Plantar Fasciitis: It killed my summer, but not my soul!

UPDATE: Coupled with the new insoles and PT that I was doing my foot was at probably 80% leading up to my recent trip... Just days before I left for an AT section earlier this month, I picked up a pair of Hoka Challenger ATX trail runners. As soon as I put them on with my pink Superfeet inside, I noticed a remarkable improvement on how my foot felt--it was like walking on a pillow. I wore them on my trip and hiked 50 miles from Newfound Gap to Max Patch in just 4 days. My plantar fasciitis bothered me LESS than it had before my trip--hardly noticed it at all. My feet and legs were sore from hiking and I was sadly out of shape on the uphills after being idle all summer, but my PF foot was at 90%--at least! When I got back, the Hokas were dirty so I wore my Brooks Cascadias for a few days and my foot got worse. I cleaned the Hokas up and got back to wearing them and doing some of the PT, and my foot's already feeling as good as it did just before my hike. And let me tell you, they make a real fashion statement with a skirt and hose for work! As for the Hokas, they provide good support and held up well on the trail although a piece of the tread is coming off now; they are slightly more narrow in the toe box than the Brooks and slightly less breathable, but overall worked out great and I'll keep using them.

ORIGINAL POST:

Bear with me while I share this story of the dumb foot problem that killed my hiking, and my spirit, for an entire summer…

I never imagined I’d have a problem like plantar fasciitis that would render me virtually unable to walk, let alone hike, and especially not at 43 years old. It started in November 2015 after I spent a day organizing my basement on a concrete floor in my slippers. It was very, very mild and every few weeks the bottom of my heel would feel tight—I’d massage it a little, make sure I didn’t sleep with my blanket mashing my toes in a pointed position, and I’d be fine for another few weeks. I had been doing some running spring through fall but stopped by November.

In April 2016, I went to the school track to run with my son. I jogged two laps then got into a sprint racing him for about 100 meters. I ran flat out, as fast as I could go (I still lost). During the sprint there was no “injury” that occurred—nothing popped, hurt, etc. But by bedtime that night the bottom of my foot just in front of my heel hurt like heck. By the next morning, I couldn’t walk. 

This was pretty upsetting because that weekend I planned to go on an annual off-trail hike with my hiking club. I spent the day before on the couch, icing my foot and taking ibuprofen, in hopes I could go. Which I did. I wore my Merrell Moab hiking boots and made it through the hike okay, although of course my foot hurt. 

Knowing it was plantar fasciitis I self-treated and hoped it would be better before an AT section hike at the end of May. I self-treated by taking it easy, massaging my foot, going to the massage therapist, and doing some stretches on the edge of the steps. I kept wearing my normal array of footwear—different sneakers at home and various dress shoes for work (no heels though). I tried to keep walking almost every day to stay in shape and while it still hurt felt like maybe I could pull off the 70+ mile hike I had planned from Clingman’s Dome to Hot Springs. 

Fast forward to hike day and my shuttler dropped me at the Dome. If you’ve been there, you know there’s a steep, paved path going up from the parking lot. The shuttler wanted to walk up with me, which was very nice, but with my pack weight I had to push myself to keep up with him. I suspect the hurried walk up the paved path with my pack on helped set the stage for what would happen for the next eight miles…

I hit the AT and my foot wasn’t so bad. “I can totally do this!” I thought. For a mile. But by mile number two, my foot hurt so badly it was obvious I would never make Hot Springs. I was also worried that maybe there was something else going on other than just PF and didn’t want to make matters worse. I hobbled the rest of the mileage to Newfound Gap where a friend picked me up. By the time he got there, I couldn’t put any pressure on my foot and was concerned about a fracture. I drove home and finally went to the doctor some 6 weeks after the run that seemed to start the issue.

The doc was a young orthopedic foot and ankle guy. They did xrays and fortunately nothing was broken. He was very nonchalant and said just do the typical PF exercises and wear a night boot. He didn’t actually give me any exercises to do and never prescribed orthotics or physical therapy. Off I went, and after polling more friends and the Internet did some of the exercises I found and wore a night boot most nights (it was so annoying!). 

