In 2003 there was a young homeless hiker that got on the trail around Fontana. I met him at that first campsite into the Smokies. He had a blanket, a plastic tarp in which he wrapped his “gear” and held it to his back with rope. He had a cat can, but didn’t know how to make a stove, and lots of food from a hiker box or two. On his feet he wore a pair of leather moccasins.
That night he slept under the stars by the fire, but between the time we all arrived at the campsite and the time we went to bed, he picked all of our brains about how to hike and camp. His mind was like a sponge and he soaked in information as we all shared with him around the fire.
We called him Idaho, because that is where his family was from, but I heard later that he was being called Abner because he was always in bare feet.
For about a week, we shared space in shelters and then I never saw or heard of him again. This young fellow touched my heart in many ways. He had so little and seemed so peaceful and content with what he was doing and where he was going.
It was never his intention to hike to Maine, he was just sharing space on the AT for however long it lasted. I’d love to know what happed to him~J.
Journey
