Christmas was a cold walk in the morning sun. The buff covering my face from the frigid wind looked like a Rorschach test from the condensation in my breath.
Merlot, another hiker, mentioned craving eggs and bacon, and I began thinking about it too much. A side effect of hiker hunger, burning more calories than I’m taking in. Her desire becomes mine.
And then a pickup pulled over to the side of the road, a trail maintainer named Unfinished Business gave me a package of microwave bacon and a hard boiled egg. Desire manifesting in reality.
A little further down the road and around the corner, Batt6 returned with a pizza after taking another hiker into town, one whose feet had been destroyed by the long road walk. Not much further after that, someone left a case of beer on the side of the road for passing hikers.
It was Christmas in Christmas, and we hadn’t even reached town yet.
By the time we did, everyone was running on four hours of sleep in the last 48 hours, after covering a similar number of miles.
We passed out in comfort and indoors thanks to Pastor Ken and his wonderful congregation at Fort Christmas Baptist Church. But the next morning we were back at it, out in the swamp, pushing as a group, having a great time, and embracing the suck together.
#floridatrail #ftthruhike