We woke up with the sun that Saturday morning. There were booths and big trailers parked everywhere. Churches from all around the surrounding area come to Trail Days to take care of the hikers. They had semi trailers filled with washers and dryers, they gave you loaner clothes to wear while they washed yours for you. They constantly tried to feed you, they had trailers full of showers with plenty of hot water. Their generosity was sincere and unconditional. Everyone there treated us like we were celebrities, they wanted to know where we came from, what our trail names where, and how far we had come on the trail. There was even one church that had a line of chairs and wash basins. The church members would kneel and wash your feet if you would let them. I know it’s a biblical thing, I understood the symbolic significance, but I just couldn’t bring myself to let someone else wash my feet for me, no matter how dirty my feet were. The Bible Belt is alive and well in southern Appalachia.

There’s no doubt people from every walk of life come to hike the trail each year. People come from all over the world, but mostly it’s just Hippies. I grew up in rural Louisiana, I grew up believing Hippies were bad people. Nothing could have been farther from the truth. I’ve found them to be the kindest, most nonjudgmental people on the on the earth. I discovered that I have a lot of Hippie in me. The word Hippie was first used in the mid 1960’s to describe a movement of people that rejected the mores of society, that favored communal living, and believed that acceptance was a better path than judging others based on your own frame of reference.

Trail Days is basically a massive Hippie party. If you’ve never been to one it’s something worth attending. There was a hiker talent show. It’s not a talent contest, it’s a talent show. There were singers from every genre including opera, country, folk, blue grass, and rock and roll. There were jugglers, poets, fire eaters, comedians, basically anything you could think of. Everyone doing their own thing and seeing and appreciating the things that others have mastered. It was awesome to behold. There was no trouble, there was no violence, just people applauding others as they displayed mastery of their individual crafts. I’m not saying all of it was good, or that some of the poetry didn’t run long, but overall it was awesome to behold.

There is a hiker parade, it’s AT tradition for male thru hikers to find dresses at the local Goodwill stores to wear for the parade. This year was no exception. I didn’t wear a dress, but I thoroughly enjoyed watching the hikers I have come to know that did.

We looked at all the newest hiker gear on the market, ultralight gear, like most technology today, has risen to a level that is hard to comprehend.

Initially, when I started my hike, I really liked my German made Hilleberg tent. I told myself it was worth the weight to be a little heavy, because it was such a comfortable space. It was worth it to be comfortable, I slept in it most nights. But then I discovered Hyperlight gear. A tent that used trekking poles instead of tent poles, that was easier to set up and take down, and best of all it only weighed 16 ounces. When I mailed my sodden Hilleberg home, the postal scale showed it weighed 6.1 pounds. Just like that I dropped 5 pounds of weight from my pack, and I found it to be just as comfortable to sleep in, an more importantly just as comfortable and dry to shelter in during the relentless rain.

It reminded me of what Gandalf told me once while we were sitting in a shelter waiting for the rain to stop, so we could get out of the Smokies. He looked at my pack and said, “damn son how much does that pack weigh?’ I told him I figured it weighed about 35 pounds with four days of food and a liter and a half of water. He looked at his own pack and said, “mine weighs 23 pounds with four days food and a liter of water.” He cocked his head sideways, looked at me, and said”, you know the difference between your pack and mine?” I said, “what’s that?” He said, “you’ve got a bunch of stuff in yours that you want. I’ve only got what I need in mine.” I’d never thought of it that way, but I began to after that. I started looking for things I could do without. I threw my wool sleeping socks in a hiker box. Surely winter was over by now, why should I need to carry this extra base layer now that we’re out of the Smokies? Everybody says that once you get out of the Smokies you don’t need your cold weather gear anymore. I threw my base layer shirt in a hiker box and mailed the leggings home with the Hilleberg. It didn’t change the weight much but at least it felt a little lighter. I hoped I wouldn’t regret it if a cold front came through, you never can tell at higher elevation what’s going to hapen. Once it gets later in the summer, I figure I’ll only carry the set of clothes I have on my back.