brando foto

In the fall of 2008 my girlfriend Maurin and I got rid of all our things in Chicago in preparation for moving to South America. My family lives in Florida so it made sense to head there then fly out of Miami. I had put together sort of a whimsical (stupid) plan to meander against the grain from Cincinnati to Savannah where my brother would pick us up if we actually made it. The idea was to spend the majority of our time in the Daniel Boone National Forest, the Cherokee National Forest and the Smoky Mountain areas with a little road hiking in between. Of course what we actually did was much different.

We brought pen and paper and tried to journal as much as possible.

September 30th 2008 – Tuesday

Megabus from Chicago to Cincinnati

“Do not open this bay”

Met up with Wes & Emily, had dinner at “Shanghai Mamas” in Cinci. They have a very friendly Jack Russel Terrier named Evie that is missing a leg; a couple of the nicest most hospitable people I’ve ever met, though they appear to be outcasts in an otherwise extremely conservative town.

A lot of people haven’t heard of Megabus and some even say that for as cheap as it is, surely it must be crappy, overcrowded or full of lunatics. The only thing wrong with our bus was a rattling seat in the back and an overhead compartment that said “Do not open this bay” where the driver kept his little shrunken head collection.

October 1st 2008 – Wednesday

Wes & Emily made us breakfast which was excellent. We took the TANK bus south on 27 to its last stop in Alexandria, walked a bit and stopped at Burger King for el baño. An old couple asked what we were doing and why. Then asked if we were in college or high school.

I said “I’m 29.”

Then they asked “what are your professions?”

“I’m a photographer, she’s an illustrator.”

“Ohh, strange people. Now it makes sense.”

—

So we arrived at AJ Jolly only to find out that it’s off season? Our legs & feet were killing us & our next stop is 18 miles away so we are guerrilla camping on the woods around the park. Wasn’t sure about bears here but we hung out packs anyways. In the distance we’ve heard what Maurin says is fireworks for a couple hours though I think it’s probably some hillbillies with a rifle – I’ll let Maurin think it’s fireworks.

When we arrived at the registration booth for the campground nobody was there. A maintenance guy came by and seemed happy to tell us that we couldn’t camp. So we headed to a pavilion to regroup then decided to find a secluded site in the woods away from the actual camping area where we could set up in case he decided to show up later. Unfortunately AJ Jolly also has a golf course that we ended up having to cross before getting to the patch of woods that seemed best. It was due to get dark in a couple hours and our spirits were pretty low so we settled for this little spot that put us only a couple hundred feet from the service road to the clubhouse. From our tent I could see cars on the road through the trees though we were on much lower ground and they couldn’t see us. We couldn’t go any deeper or so I thought; when I scouted the area beforehand it seemed that there was another road an equal distance from us on the opposite side.

We prepared for camping in bear territory which meant cooking away from the tent and hanging our packs every night, not that they would fit in our tiny tent anyways.

October 2nd 2008 – Thursday

Last night was pretty stressful. Just as soon as we got in the tent after sundown, we heard something walking in the woods, snapping twigs and branches – it sounded as big as us or bigger. I get out of the tent with the flashlight and my knife. I turn on the light in time to see something running through the woods about 20 yards south of us. I almost crapped myself. I could hear it running but could no longer spot it with the light. So I sit there speculating – thinking it could be a person but probably wasn’t since there was no light with them.

Then we hear this crazy noise – over and over. No idea what it is. I stay seated near the tent, light off, waiting for it. I hear walking on the other side of the tent, turn my light to it and breathe a HUGE sigh of relief when I see it’s a deer. Actually there were a few of them and as they ran off they made that crazy noise again. I thought maybe it was a turkey but couldn’t remember what those things sound like.

Years ago I had a roommate who grew up in Idaho and was familiar with hunting. We’d gotten our hands on a shotgun and would go out skeet shooting and eventually we started talking about going turkey hunting so we went and bought a “turkey call” that evidently simulates one of the various sounds of a turkey.

After sitting out there and listening to those deer make that weird noise on and off for about 20 minutes, before we knew what it was, it occurred to me that wild turkey must be prevalent in the area, there’s even a bourbon called wild turkey and everyone knows that’s made in Kentucky! So for a few minutes my official verdict was “duh! it’s a turkey – I totally know what they sound like!” Of course I don’t but I had to reassure myself that it wasn’t some bearded hillbilly running around our tent drunk on moonshine. Truth is I’d never heard that noise. After a little internet research I’ve found that it’s called a “wheeze” and it’s a territorial noise – oops!

When we left our campsite I told Maurin that we could either go up to the service road which we know for sure will take us back to 27 though we’d risk being caught (whatever that’s actually worth) or we could go straight West through the woods directly to 27 undetected. She chose the service road but I convinced her otherwise and we really paid for it. Going directly through the woods made more sense but of course without topographic maps we never saw the LAKE that was in our way. That set us back over an hour.

