Where's The Next Shelter?
[posted by Katie, Gary's Trail Boss]
Gary has spent the last five days in a very remote area without any cell phone service, and will spend the next five days in the boonies as well.
It's a good thing he and his trailmates are far from civilization. Saturday, June 21st was the summer solstice, also known as Hike Naked Day...
Thank goodness for the strategically placed hat.
About a week ago I made a two word entry in my notebook: Trail Legs. It's a phrase we hear quite often, for example, "After about a month you'll get your trail legs," or "Once you get your trail legs you'll start knocking out 20s like nothing." Personally, when I first started hiking, the idea of a 20 mile day seemed unattainable.
When my average went into the double digits I thought I had my trail legs. Shortly after that I started doing 15 mile days. While Voldemort and I were separated from our trail family, we made a few attempts at a 20 mile day but never really had much success. We hit 19 a few times but always had to stop because we would run out of sunlight. Finally, right at the one-month mark, we nailed our first 20.
That was the day before our arrival into Erwin (see last post). After eating KFC all-you-can-eat we loaded up on trail food and made the short trip north to Curley Maple Gap Shelter. The next day, we learned what the term trail legs really means.
We reunited with our trail family and set a goal for the Clyde Smith Shelter 21.9 miles away. I was feeling really good the whole way, and somewhere around mile 18 I had an idea.
I was the last person to reach the Clyde Smith Shelter, and when I arrived Voldemort was making dinner and Forager was talking to his dad, Fiddlin' Jim. "Who wants to do something epic?" I asked.
Without even hearing what it was, Voldemort and Forager both said yes. "Right now, our current plan is to rest our bodies for eight hours and then walk 17 more miles, right?" I asked. "Does anyone else feel good enough to rest for two or three hours, and then start walking?" I continued.
Forager said, "You want to do a night hike?"
"Will we get to see a sunrise?" Voldemort exclaimed, her eyes widening. "I love sunrises!"
"That's the plan," I answered. "If we leave around 10:30 PM we should get to the top of Roan Mountain just before sunrise." Two more of our friends, No Filter and Snail Trail, stepped out of the shelter and announced that they would like to go too.
"Wow," I thought, "I expected more resistance."
The five of us ate dinner, repacked our gear, turned on our headlamps and stepped out into the dark. The hike up Roan Mountain climbs more than 2,500 feet over 8 miles. I think that everyone was very excited to do this because we started out much faster than I would've liked. Shortly after we started I was huffing and puffing and my shirt was completely soaked with sweat.
We toiled up the side of the mountain, carefully placing our feet into the small pools of light cast by our headlamps. We stubbed our toes, and stumbled forward, and each of us had our own personal cloud of moths around our heads. Around midnight visibility decreased. We were in the clouds.
By 2:30 AM the wind had begun to pick up, and it became apparent that a storm was approaching. The strengthening winds combined with our sweat soaked clothing forced us to shiver uncontrollably. It wasn't long before we found ourselves huddled behind a rock, teeth clenched and questioning the sanity of our plan. Still four more hours until sunrise.
"I have a tarp we can use to block the wind," Snail Trail yelled over the gale. The wind disagreed and blew even harder. Now instead of moths, clouds of suspended water droplets encircled us.
For two more hours we climbed, stomping stumbling and cursing the whole way. When No Filter yelled, "I see an overhang! I see an overhang!" I thought he was referring to one of those stations that show a map and a Do Not Feed the Bears sign. I pictured the five of us huddled behind one of these things, and I was strangely okay with that idea. When Snail Trail added "It's a bathroom!" I was even happier. "And it's unlocked!"
"We have running water!" Voldemort added.
We moved to the side of the building that was out of the wind and sat down against the concrete wall. It was nearly 4:00 AM and our bodies were beginning to shut down. While some rolled out foam mattresses or got into sleeping bags, I leaned against the wall, pulled my knees against my chest, closed my eyes and tried to sleep a bit. After this failed, I entered one of the restrooms, sat on a seat, put my forehead into the crook of my elbow, and actually dozed off for about half an hour.
At 5:30 AM we resumed our quest and began hiking again. By then the clouds were so thick we could barely see the hiker in front of us.
At 6:30 AM the sun finally rose and turned the dark mist into an ethereal ambient white glow. Previously hidden from us, all of the plant life surrounding the trail began to reveal their true deep green.
