Paperback, hardback, limited edition hardback, signed limited edition, signed and numbered, signed and lettered, leather, slipcased, specially bound, etc. First editions, first hardcover edition, first US or British edition. A book sometimes is published in different states, even by the same publisher. Other books may appear under different imprints; are those books then first editions? The variation in an edition might appear minor, or there will be extras depending on the rarity of the state. The price to the buyer will rise accordingly. And, should the book sell out, often the price will sky-rocket in the secondary market. The price also is dependent upon the author, the publisher, or both. Some books get only a hardcover and paperback edition. Some get only a paperback edition (yet some of those might re-surface in a small press hardcover edition, years later). Other books are published only in special editions, while some run the gamut from paperback to special edition. And some appear only as print on demand, or in electronic format, or audio format.
Many has been the time when I’ve wondered about the “special edition” format. Small press publishers will, more often than not, publish books in several different states. They’ll call them trade editions, limited editions, or numbered and lettered editions. They may change the format of the book, add signatures from authors, editors, illustrators, etc. The more “special” an edition, the higher the price. Some buyers will gravitate to the rarer editions, seeking a slipcased and lettered copy. Is this book any better than a trade edition from that same publisher? Does a number and signature mean than much? If you bought a trade hardcover edition, and then had the author sign it (or inscribe it), would be any different?
Recently I did a quick count, and around 10% of my collection of books contain the author’s signature. Only 4% of my books are “numbered” in the more special limited edition state. None are of the rarest of rare states, although there are a few with slipcases. On a few occasions I have brought books to conventions or author signings, where authors have signed paperbacks and hardbacks, sometimes inscribing the book to me, even though they don’t know me (although I did know one of two and that meant even more to me when they signed the books).
I do feel a certain frisson when I know that a book I own is limited to a certain number of copies. The smaller the limitation, the greater than feeling, perhaps. Probably the hardcore collectors feel that emotions to a greater degree.
And yet, at the same time, having a signed paperback or an inscribed book means just as much to me, since in the latter case it means that I met the author, maybe spoke to him or her. How does having a couple of Ray Bradbury signed books from an in-person event compare to a handful of Jack Vance signed books when I never met Vance? If I bought a signed Bradbury book now, given that he passed a few years ago, would it mean as much as those two signed books that he handed back to me in person? No, definitely not.
And, so, when I buy a book these days, the signature in place doesn’t really matter too much to me. Instead, when I buy a “rare” book, it’s the hardcover that I want, not the rarest variation of that hardcover. If I own the paperback, and a hardcover becomes available, I’ll pick the cheapest hardcover, even if that means the book costs more than $20 or $50. But, at the moment, never above $100. At some point, given our government’s propensity to push inflation as a norm, I know that barrier will at some point be crossed, and I will have to spend $100 for a book. A month ago I passed on a book I really, really wanted, just because it was listed at $149. That price point’s something that will be hard for me to accept, and maybe if that’s becomes the new norm I will need to re-think my approach to books, and stick to what I have, or lesser editions.
I whiffed on guessing the latest volume in Borderlands Press series of “Little Books.” After a grouping that included Robert E. Howard and H.P. Lovecraft, I thought the next one would be collection from their contemporary, Clark Ashton Smith. Instead, the author was Edgar Allan Poe, who died in 1849, more than 40 years before Lovecraft was born.
Perhaps no other American writer is more famous than Poe, although one could argue cases for Henry David Thoreau, Herman Melville, and Nathaniel Hawthorne. These three are known primarily for one work each, while Poe is known for his vast body of work. Poe wrote stories that today would be considered horror, science fiction, and mystery. He wrote primarily short stories, along with some poems. Melville is known for his massive novel, Moby Dick, while Hawthorne is known for The Scarlet Letter (although he wrote a several other great books, and many significant short stories).
Many collections of Poe’s stories and poems exist. I own one called The Unabridged Edgar Allan Poe, which replaced a previous book that I believe was called Tales of Mystery and Imagination. The unabridged book supposedly contains ALL of Poe’s fiction and poetry, at least those that were published. Poe published many versions of his stories and poems; this book purports to contain the first version of each story. Does that matter? Perhaps not.
Regardless, Borderlands Press surprised me when they announce Poe would be the focus of a Little Book. I ordered my copy a week ago, and received it on May 31, 2024. This collection, entitles A Little Gold Book of Grotesqueries, was limited to 500 copies, signed by the editor. The “gold” in the title, by the way, has been used three times prior, for books by Neil Gaiman, David Morrell, and Lee Child.
How does this book, with its 155 pages, compare to the 1,178 pages of the Unabridged edition? Owner and publisher of Borderlands Press, Thomas Monteleone, edited the Poe collection. He penned a personal introduction, writing about how he first was introduced to Poe’s fiction at the age of 14. I, too, read Poe as a teenager, but probably more so in my early twenties while at college. This books collects a mix of stories and poems. It contains the famous poem, “The Raven,” although it leaves out perhaps the most famous short stories of them all, “The Cask of Amontillado.” Nonetheless, it’s a great collection of Poe’s short works.
