys because I actually learned their real names. They were the only people on the trail I had called by their actual names. But out of respect for their privacy – I need to give them nicknames. One is easy…Mr Grumpypants. The others is more difficult so I will just refer to him as The Guy until something better comes to me. Stick with me, Reader.)

 

We set up our tents on a clearing and made dinner. Mr Grumpypants and I tried to make a fire and were successful for approximately 4.5 minutes, during which time one of the fairies wandered up and stood staring at us. “I like smoke,” she said. Ok, creepy. It was too wet and the rain was picking back up. There was not going to be any campfire…in fact, we were going to be forced into our tents at 4:30 when the rain began in earnest. We sat in our tents yelling to one another. Poor Grumpypants brought a tent straight out of Charlie Brown…it looked like a tarp over a string. From what I saw of Grumpypants, he was not really enjoying his time on the trail – but if you saw this tent, you would understand why. He was getting soaked. It could not have been fun. The sky darkened and the storm hit us full bore. We were in tents on the top of a mountain in a thunderstorm. We giggled and screamed (like girls, all of us) as lightning struck and thunder clapped literally on top of our heads. It was both terrifying and, for whatever reason, hilarious. The storm eventually blew over and only the rain continued. We were stuck in our tents for the night with nothing to do but go to sleep. And so we did. 

Making breakfast inside my tent.

This is what hours stuck inside a tent looks like.

Wet and hazy days on the trail.

the cop and me

I headed out from Neels Gap for the remaining 11 or so miles to Low Gap Shelter. The terrain was kind today and with my new shoulder pads, I was ready to hike! The Cop and The Marine left with me and halfway up the climb out of the gap I noticed The Cop was right on my heels. It surprised me a little because I hike fast and he wasn’t a small guy. I could hear his sister in the distance, coughing and wheezing. I stopped for a second to rest and chatted with The Cop a bit. He was from Indiana and was carrying a handgun in his pocket. Interesting. His sister caught up and before I could take off again she announced she was turning around and going back to Neels to call someone to pick her up. She was done. Her last words were “take care of my baby brother” and she was gone. Ummm, what? My first thought was to turn and run. I wasn’t on this trip alone to be NOT alone. I didn’t want to “take care” of anyone. I took a deep breath and looked at The Cop. He shrugged and said “that's the right choice…I couldn’t make it for her, but it’s the right choice.” We turned toward the mountain ahead of us and began to climb.

A photo of the white trail blazes that mark your way while following th AT.

Over the next several hours I would learn about The Cop’s life. He had suffered a heart attack the previous year (he was 33) and had decided he needed to turn things around and be more active. He loved being a cop. He adored his family – he was doing this for them. His goal was to make it the first 100 miles. His more realistic goal was to make it to the North Carolina state line. His goal by the end of the day would be to make it out. The Cop was struggling. He had the heart to push himself but his body was not holding up. He had blisters on every toe and a new one arriving with every passing mile. His knees were hurting. His pack was actually pretty light because he wasn't carrying a tent – he had planned to stay only in shelters on his hike. So, over the course of the day our goals became clear…first, get him to a shelter for the night. Second, get him to the next road crossing so he could get out and head for home.

We passed the first shelter at 38.4 miles (a 9 mile hike from where we started the day). The Cop was done…ready to stop for the night. But I was not. I flashed back to my initial reaction to his company for the day…I was not out here for anyone but me. Would I sacrifice my plan to help him? It would mean doing the same thing the next day since we would be further still from the goal of getting him off the trail. We stopped to discuss our options. I wanted to go on – make it the remaining 5 miles to Low Gap and then have 10 miles the following day to reach the next road crossing. The Cop didn’t hesitate…he was coming with me. On we went. In the woods with a pack, you can typically rely on covering about 2 miles an hour. At best, we were facing another 2.5 hours of hiking. That was a dramatic understatement. The Cop hobbled. He crawled. He took every single step with a wince of pain. I tried to convince him to take his shoes off and walk barefoot or in his socks. I tried to get him to wear my Crocs. There was just so little anyone could do. Blisters are wicked. The are small and insignificant, they seem so silly – caused by friction. Friction? But here is the thing about blisters…they only get worse. Something the size of a pencil eraser can cause enough pain that you literally cannot go on. The poor Cop. I stopped every hour to wait for him and eventually he would come around the bend. Always wearing a pained smile. We developed a method of clicking our poles together twice as a signal. I would click mine to check on him and he would click his to respond that he was still moving forward.

