Hitch-Hiking Adventures
If you have ever attempted a thru-hike, chances are you had to get a ride into town at some point. Some times those rides can be as adventurous, if not more adventurous, than actually hiking the Trail. If you had a hitching experience that was unusual, and that had a lasting impression on you that is worth telling, this is the the place. Send us an email relaying the story with all the great details to: [email protected]
GETTING to the BLUEBERRY PATCH HOSTEL
Again, we were the first to leave the shelter, but this time we took few breaks. Unlike the previous days, few hikers passed us. Our goal was a stop at our first hostel, the Blueberry Patch. Our breaks were short and few, and we snacked as we walked. We did stop and talk to a couple who were out for a day hike . . . which later proved to be very fortuitous.
This was to be our first double-digit day (ten miles), and the last two miles were almost our undoing. Our guide book referred to a “knoll” which turned out to be more difficult than our steep climb up Wildcat Mountain several days previous. We almost quit before reaching Dicks Creek Gap and Highway 74 leading down to the Blueberry Patch Hostel, but we dragged our weary bodies on.
It was with great relief that we finally reached the highway, and I told Carol to just stick out her thumb and we would be down the road and to the hostel in no time. Carol looked at me aghast. Much to my surprise, I found out that she had never hitch-hiked before in her life. She resisted all my pleading and cajoling, claiming that she had taught her two children never to do such a thing, and she was not about to break her own rules. It was our first trail argument and I lost, so we began walking the three miles down the highway. After several minutes of walking, a white van pulled over and offered us a ride. Lo and behold, it was the very same two hikers whom we had talked to on the trail earlier in the day. With much relief and gratitude, we climbed in. They told us about their time in this area several years ago. They had finished their hike stranded far from their car. A couple had given them a ride back, and now they felt as if they were able to pass that goodwill on to us. We were not sure where the Blueberry Patch was, but when we spotted a giant blueberry hanging from a signpost, we knew we had arrived.
A HITCH TO FONTANA POST OFFICE
We pushed on, hoping to make the Fontana Post Office before it closed. We came around a bend and saw, far below, the beautiful Fontana Lake; one of the many TVA (Tennessee Valley Authority) projects in this part of the country. A mile later we reached the road leading into Fontana Village. Carol was still not very excited about hitch-hiking, but she was into it enough to cuss at the cars that did not stop. I explained to her that hitch-hiking is a Zen activity. You cannot force it to happen but must just be patient. At least I had her facing the traffic. Shortly thereafter, a hiker who had gotten off the trail because of injuries, stopped to pick us up. He was back, looking for friends he had hiked with prior to his injury. We were with most of the people he was looking for and could tell him where they were. He was grateful and gave us a ride right to the post office.
Excerpt: Appalachian Trail Thru-Hike by John Gignilliat
HITCHING TO THE VET’S
May 18th . . . We woke up early and tried to get off before seven. According to our Data Book, we had two and six-tenth miles to hike to the road and then several more miles to the vet's office. We knew we might not catch a ride hitchhiking and have to walk the distance. We were both anxious to find out how our dog had fared and especially anxious to find out if she had a home. It was a steep rocky descent, but we moved right along. We stopped once at a shelter near the highway, and I picked up more litter. It was hard to imagine people hiking in all this beauty yet leaving their trash scattered about.
We reached the highway by eight-thirty and started hitching a ride (Carol was getting much better at hitchhiking). Hitchhiking with a backpack is a totally different proposition than hitchhiking without a backpack. Without a pack, you were a potential rapist, murderer, escaped convict, or psychopath who would be a threat to anyone who stopped. Hitching with a pack, you were a healthy, vigorous, environmentally concerned, outdoors person needing a lift. The very first vehicle stopped to give us a ride. It was a backpacking couple from Pennsylvania who were in the area to do some hiking. They dropped us off at the vet's office, but no one was there yet.
Excerpt: Appalachian Trail Thru-Hike by John Gignilliat
WIDOW’S WATCH B&B
Once we stopped hiking, we began to get chilled. There was a blustery wind blowing through the pass, and the sun seemed to have gone into hiding while we stood on the road's edge with our thumbs stuck hopefully out. We were not having much luck, when the woman who told me she taught her children never to hitchhike said, “Move over, I'll get us a ride!” Carol practically stood in the middle of the road as a van approached. She had her most mournful looking face on, and I could see her lips mouthing the words, “PLEASE, PLEASE!” as she pumped her outstretched hand up and down with extended thumb. Sure enough, the van pulled over to give us a ride. Carol had come a long way towards becoming a bona fide hitchhiker since our argument back in Georgia. I was especially surprised to see that it was an older woman driving by herself that had given us a ride. After we gratefully climbed in, the driver told us she enjoyed hiking but sometimes her knees hurt too much. She was seventy years old, she told us. She drove us into Stratton and dropped us off at the doorstep of the Widow's Watch Bed and Breakfast. We thanked her profusely for the ride. I was amazed to hear this septuagenarian tell us that we were the third time this week she had given hikers a ride into town.