I also led a group of Scouts on a 20-mile day hike for their Hiking merit badge in June and did some hiking and cycling on vacation July 4 week. All the while, my foot still hurt. I have a very high tolerance for pain and especially knowing nothing was broken, kept doing as much as I could. In the meantime, I started to get a searing, burning horrible pain in the soft tissue up the left side of my ankle. I can only attribute this to either wearing the night boot and/or waling improperly due to the foot pain. At times, I was in agony. At times, I sat down and cried—although I’m not sure if it was the pain or the frustration.

I went back to the doc who sent me for an MRI. The MRI revealed a high-density partial tear in the plantar fascia. I’m still not totally clear, but gather this means really bad plantar fasciitis. He was kind of a jerk that day and told me he wanted to do surgery on the PF, remove a heel spur and, oh, go into my lower calf and hack on my upper Achilles to maybe lengthen that a little bit. I was shocked, this seemed like premature overkill! 

In a panic, I polled some hiker/runner friends and my massage therapist. Everyone agreed there were too many missing pieces between “just do the usual stretching” and “let’s cut up your foot.” Someone recommended chiropractic and yoga. Desperate, I went to what I used to call a “quackropractor.” After a few visits, outside of a sheet of foot exercises she gave me chiro didn’t seem to be having any affect on anything. I did those exercises, along with a couple I found in a very good article about PF on a running blog. These things seemed to start helping.

Still, I figured I’d give it a chance for a while and the chiro got a copy of the MRI report (which I hadn’t even seen yet). She sat me down and explained I have a very serious foot problem and in no way should I be hiking or waling or doing any kind of exercise on it, and that I should get a second opinion about maybe having surgery. 

I freaked out. This was right before Labor Day weekend and I was leading nine people on a hike at Big South Fork. My foot didn’t feel as bad as it had at times and I felt up to going—especially with my 22 pound summer pack weight and the easy terrain. And friends. The chiro told me the tendon could tear completely and I’d be stranded in the backcountry unable to walk. 

I went straight home to call the doctor and ask why he didn’t tell me what the report said, but got the doctor on call instead. He was actually incredibly helpful, looked at my record, listened to my plans for the weekend and said: you’re not going to do any further damage and while it might hurt, if you think you can go, it’s ok to go. Huge sigh of relief. I had just gotten a free second opinion, and I felt confident about it. 

Somewhere along the line I had read about this thing called a Strassburg Sock for PF. I knew they had them at my local running store, and I knew it was something that’d fit in my pack for the trip. I went to get one and one of the running store guys (Dave) saw me with it. He said, sympathetically, “Oh, plantar fasciitis?” A conversation ensued that would finally, truly put me on the path to recovery…

Dave is a runner, as is everyone who works at Fleet Feet here in town. He shared his experiences with PF and the fact that he had met the son of the Strassburg Sock inventor. He explained how the sock works. He also said if I had time I should step into the physical therapy place they house and talk to Sean. Hmm, I thought, PT—something else my doc never sent me to. I had a free consult with Sean (a runner) who poked and prodded my foot pretty hard. He said “if this doesn’t hurt you’re not that bad off. We can help you. And hiking this weekend should be fine.”

I also picked up a pair of pink Superfeet Berry insoles that day to replace my SofSole FIT insoles. I emailed management at work and told them I’d be wearing my sneakers and insoles every day until my foot was well enough for other shoes. They were very understanding!

I went on the trip and it went extremely well. I wore the Sock at night and while I maintained my morning hobble, my foot was very tolerable all weekend. We hiked 6-7 miles each day for 3 days. A few cold creek crossings felt great on it, and it didn’t really hurt until afterward when we had hiked back out of the gorge up a very steep, long, straight incline. 

Upon returning I went to PT at Fit for Life in Fleet Feet twice a week for 3 weeks then once a week. I saw Sean as well as Laura, an avid trail runner and adventure racer. These were the people I needed to be getting help from: athletes, active people, people who understood what I was feeling and how much I needed to be over this mess. They did ultrasound therapy, massage, and made sure I was doing the right exercises the right way. They explained (which I had a feeling) that PF isn’t just a foot problem and that it really starts from the hip down—especially affected by your calf. Maintaining flexibility and strength in all those tendon and muscle groups can play into fixing the PF.

