What goes up must come down
My Appalachian Trail hike of 26 years ago didn't exactly follow the script
My wife and I were driving back from Pigeon Forge, Tennessee, earlier this week, winding our way up, down and around the Great Smoky Mountains.
We were rolling downhill through Franklin, North Carolina on our way into Georgia when Delinda asked me about my infamous hike on the Appalachian Trail.
Somewhere to the east was Albert Mountain, where my hike came and went without ever arriving. I would be lying if I said I remember it like it was yesterday. Next month will be 26 years.