Through Hiker Season

It's that time of year again. Through-hiker season!, the few weeks in June when the majority of those through-hiking (going from Georgia to Maine) the Appalachian Trail pass through nearby to where I live. It's the time of year when one can come across individuals known as Leprechaun, Frenchy, Stinky, or my personal favorite, Cosmic John. If this doesn't make any sense, everybody that hikes on the trail sooner or later picks up a trail name based on a personal characteristic. Leprechaun was 4'5" with a red beard, Frenchy was from France, Stinky smelled, and I'm assuming Cosmic John used to use drugs, a lot.

I decided to set out to meet this year's most recent group in town. Knowing that the average through-hiker can burn well over 6,000 calories a day, I decided that instead of being that weird creepy guy that just shows up wanting to talk, I would hit up the Food Lion on my way out the door to be certain that I would be welcome. I then raced to the nearest, and often busiest, hiker campground only to find that it was completely deserted. Well, maybe not completely deserted. The campsite stretched a good distance into the trees and figuring that somebody would be way in the back I kept walking. My intuition proved itself correct, because I did find someone, at least their clothes anyway. The site is bordered by a river, which apparently happens to be a great place to go skinny dipping. I decided that I could find someone else to talk with instead.

When I finally got to where all the hikers were (a local hostel), I found that they were all (about 20) plopped down in front of a TV watching Tron. I said hi and that I had brought some Coke for them. They said thanks. Then I said that I had brought bananas for them too. This time they said thank you a little louder and with much more enthusiasm. Then I mentioned that I had brought ice cream sandwiches as well. At this the entire room erupted with cheers as smelly, greasy people came up to me and shook my hand, asked for my name, and gave up their seats for me so that I could watch the movie with them. I think that's the moment I won their trust.

It was an awesome night. We all watched the movie as jokes were made, and luke-warm Cokes (I looked for the hikers at the original site longer than initially expected) were passed around. I even picked up a trail name, Flip Flop! I did a lot of praying too. Mainly due to the guy beside me picking the skin off his foot and throwing it into the trash can on the other side of me though. I think for the most part they were answered. I never got hit, anyway, but his hands never got the severe cramps that I was praying for.

A Broken Bottle

As I looked into the distance as I was walking down the beach the other day, I was surprised to see that something very shiny had just washed up in the surf. At first, I thought that it was probably somebody's old trash that they had simply been too lazy to throw away, but my curiosity got the best of me, and so I went to see what it was anyway. As I got closer, I realized that I had just stumbled upon (great website, by the way) what just about everybody that's ever been to a beach has dreamed of finding, a message in a bottle.

As I picked it up to get a closer look, I thought that some grandma somewhere had recently found a great way to bond with her grandkids. However, as I looked closer I didn't see the colored pirate ships and dinosaurs that I was expecting, but instead a younger woman's handwriting. The bottle didn't look to be too old. It was a 2010 Italian Pinot Grigio (I'm not sure what that says about the woman's tastes), and the label on the bottle was not worn barely at all. In fact, it looked like it could have been thrown in the water the day I picked it up, and seeing that I found it about 200 yards from a fishing pier, the owner was probably nervously watching as I picked it up.

As soon as I got back to the house I gathered my family and we cracked open the bottle as carefully as we could. The moment that the contents of the bottle were within reach, hands shot out from everywhere grabbing every last piece of paper that had previously been inside. It turns out that the message was one lady's form of venting. My little sisters quickly figured this out and put the pages back. Within those pages a plethora of people were addressed, in especially not-nice language, stating the ways that they had done her wrong. These peoples' lack of judgment, sheer stupidity, and extreme incompetence were all discussed over and over again. It turns out that the lady had watched as a coworker who had been there three months got promoted over her, who had been there three years, as she looked on in anger and frustration, and that this bottle was the only way that she could truly express what she was feeling (and boy, did she express it!).

She must have been angry. There's over 30 pages here!

I'm not sure what I really learned from this. Probably, that if I put a message in a bottle someday, I'm going to put a fake treasure map inside to get the reader's hopes up.Think about how much cooler of a post this would have been! I'd be writing about my preparations for a nationwide treasure hunt, instead of a random angry person. However, I did learn what this lady's grocery list was, as it was scratched out at the top of one of pages. Looks like watermelon and toilet paper were on the list for this week.