I also went to a 4-week beginning yoga class, which was helpful in terms of general stretching, relaxation and raising an overall awareness about my posture, stress and breathing. I will say it has indirectly helped my foot issue, but be very careful about strength or balancing poses that have you on your affected foot.

At PT they ask you your pain levels on a scale of 1-10, 10 being the worst. Mine had gone from 8-10 to, like 1-3—sometimes it even seems like maybe, just maybe, it’s 0. Here are the things have worked and not worked for me. While everyone is different, I hope this helps shed some light on what might help others who are suffering.

Through all of this I realized that all the suffering, limping around and lack of activity had weakened my foot, ankle, leg; ruined my balance; and caused a whole bunch of small peripheral problems that I feel contributed to my inability to solve/heal the first problem. 

The bottom line is find the things that will help you and do them consistently, religiously, for a good amount of time. Give them a chance to work. Get help from people whose lifestyle is similar to yours, especially if they’ve had PF. Fleet Feet, my local running store, had been my saving grace. I was unwilling to accept surgery as an option. I was unwilling to accept that this is permanent or going to take 2 years to get over…

Things that make my foot feel bad:

·         Standing or walking slowly on hard floors (cooking in the kitchen, shopping slowly in a big store or the mall)

·         Sitting for too long (unless I sit properly on edge of chair, knees bent and feet under me—kinda like squatting)

·         Not walking or walking improperly. The PT and yoga have really helped me focus on the fact I was just walking poorly.

·         Balancing on one foot (doing calf raises and descending only on the bad foot, standing on one foot in a yoga pose, standing on one foot doing steamboat exercises)

·         Walking a steep uphill and pushing off the sore foot from my toes (use alpine climbing step instead, just on the really steep parts)

Things that make my foot feel good:

·         Proper insoles (For me--Supefeet Berry; Green is also good)

·         Proper shoes all day, even at home, no bare feet until you’re healed (Brooks Cascadia is what I had been wearing up until 10/3, then Hoka Challenger ATX)

·         Stretches (get up from my desk periodically and squat, then stand and touch toes, 30 seconds each); some of the PT stuff offers immediate relief

·         Staying active as much as I can tolerate (found a single-track trail near me and hit it for even just 2 miles a few times a week)

Treatments that work:

·         Strassburg Sock (understand how it works and use it the right way)

·         Insoles (Superfeet or custom orthotics; get fitted properly for Superfeet)

·         Shoes: A good running/trail shoe that’s right for you; you don’t need the big black granny shoe the doc wants you to wear. It’s the shoe/insole combo plus the PT that works for me. Wear these shoes and insoles all the time, no others, and no bare feet until the foot is better. When my foot is close to 100% I plan to work on strengthening it and going back to barefoot at home.

·         Physical therapy (with athletes)

·         Daily regimen of PT/stretching/exercises (see list below)

Treatments that don’t:

·         Night boot/night splint

·         Rolling foot on frozen water bottle/golf ball/etc.

·         Foot massager

·         Chiropractor

·         Rest (this may be a mental thing but depression doesn’t generally help people heal)

The PT/stretching/exercises that are working for me:

These will be hard to describe without pictures but here goes… The first two I found in an article on a running blog and they seem to be the biggest help to me so far. Just don’t rush the exercises, take them slow, relax and enjoy the time and the stretching. Rushing doesn’t help the problem and could make it worse. I’m not a doctor or a physical therapist, I’m just sharing what has worked for me so do these at your own risk:

·         Standing in your bare feet with one foot forward as if you’re taking a normal step, weight evenly distributed on both feet, lift the toes of the front foot up off the floor as far as you can, hold for 10 sec, then press them down into the floor without curling them, hold for 10 sec. Do at least 5 reps. This works the bottom of the foot and the toes.

