The Tape Job, the Other Job, & the Indulgent Finish
The night passed without incident. By the time I awoke, the rain had stopped and the forest was finishing its own rain bath, shedding moisture from its leaves and branches. I set about examining my feet. They looked a little better and had dried out overnight, but I knew they needed to be taped or would continue to chafe and worsen. It took me about 45 minutes of careful taping. With blisters, I typically first apply leuko tape because it holds fast and generally will not get pulled off through the motions of hiking. I then apply moleskin on top of the leuko tape to provide a thicker cushion against further damage. Moleskin adheres better to leuko tape than to skin as there are no oils, moisture, or dirt on the tape. In this case, my main issue was abrasion. I therefore reversed my system and applied the moleskin first. Leuko tape has a very strong adhesive backing that, when removed, could re-damage the chafed skin. The adhesive on the back of moleskin is more gentle. However, I still had to deal with the issue of moleskin coming off easily. To solve for this, I used thin strips of leuko tape to help hold the moleskin on, like tape. I had moleskin covering the tops of each toe, and wrapped the leuko tape horizontally around the moleskin-covered toes to keep the wrapping in place. This is why it took me 45 minutes (and also because leuko tape, rolled onto itself, is very sticky!), but it was worth it because this configuration managed to hold all day and keep me quite comfortable. I didn’t know if it would work at the time, but was incredibly grateful at the end of the day that it did!
Step 1: Chafe tops of feet Step 2: Keep feet wet for days. Step 3: Tape them and voila! You’re healed!
Once I got taped up, I ate some breakfast, drank coffee and set about breaking down camp. As I hoisted my now relatively light pack onto my back, I heard a rustling in the direction of the trail. I was momentarily convinced it was the bear showing up for the dinner it missed the night before, but then I heard a coughing sound and realized it was a human. The person had paused, clearly also hearing me rummaging around through the brush. My site was not clearly visible to the trail, but definitely audible. “Hello!” I shouted. I received a return hello, and walked out through the brush to see a man donning a backpack. He was probably five to eight years younger than me and was clearly out for multiple days; it was not just a day pack. He said that he was hiking a series of trails in a route he had pieced together. It was not the “serpentine” route that joins the Foothills Trail, Bartram Trail, and Benton MacKaye Trail; rather, it was more complex than that and I didn’t even recognize a couple of the trails he mentioned. He was from North Carolina, and said that this was his opportunity to do a longer thru-hike. I admired him for this, and for putting together a route of his own liking. I believe he was planning to be out for about thirty days, but it could have been as long as three months – I can’t remember for sure. We chatted for a bit, but both had miles to make, so we parted ways in opposite directions. I hope he had a grand adventure and accomplished the goal he had set for himself!
The sun shone bright. Steam rose off the trail in the morning light. Shortly after leaving my campsite, I walked through a large controlled burn area. It smelled like campfire all around, and there definitely was no overgrowth here! From Wilson Gap the trail winds around the ridge of Blacks Creek Knob to Windy Gap. I believe the burn area was on the northern end of this ridge, but I am working from memory here as I did not check my map at the time. It was gone by the time I reached Windy Gap, where I was greeted by Bartram Trail and Windy Gap signs, carved into rocks and almost half buried by time on the mountain. There are quite a few trail signs carved into stones along the Bartram Trail, and they are definitely one of the unique and charming characteristics of the trail. Seeing these signs get reclaimed by nature is a good reminder that no matter the trails we blaze or signs we place anywhere in the world, Mother Nature will always be in charge, always playing the long game.
The Bartram Trail continues on around the north side of Rock Mountain, then passes through some steeper switchbacks to skirt Raven Knob. The sunbeams piercing through the forest canopy, bending around the trees, made this section of trail almost magical. It felt like I was walking in between the fingers of the gods as I weaved in between the sunbeams that stretched all the way to the forest floor. I got some great video footage of this, which you can see in Episode 3 of my Bartram Trail YouTube series. The thumbnail image for that episode is a good example!