As an aside, I do think the editor was lazy to reprint the “About the author” text word for word from the first paragraph in Wikipedia’s entry on Poe.
Here’s another F. Paul Wilson book that I picked up as part of my recent quest to find all Wilson books that I don’t own (I think that list is down to less than five at the moment, though I’m not counted books with Wilson contributions vs. his stuff alone, or limited edition versions of books that I already own).
The Christmas Thingy was originally published in 2000 as a hardcover be Cemetery Dance in a limited edition of 350 copies. It’s since been reprinted in trade paperback editions, but still remains as a somewhat obscure book. For a time. Wilson offered to sign books as a gift via the old Repairman Jack forum web site. I didn’t really pay much attention back then. Lately, I’ve been on a Wilson kick, and I found an opportunity to acquire a limited hardcover edition of this book.
Originally published in 2000, this edition was priced at $20, which seems low for a book limited to 350 copies. Ironically, I bought the book in 2024 for $20 from Half Price Books (HPB), which I thought was a bargain, as I’ve seen the book listed on eBay and Abebooks for over $75. HPB is a strange bookstore. It’s a chain, selling mostly used books at half price, although it does mark up collectible books, sometimes at reasonable markups, sometimes at insane prices. I recently bought Robert McCammon’s Baal, the Subterranean Press edition, from HPB for $50. The books must be listed by individual stores, as another copy of the same edition is listed for $150. I suppose it depends on the person listing the book, who then makes the decision on the price based on a certain knowledge, or maybe caprice. I’ve seen a Neil Gaiman book listed for $750, and someone actually bought it. I’ve also seen Jack Vance sets listed for $500 or more, and no doubt someone desperate enough will shell out that many dollars for those books.
When buying online, you wonder about the condition of the book. This copy of The Christmas Thingy, number 32 of 350 signed by Wilson and illustrator Alan M. Clark, arrived in great condition. The book was in a slipcase, with an inlaid slip from “Beckworth Auction” as lot number 535. This makes me wonder: why it ended up in an auction, who bought it and what did they pay for the book, and, lastly, why did it end up in Half Price Books? This particular book’s long twenty-four year trip finally ended up with me, which is a strange journey indeed. I wasn’t as lucky with the next addition…
Occasionally I’ve been lucky at HPB when shopping in the store. Many years ago I found the first edition of Dan Simmons’s book, Song of Kali, for only $5.95. Another time I found the 1984 horror anthology, Dark Forces, signed by a dozen contributors, including Stephen King, for $8.95. I’ve found a few Subterranean Press books at reasonable prices, and some I have place back on shelve after experiencing sticker shock. On other occasions I have skipped books that I regretted not picking up, or ended up with a copy of two in horrible condition, just to have a reading copy. You walk into a used bookstore with no idea of what you will find. Sometimes I walk out with an exciting book, sometimes with nothing at all. Still, while in the store, you can generally check the condition of a book.
Jack Vance is my all-time favorite writer, and I own (almost) all his books. I say almost as I don’t have any books from the Vance Integral Edition (VIE), which collects ALL his works, in the author’s preferred state and with his preferred titles. When the VIE was published I signed up for it, but when it came time to pay I didn’t think I could afford the entry price, so I dropped out. Now? Well, a price for anything VIE on the secondary marked is insane, if you can even find a complete set. Even single volumes fetch a premium (but so do the Underwood-Miller editions).
The Gray Prince appeared in hardback from Bobby-Merrill in 1974. For many years I owned only a copy of the DAW paperback edition, published in 1982. I’ve read the novel two or three times, and it really doesn’t stand out as a unique Vancian novel; rather, it follows a theme similar to several other novels: the idea that “ancient” races who see themselves as rightful owners/rulers are not so ancient after all, but others have preceded them. The cover is well done, however.
Recently, I saw an opportunity to get a hardcover version at a somewhat decent price, and so pulled the trigger on that purchase. I ordered this online from Half Price Books, the same day I ordered an F. Paul Wilson book (see below). The books arrived a week apart, so kudos to the store that shipped the Wilson book, vs. the store that shipped the Vance book. I really now only need a hardcover copy of Maske: Thaery (I do own a book club edition of this novel, but that’s not the same). Yet, I strongly wish that U-M had published editions of both books, back when they specialized in Vance’s works.
The cover of this edition is, to put it mildly, horribly generic. Still, it’s nice to replace a battered paperback copy with a broken spine. The story was originally published in Amazing Science Fiction magazine in two parts in 1974, under the title, The Domains of Koryphon. Maybe that title was restored in the VIE.
The book that I received was in poor condition: the spine was tilted and there was significant spotting on the edges of the paper. This 1974 copy did not hold up well. It’s signed by Vance, but, had I known about the condition I would not have bought it. It’s an issue with any online purchase. I’ve bought a few books online from Half Price Books, and this is the second one that’s been listed as fine, but was anything but fine.