·         Sitting on the edge of a chair, cross legs so ankle is resting just above your bended knee. Maintain good posture and hold your abdomen in.  Interlace your fingers in your toes, allow your foot to be loose, and purposefully manipulating your toes and foot with your hand rotate your foot clockwise at least 5 times slowly, then counterclockwise at least 5 times slowly. Then using your hand press the foot up toward the shin bending at the ankle, hold 5 secs, then bend down to point toes, hold 5 secs, repeat 2-3 times. Then repeat the circles and straight stretched 1-2 more times.

·         Calf roller: Sitting on the floor with legs outstretched, run the calf roller between your calf and the floor. It doesn’t make sense to me to use a calf roller without the legs loose like this. Slowly move up and down the calf making sure to get over to the left and over to the right side of the muscles. If you hit a knot, press into it with the roller and hold 10 secs. I roll them for a minute or two each.

·         Picking up Legos or marbles / towel scrunches: Get a pile of something small like 8-dot Legos or marbles and with each foot, use the toes to pick up the items and hold each for 10 secs. I do 12 Legos per foot, 2 reps. The same type of exercise can be done by sitting on a chair on hard floor, put your heel on the back of a kitchen or hand towel and use the toes to scrunch and pull back the towel until it’s all kinked up under your foot. This one actually hurts a bunion I have on my non-injured foot.

·         Towel stretch (before getting up and also 2x day): Using a small towel or strap, sit on the floor with legs stretched out and put the towel under the ball or your foot. Pull back on the ends to stretch the foot, heel and calf. Hold 30 secs, 2 reps each foot. Do this before getting out of bed and it will help with the morning hobble!

·         Alphabet letters: roll up a bath towel and place it under lower calf sitting on floor with legs stretched out. With your toes/foot, slowly draw each letter of the alphabet and then do sideways figure eights and vertical figure eights. Alternate feet and do a total of 2-3 times each foot.

·         Slow calf raises (when your foot can tolerate it, up and down on both legs; later, up on two, down on one): With shoes on, stand with your feet a little apart. Stand near a high table or counter or the wall if you need support. Slowly raise up on your toes as far as you can go, then slowly lower. Do 10 reps, breaking between 3 sets. When stronger, do this up on both feet and down slowly on only the bad foot.

·         Calf stretches (upper and lower): This is the quintessential calf stretch, stand against the wall with one foot back, hands on the wall at shoulder level, posture straight, back leg straight, foot flat on the floor and stretch the calf. This gets the upper calf. Move your hips in toward the wall to get more stretch. Hold 30 secs. Then slightly bend the knee of the back leg, do the same thing—this gets the lower calf. You can also use a calf stretch rocker for the upper calf (provides a really deep stretch) but it doesn’t do the lower.

Packing for a New Pack

This is pretty much it. This is my summer gear. The stuff I pack into my home away from home and with any luck, carries me from Cooper Gap to the NOC this year. I can hardly believe that this little bit of gear is everything I need to live in the woods for several days at a time. (Oh, I’ve worked hard to get it down to that fairly lightweight, little bit, mind you.)

Packing a little early for summer, am I? I wish! Actually, taking it to the outfitter to hopefully get rid of my nearly 6-pound backpack and finally find something lighter that fits right and carries well. I settled on a Gregory Z65, which is actually a men’s pack. I’ve tried on all the women’s packs, none fit right except my hulking Deva 60.

I went down there with all my gear to stuff it in the new women’s J63, but it didn’t fit right. The Z65 is the men’s version of the same pack, and whattaya know? Fits good! Mine should be here in about a week!

The guy at the outfitter asked me if I wanted black or red. Now, when I say red, I mean candy-apple fire engine red. And of course, I said, “I’ll take that in ‘I’ve fallen and I can’t get up so now you SEE me, red!”

Not only can I wait to see how my stuff packs up and feels in the new pack, I can’t wait to take it out either. I’m eyeballing the weekend of March 8… Wonder if Mother Nature will cooperate.

From left to right (sort of): Red dry bag with electronics and personal items like comb, toothbrush, etc.; tent poles; Gatorade bottle for carrying drinking water; pack cover; tent; air pillow; water filter; pot with stove and bear bag stuff inside; camp flops; pepper spray; camera and GPS; emergency Tyvek pants; rain jacket; headlamp pocket knife and Blistex; TP kit; green dry bag with clothes; orange dry bag with food; pink dry bag with sleeping bag.

