The following post is dedicated to my lovely, understanding, adorable wife--who suffers my foolishness and cares for our children while I take these little trips. I love you, Paula.
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With "Man Trip Five" (MTV) starting today, I thought I'd write up some of the highlights from trips 1-4 (2002-2005). This will give you something to do while we're driving toward our destination today. Keep stopping by for daily updates on the trip.
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A note about Man Trip: JohnVano and Chris Carp met in college. Carp was a year ahead of John and they didn't become friends until Carp's senior year in college. John was hosting a "popular" campus radio program at the time called "The Blazing Banner" show. Carp was the station's general manager. Interested in the phenomenon of John's program, Carp began to sit in during the live broadcast. Quickly, John and Carp slid into a natural banter as Carp played wingman and sometime comic foil to John's host.
Each program featured a call-in contest, and the winning team at the end of the night would be rewarded with a piece of unwanted junk (usually an old record) they found at the radio station. Each would "fake" the signatures of the "famous" artist(s) and sign the cover, then the two of them would make a symbolic march from the radio studios to the winning team's dorm room--arriving shortly after 1 a.m.
John and Carp cemented their friendship by "borrowing" the video equipment from the arts department and making music videos with other friends in the afternoons, and while pulling all-nighters completing their course work and studying. After college, Carp lived nearby in what John called "the cabin." They'd get together every other week or so to hang out while John finished school and Carp worked and saved money for his wedding. Following those two years, the two friends lived many hundreds of miles away from each other--but always kept in touch.
The Man Trip was created in 2002 to give them an opportunity to see each other at least once a year and to recapture some of the lost remembrances of their unfinished lives.
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Man Trip I: Appalachian Trial hike (Amicalola Falls to Dahlonega, Georgia), May 2002.
Believe it or not, we began our grueling, 4-day hike at Dunkin' Donuts. At my urging, we split a dozen donuts as we drove 90 minutes to the trail head and donned our 40-pound packs. We had a few donuts left, so we stuck them under the front seat of the car--in case we got hungry on the way back (4 days later!).
I won't soon forget the puddle story, but I won't repeat it here--read this blog to enjoy that one. But perhaps an equally funny tale is "The Hulabaloo Over the Hot Chocolate." Our first night on the A.T., we realized the hike was a lot tougher than we'd imagined--but my spirits were up and I was fully 
enjoyng myself. Carp, however, was miserable. He wasn't eating, he was skittish and jacked-up on the fear of bears, and he was homesick. I cooked a delicious freeze-dried meal for us on a little camping stove (another 3 pounds of dead weight), but Carp would have none of it. He retired to bed in our 3-walled enclosure.
Meanwhile, I leisurely boiled some hot water so I could enjoy a cup of hot chocolate while I read my Bible. As I drank and relaxed, Carp kept chattering on about a little mouse he was watching from his sleeping bag. I meanwhile, was fully aware of the strange noises of the woods and how very disconcerting it is to be deep in the woods, in utter blackness, sensing a million eyes on you as you hear the crunching footsteps of who knows what. Then there was the shrill cry of the Georgia Monkey to contend with. I finished my hot chocolate, tightened up the remaining contents of the cocoa bag, and climbed into my sleeping bag.
This is when Carp whispered, "Did you bury the hot chocolate?" I expressed my incredulity at this question, and assured him that it was safely sealed. But he pressed on, asking me to bury it so the bears wouldn't smell it out and visit us in the night. After several pestering entreaties, including Carp's final insistence, "I'd really feel more comfortable if you buried it." I got up in a huff to bury the blasted hot chocolate. I took a plastic spoon, marched about 20 yards from our shelter, dug a hole 1-inch deep, and covered the packet with loose dirt. Then in the morning, I stealthily unearthed the thing and packed it in my food again.
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Man Trip II: Appalachian Trail day-hikes (Dahlonega and Helen, Georgia), Fall 2003.
You know from past blogging posts, that Carp fled from the Appalachian Trail a day early on Man Trip I. But about 6 months later, he called me, insisting we go again. He felt like "the trail had beaten him" and now that he knew what he was in for--he could do it. So, I bought new equipment (I had borrowed my brother-in-law's stuff on the first trip) and prepared for another long hike.
But something strange was going on when Carp and I met up in Helen, Georgia for dinner the night before the big hike. He was fidgety and restless, and began joking about staying in a comfortable hotel at night instead of on the trail. Well, when morning came and we came to the trail head, he would not commit to hiking straight through. He offered to pay for my hotel, if we'd just hike by day and take it easy and paint Dahlonega red by night. So that's what we did.
In fact, Carp so enjoyed stopping for breaks on picturesque mountain peaks--that he fancied himself a bit of a welcoming party. We'd be on top of some bald rock and he'd greet each passing hiker with the warmest of wishes and learn all kinds of things about them. When their rest was over, they'd invite us to come along with them for awhile, but we'd refuse, saying we were staying just a little longer. And then another 6 or 12 parties would come through and the whole thing would repeat. It was then that I realized what a celebrity Bill Bryson is. He wrote a book about his A.T. experiences--and everyone on the trail has read it--and several other of his books. When I met a woman from Australia, I mentioned I was reading a book about her country and she asked, "Bryson?" To which I said yes, and she began to give me a critique on his conclusions. Wild.
This was the year that I had discovered the Holiday Inn Express and their warm cinnamon bun breakfasts, and so that is where we stayed that week--chatting up the frumpy, middle-aged clerk whom we dubbed, "Marge." We'd breakfast in the lobby and catch up on the news, then hike for many hours, clean up back at the room, and then head to dinner somewhere. One morning we learned of John Ritter's death. Most afternoons--just before 
dinner--we'd work on our greatest movie of all-time brackets. A round of 64-tournament with Action, Comedy, Classic, and Drama Regions. Our Final Four was: The Natural v. Forrest Gump and Saving Private Ryan v. Good Will Hunting. Saving Private Ryan beat The Natural for the championship that year.
Our favorite evening out was the night we went to "The Best Little Oar House in Dahlonega"--reservations suggested. And because we only had hiking clothes, we tromped through in our shorts, t-shirts, and hiking boots to a candlelit table with a white tablecloth. There was a big gathering of the Red Hat Society having a night on the town--we took their picture for them. We also met an odd man who seemed to know everything about anything we said--from the small town where Carp grew up, to the inner workings of Boston, to the details of Carp's employer and the architecture of mine. Very odd, but fascinating, too.
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Well it's late, and this is going on longer than I thought--I'll share some brief highlights from Man Trip 3 and 4, a little later.
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