When we emerged on the highway we stopped in the convenience store/gas station/pizzeria to refill our water and eat. I asked the guy at the counter where he was from. He told me Bombay, India and I said “oh where Bollywood is.” He was impressed that I knew about Bollywood. What impressed me is how in the hell someone moved from Bombay to Kentucky.

So we hiked along 27 again for a couple miles but at this point it’s a two lane and people drive fast. So we got a cab! I know it’s totally cheating but I just wanna get to Daniel Boone National Forest and get off the highway…

I was initially concerned about undermining the legitimacy of our “hike” by taking a cab but 27 had narrowed to a mere two lane and there was so little room and sometimes no room for us to hike on the shoulder – that and we’re from CHICAGO!

The cab driver insisted both our packs would fit in the trunk though he had a speaker box with two 12″ subwoofers in it. One pack went in the front seat. I talked emptily with him about cars to pass the time which showed Maurin what I had told her ealier, that being able to talk “shop” is something of a litmus test in the South.

–

We get to Kincaid Lake State Park just in time for Wool Fest!? It’s a very nice park but was packed for the festival which (evidently) is huge. We got a primitive camp site, and were relieved to see they had showers! Everyone is interested in us. People in the park, people passing us on the street all look at us like aliens but so far nobody has been mean to us.

October 3rd 2008 – Friday

So I’ve had to come to terms with the fact that I over planned our days and overestimated the distance we could hike daily in such a hilly terrain. Also considering that the roads here don’t always have a shoulder; in Florida where I grew up the terrain is flat therefore the roads normally have a shoulder that would be sufficient for road hiking. The logical solution? Hitchhike.

We walk about 5-7 grueling miles, Maurin with a hurt knee (that’s aggravated when coming downhill) for about 4 hours before getting our thumbs PROMINENTLY out. No pride, no shame. We were in pain and the distance ahead to our next campsite compared to the ground we’ve already covered was devastating! So we decided to get out on the main 2 lane (KY-22).

But first – the showdown…. Maurin and I vs 3 really pissed off dogs. After 20 minutes of planning & strategy it turns out they were all chained. We actually had many dog encounters today and so I’ve learned that the faster traffic typically is on the highway, the higher the chance is those dogs are chained up and vice versa. I almost bear sprayed two dogs that were not tied up.

So we get to 22 and hitch for about 30 minutes until someone stops. It’s a family in a pickup with a cover on the back. Dad, Mom and little boy ride in front, Maurin and I plus two daughters (grades 1 and 3) ride in back to Powersville, about 8-10 miles from Bachelor’s Rest. There’s an old gas store there with two old fashioned gas pumps in front. Their dad tells me quickly how to get to Mt Olivet from there and mentions that he used to fight dogs and chickens there.

We buy drinks and I chat with some local about hunting but I thinking – “how the hell are we gonna get the rest of the way?” I realize this guy doesn’t seem to have a car, so I don’t need to waste more time feigning interest in turkey and deer.

We walk about a mile until 165 branches off of 19 and decide to hitch there. Maybe 4 cars pass and a lifted Chevy truck with mud tires stops and backs up. Maurin and I come to the window and the driver, with an accent says “where are you going?” I say “hablas español?” and he does so I look to Maurin and she explains our route.

Fernando brings us into Mt Olivet and says “I can drop you off here where you’ll walk the rest of the way to Blue Licks Battlefield SP (10 miles) or we can go right down the street to my house, get some water and then I can bring you back here.” So we go back to the house and meet his wife Gisette. Fernando is from Mexico and is a tobacco farmer. Gisette is from Puerto Rico. I heard them both comment that they are “los unicos hispanos” in the area which makes it interesting that they found us.

Mount Olivet, Ky has 289 people.

Up until now I’d done all of the talking everywhere we went but now I was mostly silent and Maurin had taken the helm. We went from total strangers to friends in less than an hour and our plans seemed to be evolving rapidly the longer we stayed there. They offered to keep us for dinner but they had to go down to Carlisle beforehand.

We got in their minivan, left our packs at the house and drove down past Blue Licks Battlefield State Park to a property they are looking at buying. It’s 38 acres with a house and barn. We couldn’t find the place so we stopped and since I can speak hillbilly “southern” I did the talking.

We found a property that we thought might be it and Fernando and I hopped the gate to see it. We had to climb some serious hills and I’ve got a walnut sized blister on my heel. We keep going to the center of the property and down on a smaller hill Fernando points to a group of deer that are just sitting there. It’s dusk so all I can see are their white tails which number about 20 or 30.