Excerpt: Appalachian Trail Thru-Hike by John Gignilliat
GETTING to the BLUEBERRY PATCH HOSTEL
Again, we were the first to leave the shelter, but this time we took few breaks. Unlike the previous days, few hikers passed us. Our goal was a stop at our first hostel, the Blueberry Patch. Our breaks were short and few, and we snacked as we walked. We did stop and talk to a couple who were out for a day hike . . . which later proved to be very fortuitous.
This was to be our first double-digit day (ten miles), and the last two miles were almost our undoing. Our guide book referred to a “knoll” which turned out to be more difficult than our steep climb up Wildcat Mountain several days previous. We almost quit before reaching Dicks Creek Gap and Highway 74 leading down to the Blueberry Patch Hostel, but we dragged our weary bodies on.
It was with great relief that we finally reached the highway, and I told Carol to just stick out her thumb and we would be down the road and to the hostel in no time. Carol looked at me aghast. Much to my surprise, I found out that she had never hitch-hiked before in her life. She resisted all my pleading and cajoling, claiming that she had taught her two children never to do such a thing, and she was not about to break her own rules. It was our first trail argument and I lost, so we began walking the three miles down the highway. After several minutes of walking, a white van pulled over and offered us a ride. Lo and behold, it was the very same two hikers whom we had talked to on the trail earlier in the day. With much relief and gratitude, we climbed in. They told us about their time in this area several years ago. They had finished their hike stranded far from their car. A couple had given them a ride back, and now they felt as if they were able to pass that goodwill on to us. We were not sure where the Blueberry Patch was, but when we spotted a giant blueberry hanging from a signpost, we knew we had arrived.
A HITCH TO FONTANA POST OFFICE
We pushed on, hoping to make the Fontana Post Office before it closed. We came around a bend and saw, far below, the beautiful Fontana Lake; one of the many TVA (Tennessee Valley Authority) projects in this part of the country. A mile later we reached the road leading into Fontana Village. Carol was still not very excited about hitch-hiking, but she was into it enough to cuss at the cars that did not stop. I explained to her that hitch-hiking is a Zen activity. You cannot force it to happen but must just be patient. At least I had her facing the traffic. Shortly thereafter, a hiker who had gotten off the trail because of injuries, stopped to pick us up. He was back, looking for friends he had hiked with prior to his injury. We were with most of the people he was looking for and could tell him where they were. He was grateful and gave us a ride right to the post office.
Excerpt: Appalachian Trail Thru-Hike by John Gignilliat
HITCHING TO THE VET’S
May 18th . . . We woke up early and tried to get off before seven. According to our Data Book, we had two and six-tenth miles to hike to the road and then several more miles to the vet's office. We knew we might not catch a ride hitchhiking and have to walk the distance. We were both anxious to find out how our dog had fared and especially anxious to find out if she had a home. It was a steep rocky descent, but we moved right along. We stopped once at a shelter near the highway, and I picked up more litter. It was hard to imagine people hiking in all this beauty yet leaving their trash scattered about.
We reached the highway by eight-thirty and started hitching a ride (Carol was getting much better at hitchhiking). Hitchhiking with a backpack is a totally different proposition than hitchhiking without a backpack. Without a pack, you were a potential rapist, murderer, escaped convict, or psychopath who would be a threat to anyone who stopped. Hitching with a pack, you were a healthy, vigorous, environmentally concerned, outdoors person needing a lift. The very first vehicle stopped to give us a ride. It was a backpacking couple from Pennsylvania who were in the area to do some hiking. They dropped us off at the vet's office, but no one was there yet.
Excerpt: Appalachian Trail Thru-Hike by John Gignilliat
WIDOW’S WATCH B&B
Once we stopped hiking, we began to get chilled. There was a blustery wind blowing through the pass, and the sun seemed to have gone into hiding while we stood on the road's edge with our thumbs stuck hopefully out. We were not having much luck, when the woman who told me she taught her children never to hitchhike said, “Move over, I'll get us a ride!” Carol practically stood in the middle of the road as a van approached. She had her most mournful looking face on, and I could see her lips mouthing the words, “PLEASE, PLEASE!” as she pumped her outstretched hand up and down with extended thumb. Sure enough, the van pulled over to give us a ride. Carol had come a long way towards becoming a bona fide hitchhiker since our argument back in Georgia. I was especially surprised to see that it was an older woman driving by herself that had given us a ride. After we gratefully climbed in, the driver told us she enjoyed hiking but sometimes her knees hurt too much. She was seventy years old, she told us. She drove us into Stratton and dropped us off at the doorstep of the Widow's Watch Bed and Breakfast. We thanked her profusely for the ride. I was amazed to hear this septuagenarian tell us that we were the third time this week she had given hikers a ride into town.
Excerpt: Appalachian Trail Thru-Hike by John Gignilliat