I danced my way through and around the rays of the sun to Courthouse Gap. At Courthouse Gap I started to feel like I was close to home! I had previously hiked from Warwoman Dell up to Pinnacle Knob, which has a fantastic view and is accessible via a side trail just south of Courthouse Gap. It’s a popular local day hike and trail running area as it is close to Clayton, GA. I did not take the side trail to Pinnacle Knob this time, simply because I had hiked there before and can access it relatively easily as a day trip, but if you pass through on the Bartram Trail I definitely recommend checking it out.
I continued on down towards Warwoman Dell. Between Courthouse Gap and Warwoman Dell there are lots of places to camp and ample water supplied by beautiful Martin Creek. Martin Creek also offers up a spectacular waterfall that is equipped with a viewing platform by way of the decking constructed to cross the creek, as well as a large boulder where one can sit and enjoy the falls. I sat by the falls for a while, eating some snacks and watching the water drop endlessly over the slippery rocks into the pool. Rivers and waterfalls never make sense to me until I remind myself that the Earth is, in fact, mostly water. It is just so hard to fathom the amount of water it would take for something like this to keep constantly running. I feel like we are so lucky to have a planet like Earth. Imagine if Mars was our planet! Don’t get me wrong, I’ve never been on Mars and maybe it is really cool, but I’m picturing it being cold, dusty, and kind of barren. I’m sure it is beautiful in its own right, but considering the diversity of life and landscape we have on Earth, I think we are quite fortunate. Sorry Martians! But hey, maybe soon there will be interplanetary crypto currencies and oxygen-alternative Airbnbs for the Earth vacation you always wanted. The mountains will be here for you, even if we earthlings are not!
Right before crossing Warwoman Road and entering Warwoman Dell, the Bartram Trail serves up another fantastic waterfall right beside the trail. I stood there enjoying the mist from it as it cooled my face. The day had finally been dry and hot, which was helping my feet immensely. I filtered a liter of water here as I was not expecting a convenient water source for quite a while. Warwoman Dell has a flowing stream and a parking lot with a picnic area and trail access. Heading south, there really isn’t any water until you get up and over the ridge between the Dell and the Chattooga River. I started the climb up, pushing to make my goal of spending my last night of the trip camped beside the Chattooga.
The section of trail between Warwoman Dell and the Chattooga, particularly up on the ridges, is full of wild blueberry bushes. To get there though, I first had to climb up and past Green Gap. On my way up I trudged, slow and steady, through some long switchbacks. I thought I was far enough out from Warwoman Dell where I was unlikely to encounter anyone other than backpackers. I was therefore surprised when I looked up, sweating buckets at this point, and noticed two people up ahead. There was a guy who seemed to be resting on a rock. He had his hands behind his head and was laying back. I then noticed that the woman with him was kneeling down in front of him. Let’s just say she wasn’t tying her shoes! And let’s just say that about the same time as I figured out what was going on, they heard me coming, jumping up quickly. He yanked up his pants and she jumped up and said “Go, go! Sorry!” I was too hot and tired to care or even really acknowledge them, but this was definitely a trail first. I’ve walked up on a lot of wild things on trail, but most of them belong to a genus, not a class of experiences! It didn’t really have to be that awkward as I would have just hiked by, but rather than face the humiliation of locking eyes with me, they proceeded to run up around the hill and hide. That in itself made me laugh. I mean, at that point, just own it! But maybe next time go somewhere off the trail…. And also, maybe next time don’t climb a huge hill in the hot sun first? Yuck! Anyway, I almost decided not to write about that, but I just can’t make this stuff up. So, you’re welcome! Now you can forever have that image in your minds as well.
Once I got away from The Scene, I passed through Green Gap and the south side of Rainey Mountain and made my way through a sea of blueberry bushes up on the ridge. This undulating ridge walk was quite long. I ate blueberries along the way, which was a delightful bonus, and made good time. When I finally crossed over Sandy Ford Road, I was in somewhat familiar territory. While I had not hiked this part of the Bartram Trail before, I recognized the road names in the area from shuttle runs during previous kayaking expeditions on the Chattooga.