We arrived at Low Gap Shelter just as it was getting dark. There was a great group already gathering. Swiss Family Robinson – a gorgeous blonde woman and her teenage niece and nephew (equally blonde and beautiful) and her cousin (again, no surprise – blonde and adorable). It was so wonderful to see these women in the woods. They were fearless and they had their shit together. They had made dinner and were playing cards with the kids. I really loved their company and they had a lot of tips for me (ie. How about you don’t “clean” your dishes in the dirty creek water? It’s call cross contamination. Good call!)

There were a couple of other characters at the shelter. Matthew – a 75 year old thru-hiker who was trying to hike the entire trail (from Springer Mountain in Georgia to Katahdin in Maine, over 2100 miles total) but had suffered several setbacks. He had been sick and come off the trail a few times. His wife was tracking him by minivan – meeting him wherever he needed help along the way. Then there was Alaska – a young guy from the Coast Guard who had just moved to Alaska and was back in the South to go to a wedding so he decided to have his girlfriend drop him off and he would hike to the wedding. It was a great little community and I was so happy to feel their positive energy.

The Cop walked directly into the shelter and basically fell over. He didn’t leave that spot for the night. In the shelters (which typically consist of a wooden platform with a roof and 3 walls and one wall completely open), people roll out their sleeping pads and bags and sleep shoulder to shoulder. 

This is a photo of Low Gap shelter just to give you an idea. I stole this online, it's not mine.

With the addition of The Cop, this shelter was a max capacity. The Swiss Family (party of 4), Alaska, Matthew and The Cop meant they were squeezing 7 people into a pretty tight space. I was planning to set up my tent regardless. I loved sleeping in my tent and having my own space. I set up close to the shelter and began making my dinner. I boiled some water and took it to the cop so he could eat too. I washed his bowl after he ate and after a brief discussion about how loud I would need to be to have he and his handgun at my service – he was snoring and I was in my tent. (Side note: snoring is an issue in the shelters, so bringing earplugs is advised)

In the middle of the night, I had to pee. I unzipped my tent and grabbed my headlamp. I looked out and could see several sets of red eyes looking back at me. All I could think about were wolves and coyotes (though it’s much more likely they were raccoons). I zipped my tent back up. NO WAY. But I had to pee and that wasn’t going to change. I had to get out of the tent. I unzipped and looked back out…still there. Nope, not happening. I re-zipped. There was only one option. I searched through my stuff and found my map. I dumped it out of its baggie and got into a sort of squat position. This was so risky! If I peed on anything I would smell like pee and would be wet for the rest of the week (absolutely NOTHING dries on the trail). And it was a snack size baggie! But I had waited too long and there was no time left to debate…I would have to rely on being dehydrated and having excellent aim. Success! I sealed my sample and put it in the corner of my tent. I slept soundly despite the wolves circling me and the urine in my tent. 

Oh and ps. I would end up smelling like urine anyway.

The view inside my tent.

retail therapy on the trail

I slept peacefully and woke up to this view...

Not bad. I was finding my groove. I made breakfast and packed up. My process was getting better but I was still slower than the rest of the gang and I was the last person out of camp, except the drifter who was still inside and hadn't woken up yet (or maybe wasn't alive? I didn't check).