Okay, that’s not the official title of the movie, but it’s what I call it. Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga is the 2024 sequel/prequel to Max Max: Fury Road, a movie by George Miller that came out in 2015. Nine years have passed since these two interconnected movies; Furiosa was a character in Fury Road, and she moves to the fore in this prequel movie. Many years have passed since the original trilogy. The original Max Max movie came out in 1979. It was followed by a sequel in 1981 (Mad Max 2, a very un-original title), and another in 1985 (Mad Max Beyond Thunderdome). The three first movies all starred Mel Gibson. They are set in a post-apocalyptic world in Australia, a vast continent with existing deserts and cool accents. Decades would pass before other movies in this universe would emerge. None would feature Gibson, yet they still would remain Down Under.
Mad Max: Fury Road gained a lot of great press when it came out in 2015. I saw it in the movie theaters and hated it. The trailer looked great; the movie itself was underwhelming, although many critics and web sites loved it. When Furiosa was announced I was skeptical. Could it redeem Fury Road? I went to see it with my 21-year-old daughter, who really liked Fury Road. I ended up liking it far more than Fury Road, although she felt the opposite.
The movie is divided into five chapters. The first couple of chapters begin with Furiosa as a young child. She lives in an idyllic “Green Place,” and is kidnapped by raiders and taken into the desert to the headquarters of a charismatic leader, Dr. Dementus. Furiosa’s mother tries to rescue her, yet her one moment of mercy leads to her downfall and death. The child Furiosa is traded to Immortan Joe, the big bad in Fury Road. She escapes an attempted rape, manages to hide her face as she grows up, pretending to be both male and mute, until her discovery by a rig driver, portrayed by the brilliant Tom Burke.
Alas, Dementus ruins their plans to leave to the Green Place, and Furiosa embraces vengeance, which eventually leads her back to Immortan Joe’s place, where she assumes the role of rig driver. The ending leads directly into the beginning of Fury Road.
Prequels are strange things. They face a both an existing world and a definite end. Furiosa cannot go beyond Fury Road, but must either lead up to it or end somewhat before it. In the case of Star Wars, for example, George Lucas may have thought it brilliant to name his first movie “Episode IV”, leading us to thing there were three episodes that existed prior to the movie. When the prequels came out a few years later, they underwhelmed. Most prequels suffer the same fate. The Rings of Power, for example, is largely irrelevant when compared to The Lord of the Rings. Then again, one is written by J. R. R. Tolkien, and the other by committee. And what about House of the Dragon, George R. R. Martin? It’s a prequel of sorts to his Game of Thrones, yet has garnered none of the attentions as the former series. Maybe audiences were turned off by the final season of Game of Thrones, which for all intents and purposes was a disaster. The list goes on, and on and on.
In a prior post I mentioned F. Paul Wilson’s Nightworld. This book spawned over a dozen “prequels,” in the sense that it featured characters in the same world, yet introduced new ones. In the end, Wilson rewrote Nightworld to fit in some of the new characters, change characters, and expand roles of other characters. Movies don’t have that luxury.
George Miller certainly has no such luxury, as Furiosa cannot lead to a different Fury Road. It does have a different actor, with Anya Taylor-Joy replacing Charlize Theron. The former, when she actually steps into the role almost an hour into the movie, plays her role remarkable well. She has few lines, but her performance is charismatic, powered greatly by her eyes and facial expressions.
The action scenes are great, with a focus on far fewer characters than Fury Road. I actually cared more about Furiosa’s fate in this movie, vs. Fury Road. In Fury Road, a supposedly Mad Max movie, I didn’t even care about Max himself, or any of the other characters, aside from one, and she died. Maybe that’s what made me dislike the movie. That, and the endless chase scenes that led back to the start, reducing those scenes to nothing.
Unfortunately, the box office returns for Furiosa are not good. That’s a shame. It probably means there won’t be a sequel to Fury Road, or any other moves in this saga. Exploring the Wasteland would be an interesting opportunity, but it seems that the movie-going experience is a dying one, what with all the streaming options these days.
I read F. Paul Wilson’s original hardcover edition of Nightworld, published by Dark Harvest press, back in 1992. This book was, at that time, the culmination of the Adversary Cycle. It was a sequel to Reborn and Reprisal, books also at that time published by Dark Harvest before their mass market paperback editions. Although a trilogy, there were connections to other novels, such as The Tomb, The Keep, and The Touch. Each of those three novels featured different protagonists, from Repairman Jack in The Tomb, to Glaeken in The Keep, and finally, Dr. Alan Bulmer in The Touch.
Nightworld brought them all together, for one final battle. Or so it seemed. Then, Wilson brought back Repairman Jack, starting with Legacies, and began a long series of novels featuring this fascinating anti-hero. Somehow he found a few stories in between the events of The Tomb and Nightworld. In all, he wrote around 21 novels, and so, in 2012 he released a revised and updated version of Nightworld.