The trail drops down to about river level at Sandy Ford Road and winds its way to Dick’s Creek. A side trail will take you to the Dick’s Creek Falls on the Chattooga River. This is a popular destination for locals and camping groups. I did not go down to the falls as I have seen it by kayak a number of times. The Bartram Trail does, however, cross Dick’s Creek, and the bridge over the creek was completely washed out when I arrived. I backtracked a bit, climbed down a steep bank onto fallen logs and was able to use them as a bridge to cross the creek. The crossing led me right through a camp full of outward bound kids, who had watched me through the whole process of trying to go to the bridge, figuring out it was impassable, and backtracking. I apologized for walking through their camp, but they were cool about it and told me it was, in fact, the only place to cross. Apparently I wasn’t the only visitor they had encountered that day.
After crossing Dick’s Creek, it was a fairly brief hike to the section of the Bartram Trail that runs parallel to the Chattooga River. I picked one of the first campsites I saw. It was perfect! It had water access, a nice view, and a fire ring. And, I was tired! It was looking a bit like it might rain and I could feel a few stray drops falling down from the greying sky, so I made haste with getting my tent up. Whatever storm might have come to be either moved on or dissipated quickly, which left me with a lovely evening. I gathered wood and built a little fire in the stone ring while cooking my Knorr rice side. A dry night with a fire was a great way to spend my last evening on trail.
The Bartram Trail had been a great experience thus far. I reflected on the fact that I had underestimated it a little bit. For no logical reason, I had assumed the hiking might be a little easier than other trails. It definitely was not. Hiking without the support of my hip belt added to that, though I became accustomed to it after day 3 of eating down my food. I was grateful that I had the skills to deal with the elements and to manage hiking without complete waypoint information, and grateful that I had the opportunity to hike the trail at all. A lot had transpired, and I had made a million small decisions that had landed my feet exactly where they were at that moment, alongside the Chattooga River. This is not to say that I can take credit for everything that led to this moment; rather, it is more to express that little decisions along the road of life can have big, downstream impacts that cannot be foreseen. Thinking more deeply, I could also see how a mix of adhering to and breaking away from various routines had played a part in getting me here. I made a mental note to explore this idea more after the hike, to examine my routines and ensure that I protect my healthy routines as much as I drive myself to break others.
In 2018 when I set out to hike the Appalachian Trail, I made some big changes in my life to do so. I know there was a piece of me at the time that wondered, “is it worth it?” As I sat there watching the Chattooga flow by, just as it had for thousands of years, I wondered what changes it had seen. Did it know that it would create mountains when it started flowing, cutting slowly through the Earth with its currents? Did it know that it would come to be loved by humans who appreciated its beauty and wanted to protect it? No. Of course not. Nature exists in the here and now, whenever that is, and simply does what it is there to do. Existing in the present is defined by the lack of consideration for the future. There is no space for it, because it is unnecessary. There is no question of impact or worth, because whatever is now, just is. Whatever will be is always “worth it” and trying to understand what or how is a futile exercise. Rivers know this. Mountains know this. Nature understands and accepts this. And so here I was, somehow where I was, on the Bartram Trail. So much had happened since starting this journey in 2018. It hasn’t all been easy or pleasant, but there is no doubt in my mind that it was worth it. It had to be.
As I mentioned in the beginning, I had decided to hike the Bartram Trail when I planned my Benton MacKaye Trail hike. Yet, I had no idea what I would do after the Bartram Trail. I would drive back to Atlanta where I would have no job. I would make some YouTube videos about my hikes and do some writing. But that was enough for now. I didn’t need to boil the ocean, to figure it all out. I needed to enjoy my campfire and the Chattooga. I might never find myself in this spot ever again, and one should never rob oneself of even a future forgotten memory before it is had. So I piddled about my fire, feeding it with dead twigs, turning them and the thoughts in my brain into little fires ignited and extinguished, until it was time for water to convert fire to damp ash, and for me to quiet my mind and drift off to sleep. And that is what I did.
I slept until the morning sun woke me. It would be a short day of hiking to arrive at the southern terminus of the Bartram Trail. I ate my breakfast and had some coffee, enjoying the view of the river. I kept my eyes peeled for morning visitors – cranes, muskrats, or maybe turtles. It seemed, though, that everyone had decided to sleep in, except the birds that I could hear around me. I packed up my tent, sandy from the river sediment around me, and there was nothing left to do but walk.
