3/26/08 Peek’s Corner Shelter 21.6 miles today

It has been a crucible of a day, both a strain of my hiking endurance and faith in the trail. But so many amazing things happened in such a short time.  Beginning with a 4:30am rise I set out with the three F’s (Fish, Furniture and Free Hugs) to witness a glorious sunrise from Clingman’s Dome—the highest point on the entire AT.  Instead, after 3 miles of hiking in the dark we were greeted with frigid windy conditions and overcast skies. However the triumph was still alive being at the literal top of this journey.

            After more miles of hiking through Evergreen forests we stopped out of exhaustion at Indian Road Gap. It was barren and magic-less, but I salvaged good cream cheese from the trash—an act of desperation. Furniture and I pushed on with fortune at our heels and Fish and Free Hugs stayed behind haplessly to miss our upcoming break.

            Newfound Gap was tense with the tourist dregs, but not without generous trail magic. A kind thru-hiker from 2006 spoiled us with chips, dip, beer and hot dogs.  I chose salmon and bagels instead out of vegetarian principle. Coincidentally, another hiker from 2006 arrived with a van laden with fried chicken, cupcakes, cookies, crackers and fresh fruit!  Steak n’ Shake, Rabbit’s Foot, Beavis and Dog all joined later to partake in the Trail Magic, but Free Hugs and Fish sadly pushed on to the next shelter without respite.

            After all joining together again we took a brave plunge to the next shelter—7.5miles after an already long 15-mile day. The mileage was tantalizing and harsh, but not without spectacular views and a rewarding shelter to reach.

            Being alone to confront the odds against oneself makes one grateful for the joys of company, both simple and subtle.

3/25/08 Double Spring Shelter 13.5 miles today

Perhaps it is my excessive food weight and perhaps it is the terrain, but the Smokies have been easily fatiguing. Tomorrow we plan on leaving early enough to see the sunrise on Clingman’s Dome. This requires battling steep terrain in icy darkness. Hopefully it will be a life-redeeming moment.

3/24/08 Spence Field Shelter 17 miles today

I have conquered anxiety and fear and with the pressure I’ve banished I have also gained new sufficiency. I have grown into my backpackers’ mind, literally and figuratively. I am glad I have friends around; community is the essence of this journey. Things are too subtle for expression.

3/23/08 Fontana Dam "Hilton" Shelter 1.5miles today

I am anxiously stationed on the edge of the Smokies, bidding me time against the weather. It is certainly below freezing because it has been snowing sporadically all day. After a pampered morning resupplying at Fontana Village, I set out with Fish, Furniture and Free Hugs as well as Beavis and Dog to eliminate the possibility of a zero day. Since about 2:00pm we have been pent up in the spacious Fontana “Hilton” shelter crowded around a campfire and devouring camp provisions. 

            I am ready to finally enter the Smokies, the greatest crucible of this hike, and end all the awkward tension circulating around the nature of the terrain. The community is obviously growing stronger, but frays in integrity develop at the edges, just as in any group, and people are prone to dishonesty. Regardless, I am ready to cross Fontana Dam. 

Footprints in the Snow

I wish I could express all of the harboured emotions from the last three days, but only now that I can feel my fingers can I write it all down.
After being pampered by a visit from my mom and brother in Hampton, Tennessee, I set out into the most abysmal weather I have yet seen. A spontaneous cold snap settled over the ridgeline between Wautaga Lake and Damascus, Virginia, blanketing a 50 mile stretch with thick snow. All of Sunday and Monday I walked through dense snowfall, hidden from the sunshine, my tracks hidden by the constant accumulation. I spent the nights shivering, wishing I hadn't sent home my zero-degree sleeping bag.
I came to a clearing in the ridgeline yesterday to look at the horizon, only to be terrified by the sky. I had seen mist before, but truly the sky was nothing but a dense veil of charcoal colored clouds. There was no depth, no shading- just an opaque shroud of snow. I was really scared.
But then I realized that the weather is a thoughtless, feelingless force- neither here to win nor lose. It has no sympathy, pride or malice, and to be scared of it is to be scared of nothing. I hiked with a braver step after thinking about this, occasionally yelling 'suck a duck' from the top of the ridgeline, or other phrases. Walking into Damascus today was like walking into a different season.

Erwin, Tennessee

As I trudged up the steeply graded Bald Mountain in the relentless rain, only dismal thoughts clouded my mind. In those conditions, it is hard to justify a two mile climb. But once I broke through the treeline the rain stopped, and once I reached the summit the clouds parted, leaving nothing but a panorama of the boundless horizon. Just when it seems I am at the pit of misery, ready to fling curses at the world, fate teaches me that there is beauty in every angle of the world. Now I have come 70 miles from Hot Springs, and 338 miles from the beginning- a long way to trudge with new eyes.
For practical advice, never hike with sunburn on your back.

Hot Springs, North Carolina

I reached Hot Springs today, the first city directly on the Appalachian Trail. Tonight I am staying at the Sunnybank Inn Hostel, a Victorian Home converted by a radical vegetarian into a hiker haven. I have already completed my work-for-stay: cutting tree stumps out of the ground and tilling garden soil. I am hiking with three guys from Masachusetts: Furniture, Fish and Free Hugs. We are all enjoying the luscious appearance of spring in this little town, and taking advantage of good food. Appreciate the things around you which you might overlook: the sunshine, laughter, and clean fingernails.