 

Winter Backpacking Isn't Just Cold--It's Actually Pretty Cool!

In case you didn’t think I was crazy after all this, I went backpacking in January. Yep, in Ohio. Yep, in the snow. This is yet one more thing I never would have imagined doing, and yet one more thing I am so happy I did…

After missing out on a couple of the Cinci Meetup groups trips, I started poking around asking if anyone wanted to go with me. I soon got an email telling me I’d been made an event organizer. Huh. Okay, I can do that, right? Still feeling quite the noob, although I’ve learned a LOT in the past year, I worried that I didn’t know enough to be spearheading a backpacking outing… But what the heck.

I set up an overnight at Zaleski for January 18/19. As luck would have it the weather turned out pretty perfect for a winter trip: some snow on the ground, not too cold, a little sun, more snow during the night… And 5 other crazy people came along!

The biggest lesson learned on this trip: you can walk into the woods today with 5 strangers and walk out of the woods tomorrow with 5 new friends. The second biggest lesson learned: Yes, you do need a stupidly expensive down sleeping bag so you don’t freeze your ass off winter backpacking. And no, I don’t have one. Yet.

The hiking was beautiful, the scenery amazing—especially a detached perfect circle of ice on a creek that was spinning continuously in place in the current. More owls in the night, some coyotes howling, and the incredible sound of the snow pattering softly on the tent during the night. (There is something to be said for not sleeping while you’re sleeping in the woods at night: you hear and experience some pretty amazing things.) Much like in life in general, all of the good makes up for the little bit ‘o bad.

I’m already scouring my calendar for the next weekend I can load my pack and head back out into the woods. I can’t wait…

Hiking down the snowy trail:

This is my tent in the morning before I came out--new snow:

Scenery was awesome:



 

The group on the trail:



 

 

The group after the trail :)  :

 

Finding Friends in the Woods (Zaleski Take Two)

After our May and June backpacking adventures, I had a really hard time putting all our gear away. So I didn’t. While I kept looking for a weekend I could head out again, our gear “lived” in our living room, sprawled out yet loosely organized on the floor and the furniture. This was pretty helpful at the end of July when Navigator had to pack for Scout Camp!

I, however, just couldn’t find a good time to get back to Zaleski here in Ohio, despite trying. Work, dogs, home, kid stuff, Scout stuff… I finally eked out time for an overnight in August, packed up, headed out and maybe a mile in, dripping with sweat and overrun by mosquitoes and gnats, high-tailed it out of the woods and came home.

I still refused to put all my gear away. I left it all out in the living room until, finally, in September the weather and schedules cooperated and I was able to have a little adventure of my own.

I left home in time to hit the trail head at 8 a.m. Saturday. I was by myself, which was strange, yet the woods were quiet and welcoming. I hiked a fairly easy 5 or so miles to the camp Nav and I initially headed to back in May, took a lunch break, aired out my feet, and then headed around the north loop—another 7 miles. I found the north loop to be the most challenging part of Zaleski’s trail, and the most beautiful.

Coming back into camp where I’d had lunch, there were now tents everywhere. “Scouts?” I wondered. I found a small tent site on the outskirts of the camp area and as I set up my tent, realized there were several adults around the camp fire area. After my enjoyable yet solitary day of hiking, I headed over to say hello. Turns out the group was a backpacking Meetup from Cincinnati, some of whom are members of the Columbus group I had joined earlier in the year—which apparently never goes backpacking! I spent the entire evening hanging out with this new group of friends (I promptly joined their Meetup upon getting home!). What a great time!

This overnight was my first taste of what backpacking is really like: the solitary challenge of hiking all day alone, keeping yourself company, enjoying the beauty of the forest, hiking some 12 miles with 30 pounds on your back… and coming into camp to enjoy the camaraderie of like-minded folks.

Sunday, wanting to enjoy the early morning on the trail by myself, I quietly broke camp and hiked on. It was a pretty easy hike about 5 miles back to the trailhead, despite the blisters the north loop had given me the prior afternoon. Blisters and all, this was an amazing experience and the biggest lesson learned: I LOVE backpacking. My gear worked pretty well, my legs worked pretty well, I still can’t sleep well, but heard more owls!