Roan Mountain is world famous for its views from the balds in the surrounding area. For miles, you walk along exposed grassy knobs with unobstructed views of the horizon many miles away in every direction. On this day we hiked surrounded by white mist occasionally broken by the pink explosions of blooming rhododendrons.
"I think I see a hint of blue sky!" I exclaimed.
Forager corrected me, "That's just wishful thinking."
"What time is it?" Snail Trail asked.
When Voldemort confirmed that it was 8:30 AM, we calculated that we had traveled 33 miles in the previous 24 hours. We found a flat slab of rock to sit on and enjoyed some breakfast in the mist. As we sat and ate, we were treated to a parade of day hikers and through hikers who had only recently awoken and begun walking.
Overmountain Shelter in the distance
Motivated in part by our full bellies and in part by the prospect of staying at Overmountain Shelter, we pressed on. Overmountain Shelter is an old two-story barn which has been converted into an Appalachian Trail Shelter, and is widely regarded as the best shelter on the AT. The lower level comfortably sleeps 10, and each hiker gets their own view of the valley below at their feet upon waking each morning. The upper level also accommodates 10, and provides something which no other shelter does: four walls and a roof. There is a large fire pit in front of the shelter and a wide open space very nearby with room for many tents. Water is convenient and as an added bonus, just before we reached Overmountain Shelter, the clouds dissipated and we were greeted with sunny blue skies and white fluffy clouds. Because we had braved the weather the previous night, we arrived around noon. Our reward was an extended stay at the best shelter on the AT.
Our total mileage, having started the previous morning, was 36.9.
Trail legs.
The above story took place one week ago. Since then much has happened, and our trail family has had still more adventures. We arrived in Damascus, Virginia this morning. A significant milestone. I'll be taking my second zero day of the hike here tomorrow. Because it has taken me literally two hours to compose this by phone, I am going to stop now. There are beers to be had and burgers to be eaten.
Leaving Hot Springs was tough because my pack weighed five pounds more and so did I. The day after a resupply is always like that. Including today.
For the last four days Voldemort and I have been a day behind our "trail family" reading messages from them in the shelter logs telling us to hurry up. Well we are back here guys... Slow down!
Nolichucky River
Two nights ago, while debating whether to stay at a shelter or press on, we encountered a runner who warned us of incoming bad weather. Lightning, hail and gusts up to sixty MPH. It was a crazy night and the next day we summited Big Bald minus the view while getting hammered by the continuing storm. Two days of walking in the rain and mud had us both joking that we were done. Time to go home!
I arrived in Erwin this morning and much to my surprise Dave and Barb were waiting on a log beside the trail about 2 miles from resupply! They saved us from having to hitch into town and took us to KFC all you can eat.
Random stuff:
I'm on my second pair of shoes. I can't remember what day it is. I'm a month in and still finding ways to lighten my pack. I have lost 15 pounds despite eating Snickers coated in peanut butter. I sleep like a log. Blister count: 0
PS. I swam and did laundry in a river today.
[posted by Katie, Gary's Trail Boss]
Gary asked me to post an update to let you know he's still making miles on the trail. He took a Zero Day in Hot Springs, NC to rest, resupply and let the swelling go down on his left ankle (not a super serious injury, it's already much better). Hot Springs is a quaint town good for food, hospitality, and Civil War reenactments, but not good for wi-fi or cell phone coverage. So far most of the trail has had poor AT&T coverage, hence the few updates. Supposedly it gets better further north.
Dave, Barb, Barb's mom, Travis, Mark and Sue all came to Hot Springs to cheer Gary on and hear stories from him and Voldemort. There is never a shortage of stories! Many calories were consumed, and I wish I had a dollar every time a thru-hiker declared that they couldn't possibly eat another bite, only to be hungry two hours later.
Two business matters:
I wish I was half the writer Gary was, so to distract you from my lackluster update, here are a few pics from the trail...
Is this sign meant to be encouraging?
Green Giant on Charlie's Bunion
Relaxing on the first Zero Day
When I looked at my elevation map to see what was coming after the NOC, what I saw was every broker's dream version of the stock market: a jagged line which just goes up and up. The NOC is the lowest point (so far) on the AT at something like 1,600 feet above sea level. Four days later I would need to be on Clingman's Dome, which towers at 6,600 feet, the highest point on the entire AT. It was going to be the toughest sixty miles so far, but Katie, my mom and my seventeen year old niece were going to be there with pizza. I had to push on!