So using the real estate map we navigated back to their home where we had spaghetti for dinner. They offered to drive us to Blue Licks in the morning if we stayed the night. So we stayed on their living room floor in our sleeping bags.

October 4th 2008 – Saturday

The next morning we drive to Blue Licks. On the way I start to realize that in their situation Gisette doesn’t have any Spanish speaking friends here. You would think that her and Maurin have known each other for years.

We get to Blue Licks Battlefield State Park and it’s packed. Not for the weekend but for some camping yard sale event. Every camp site is full except for the “reserve area” so we go to the lodge. They have vacancies there too but the rooms are $100 a night. So I come back to the car to tell Maurin and Gisette. Gisette then explains that if we’re considering staying in a hotel we may as well go to Paris where they’d be cheaper. She said she was going there for groceries anyways. I asked, if it’s still on 68 and it is so we agreed. I knew it would take us off our original path but whatever. I looked at the map and saw then that it actually would take us within 15 miles or so of Lexington and thought well – this opens up some opportunities to seriously digress…

The 3 of us eat at Huddle House across the street from the Best Western that we’d check in at later. Gisette speaks very good English but refuses to do so with me as she knows I need to be practicing my Spanish.

It was hard to say goodbye to Gisette. At that point we’d spent cumulatively a whole day with her but it felt like so much more. She has something of a “up for whatever” personality and probably would have driven us to Sacramento if we asked but I felt we’d imposed on them enough so we parted ways after eating. However, Maurin and I couldn’t stop talking about how great they were for the rest of the week and we kept joking about just going back to Mt Olivet.

So we finally check in to the Best Western and spend about 30 minutes chatting with the attendant who is probably the same age as my Grandma Del. She seems very interested in our travels and is very sweet to us.

The population of Paris, Ky is 9,183 and the most exciting thing there is Walmart. There was a computer in the lobby of the Best Western so I placed an ad on the Craigslist rideshare for Lexington:

Lexington/Paris to SouthEast of here… (Paris KY)

No luck.

October 5th 2008 – Sunday

So we decide to hitch to Mt Sterling after studying the maps and finding that we can get into the Sheltowee Trace trail just 30 miles South East of Paris on 460. So we check out of the Best Western and hike to the other side of town to where 460 leads South.

We’re standing on 460 about a mile South of where it branches off of 68. There was a sign saying Mt Sterling 24, North Middleton 9 but looking down the road, seeing the hills and the often nonexistent shoulder, we decided to stay put and hitch rather than hike at all.

About 40 minutes passes and a young girl from the church we were standing at comes over to us. She’s probably 16 years old, smoking a cigarette and invites us over to the church to get something to eat as they are having a “food thang”. So I agree thinking we might meet some people headed to Mt Sterling.

We come in, set our packs down in the hall and walk to their fellowship area past the sanctuary. The girl’s mother explains this is their first service back in this building after renovating.

It’s a potluck dinner with a flurry of people, mostly older women all trying to fill our plates.

“Here you go honey, there’s only dark meat left.”

“Make sure you get some dessert.”

“Can I get y’all some ice?”

I see their hospitality but Maurin’s not used to this. I intentionally set my plate next to a guy who’s already seated. Without a word he leaves almost immediately. However, a young man comes over right away and replaces him. Then another. They’re just being friendly, making conversation and we chit chat about where we’re headed. I take out my state map and he starts to point out the areas that even Kentuckians don’t go; Eastern Kentucky. The other man gives us a story about him being lost and encountering the stereotypical hillbillies sitting on the front porch clutching shotguns. In his words “they don’t like outsiders.” They reiterate that we really have to be careful – “I’m serious.”

Then of course the inevitable question pops in – “so, you go to church?” I lie through my teeth to spare us the salvation speech but Maurin who has been completely silent until now, tells the truth.

So we get back to our spot to hitch and Maurin admits that she was totally weirded out by all of them. I defend them and explain that they were just being friendly. None the less, we got some good advice out of them; there are evidently 2 types of people here: Kentuckians and Eastern Kentuckians.

We hitch unsuccessfully for another hour and decide to head back to the West side of town where we’d attempt to hitch to Lexington instead. It takes almost an hour to get to the appropriate area for this – only to fail for about 30 or 40 minutes. Is it because it’s Sunday? We can’t figure it out so we get out of the sun (by now I’m burnt) and regroup. Buy a car? Rent a car? Walk to Lexington tomorrow? We’re running out of time today so we decide to head back to the hotel as it our only option in the sprawling metropolis of Paris, (Bourbon County) Kentucky.

October 6th 2008 – Monday

No matter what, we are getting to Lexington today. Our options multiply once we make it there.