 

 

 

A (Revised) Appalachian Adventure

On my way home from the hike that wouldn't happen, I called my son to let him know I was on the way back. What he said next was so shocking to me that I momentarily forgot the migraine pounding in my head with each turn of the wheels.

"Yay, now I can go with you!" he exclaimed.

What? The Scout who hated every step of his first backpacking trip earlier in spring? Wants to hike on the AT?

I'm adding this post way, way post, post script so I'll keep it short: Two weeks later we went on the BEST vacation we have ever had...

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kaEMUf3VE3I&feature=youtu.be

(Bear with me while I figure out how to embed the video. Getting back to this blog after a serious hiatus.)

Springer has Sprung

I camped on top of Springer Mountain, Georgia. And with months of planning and preparation behind me and 9 days of hiking on the Appalachian Trail ahead of me, the wheels fell off the bus atop Springer Mountain…


At 3,780 feet, I camped—but I did not sleep. I popped my Big Agnes Fly Creek UL2, blew up my air mattress, crawled into my 23-degree down bag and listened to the wind, the airplanes approaching the Atlanta airport, drips from the earlier rain off the leaves, and at 3 a.m. a pair of barred owls. All while the headache that started before even reaching the mountain gradually got worse.


I was cozy and actually fairly comfortable: on my air mattress, in my bag, in my tent, under a pine tree, on the mountain. Not one bear poked its head in, not even to munch on my head, which was covered with the beanie hat I used as a coozie for my chicken dinner. As I lay awake, head throbbing, I imagined I must have smelled like a chicken and dumpling burrito…

And as I lay awake, I wondered what the hell I was going to do after a night of no sleep with what appeared to be a worsening migraine. How was I going to hike 10 or more miles Saturday? How was I going to function? I had a lot of ibuprofen in my pack. A lot. Vitamin-I, backpackers call it. But no amount of Vitamin-I would get rid of a migraine.


I listened to the wind in the trees on Springer Mountain and lamented about my head. Damn, damn head. Backpacking on no sleep with a migraine wasn’t the great adventure I had been planning. Should I commit to three days and call for a shuttle at Neels Gap if things got worse? Should I go back to town? Should I go home? Should I try to hike, and ruin my adventure as well as the other three women’s?


I knew what I had to do, I knew what the right thing was to do. And it wasn’t easy. I had to take my migraine off the mountain. Early in the morning some birds started to sing, and listening to them start their day gave me something to do while I waited to call our shuttlers, Joyce and Sally. At 7:15 I called, embarrassed, defeated, sad, head pounding. Joyce and Sally were great. Sally was soon running some hikers out to the trailhead and would pick me up. (She dropped off three nice looking backpackers. Figures.)


I broke the news to my new friends, broke up a pop tart and ate it, and broke camp—broken hearted. I started the mile hike back to the trailhead. “I’m not going to cry, I’m not going to cry…” I told my jackhammering head. I didn’t, really, just whimpered and cursed, maybe I shed a tear or two, cursed some more, and wiped my nose on my fleece. I heard a wood thrush and a pewee. The trail is beautiful really, and I took my time and enjoyed what little of it I was going to see. The woods were cool and moist, the flora lush and varied and interesting. The trail was smattered with rocks, but in a good way: a platform here, natural steps there. Should I go back? Should I stick it out? Having plenty of experience with migraine, although not much recently, I knew there was no way.


Something fluttered into a small sapling a foot in front of me. I stopped. He paused, watching me but not afraid. The little chestnut-sided warbler hopped along the branch, crossed the trail, hopped along another branch, then he flew. Now that’s got to be an omen for a birdnerd, I thought. Knowing I couldn’t stay for this adventure today and it couldn’t be an omen to turn back, I decided it was an invitation to come back. As I continued along, I began to think about what lessons I had learned in my short time on Springer Mountain and how I could soon use them to carry out my adventure:


1.      Do not drive all day by yourself and sleep on the ground that night.

2.      Do not drive all day, not drink enough water, and sleep on the ground that night.

3.      Do not drive all day, get to camp at dark, and expect to SLEEP at all at night.

4.      Do not attempt do items 1-3 before your prednisone has worn off.

5.      Do not get poison ivy from your son’s scout gear two weeks before your big backpacking trip so you don’t have to take prednisone.