Since 1992 I knew how the world ended, and so I never looked for this updated version of Nightworld. However, in the past few months I’ve picked up and read several FPW books that I previously didn’t have, and when I saw a hardcover edition of Nightworld available (“only one copy left”), I went ahead and bought it, and then read it over the span of three days.
Since the first edition of the book, many things have changed, and new characters have been introduced in FPW’s “Secret History of the World.” In the new edition of Nightworld, several of these characters show up, some briefly, and some for an extended visit. I tried, as I read this new edition, not to look up similar passages in the original. Much has been made of various “retcons” in other circumstances, for example the first Star Wars movie. Even J. R. R. Tolkien’s Hobbit was tinkered with by the author. Another books have “the author’s definitive text” stamped on them—there was an entire collection of books by Jack Vance created to bring out his definitive texts, the Vance Integral Edition. Is that so bad? Well, we all know that Han Solo shot first, despite what George Lucas does, but what about the written text? Sometimes authors see the hand of editors, and they want their own text “restored.”
In the case of Nightworld, it was more the case of FPW adding new stuff. In some cases, this did expand on the existing novel. In other cases, there were some disappointments. One major side character, the actuator from the secret society called the Septimus Order, one Ernst Drexler, died in a most trivial and disappointing way. The fate of major characters didn’t change much. Repairman Jack himself didn’t feel like a major character in this novel; it definitely was an ensemble novel. Still, for the most part Jack was there to worry about his mate, and not actually do stuff, aside from a simple errand. A page by page analysis would show more changes, but I chose in this instance to ignore my memory.
Wilson never wrote any novels set after the events of Nightworld. After all, what do you do when the world has ended, and then somehow was restarted? And now, in 2024, it appears that FPW will write no more novels, as a stroke has affected his writing. Some people who read the original edition, either as a Dark Harvest book or a paperback, may hesitate to read the expanded edition, or might have a preference for the original. After all, it took me over three decades between books, so maybe I counted myself among that group for a while. Still, I don’t feel that the newer edition was any lesser than the original. If anything, I liked the Repairman Jack novels, and somewhat wish there wasn’t an “end-of-the-world” novel like Nightworld to put a stop to them all. But, I didn’t see this version as something that ruined the earlier experience.
That being said, there are plenty of Repairman Jack novels to enjoy (or hate, if you don’t like what happen to certain characters in some of the novels) aside from Nightworld. It’s a shame we don’t know what happened to some of the characters Jack encountered (as easter eggs) in this updated version, but we can always imagine that they survived.
Finally, my collection of hardcover books from Golden Gryphon is complete! For many years I lacked just one novel, Sheila Finch’s The Guild of Xenolinguists, published in 2007 by Golden Gryphon Press. This was number 52 in their 62-book hardcover series, which ran from 1997 through 2010. For many years James Turner was their editor, until his untimely death in 1999. After his death, the publisher remained in business only a few more years, finally folding in 2017, although the last hardcover appeared in 2010. In that time they managed to publish 62 hardover books, and a few softcover editions. Each hardcover bore a number, and for many years #52 has been absent from my collection. Until now.
Jim Turner, for many years, had been an editor at Arkham House, where he oversaw some great books, including several collections that were more science fiction than horror. Maybe Arkham House wanted to see horror instead of SF, and Turner left. Maybe there were other reasons. Still, after his departure Arkham House floundered and then went dormant. I think it was their loss that he left, but our gain that Golden Gryphon published so many great books by fantastic authors. Several authors had multiple books published by Golden Gryphon, all in a similar format, with out-of-this world covers.
Finch’s novel has been somewhat hard for me to find. Several copies online are listed for $50 or more, but I found one recently for around $20, and it even was signed. I waited for the book on tenterhooks. Would it be in decent condition, or would the spine lean or markings made inside the book? Would it be a former library book, or have someone’s bookplate? When you buy online, these are constant worries. For the most part, I have been been happy with online purchases, but a couple of times I have not received what I expected. Once, I thought a book was an Arkham House edition, but it was under the Mycroft Moran imprint, and there was a glued-in bookplate. Two other times, the books were shrink-wrapped, and arrived with spotting on the top pages. Since then, I have been wary of shrink-wrapped books from the 1990s, at least by that publisher.
However, Uncle Hugo came through, and I’m thrilled to finally have a complete Golden Gryphon hardcover collection. I’ve read most of the 62 books by the publisher (63 if I could a trade paperback edition of a Joe R. Lansdale book). Those that I haven’t read now get added to my To Be Read list, which already is massive.
I’m thrilled to have this collection of books finally complete. Now I just need to figure out a way to shelve them properly, since they span two and half rows in a bookshelf. Someone once asked me why I group my books in a certain way. There is no set order. In some cases, I group together all books by a writer. In others, by a publisher. The top writers usually end up on eye level, and the lesser ones at the bottom of the bookshelf. But, I keep moving them around. In this case, all Golden Gryphon books are grouped together, spanning two and a half rows on a bookshelf, and ordered alphabetically by author.
A trio of FPW books, one more in the Author’s Choice Monthly series from the early 1990s by Pulphouse Publishing, and novella by Lucius Shepard.