The next two miles were downhill and would end at Neel's Gap where the trail crosses US19 and there is a small store/outfitters called Mountain Crossings. I cannot explain to you why I so looked forward to stopping at that store. In the end, I would walk away with just a cup of coffee and a Zone Bar but when I stepped foot inside the shop - it was as if I had never experienced retail before. I looked at EVERY SINGLE THING. Twice. I inspected every souvenir t-shirt and ceramic coffee mug. I considered every item of gear they offered...the high tech rain jackets that weighed like half a marshmallow (side note: still unable to wrap my head around proper units of weight measurement, I have given up and opt to weigh things as compared to marshmallows. Also, have I mentioned my 4 pound poncho yet? Oh I will!) and the socks, oh the socks, so many beautiful, dry, perfect socks. Socks are really amazing. I never knew! Then I made it to their food supply and considered every possible mac and cheese option. I read the back of the packaging on every medication and ointment they offered. It was like I was TRYING to find some reasonable way to add something to my pack. In the end, I realized that I had everything I needed and instead began to focus on refilling my water supply and charging my personal locator device.

(This is my sock regiment. Weird toe socks and thin Smart Wool socks. I changed them at halfway point each day. No blisters - and that is important, I saw grown men reduced to a crawl because they had blisters.)

While I was charging and refilling my water from a hose on the side of the building, The Cop and The Marine arrived. The Cop is a 300lb very large guy. He immediately drops his pack and begins fishing through it for something. The Marine (his sister) is in rough shape. She is wearing what appear to be combat boots but I can't imagine that is what we are sending our troops into battle wearing. I mean, I literally just bought those same shoes for my daughter's Hip-Hop recital costume. I don't like to get political, but I think we could at least equip those men and women protecting our country with some boots that utilize the innovations of the last century. Anyway, she was coughing a lot and moving very slowly and otherwise making it pretty clear that she was toast. I look back at The Cop and he is positioning a My Little Pony stuffed animal on the wall of the overlook to take a photo. Apparently this is the game he and his daughter play when he is away. He snaps the photos and sends them off...his little girl will wake up to a sweet message from her dad and a little "find the pony" action.

I went back into the store to breathe in the air of civilization and feel the electric currents and managed air flows one last time. There will not be another oasis on my journey...the remainder of my hike will cross roads and even a couple of highways but never in close proximity of a convenience store or a Target (dreaming!). The husband and wife team that runs the place (and who were, on this particular day, seemingly regretting that decision) were debating the cause of the raw, blistered collarbones I had shown them. I had made it through the last day by stuffing socks under my pack straps but they were considering better options. The wife came outside with what looked like a yoga mat and a roll of duct tape. She helped me put my pack on (properly, for the first time) and then cut big chunks of the blue foam and duct taped them to my pack straps. I put the pack back on, struggling to do this in some cooler way but it still required a lot of wiggling and then rocking myself back into a standing position. There was always a moment when rocking myself upright where I could go either way. I could arrive at some standing posture OR I could roll backward onto my back and the only thing separating the two was momentum, several stablizer muscles and dumb luck. Not here, not now! I had an audience! As I stood and adjusted the full weight of the pack hit me again and I felt something new...absolute love for this woman. Honestly, she just changed my life (for the next week) and I was a new person hiking happily out of Neels Gap and heading toward Low Gap Shelter. I started the day at 29.3 miles and would be hiking to 43.2 miles on my third day on the trail.

settling in

As I headed out for my second day of hiking things were looking up. It was a beautiful day and the trail was so green and fresh and quiet. Home is not a quiet place for me, so while I missed my girls and the constant noise of their world, I was loving every minute of the quiet. I found I just couldn't think about home. In fact, when I returned from the trip people would ask me what I thought about and honestly – it was either nothing or I just couldn't remember. I think I had a lot of conversations…the kind where it's just me talking and I am amazingly insightful. But they were always built on random thoughts. I sang a lot of songs in my head too – or rather, I sang the same 2 songs repeatedly and they were not the songs I was hoping for. In fact, sometimes I would try to change the song but never had any luck…my subconscious would take back over as soon as my diligence waned. But back to my point – I could not think about my family, I found I was better off not talking about them if I met someone and generally just kept myself from dwelling. I missed them but I also understood that this was my time and that even if you are a parent, you still deserve time to not be anything to anyone but you. Too deep? 

