Carlos

Carlos

Mile 0008.1: Hawk Mountain Shelter, Georgia

Text conversation from Feb 27, 2020:

"Anyone want to go in the lodge?" "Oh man! Been too long."

“Hahah. That park ranger is probably still upset...”

I read my conversation with Carlos. There is a photo along with our messages. Manu, Carlos, and I stand arm-in-arm, grinning sheepishly. We are just a few minutes removed from an earful by a Great Smoky Mountain Park Ranger. One that we probably deserved. It was late January, we'd climbed the icy trail up Mt. LeConte, a short detour off the Appalachian Trail. The three of us ducked into the open door of this summit's main lodge to escape the pervasive cold, damp weather. We relaxed on the couch, beginning to warm up. Carlos had picked up a guitar off the cushions. He’s an excellent musician and periodically performs at locales in his current residence of Durham, North Carolina. All was quiet beyond the reverberations of the guitar and his voice.

BAM. The slam of a door. We were rudely interrupted about halfway through Carlos' song by a wild-eyed park ranger. Or perhaps WE rudely interrupted that man - in his seasonal home. Turns out "the lodge" wasn't open in January. Turns out it may not have even been “a lodge”. The unlocked door, inviting couch, and the guitar weren't for guests. They were private property. And we abruptly realized that we were trespassing. We laugh now but this poor guy may also still talk about the trio of idiots he found on his couch that day. [And in the context of current events, we might further recognize our privilege as one brown and two white males able to simply laugh this mistake off without being arrested, shot at, or worse].

Today we smile fondly upon our many adventures within the initial 300 mile-stretch of the Appalachian Trail. There were days on Springer Mountain and Blood Gap in Georgia. Hikes in the Great Smoky Mountains. And many more trips on the AT and its subsidiary trails near Asheville, North Carolina.

The Carolina Appalachians are especially meaningful to Carlos, who was raised in these foothills near the North Carolina - South Carolina border. I’ve heard numerous stories of Carlos and his brothers; at the blackberry patches near Max Patch, Big Yellow and Roan Mountain, atop Mount Mitchell - highest summit east of the Mississippi River. Not to mention Linville Gorge, Looking Glass Rock, or Grandfather Mountain. There is an endless supply of rugged peaks and hidden falls in this neck of the woods.

I am always jealous of his childhood experiences. These mountains have visibly shaped Carlos' connection to the land, as well as instilling a healthy spirit of adventure. We quickly bonded over these shared passions - Carlos' time in the Peace Corps, my conservation work, have both landed us in Latin America for multiple years. Here is where his nickname, Carlos, was born. Given that Latin American phonetics don’t naturally lend themselves to pronouncing Carter, he embraced the local nickname of Carlos. And we will occasionally revert into our Spanish-speaking nicknames of Ben-Ha-Meen and Carlos today.

There is a feedback loop that traveling inspires, one that impacts thoughts and character. Carlos is deeply reflective by nature, quiet and pensive. His personality and his experiences have led him down a fascinating path. I love this opening photograph of him. I took it candidly, on a mild spring afternoon on the Georgia Appalachian Trail. We’d just hiked 10 miles - full of newly leafed, verdant foliage and good conversation. A little tired, wholly in his element, he sat meditatively at the shelter. This sense of introspection was evident in his face, through his very body. The whole trip was full of moments like these - time for exploration - both through the woods and in our discussions.

A shared sense of adventure has led to many more stories. Over the years, they have filled in among tales of the past. It means that we never run out of good conversation, moving fluidly between past and present. These bonds have deepened through each and every adventure across these Appalachian hideaways. In a sense, the AT has forged itself within the very heart of our friendship. I can’t think of the Nathahala without vivid recollections of Carlos. Carlos reports that he can still hear my laugh from a night of many jokes whenever he stumbles upon another AT shelter.

Text messages from June 1, 2020:

“Got some miles on the AT this weekend. The shelter brought back a lot of memories from Georgia”.

Carter refers to the new set of photos that he texted to me, taken at Thomas Knob Shelter near Mt. Rogers, Virginia.

We update each other on life - new trails, mountains we’ve climbed, budding relationships. Things are well for the both of us - on fortuitous, albeit different paths since I have moved away from North Carolina. There is always something more to say but it’s wonderful to catch up. We vow to reunite again this fall on the Appalachian Trail.

Many, Carter, and I stand for a self timer, minutes after our mishap with the Smokies Park Ranger.