The sun was shining when I rolled out of bed around 8am. I was in good spirits and looking forward to the day. My exhaustion from the day before seemed to have disappeared. While eating a couple of granola bars for breakfast, I looked over the elevation profile for the next section of the trail. It seemed like another typical up and down New York day, and I was excited to get going. The three of us left the campsite together and hiked in close proximity for the first hour or so. The trail crept along a nice shady section of forest before descending to a massive, murky swamp. Hundreds of sketchy bog boards made the crossing a little annoying. With wet feet, we finally made it to the other side of the swamp and came to a bustling convenience store and deli. It was a strange feeling to be in such a wild, isolated place, then all of the sudden emerge from the reeds in a parking lot next to a minivan. The market was great! I grabbed some gatorades for the hot hike ahead, and then I ordered a breakfast sandwich. After thinking about it for a minute, I ordered another deli sandwich to eat for dinner.
Peeling ourselves away from the air conditioning was tough, but our goal was to smash out some more miles and set up camp at the Clarence Fahnestock State park by late afternoon. With mid-day approaching, we decided to hit the trail and knock out the last chunk of miles. When I was leaving the store, I noticed a sore spot on the back of my left calf. It felt like a burn, but I knew I hadn’t burned myself…recently. I couldn’t pin point when I had hurt myself, so I figured it was bad scrape from all of the boulders I had been climbing recently. I rubbed some antibiotic on the irritated area and kept hiking. As soon as my feet hit the trail, my energy suddenly started to drain quickly. I was sluggish and seemed to be hiking a lot slower than the rest of the team, so I told them not to wait for me.
My leg was bothering me, but I had other fish to fry. After hiking across a small field, I set my pack down by an ancient looking rock wall, and pulled out my phone to call New Balance. I had noticed a few days prior that the sole was starting to come off of both of my fairly new boots. They had served me well, but finding they were falling apart so soon was an unexpected setback. I figured I would give them a call and see about maybe getting a discount or something and see if they could place an order for me. The customer service representative I spoke to was incredible. He informed me that since I had purchased the boots from a “less than reputable website,” they may have been stored improperly, compromising the glue that held the soles on the boots. My heart sank when he informed me that they no longer made the model of boots I was wearing. The New Balance 1201’s were the best boots I had ever owned. After seeing other hikers’ foot problems, I was convinced they were the best boots on the trail. My attitude changed when he offered to send me their newest light hiking boot, free of charge! What an awesome company. Looking through my trail guide, I had him send the new boots to a Catholic parish in Massachusetts that would hold packages for hikers. It was still two states away, so I figured I would have plenty of time to get there.
Finally handling my boot situation put me in a great mood again, but it didn’t last long. Picking up my pack, I suddenly felt dizzy and almost collapsed. I shook it off, chugged some water and continued down the trail. As I hiked over the easy terrain, my legs felt heavy and my joints started to ache horribly. It seemed like a bad flu was breathing down my sweaty neck. Stopping to rest on a big log, I looked at the sore spot on my leg. The area that was slightly red a couple of hours earlier had mutated into perfect square with disgusting, puss filled edges.
Sore spot on my leg that turned out to be a Lyme Disease rash from a tick bite.
I felt horrible. The rest of the afternoon was a blur of stumbling through the forest and stopping to rest every quarter mile. Every time I sat down, I nearly fell asleep. All I could do was chug gatorade and keep pushing forward. I knew I was approaching the road, because I started seeing day hikers on the trail. The last mile to the road was the hardest mile I have walked in my entire life. I had tunnel vision and cold sweats, and I could barely pick my feet up off the ground. I stumbled past horrified weekenders and wiped sweat from my eyes as the pain and dizziness got worse and worse. Finally, I reached the road. I was happy to be close to my destination, but I was pretty disoriented. The park where we were all camping was 1 mile east. Across the street from where I had emerged from the woods, a man was fishing with his son. I tried to act as normal as possible and asked him about the park. He pointed left, so I thanked him and hiked off in that direction. For the next 45 minutes, I stumbled down the shoulderless mountain road, looking up every once in a while for the park sign. After a while, I knew he had pointed me in the wrong direction. I turned around and started walking the other way. What seemed like an eternity later, I stumbled to the parking lot of the state park. “There you are!” Seth exclaimed, “We thought you were dead.” Under normal circumstances, even at my most ill, this would have been a great time for a snide come back, but all I could say is, “I need to sit here for a while.” I dropped my bag and sat right in the middle of the gravel parkinglot. There was no activity at the park, but even if I was about to be run over, I don’t think I would have had the energy to get out of the way. I sat there for about 30 minutes, just staring into space. Eventually, I stumbled around until I found the site that Seth and Freight Train had chosen. Seth offered to set up my tent, but I refused. It wasn’t a pride thing, it just felt weird for another hiker to set up my tent. After fumbling around and with the poles, and sweat dripping down my face I finally got the last stake in the ground, I immediately crawled inside and got in my sleeping bag. I told Seth and Freight Train that I needed to sleep. They were great friends, they checked on me and brought me water. I woke up after a two hour nap, and when I unzipped the tent there was a hiker there I had never seen before, Seth was filling him in on my situation. He asked to see the spot on my leg, when I showed him he commented, knowlingly, “mmm, yeah, looks like rocky mountain spotted fever.” I had no response. Then Freight Train came up to me and told me she had called the “Kids” Mom, and that the dad would give me a ride into town the next day to see a doctor. I didn’t want to go to the doctor. I called Courtney and told her the situation. It was great just to hear her voice. She was pretty convinced it was Lyme Disease. I felt better after talking to her, and right after I hung up the phone, I passed out until the morning.
Smooth's Appalachian Trail Thru-Hike 