The Void Protocol, F. Paul Wilson, Forge 2019. Bought at near list price, this is the third book in a trilogy that started with the novel Panacea. It’s been a few years since I read Panacea, so I know little to nothing about this series. For many years I didn’t even know it was a series, as none of the follow-up novels appeared any local bookstores. Then again, with fewer options out there, at least where I live (even in one of the ten largest cities in the US), finding a copy from some authors in a local bookstore seems almost impossible. I’m not sure if I need to first re-read Panacea to get into the second and third installments. Hard to believe it’s been just a few years since I read Panacea, as I remember virtually nothing.
The God Gene, F. Paul Wilson, Forge 2018. The second book in the trilogy with Panacea and The Void Protocol. I list them out or order as this is the order in which they arrived. Although I ordered The God Gene and The Void Protocol on the exact same day, they arrived nearly two weeks apart. Such are the vagaries of the United States Postal Service, I guess. An avid collector might have gone with the Gauntlet Press editions, but since I already had the Tor Forge copy of Panacea, I went with the mass market hardcover editions to make my set complete. I have several limited editions of FPW’s books, but I’m not super picky.
Mirage, F. Paul Wilson and Matthew J. Costello, Warner Books, 1996. Many years ago (possibly back in 1998 when it first was published and we had a decent selection of bookstores, before the internet and economic troubles crushed so many of them), I read Masque, the other collaboration between Wilson (not Abbott) and Costello.
Somehow, I never could find a copy of Mirage, a medical thriller was written before Masque. This year I finally gave up on seeing it in any used book store and bought a copy that I saw online (see above quest to acquire all F. Paul Wilson novels). This copy is signed by both Wilson and Costello. Not something I’d reject, and maybe even a bonus, plus the book’s in a great condition. Having read the first couple chapters, so far it comes across quite strongly in Wilson’s voice, although I think I can detect a difference when Costello takes a turn.
Since I recently discovered that there were a handful of F. Paul Wilson books published that I’d missed upon their initial publication, I’ve become determined to find and acquire those missing books. After these three F. Paul Wilson books, I think only four of his solo novels remain that I need to find, as well as some collaborations and other appearances.
I also picked two non-FPW books, one I’d been looking for a long time, and another that was an impulse buy.
The Father of Stones, Lucius Shepard, Washington Science Fiction Association, 1988. Lately, I’ve been reading some of Shepard’s early stories, and so I’m now keeping an eye out for titles that I don’t have. This small volume was an impulse purchase. Released in an edition of 500, this copy is number 112, signed by Shepard and slipcased. I’m sure it’s been collected somewhere in some other volume (or volumes) of his short stories, but in the meantime this was an attractive book, and sometimes you need to leave room for the simple stuff. It’s just one story, much like The Scalehunter’s Beautiful Daughter (and it’s the same size of that story when it published as a stand-along book).
Wong’s Lost and Found Emporium and Other Oddities, William F. Wu, Pulphouse Publishing, June 1992. This book is #28 in the Author’s Choice Monthly series from Pulphouse Publishing, and the second to last in the that series. It’s one that I hesitated to buy. Not because I didn’t want it, but when I started accumulating the author’s choice monthly series, I went for the unsigned paperbacks. By mistake, I bought the Charles de Lint book in hardcover. Then I bought a second in hardcover, as I could not find any copies of the paperback. I also could not find copies of William F. Wu’s book in paperback, so when I found the hardcover at a reasonable price, I thought, “Why Not?” This is strange, as far more paperback copies were supposedly printed than the hardcovers.
Maybe I’ll end up switching the 25 paperbacks in my library at some point with hardcover editions. Or, maybe the set remains uneven. Nevertheless, I now lack only one book in the series. So far, the copies I’ve seen of that title are ones with prices well outside my allotted budget. Will my collection come to a halt at 28 out of the 29 books? Perhaps. After all, how can I call myself a haphazard collector if I acquire all copies in this series?
It’s interesting that Pulphouse changed the formats of its covers. Most of the books featured a prominent portrait of the the author, with some background illustrations. For the second to last and last books (Wu and Suzy McKee Charnas), there was a drastic change in the cover. And then, after those two books, the series folded, and the publisher essentially collapsed.
Could someone pick up a similar project? probably not. A monthly series with books in this format is hard for any publisher and editor to sustain. Borderlands Press, with their Little Book series, might be the only small press publisher out there who dares follow a similar format. While Pulphouse released the books in three states—paperback, hardback, and leather—each in fewer copies, Borderlands limits itself to a single format, and usually 500 copies (with a handful of exceptions). And they’ve been doing this for 20 plus years.
Blood Mountain is not a bad climb going north-bound. The descent, however, is the nightmare part of the trail.
I awoke early, around 7am, feeling somewhat refreshed. I can’t say that I slept well, as I tossed and turned all night, which is usual while camping. I broke camp quickly, stuffing all the items into the backpack rather than folding them neatly as before; I would later repack properly at the hotel. I collected my bear canister, which appeared untouched. My attempt at breakfast failed, as I could not hold down even small amounts of food. I figured that with less than four miles to hike, I could make it with just water, as solid food that day didn’t seem to work. The other campers nearby were quiet, so I tried to pack up my gear quietly as well.