6.      There is far less poison ivy on Springer Mountain than in Zaleski State Park (in Ohio).

7.      AT Shelter privies are generally much nicer than Scout Camp privies.

8.      Springer Mountain shelter and camp are much nicer than I expected.

9.      Packit Gourmet chicken and dumplins smell a lot better than they are.

10.  The privy is not a bad place to dump your Packit Gourmet chicken and dumplins.

11.  It really does take 1-1/2 hours to get to the trailhead from Hiawassee.

12.  Bear cables are great, easy to use, and you should use them.

13.  You can’t take a flash photo on top of a mountain at dark with the fog rolling in.

14.  Joyce and Sally rock, and 1-1/2 hours go by really fast with great conversation, even when your head is about to explode.

15.  People who come up to you on the Appalachian Trail and ask where the nearest restroom is will never stop seeming really stupid and making you laugh no matter how bad you feel.

16.  The trail will still be there when your head is fine.



I’m not gonna lie, my drive home sucked: head pounding, sun blazing… Like the knight storming the castle in Monty Python’s “The Holy Grail,” in each shot running but in in the next shot actually farther and farther away from the castle until, finally, he’s standing at the castle wall.


Just before I reached the castle, I called my son at his dad’s to let him know I’d be home. Originally, this was supposed to be our adventure, but then a conflicting Scout trip hit the calendar. Last week he told me he didn’t like backpacking. Yet, as I loaded my car the other day to head to Georgia, he said, “I want to go!” The first thing he said to me when I told him I was almost home: “Yay, now I can go with you!” I can’t wait to hear what he has to say. My one night on Springer Mountain, there was a mom at the shelter with her about 9 year old son. Saturday morning they excitedly headed north on the trail. I’m skeptically hopeful.


I spent the day in my castle, nursed my head, popped the tent to dry, and unloaded my pack onto the living room floor hoping my gear will be back in the pack soon and headed back to Hiawassee to set out on my adventure.


All I can think of to say in closing: To Be Continued.

Zaleski State Forest--Take One

Part of the reason for the start of “the whole backpacking thing” was an REI trip that never happened Memorial Day weekend. REI had botched things up, and we had spent a lot of effort both gearing up and educating ourselves, so we embarked upon our own backpacking overnight a bit closer to home.

We hit the trail at Zaleski State Forest Saturday of Memorial Day Weekend. The weather was actually perfect, cool and comfortable, but not cold, and not buggy! We started at the trail head and headed for Camp H. We hiked, and hiked, and hiked, and snacked, and hiked and hiked… We enjoyed the scenery and cool rock formations, but the more we hiked the less we realized we were farther from camp than we thought. Navigator grew impatient, understandably so, and took to complaining and stopping every couple hundred yards!  After a snack break in the middle of a portion of very overgrown trail, we turned back and decided to head for a different campsite.

And we hiked, and hiked, and hiked some more, learning perhaps the most important lesson in backpacking: You’ve never hiked as far as you think you have!

Finally reaching camp at just about dinner time, we met some nice folks and shared a campfire. Navigator slept great (which he never admits about camping), and I slept some between listening to the owls and a relentless (but still pretty cool) whip-poor-will.

Sunday we had oatmeal for breakfast, broke camp and headed back to the trailhead. It was a nice morning—I think I’ve quickly learned this is my favorite time of day to hike. It was cool, and quiet and the sun was out with lots of birds singing. We hiked on a ridge, then down along a lake. We stretched out on our sleeping pads for a PB&J lunch in the sun.

We learned a LOT on this short trip: you hike slower than you think with a load of stuff on your back; we packed too much stuff; freeze dried food sucks; Zaleski is really pretty but he trails have some very confusing markings; other backpackers are really nice folks… And the most important—bring the marshmallows next time because when you’re 10, it’s way more about the camping than the hiking!