I took it easy, determined to make the most of my last day of hiking. As it warmed up, flies and gnats formed a band around my head, buzzing and whining near my ears, following as I hiked along. This reminded me a little of hiking through Maine during the summer on the AT. I remembered how annoying it can be to have this tiny orchestral accompaniment tagging along. I picked up my pace to keep them at bay.
The Bartram Trail crosses Warwoman Creek, which is a class 3-4 creek I have always wanted to paddle, but have not yet. You have to catch it at the right water level, which generally requires some rain, and it is relatively narrow, so fallen trees can often be a challenge. I enjoyed walking past it though. Earls Ford Road crosses Warwoman Creek there, so there were a lot of campsites in that area due to the easy road access. I continued on, hiking through relatively flat terrain, but no longer next to the river or creek. At one point, I heard a rustling ahead of me and a large dog came into view, barking aggressively and almost snarling. This really caught me by surprise, so much so that I jumped back, initially not even realizing it was a dog and not some other creature. I quickly heard voices and a woman came running down. The dog advanced on me, so I held up my poles and backed up slowly, but this made it come closer. I saw a woman come running down from what was presumably some type of drive-in campsite. I couldn’t see it from my position on the trail, but I could now see the shapes of other people higher on the hill. She called to the dog, but it ignored her, and came a little closer to me. I yelled out to her asking if the dog was friendly, but she didn’t really answer, instead trying to call the dog back to her. This did not make me feel at ease. Clearly she was unsure of what the dog might do in this situation. The animal itself appeared to be some type of German shepherd mix, though it was hard for me to tell. I do have a soft spot for German shepherds. They’re cute and they have that angled back that makes me feel like they need to see a chiropractor. Anyway, all I knew was that it was big, it did not appear to like me, and it was not listening to her. The woman finally crept down to where she could grab the dog, so I shouted up asking her if she had a good hold on it. She apologized, but an apology was fairly useless at that point. If you take your dog to an area where other people are known to hike by or will be present, put it on a leash. Fido might be totally nice to your friends and neighbors, but the woods are not Fido’s home. Therefore, it is pretty natural for Fido to be extra vigilant in a strange place. Fido doesn’t understand that I’m just a dude trying to walk by. Fido hears something in the woods and feels like he needs to protect his space, and his people. It’s what dogs do.
I was pretty annoyed and explained to her that I have no way to know if a loose dog in the woods is friendly or not, so if one approaches me aggressively, clearly not in a friendly manner, I have to assume the worst and do whatever it takes to keep myself safe. The dog could get hurt, I could get hurt, all because she didn’t think it through and use a leash. I had just passed by a group of young children camping a mile back. If one of them had walked up the same way, they could have gotten bitten and seriously injured. She apologized, but what I really hoped was that she would just use a leash moving forward. My heart was racing and it definitely scared me because I was not expecting that in the middle of the woods. It was a close call, for sure. Usually I only encounter loose dogs in towns. The dog barked while she held it, and I heard it barking for about 10 minutes until I was out of earshot. I was happy to move on and get back into a good headspace.
It took me a little while to calm down after that incident, but I finally did and did not let it ruin the rest of my day. I ran into a father-daughter backpacking duo as I got closer to the end and stopped to chat with them for a few minutes. They were attempting a thru-hike, which was her first, and they were very excited. They asked me if they should expect to be followed by flies and gnats the whole time. I laughed, and fortunately was able to tell them that, no, this was the only place where I had been bothered by flies and gnats, and that it wouldn’t be much longer before they were in the clear. It was nice feeling their energy as they started the hike, so I tried to channel as many good vibes their way as I could before we parted ways, singing the praises of the trail I had walked. I reckoned they probably were in for some really nice weather, most of the rain having just moved through. They warned me about a copperhead in the middle of the trail about a mile south, but told me that it was dead and someone had already cut the head off. I guess snakes can still bite for a while after they have died, which is odd, but I have heard this. Sure enough, in about a mile, I saw the dead, headless snake, right in the middle of the trail. It felt a little like the gods were sending signals. Maybe it was good that I was finishing up that day. Maybe the trail had had enough of me! If so, I would totally understand. A Hungry Cat can be a lot to handle sometimes.