So on my second day I hiked the trail from Gooch Gap (at 15.8 miles) to the shelter at Blood Mountain (at 29.3 miles). Blood Mountain shelter is located at the top of about 1500 feet of climbing over about 5 miles of trail. The final push to the top is pretty steep and the 45 pound beast strapped to my back was not helping. When I came around the bend in the trail and saw the shelter, I forgot all about the climb to it. The shelter at Blood Mountain is made of stone and surrounded by huge rocks that offer inspiring views of the terrain below. When I arrived at the shelter, there was already a cobbled crew of hikers making camp for the evening. There were two guys who were hanging their hammocks (this is a trend in backpacking…a hammock rather than a tent) on top of the big rocks…literally on top of the world from our vantage point. It was absolutely beautiful, but there is NO WAY I would stay up there. One middle of the night potty break and you could easily topple off the top of the mountain. It was also extremely windy up there. I recorded the wind in my tent later that night, amazed at how much it sounded like surf. One of these two guys was a really experienced hiker. He and his wife had hiked the Pacific Crest Trail on the West Coast as their honeymoon. He wasn't like Gear Guy from the night before – but he was super helpful and had great tips for me. His buddy was new to hiking – but both were great company and I felt so much more comfortable than I had the night before. 

There was also a brother/sister pair at the shelter. The brother was a cop from Indiana. The sister was an ex-Marine. They were set up in the shelter along with a young kid who was just drifting…not really hiking the trail with any direction or goal in mind…just sort of hanging out on it. I set my tent up just outside the shelter and enjoyed dinner on top of the rocks with the others while we watched the sun set. The experienced hiker (I sort of took to calling him North Face, although he had a trail name but I couldn't remember it) shared the dinner his wife had prepared for them. Mac and cheese with chicken and peas. I was eating freeze-dried eggs so I happily accepted a bit of his extra mac and cheese and have been on a quest to recreate that deliciousness since returning home. I also think I told several of the people I would meet in the days to come about this dish. 

Sitting on the top of that rock, watching the quiet sunset and feeling the cool breeze blow through my sweaty, stinky hair – I felt so lucky to be in that exact moment. 

The image of that moment will remain one of the best of my trip.

“I never thought you would make it.”

I set out in the morning with The Guy and Mr Grumpy. I liked hiking with them. They argued nonstop and I enjoyed hearing the constant back and forth. Plus their pace was good for me and our goals were aligned. They had begun their hike a full week before me with the ambitious goal of making it to Hot Springs, 273 miles into the trail. I am not really sure how they arrived at that goal…but I liked their gusto and we had all reduced our goals to a more reasonable GA/NC line at 79 miles and then on to the next road that intersected the trail to hike out (totaling about 85 miles). They had been taking the “scenic route” going into towns along the way, sleeping in hotels and dining (and drinking) in restaurants. Mr Grumpy clearly hated camping, the outdoors, all of nature, most people and just everything in general. I am exaggerating but it was clear that he wasn’t enjoying the lack of comforts on the trail. The Guy, on the other hand, was looking for someone to talk to since his buddy wasn’t engaging. We hiked through the day talking about random stuff – all planning to make it 16 miles to Plumorchard Gap Shelter before the rain set in (again).

We wore our rain gear most of the day (which for me meant I put on my 8 pound poncho and for Mr Grumpy meant he put on his bright purple version of the same. He looked like an angry Barney hiking through the forest). The Guy had a reasonable rain jacket and secretly coveted it (side note: Within 3 days of coming off the trail I had already purchased a new rain jacket from REI. Ponchos are ridiculous).

We hiked as fast as we could and never stopped for more than a couple of minutes at a time. Most of our conversations were about people we had met along the trail. I told them the stories from my previous nights…about Gear Guy and The Cop and Swiss Family Robinson. They had stories of their own…a “prophet” who had taken up residence in a shelter and the old man who gave them some “trail magic” – which in their case meant beer. Trail Magic is something that many of the AT hikers talk about – it means that someone leaves something or gives something to hikers as they come across a road. They might give them bananas or leave clean water or Cokes. I didn’t experience any of this but I dreamed of two scenarios – one was that someone would give me a banana and the second was that there would be pizza at the next shelter. I was disappointed on both.

