Embarking Upon Seven Days With My Brothers

Tomorrow begins seven days with my brothers. And this is no spinoff of some smarmy Nicholas Sparks chick lit – this is the real deal. First thing in the morning, Tim and Rob and I will set foot into the woods to cover 70-some miles on the Appalachian Trail.

When I put the plans together for this hike, I assumed I’d be going it alone. After all, people don’t usually line up and beat my door down to accompany me on these things. But in early February, I was talking with Tim about the Meredith Emerson tragedy, and that seemed to spin my twice-annual Appalachian Trail experience in a different light. Tim is a serious, contemplative type, and I think Meredith’s death raised some concerns about his darling baby sister (yes, that’s me, and quit laughing). So I told him maybe he ought to come with me as my bodyguard.

I was really just joking and he knew it – I mean, he’d never been on a long-distance hike before, and I sure as Sheol don’t consider myself in need of a bodyguard. But the more we talked, the more it seemed like a fun opportunity for both of us. We come from a tribe of 10 siblings, where the decibel level at family gatherings rivals that of a Guess Who concert, so the idea of a little quality time in a peaceful setting seemed kind of appealing. I found myself twisting his arm a bit, cajoling him into the idea of coming along. In typical Tim style – temperate, deliberate, reserved – he said he’d think about it.

Rob, on the other hand — the bodacious and wild-eyed firstborn — needed no cajoling. When he heard I’d planned a trip for mid-May – just two weeks after he was scheduled to retire from Ford Motor Company – he was ready to sign on the dotted line. It also helps that he’s a seasoned hiker who’s done quite a bit of backpacking with his wife Sue, not only in Michigan but also out west. What better way to launch into his retirement than a wicked-cool backpacking trip?

Here’s a shot of Rob and me in March, after spending a giddy 60 minutes poring over topo maps and the AT data book in preparation for our trip.

By early April, we hadn’t heard a definitive yes from Tim, so it was looking like he’d probably opt out. Then, out of the blue, I got a two-line email message: “I’ve decided to go on the backpacking trip. Just wanted you to know so you could plan on me.” After several practice hikes with a 40-pound bag of kitty litter in his backpack, and a few excursions to my favorite store, he was good to go.

Here’s a shot I snapped of him earlier today in his bossy new trail hat. Isn’t he the nattiest thing this side of Roan Mountain?

So we got a crazy-early start this morning, tackling the 10-hour drive from Michigan to Sams Gap, where we parked Tim’s car at the trailhead parking area for the week. (By the way, no, I didn't forget the apostrophe in "Sams Gap"; all of the maps and data books express it without one. And yes, being a technical writer, that drives me nuts.)

A softspoken man named Terry Hill picked us up at Sams Gap and shuttled us to Mountain Harbour, a little place he owns with his wife Mary. It’s just a third of a mile from the AT trailhead at US-19E, and they offer both a hiker hostel and a bed-and-breakfast.

It was a long 90-minute shuttle ride over and around the mountains. Tim and I sat in the back seat of the pickup, and I could hear Rob up front, chatting away to Terry. At one point, I heard Terry ask Rob politely, “So what do the three of you do for a living?” Rob explained that he was newly retired, and that Tim works for Ford. And then he said very matter-of-factly, with the most deadpan expression, “And my sister Jeanie – well, she won the lottery awhile back, so she doesn’t really need to work, but she does exotic dancing on the weekends for fun.” I know. That’s just the kind of sense of humor Rob has. Poor Terry just stared straight ahead at the road in front of him.

When we arrived at Mountain Harbour, the boys began bee-lining it up to the main building, a very pretty Cape-Cod-style home where the bed-and-breakfast guests stay. I had to redirect them. “Um, guys, we’re not staying up there. That’s the b&b. Our bunks are in the hostel.” I nodded toward the much humbler-looking outbuilding, a rustic barn with steps leading up to a loft. Some goats were running around, chasing each other in and out of the barn door.

Tim looked at me quizzically and blinked, not sure if I was joking.

“Really? With the goats?”

“Um, yeah.”

Actually, we weren’t really with the goats – we were above them. In the loft. And it was much nicer than you might think. Running water, a little kitchen, and comfy bunks.

Rob even managed to find a guitar leaning in the corner, to which he helped himself.

Like the shelters along the trail, this hostel has a little journal in which sojourners often jot a line or two during their stay. Tim’s entry from the following morning is shown here, right below an entry written by a guy named Murphy, whom we met at the hostel.

Murphy’s a very friendly sort and is finishing up a thru-hike that he started last year. He explained to us that he intended to hike the whole trail in 2007 but had to stop about two-thirds of the way through because he kept falling and injuring himself. We thought at first that he must be extraordinarily clumsy – I mean, even in sections where the trail is hard, it’s rare for a typical hiker to fall (I’ve only taken a bad spill once in the last seven section-hikes). But later, when we saw Murphy walking around in shorts, we realized he isn’t a typical hiker. The man has two prosthetic legs. Incredible. What an amazing guy.

I am really antsy to get hiking. I cannot wait to put my feet on that trail tomorrow.