When I think of Clingman's Dome, I'm reminded of my sister-in-law Priscilla, or PV for short. She and her husband came to visit Katie and me in Asheville a few years ago, and we all hopped in the car one day, drove up to Clingman's Dome and hiked a small section of the AT which goes up to the observation deck, or as I like to call it, The Concrete Monstrosity. It affords great views, but it's hideous from any distance, including standing right on it. I remember from that hike that we all made a big deal about the tower being ugly. I remember the smell of pines, and I remember Dave's and my knees cracking a lot. It was an uphill struggle and the girls put us to shame that day. Katie had just started running regularly and PV was pretty serious into Karate.
Every day the horizon changes
PV is an interesting character. She's a meteorologist. No, not the kind who point at the map and have clever catch phrases. The kind who actually knows what a vortex is, and how to explain them. She's kinda a big deal in the tornado community too, and it was on a trip to the mid-west for something tornado-related, that we almost lost her. There was a terrible accident, the details of which I won't go into here, but it was the kind that shuts down the freeway, makes the evening news and involves helicopters.
When Katie and I saw her less than a day after the accident I didn't recognize her. Her head was the size of a watermelon and she was full of tubes. Multiple compound fractures, punctured organs, a shattered pelvis and I forget how many other horrible things. They weren't sure when (or if) she'd wake up. When she woke up they weren't sure when (or if) she'd get her wits back. Not long after that she was talking, and not long after that she was demanding to go home.
Countless surgeries, progressing from a walker, to a cane, to no cane, to just a little over a year later and she's posing for a picture at her dojo with a black belt. Let's talk about uphill struggles, shall we?
So this is the person I decided to think about as I mentally geared myself up to walk uphill for sixty miles. I knew that my feet would hurt, and I knew that my muscles would ache, and I knew that I would get thirsty, and I knew that I would want to stop, and I was right. All of those things happened. And as they did, I reminded myself what a real uphill struggle is, and that it was time for me to put on my big girl panties because my problems were minor.
As I left the NOC, I had planned to share all of this once I got to Fontana Dam, and then dedicate the next three days climb to PV. I've been in a cellular and wifi dead zone, so now I'm doing it after the fact. The climb was tough, PV. It sucked. And during the hardest of the hard parts, I thought about you and it made me keep going up. You've been not only a big supporter of this ridiculous project, but you've been an inspiration as well. Today I stood where we stood that day, and I tipped my hat in your direction.
Now onto some lighter stuff. Like giant piles of poo.
Briefly consider what sort of creature leaves a pile like this. Then be afraid.
Once we entered the Smokys everything changed. For one thing, they make you stay in the shelters the whole time. You have to register, and pay for a permit ($20 - other than food, my only expense so far!) At first I was a little perturbed at that, because I like to walk until I'm tired and just drop my tent somewhere. Within a mile of entering, the reason became obvious. It's for our own safety.
The forest is very well preserved and protected, which means it's teeming with wildlife. The kind that's pretty to look at and listen to, as well as the kind that will stomp on you and eat you. Before reaching the first shelter, my newest hiking buddy, Gorp and I saw a wild boar and two piglets. Another group was delayed for half an hour because a mama bear and her cubs were napping on the trail. There were two four-point bucks in our camp the next morning and one report of a timber rattler. I'll happily stay in these shelters, not just for the critters, but because they're positively luxurious. Each one has a fireplace, and the sleeping area is so far back from the opening that even in a hurricane you'd stay dry.
Every shelter in the Smokys looks like this.
One last interesting thing, and then I'm off to bed. You're probably wondering how I put together such a wordy update when all I have is my phone, right? Let me tell you about trail magic my friends. After that brutal climb, all I wanted was a kiss from my wife, a slice a pizza, another slice of pizza, and a ride to the nearest town to do laundry and pamper my feet. Well, I got that kiss, and both slices, and she did me one better on the whole ride to town thing. She reminded me that our house isn't really that far from where we were standing, and therefore, as I write this, I am sitting in my comfy chair, my clothes are in the dryer and there is ice cream in my belly.
I'm going to get up tomorrow, have a hearty breakfast and be back on the trail by lunchtime.
Blue Indian, Voldemort and Droid (formerly Roadblock) watch the sunset from Cheoah Bald.