We pulled into came at about 4:30pmjust ahead of the rain. As we walked into camp, a man turns toward us and recognizes me. “I was just talking about you!” he says. “I NEVER thought you would make it.” I immediately exchanged looks with The Guys, it was funny because they knew exactly who this was from my stories. Gear Guy. As we walked through the shelter area, Gear Guy peppered me with questions about my hike. Had I sent things home to lighten up my pack? How many miles had I covered each day? I think he was really disturbed that I had not lightened my pack but I had made it to the same place he had in the same about of time. I enjoyed watching him try to figure out how it was possible.

The Plumorchard shelter was large – with three levels or sleeping platforms – and it was filling up quick. Our party of three walked right through the shelter area and back to the campsites. We found one and set our tents up with the openings facing the center so we could all talk from our tents (we didn’t do this the night before and we were yelling to one another). I went up to the shelter to see if there was space for me to lay my wet clothes out to dry – since it looked like we were going to be facing another wet night. There was a whole cast of characters at the shelter…a mix of college-aged girls, father-son duos, random drifter hippy types. Gear Guy had amassed a small following of people who seemed to enjoy (or would endure) his endless advice. I put my things down on the top floor of the shelter and went to the spring to freshen up.

Freshening up was never quite satisfying. I would try to adhere to my skincare regiment. I would cleanse and tone and exfoliate and moisturize but the grime was just endless. I tried in vain to reduce my odor. It’s one of the things I was not totally prepared for…I had not really envisioned what a week without showering would look like (or smell like).

And then, the rain came. It absolutely poured. I jumped under the shelter to wait it out as more and more hikers arrived and set up their stuff. Eventually it became clear that there was not going to be space to spare for my stuff to dry so I climbed up to retrieve all my stuff and headed to my tent as soon as the rain let up.

As The Guys and I were preparing our dinner, Gear Guy comes walking up with my bra dangling from his fingers. “Think you dropped this.” Oh touché, Gear Guy.

We ate and climbed into our tents as the rain continued. It wasn’t long before I heard their snores mixing in with the sound of rain.

my first night alone in the woods...i was not alone in the woods

My first night on the trail would be an emotional roller coaster. There were 5 other people staying at Gooch Mountain Shelter located at mile 15.8 on the Appalachian Trail. Two men were there with their 15 and 17 year old sons to camp. They had hiked in and using the shelter as a weekend get-away. Unlike the other "hikers" they were not the least bit concerned with pack weight, had no interest in my ultralight camp stove or my freeze dried dinner. They were carrying biscuits their wives had made and bottles of rum. They has assumed ownership of the shelter, though they were happy to offer me a spot. I wanted to stay in my tent…it was my first night out and I had something to prove. Plus I didn't love the idea of all of us shoulder to shoulder with mice running over the top of us all. (The shelters on the AT are notoriously infested with mice.) I went around back to select my campsite from those available (based on absolutely no criteria whatsoever) and began the task of "making camp." 

My first night in the woods was not smooth. It took me a long time to set up my tent and sleeping bag/pad. I couldn't get all my stuff together to go up to the shelter to make my dinner. Things weren't packed right. I was nervous. I didn't know what to do first. Plus, I was pausing every few minutes to send a cryptic and increasingly desperate text message from my personal location device to my husband. Sending a message on this thing is a lot like sending a text message in 2005. There was no keypad, I was using numbers and arrows to tap out my change of heart. My first message was pretty reasonable: Checking in. I am stopping for the night. The next one: What if I don't want to do this anymore? The third: Would you be able to pick me up tomorrow? 