The final hike up Blood Mountain proved fairly easy, and I reached the stone shelter at the top in short notice. I didn’t stop there, but as I walked passed the shelter I saw the female hiker who’d passed me right before Springer. She was packing up her gear, and didn’t see or didn’t notice me as I walked passed the shelter. At this point, anyway, I was still tired and didn’t feel particularly sociable.
The view at top of Blood Mountain was obscured by trees. There were gaps here and there, but I didn’t pause or walk around the site. Instead, I followed the white blazes on rocks and trees, and eventually these led me downward. I crossed expanses of rock, paused now and then to find the trail, and then it became a matter of bouldering downhill. At times the trail became less rocky, but the descent was for the most part tricky, rife with rocks and roots, and it took me longer than I expected. At one point, where the AT intersected with some other trail, I had to pause and search for a white blaze. Shortly after that confusing moment, I encountered a trail runner. I was surprised, as he was older than myself. He mentioned that he’d just cut through a large fallen tree. We talked for a while about the trail, and how it was poorly marked. He lived nearby, and volunteered regularly to check the trail. I bid him farewell, and continued downhill.
Eventually I saw a road, and then a sign announcing the other side of the Blood Mountain Wilderness. Neel Gap lay ahead. I’ve head people refer to it as Neel’s Gap, as well as Neel Gap. A tarmac road intersects the gap, just like Woody Gap. On the other side is Mountain’s Crossing, a store that stocks food camping items. They also have a hostel. Apparently 25% of thru-hikers quit here.
I crossed the road, reaching the tree where many thru-hikers give up and toss their boots and shoes. As a section hiker, and having only brought one pair of shoes, I kept my shoes on my feet. I ascended some stairs, then I dropped my pack outside the building and walked inside. The place looked like a mix of a mini-REI and a tourist trap. There were t-shirts, hoodies, gee-gaws, food, shoes, and other camping gear. I bought two Cokes, took them outside and gulped down the first one. It was 9:30 in the morning, and I was exhausted. I drank the other Coke more slowly, then walked around the store once more. I bought some magnets for my wife, went outside. Someone offered me slice of pizza, but I didn’t think I could eat anything. However, after a while I reconsidered, and realized that I needed to eat something. I bought a small packet of chips and a Sprite. Shortly after consuming both, I threw up, which was far from my proudest moment.
I walked around the building, trying to get back to normal. I placed my slightly used gas canister in the hiker box, along with a lighter. Maybe someone would benefit from those items. Eventually, the thru-hikers who’d camped at Lance Creek showed up, one by one. I greeted the ones I knew. Then, two of the women I’d met at Springer showed up. The other two in their party had quit at Woody Gap and had returned to their starting point in Helen, Georgia. The two remaining hikers planned to continue onward to Unicoi Gap. They’d also been the ones that I’d heard arriving near my campsite at the base of Blood Mountain. Props to them for continuing. They were from Florida, a place as flat as my own home base, or maybe flatter, and had hiked relentlessly up and down each mountain.
At Neel Gap I contacted my shuttle. When I first booked the shuttle, I’d asked them to pick me up at 1pm, as I thought I would camp at Woods Hole Gap, and also that it would take me a while to hike up Blood Mountain. They were dropping off another hiker around 11am, so could get me two hours earlier than planned. I hung around Mountain’s Crossing, and thought about all the ups and downs of the trail, how I had failed to embrace the suck, and how guilty I felt for complaining along the trail. Shortly after 11am, the shuttle driver arrived. It tool an hour to drive back to Amicalola Falls State Park. My car was covered in detritus from the trees. I drove back to the visitor center, dropped off my parking pass, and headed toward the conference on Lanier Lake.
Along the way, overcome by hunger, I pulled into a strip-mall, where I found a pizza place. I ordered more than I could eat, took the rest with me, and got back on the road. At the conference center, I spread my camping gear over one bed. Over the course of a few days I slowly organized the gear into my backpack for the return flight.
Would I change anything? Yes. I should have taken longer breaks, and worked more on my food intake. I now know that the Appalachian Trail involves a lot of ups and downs. And I mean a lot. Every “gap” listed on the map means an up and down, or a down and up. This is something that reading blog, books, etc. will not teach you. Watching videos on YouTube is no substitute for the real thing. There is a lot of climbing. At least I was lucky with the weather, as it never rained nor snowed while I was on the trail. It was hot, however, which I didn’t expect for this time of year.
Will I go back? I hope so. I really want to complete Georgia. I want to hike the northern part of Virginia. When? I have no idea. Maybe in 2026, as I tend to plan out things a year or two in advance, and 2025 already has specific goals. Will I complete the entire trail? It’s 2,100 miles or more. Hiking 40 mile sections at a time will not get me there, not with the years that I have left. So, I highly doubt that I will even hike a quarter of the distance. That doesn’t bother me. The trail crosses 14 states. I might walk three or maybe four of the states. So be it.
