Holy Week on the AT

I can’t wait to take my shoes off

After 13 miles of hiking, I stop to take off my trail runners. I’m somewhere in North Carolina (or is it Tennessee?), and my feet are talking. Begging me with every step to stop and soak them in the stream.
I do so a ways down from the water source, where a fellow hiker named Tumbleweed stops too.
Young and long-haired, he has a prominent tattoo of a cross on his forearm. ...

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