I headed up to the shelter to make my dinner – freeze dried black beans and rice. The fifth person who had pulled into the shelter for the evening had set up his tent nearby. I can't remember his real name (nor can I recall the names of the family of four…in my mind I called them "the good ole boys.") but his character was familiar to me from years of bike racing. He was a "gear guy." He wanted to discuss your every gear selection…"Aluminum? Interesting choice. I went with titanium. Saved 10 ounces." He had tried his song and dance with the good ole boys but they were having none of it. They hadn't made selections…they had just brought their stuff out to sleep outside. I was an easy target. "How much does your pack weight?" "WHAT? Are you crazy? 45 pounds is insane. You will never make it." And so it began…I omitted the part about my facial care products and full toiletry selection, but otherwise we discussed every item in my pack. I was already feeling doubtful and this wasn't helping. I said goodnight to the good ole boys and gear guy and headed to my tent. It was about 8pm. I sent one last message: I will check in tomorrow and see how I feel. I turned on my lantern and settled into my book, One Hundred Years of Solitude (oh, the irony). 

I dozed off with a cool mountain breeze blowing and awoke to raindrops on my face. It was raining. Slowly, but gaining momentum rapidly. Oh shit, my rain cover! I hadn't put the rain cover on my tent – because it wasn't raining…duh. Lesson #29, that can change FAST. I scrambled for the rain cover tripping over tent stakes as I tried to attach it in the dark (and in the rain). When I finished I climbed back into my slightly less cozy tent and tried to sleep again. I surprised myself by falling back to sleep and waking up at about 6:30. I pulled my food back down from the bear cables, made breakfast and coffee, chatted with the good ole boys (who were enjoying a hearty breakfast) and packed up my stuff. I was back on the trail by 7:30 and things were looking much better as I started off for another day on the trail.

day one on the trail…

There is no photographic evidence of my first day/night on the trail. Having absolutely no idea how far or fast I could move, I headed out with no goal in mind. I knew that I wanted to spend the night at a shelter. On the AT, there are shelters every 6-8 miles. Shelters are 3 sided structures built to allow hikers to gather and take cover while on the trail. Coincidentally, they do the same thing for mice. 

They tend to be the informal hubs along the trail and many hikers even hike without a tent, planning to sleep only in the shelters along the way. While modest in their offerings (a wooden platform with a "roof"), I found them to be glorious places and as soon as I left one…I was already aiming for the next. On day one, there were 2 options for me. The first was the shelter at Hawk Mountain…a mere 8 miles into the trail. I passed it by early afternoon, still feeling the (positive) effects of full meals the day before and a night spent sleeping in a comfy bed. I was confidant that I could cover the 8 miles to the next shelter, Gooch Mountain, by dinnertime. 

That confidence slowly eroded along with my blood sugar as I crawled over the top of Sassafras Mountain and lost the trail for a mile just after Justus Mountain. At that point, I had 3 miles to go. I had no appetite and I was getting more and more nervous by the minute. I hadn't seen a sole since my exchange with the old man about my pack weight 6 hours ago and he was heading the other way. I was coming to terms with spending the night alone. Maybe I was the only one out here? Was that possible? I supposed it was, with the thru hikers long gone…maybe the trail was only being used for day hikes with your family at this point (and to allow murderers to travel unimpeded by highway patrols…my mind was off to the races). I would most certainly be killed tonight. It was so obvious. I dragged myself onward and somewhere on the wind, I heard them…VOICES! I stopped, quieting myself to be sure. Yes! Voices!! I nearly ran (which means I crawled) around the next bend and there she was, Gooch Mountain Shelter. And there were her residents. Oh, it was going to be quite a night.

my stuff

It didn't take long for me to realize that my pack would become my key identifier on the trail. My very first day, having not seen another human for hours, I saw an old man walking toward me on the trail. He passed right on by but yelled out behind him…"how much does your pack weigh?" I knew. I had weighed in that morning in an attempt to understand why it was so impossible to get on and off. It was 45 pounds, fully loaded (more on that below). "Forty-five pounds!" I yelled back and he walked on. I heard him shout just as he disappeared over the ridge, "never carry more than 40." Thanks??

