A Life Wasted

After 9/11

I woke late the next morning because I'd stayed up most of the night watching the news. I went to sleep when my eyes finally failed me from the strain of watching that tiny two-inch screen. I ate a lot the previous night. Comfort food, I suppose. So I wasn't hungry. I boiled water and made a cup of instant coffee, packed up and hit the trail, drinking my coffee as I walked. Around noon I reached the half way point on the Appalachian Trail. It's out in the middle of nowhere, but there is a large sign on the west side of the trail that announces that this is the half way point. It lists the miles to Springer Mountain, Georgia and the distance to the place in Maine where it terminates. The distance is the same in both directions. I think it is 1,100 miles and change both ways, but I can't remember. Wish I could look that up as I write this.

I hiked hard all day, now listening to a small AM/FM radio. The news of course was all about the terrorist attacks. Like everyone else, I couldn't get enough of it. The news became centered on terrorists inside our borders, which I paid close attention to as much of the discussion was about increased security around the country. Hearing this I felt pretty good about where I was right then. I figured that with all that was going on it would be dangerous for any fugitive to be out running the highways. It would be too easy to become caught up in a drag net designed to catch foreign nationals. I was sure that I didn't want to be out there right now. The safest place for me was where I was right now, hiking south on the Appalachian Trail with more than a thousand miles of trail in front of me.

I began to think long term, about spending six months or more on the Trail. It seemed a perfect place to hide out until things died down. The only problem I had with this thought was that I didn't want to spend the winter in Pennsylvania. I'd had enough of the cold. I did the math in my head and believed I could make it into southern Virginia. I didn't think it would be wise to go down into North Carolina because they were still looking for Eric Rudolph down there in the woods. But the southern part of Virginia wouldn't be too cold, so setting that as my destination I began to hike hard.

On September 13th I ran into a straggler hiking the Trail north. Most people hiked the Trail from Georgia to Maine, but regardless of which direction they went, starting in the middle in September I expected I would miss them all. But this guy wasn't in a hurry so he was still shy of the half way point with winter getting close. So we stopped and chatted for a minute. He gave me trail information, things like where I could find a grocery store near the trail or a great little restaurant near the trail and where to find water. I didn't really know such things so I told him about a truck stop south of Harrisburg.

And we talked about the attacks on America. The guy was a hippy type, using terms like "Dude" in response to the attack on America, so as much as I wanted to talk to someone he wasn't really my type. I said I needed to get going and move on. I took about ten steps before he said, "Dude, I forgot to tell you. In couple of miles you're going to get jumped by a group of Marines."

Now he had my attention. I walked back to him and asked for an explanation. It turned out that the Appalachian Trail ran either through or next to Camp David, the official Presidential retreat. The guy said he was walking along the Trail then, "Boom, these Marines come out of nowhere with guns pointed at me. But they were cool. They searched my pack but were cool when they found my weed. They were looking for guns and bombs. They used a satellite phone to call the FBI to check me out, but I was cool so no problem."

When I asked why they were there he said, "One of the Marines told him that the Vice President was hiding out at Camp David." On the news that day I had heard several people ask, "Where is Dick Cheney." The answer was that he was safe in a secret location. Seems I found him.

This time when we parted I took about five steps south then stopped to "adjust my pack." I stood there and waited for the guy to get far enough up the trail that I wouldn't overtake him when I turned around. I wasn't real sure what I was going to do at this point but I knew what I wasn't going to do. I wasn't going to walk into a trap set by the United States Marine Corps.