Maurin and I get our continental breakfast and get to walking. Last night I emailed someone on CouchSurfing.com and set up a place to stay so that if we have to walk the entire 15 miles to Lexington, we’ll at least have a place lined up to sleep at.

So we walk a couple miles out of Paris and get picked up rather quickly, especially compared to yesterday. I think you have to earn it out there. People don’t pity you when you’re standing still in a town. Each time (so far) that we’ve been picked up, we have been sweaty, tired looking and out among the cows – literally.

A lady in a smaller Mercedes SUV stops for us. Her name is Mona and she lives in Lexington but was at a rental property she owns near Paris. (lucky us!) She is really sweet and reminds me a lot of my Aunt Cindy. Just before picking us up, she said she saw an RV and though of how great it would be to just up and go, then she saw us! So far, people are intrigued by our off the cuff, whatever approach and it seems to have gained us favor everywhere.

She turns on her GPS and plugs in the address of our CouchSurfing host Aimee and takes us all the way to her apartment complex. After she leaves us, Maurin admits that she loved her accent.

–

So we meet Aimee at her place. She is a very chill, laid back person. She is attending University of Kentucky and right now she is in midterms. She gives us a general direction to head for food and tells us we can have any of the beer that’s left over from her birthday party on Saturday.

Maurin and I go get a pizza downtown and I see there is an ad on the Lexington Craigslist rideshare for a ride to DC. So we look at the possibility of doing that, then maybe seeing New York City. We hang out in the park near Rupp Arena then had back to Aimee’s.

So I get on the computer and start evaluating our options for the next few hours. I cross referenced bus stations and train stations against trailheads on the Sheltowee and the Appalachian. I come up with these plans:

A – We take the rideshare but get off at Charlottesville, VA and hike to Harper’s Ferry, Wv where we can take a train to Savannah. That allows for about 100 miles of Appalachian Trail hiking and a way home at the end.

B – Take the greyhound bus (there is no Amtrak in Lexington) to London, Ky and hike South on the Sheltowee to Pickett State Park in Tennessee. The problem is, from Pickett we’d have to hitch a ride to either Knoxville or Cookesville for at least 100 miles to get on a Greyhound bus. We are tired of hitchhiking. Especially as we saw on Sunday how hit or miss it is.

C – Take the Greyhound bus from Lexington to Knoxville, hitch to the Smoky’s (36 miles) and hike the Appalachian Trail to either Charlottesville, Va (Greyhound) or Harper’s Ferry (Amtrak). Problems are, we still have to hitch from Knoxville, and to Charlottesville (from the trail) and knowing our actual pace we may not be able to finish in time before leaving to Venezuela in which case we’d really get screwed.

D – Greyhound bus from Lexington to Ocala, Fl where we won’t have to hitch and we have something like 1200 miles of the Florida Trail we can hike, 70 of them through the Ocala National Forest.

So I email about the rideshare. Nothing.

October 7th 2008 – Tuesday

Morning comes around. Nothing. So after weighing the options and not wanting to be at the mercy of the area anymore, we decide to go to Florida. 1 week in Kentucky is plenty anyways.

We get our last ever hike through Kentucky; 3 miles from Aimee’s to the Greyhound station and get our tickets. I don’t know if it’s Greyhound or if it’s Kentucky but this place looks like somebody nearby turned over a rock. I’m more thankful now than ever for those vaccinations we took care of back in Chicago.

I will never ride Greyhound again.

We sat in the back of the bus with all the comedians. One guy was selling weed to everyone around us then rolled himself a blunt that they all went off to smoke during our stop in Chattanooga. A Playboy and Penthouse got passed around for a couple hours. The lady behind us could make pretty convincing barnyard animal sounds and two of the three people we picked up in Tifton evidently had sex in the bathroom.

But those were the highlights of the trip – the good parts.

The bad parts; it’s insanely overpriced considering it was in worse shape than the Megabus which only cost us $8 each. Not counting our pals in the back, the bus was full of derelicts, one of which smelled like they pissed themselves in Ohio. Our bus was running almost an hour late the whole trip. We switched buses and drivers in Atlanta; after checking our tickets that said OCALA, the driver announced that we weren’t stopping until Orlando and I had to fight with him just to get him to look at my ticket again to prove it. He didn’t know where any of the actual stops were and after we got off in Ocala, he almost left us there without fetching our packs from under the bus.

We wished we’d hitched instead.

–

In summary, I realized a couple important things while in Kentucky. There are lots of good hearted people out there; I’m pretty cynical so that’s a big deal. And secondly, you can’t just up and walk across a continent without training and planning. Being too “free spirited” will get you attacked by dogs who belong to rednecks and/or hit by a school bus on a blind curve of a two lane rural county highway.

But then again, it could also introduce you to some terrific people.