If you hike the Appalachian Trail, either as a day hiker, a section hiker, or a thru hiker, take a moment to marvel that this trail exists. To anyone who walks the AT, where it’s a mile or the entire distance, take many moments to pause at the fact that this trail exists. I count myself lucky to have been there, even I walked less than 2% of the trail.
I awoke early, packed up, and was on the trail before the trio of thru-hikers broke camp. They were all young, maybe mid-thirties, and highly motivated, so I figured they would pass me at some point during the day. Today’s goal was Woods Hole Shelter, at the foot of Blood Mountain, just over 12 miles from Gooch Gap Shelter. It would prove a tougher day than the one before, but also a highly rewarding and emotional day.
I rejoined the AT trail in good spirits, and although the trail still went up and down, for a long while it actually followed a contour line along a mountain. I stopped at a clearing with a great view, chatted with another hiker, and we took each other’s photos with the view as a background. Familiar hikers passed me. I passed some of them. There’s a section on Blood Mountain where bear canisters are required. A quartet of thru-hikers (three from Gooch Gap Shelter and one other) planned to camp just outside the bear canister zone, at a campsite called Lance Creek. They worried that the limited number of tent sites would fill up, and considered options slightly beyond that area. I carried a bear canister, so I didn’t worry about locations.
Slightly before the halfway point, I encountered the thru-hiker who wasn’t keen on close neighbors. He mentioned a rumor of trail magic ahead on the trail. At this point I had started to flag, and in a moment of despair told him that I expected all trail magic gone by the time I arrived. I think I expected a single cooler with soda cans, nothing more. Instead, as I reached Woody Gap, a location with a paved road intersecting the trail, I saw a professional-looking sign announcing trail magic ahead.
It turned out that a pair of older women who had hiked the trail years ago each year drove down from Indiana (I think, as I can’t exactly remember their home state). They handed out hot dogs, chips, cookies, other snacks, and sodas. I was briefly overcome with emotion as I thanked them. All other hikers who reach that site thanked them and asked if they could donate money, but were refused. I ate my hot dog, a bag of chips, and drank my soda. Nothing tasted as great as that brief meal.
After lingering there an hour or so, I lifted up my pack and entered the Blood Mountain Wilderness. My goal the for day lay just over five miles away. I would prove a difficult five miles. Much of it was uphill. The heat pressed down on me. Twice I reached a creek, where I rested and poured liters of water on my head. One of the thru-hikers headed for Lance Creek passed me, as did two others.
Eventually, I reached Lance Creek, where I saw three hikers had sent up tents. I waved to them and told them I was continuing onward, as it was early afternoon. When I reached the plateau right before the last climb up Blood Mountain, I saw the sign for Woods Hole Shelter. It lay 0.4 miles downhill, away from the trail. I grimaced, then started down the trail. After around a tenth of a mile or so, I stopped. I really didn’t want to walk 0.4 extra miles each way, especially uphill the next morning. I consulted my map and saw there was a campsite up the hill. Returning to the plateau, I dropped my pack and rested for a while (a euphemism for collapsing on the ground and resting my head on the pack). Another hiker arrived, and asked about the shelter. I pointed down the hill, warning him it would be a bit of walk. He decided that was not an issue, and departed down the hill. After a while, I picked up my back, tossed out a few curses, and continued up Blood Mountain.
Shortly thereafter, I reached a creek, where I once more poured several liters of cold water on my head. Feeling invigorated, I started my ascent up the steep hill. To my surprise, only a short distance away I found the listed campsite. I dropped my pack, and made an inventory of my water. Two of the water bottles were empty. I had around four miles to hike the next day, and for the sake of hydration insurance I took those empty bottles down the hill and filled them up at the creek. Back at the campsite I put up my tent, taking many breaks. I tried to eat something, but my stomach at this point couldn’t handle any food. Two hours of sunlight remained, and that light pointed directly at my tent. I gathered up all smellables—food, toothpaste, sunscreen, etc—into the bear canister and wedged it between some branches up the hill, then crawled into my tent and tried to rest.
At some point during the evening I heard a coyote, then some female voices. Other hikers had found the same camping area. Each tent pad in that campsite was far enough away that I never saw them, but I heard them for a while talking and then greeting another late arriving hiker. My goal at this point was just to get some sleep. A couple of hikers that I’d encountered a mile or so before the start of the true ascent of Blood Mountain said it wasn’t a bad climb on fresh legs, so I thought that a night’s rest would help. It turned out that was true, at least for the climb. My fourth day consisted of less than four miles of hiking, so I knew it wouldn’t be another long day. I also had a deadline of 1pm, when my shuttle would arrive to take me back to my car. I worried about the uphill, but it was the downhill that would prove the hardest part of the day.
