The Alabama/Georgia border has two large, nice flags blowing in the wind.
I wonder how long these last, and who climbs up here to maintain them. They’re on the far side of the last mountain before the descent into lower elevations.
I’ve got about two hours left of sunlight, but it’s a nice spot, so I stop to watch the flags ripple in the wind.
And then back to it.
And then I see something I do not expect - another human, slowly moving along the trail with a huge pack.
Ho there!
Rick is a trail maintainer, coming off the mountain, literally carrying a chainsaw on his back. He gets the flags from eBay, and they only need to be changed once a season - he gets the nice nylon flags, otherwise they last a week.
He and his dog are very dedicated to the Pinhoti - the trail saved his life. He shouldn’t even be here, say the doctors. That’s another story for another time.
He gives me some instructions, and I take off running.
There’s no way I’m going to make it before dark, and there’s a dangerous road walk ahead.
As the trail turns flat, I run at a steady pace, and when I get bored, I just shift my mind to other things.
I’m not out of breath anymore, I just don’t like running, so I want to stop.
But the longer I go, the more adjusted I can become to this new norm, so I keep going.
As it gets dark, I cone to the most beautiful section of the trail this far.
RS what I imagine the PCT looks like.
It’s also kind of creepy. These woods are what I imagine werewolves run through during a full moon, certainly, that’s what they did in the Originals TV show.
On the Arizona Trail, I was terrified of this type of forest, such that I ran out of fear because I did not want to make camp there.
It was a little ridiculous. But the fear was there.
I marvel at how far I’ve come, and I continue to run at my steady pace.