In all honesty, I was feeling ready to finish my hike. I was ready for a break from overgrowth and chafed feet, from loose dogs and snakes. For me, hiking has never really been about camping. That is part of it, but I like the challenge, the adventure, the suffering, the overcoming, the rawness and purity of an end-to-end experience in nature. Therefore, by the conclusion of any hike, no matter how long, there is at least a part of me that is ready for it to be over. It is supposed to be over. There is a beginning and an end, just like life, and that is the way it is supposed to be.
As I walked the final stretch of trail back again along the Chattooga, I saw a pair of anglers in waders chatting and casting into eddy pools. I paused for a moment to watch from my perch above the river, just as one of the fishermen hooked and landed a hefty trout. I watched them celebrate, excited by their catch, and quietly continued on south. Endings come in all shapes and sizes. Some of them are happier than others, and not necessarily the same for all involved. All endings have meaning, though appreciating this sometimes requires that we let go of our subjective feelings. This, I believe, includes death. I think of it kind of like Newton’s third law in physics – every action has an equal and opposite reaction. If life is an action, then death is its opposite reaction. If life has meaning, then death must contain the same “amount” of meaning. This is not a scientific point about endings or the end of life; I’m just trying to explain how I see it. Just as anything will always be “worth it,” so too will even the most pointless-seeming ends always have meaning. Sometimes that meaning will be clear, but oftentimes, perhaps most times, it will not be, and that’s ok. We sometimes do ourselves a disservice by trying to understand or ascribe our own meanings to things. It’s human nature to want clarity – I know I do. But the pursuit of clarity, even creating clarity for clarity’s sake, can be self-limiting and destructive.
It was time for my own adventure’s ending. Shortly after I witnessed the big catch, I crossed over highway 28 and found myself standing in the parking lot where I had met Barbara, my shuttle driver, and started my journey. I stared at the stone marker indicating the southern terminus of the Bartram Trail. Despite a bit of faded graffiti, it was a beautiful thing. I walked over to it to give it a ceremonious touch and immediately got myself tangled up in some briers. I had to laugh a bit. After all, much of the trail that I had walked had been overgrown as summer began to flex its mighty muscles, sending its wondrous growth machine into overdrive. The parking lot at Russell Bridge is small, and it was full. I walked over to my car, happy to see that it was still in one piece. The sun was bright and heat radiated up from the ground. I opened up the hatch to my wagon, tossed my gear in the back, and that was that.
It’s always an odd feeling getting behind the steering wheel after being out on a great adventure. It can feel overwhelming, even if only momentarily, and this time was no different. Most of all I just felt overwhelmingly grateful that I got to hike this trail. I don’t know why hiking chose this period of my life to become important to me, but it did. To be able to get closer to the Earth, to see its magic and diversity first hand – it’s a very special thing. I am drawn to these adventures, and I simply leave it at that. I will try not to ascribe further meaning, because I do not need to, and I am not sure there is any.
On my way back to Atlanta, I stopped in Clayton at the McDonald’s drive thru and ordered a burger, fries, a strawberry shake, and a coffee. I don’t normally eat fast food, but sometimes after a hike I just get wild and eat some super unhealthy stuff, like McDonald’s, or a huge carton of ice cream. And I love doing it because it is like some kind of forbidden, sinful thing that my hiker metabolism is primed to eradicate the minute it enters my body (though I know this is not true). For years and years I never ate McDonald’s or any fast food. My wife used to practically beg me to eat McDonald’s, not because she eats it often, but because I would never cave. I held fast, until one day, for whatever reason, I relented. Once the seal was broken, there was no going back. It’s not like I eat it a lot – like I said, just on momentous occasions, like finishing a long hike. I ate in my lap in the parking lot, savoring every greasy, indulgent mouthful. I topped off the burger and fries with a vanilla milkshake. Once my belly was full, I sipped on a Mickey D’s coffee and started the long drive home. Much like thru-hiking the Bartram Trail, this little indulgence was also very much worth it.
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