Trail Brother, FOG – The Hike



On my second day out of Harper’s Ferry, I was having lunch at Gathland State Park while waiting for my hiking partner, who I had met on Facebook. As I rested on my closed-cell foam mat on the soft grass, a man approached me and asked, «Are you Lisa?» He had met my traveling companion a few kilometers back, who told him where I would be.

He sat down, took off his shoes, and joined me for lunch. He told me the name of his trail was FOG, an acronym for «Fat Old Guy.» After exchanging some details about us, FOG headed towards the next shelter. Once my hiking partner arrived, I followed him.

FOG in one of the shelters

My partner was struggling with the miles and climbs, so the next day I started walking with FOG. After spending the day with him, I realized what a great person he is. He loves his wife very much, has many friends and was a teacher for 35 years. He is a great conversationalist and always looks for the positive. He even laughs at my dry humor.

By the third night, it was clear that my hiking goals didn’t match those of the buddy I’d met on Facebook. We separated along the way, although we still keep in touch. From that moment on I started walking only with FOG.

fast friends

It’s amazing how, after just a few days, I found myself chatting with a stranger about pooping habits, prostate issues, and the general hygiene challenges of life on the trail. If it weren’t for FOG, I’d be walking around completely alone. Instead, I have someone who helps me up when I fall (I’m on fall number six), takes pictures of me, and shares deeper thoughts during stretches where we can catch our breath.

When he’s ready for a break, so am I. When he finishes the day, so do I. When his sciatica flares up, my hip screams too. If we had a duo of trail names, it would be «Limpy and Gimpy» or «Stumble and Bumble.» I’m not even looking for white flames anymore; I just look ahead on the road and find FOG. I joked with him that we should paint a white stripe on the back of his shorts.

The definitive magic of the trail

Mennonites on the way home from church

At this point in the trip, I received the most wonderful trail magic: FOG’s wife picked us up and took us home for a zero. Strangers welcoming me into their home! I felt like a lost puppy that someone had taken in to care for. The drive took me through the idyllic Pennsylvania countryside: green hills dotted with scattered farms. The Pennsylvania Mennonites were in their horse-drawn carriages heading home from church. We stopped at a beautiful country house, where I was greeted by two cats, a Golden Retriever and a Great Pyrenees, all welcoming me with wagging tails and wet kisses.

The BEST lasagna!

It’s no exaggeration to say that I had the best homemade lasagna of my life. FOG’s wife is an amazing cook and I was able to reap the benefits. Shower, laundry, lounging, a comfortable bed and amazing food were generously provided. And this didn’t just happen once: it happened again the following week. And again.

French Toast!


Start with the frittata

Some of my favorite FOG quotes:

• “We are not in a hurry.”
• “We’ll split it: we’ll split the miles, we’ll split the road.”
• When asked how far we are going: “North… as far as the body takes us.”
• “Give me your bag of Cnoc and I will get water for both of us.”

Grateful

These guys were roommates in college. Roommates married to roommates!

These were college roommates. Roommates married to roommates!

I am very grateful to have met FOG. I don’t think it was an accident that he came into my life; I believe God knew exactly what I needed, exactly when I needed it. Now I not only have a brother to follow, but a friend for life. I may not be a fan of rainy days on the trails, but I’m grateful for every day with FOG.

FOG in a field of flowers

*Sadly, FOG will have to leave the trail to get a shot in the back. This is a man who has logged more miles with chronic pain than most of us walk in a day. He is, and will continue to be, a wonderful person and a dear friend.

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