After the “approach trail,” which apparently not all thru-hikers take, I went another three or so miles to Stover Creek Shelter. My total distance hiked for the first day was ca. 12 miles. At Stover Creek, I set up my tent, then made my major mistake of the hike, one I would repeat one more time: I failed to eat dinner. Instead, I crawled into my tent around 6pm and just tried to sleep, despite sundown still two hours away. Even though I wasn’t tired, I felt that I needed the rest, and also I didn’t feel hungry enough to heat a freeze-dried meal. Nor did I think of a snack at this point.
One of the things I learned in my over 500 miles of hiking along various trails is that consistently I fail to properly fuel while hiking. I lose my appetite somewhere along the trail, and I struggle to eat solid foods, either power bars nor rehydrated food. I eat sparingly, and pay the price near the end of the day. This is far from ideal, as hiking multiple miles in one day meals that calories are burned, and the body needs to be replenished. I probably also do not drink enough water, although I made an effort on this trail. I carrier three liters of water, and refilled my water bottles often along the way, using both a filter and purifying tablets. The days were hot, and I made myself drink fairly often as I walked. Still, I probably didn’t drink enough.
First day, not so bad, I thought. I camped where I planned to camp. The next day, I planned to hike to Gooch Gap Shelter, another 12 or so miles from the Stover Creek Shelter. I woke up early, packed up my tent and gear, ate a breakfast bar, and set out on the trail around 8am. At first, I took it slow, enjoying the green tunnel and silence, until I was passed by another hiker. Then I re-evaluated my pace and went from a stroll to something faster. Another mistake. Hike your own pace is the key. However, from now on I measured myself against this hiker’s pace, as we would leapfrog each other time and time again in my days on the trail. This shadow of mine was a thru-hiker, around twenty years younger, and quite motivated. Along the trail I’d encounter at least five other thru-hikers, plus some section-hikers like myself. They each had amazing stories behind the reason for hiking the AT. Had I known about the AT in my early thirties, maybe my life would have been different.
Nothing prepares you for the AT (or probably any long distance trail). Not watching multiple YouTube videos. Not reading blogs and hiker diaries. Not reading many books about thru-hikes and attempted thru-hikes (I’m looking at you, Bill Bryson). I’ve hiked in Big Bend, Bryce Canyon, northern New Mexico, in Nevada, plus various locations in Norway. Most of the trails in these location have moderate hills, or one big climb. Not the AT. The AT is an almost constant up and down trail, at least in northern Georgia, with each mountain interspersed with “gaps.” After while, when I saw a sign announcing a gap a few miles ahead I groaned, for I knew this meant a big downhill and then a big uphill, again and again.
After Three Forks there was a waterfall. I plowed onward and uphill, bypassing the Hawk Mountain Shelter and campsite, then Hightower Gap, Horse Gap. Somewhere along here I took a break by a creek, where the four women I’d met on Springer also were taking a break. They’d hiked from Springer to Hawk Mountain their first day, and were planning to hike as far as they could over the span of five days. We chatted for a while before I headed back on the trail. And then, Sassafras Mountain. This was a brutal climb.
After resting at the top of Sassafras, it was downhill to Cooper Gap, where I took a long break to eat and recuperate. Next, I crossed a creek, with a sign pointing to a campsite just north of the creek. My goal was Gooch Gap Shelter, so I kept walking. The last mile was tough, and I started asking out loud, “Gooch Gap, where are you?” I crossed another creek, where two older hikers were filling up on water, and then, finally, Gooch Gap Shelter.
I found a vacant tent pad, set up my tent, and worked on making dinner and filtering water. After another 12 mile day I was exhausted, but I forced myself to eat a freeze-dried meal that I heated up. I’m not sure what it is with these freeze-dried meal packets, but they tend to overstate the amount of water needed. They’re also designed for two portions. Instead of a nice meal, it was more like semi-soup, but I ate half before I gave up. The day had been hot, 85 degrees F. Where I’d pitched my tent the sun shone directly on it, and I had more than two hours until sunset. I tried to sleep, then took a break to visit the privy. I’m not sure if people just can’t handle public toilets, but it looked gross, and I had to close my eyes to do my business. Then, back to the tent and solitude. The thru-hiker I’d camped next to at Stover Creek was there, but he strongly hinted that he didn’t want a close neighbor, so I’d set up my two pads below his tent. Another thru-hiker camped between us, and they chatted a long time. I found my noise-canceling headphones and enjoyed a brief moment of silence. Finally the neighbors stopped talking, and I managed to fall asleep. At some point during the night, a third thru-hiker had pitched his tent next to the first one, so he ended up with a close neighbor anyway. As for the night, I woke up multiple times to snoring from the nearest neighbor. Good times.
I used to like Twitter. Now it’s called X, and I via a browser I no longer appear to have the ability to post anything. Is it the network? is it the tool? I don’t know, but it’s becoming less and less a place that I visit. I like Musk’s stance on free speech, but the tool is become less and less usable since he took over. I’m close to quitting that app, just as I deleted Zack’s app a few years ago. At least, here (for now) I control what and when I can publish my silly thoughts.