Many people who spend time hiking the Appalachian Trail are given (or rather, find themselves with) a trail name. I didn't plan on anything like that…I was alone and wasn't having long, philosophical debates about the universe or the meaning of life with anyone so how would I get a trail name? Well, this exchange with the old man was my first clue. Along the way, everyone person I met asked me what my pack weighed and what was in it. As I moved through the week, people I would me would say, "oh, you are the one with the heavy pack!" Word was traveling fast. 

Normal pack weights range between 25-35 lbs, so understandably I was on the high end…but I was traveling alone (carrying everything myself, not splitting the weight will anyone) and I was not coming off the trail (many hikers take breaks and go into town to resupply or they ship things to themselves to pick up at predetermined points along the trail)…but that was sophistication and confidence far beyond my experience levels. I only knew I would be in the woods and didn't want to find I had left behind that one key item I needed for survival. Oh, and I had NO idea what those items might be, so I came prepared. And so, over the course of the week, I would become known as Uber. My official name anointed to me by a group of fellow hikers after much hype about my speed despite my pack weight. 

If you are wondering — here is a list of exactly what was in my pack. 

One person lightweight tent (a sort of mesh coffin)

Sleeping Bag

Sleeping Pad (inflatable)

Pillow (inflatable)

2 pair of shorts (always hiking in one of the two)

1 tank top

1 short sleeve Smartwool top

2 long sleeve tops

1 down jacket

1 headband thing that looked cool and I just had to order it envisioning my hippie look perfected…never wore it :(

1 pair of long underwear pants

1 pair of thick wool socks

2 pair of thin wool socks

2 pair of sock liners (I wore these with a pair of thin wool socks and changed them twice a day so I was always wearing dry(ish) socks.

1 sports bra that could have hiked on without me by the end

Stove

Fuel canisters for stove (I had no idea how much fuel the thing would use, so I carried my own gas station)

Multiple freeze dried meals that only require you add a cup of water. These were delicious – but I was also starving, so…

2 packs of ramen noodles that remained the only food left in my sack at the end

5 packets of peanut putter

9 coffee singles from Starbucks (plus 9 sugars)

1 package of tortillas (heavy, but I stand behind this decision despite multiple comments about their weight)

1 baggie of raisins

3 baggies of sunflower seeds (3? Really?)

7 packets of oatmeal

5 energy bars (vastly understocked on these as they were about all I was eating throughout the day. I ended up buying them off other hikers every chance I got)

2 packages of pop tarts (I tossed these at my first opportunity. They were too sugary and made me feel awful. Now I hate pop tarts)

Water filtration system

1 water bottle

A 3 liter water bladder with tube so I could drink throughout the day. PS. Did you know 1 liter of water weighs about 2.2 lbs?? I know that now.

My skincare regiment (5 products, so yeah…you got me on this one…but I would do it again)

Small bottle of soap (for what??)

Aleve. Lots and lots of Aleve.

Bandaids

2 high absorbency towels (one small & one medium one). Once wet, these NEVER dried and they weight about 10 pounds wet :) but it was still nice to have them

Headlamp

Small lantern

Toilet paper

Small shovel that I never used

1 poncho

1 pack cover

1 cable to string up a bear bag

1 pair of Crocs (ps. I now re-love this company. Thank you CROCS!)

Titanium coffee mug

1 metal spoon

1 notepad (which I would later burn in a campfire without a single word inside)

A pencil

1 personal locator device (so I could be tracked by my friends & family back home or send SOS messages)

My iPhone – which was actually just a camera for this trip

2 extra battery chargers

4 extra AA batters

One Hundred Years of Solitude by Gabriel García Márquez (yep, all 900 pages of it. oh how close I came to burning this)

1 trail map in a baggie which I would check 400 times a day

1 folding knife. I never knew where this thing was…it was really a gesture.

A small baggie that contained my id, my debit card and $100 cash in small bills. I came back with all but $5 which I spent buying bars off other hikers.

A tiny bottle of bug spray that I only bought on my way to the trail on day 1 but ended up using like mad! It doubled as a sort of body spray, improving/masking my odor.

A big bottle of sunscreen that rarely needed or used.

A compass

*purposefully omitted - underwear. Nope, none.