Fresh off our first hike on the Foothills Trail, Mule and I decided to tackle the Smokies the week after Christmas. What WERE we thinking?

As I sit here in an influenza-induced delirium, I have decided that there is no better time to document the journey Mule and I undertook the week after Christmas 2013. Bear in mind that over 5 years have since passed, certain memories are a bit spotty, and I’m putting this together partly with Mule’s photos because I didn’t take many photos myself. I was carrying a real camera on this trip but it was cold AF, so apparently I didn’t feel like fooling with it much.

We headed out on Dec. 26th for the Hike Inn just below Fontana, and things quickly went downhill. Somehow, Mule got hit with food poisoning. While we were driving alongside the Ocoee River, I was pulling over every 15 minutes so that Mule could hurl. By the time we reached our destination, he was pretty wiped out. Definitely not in great hiking shape. Jeff from the Hike Inn strongly advised us against shuttling up to Davenport Gap that day (our original plan) so as is often the case, we turned to Plan B- we would take a zero to let Mule get his strength back, then shuttle to Newfound Gap and hike back.

Mule managed to recover fairly quickly, but we still felt it prudent to do low miles the first day. So the next morning, Jeff shuttled us off to Newfound Gap, from where we had decided to hike a short distance NOBO to a shelter before reversing course.

Jeff deposited us at the large parking lot not long after daybreak. It was cold that morning, and it would stay that way all week, with temperatures in the low teens some nights. We were dressed accordingly.

The trail was a steady 1100 ft. elevation gain over 3 miles, which wouldn’t have been bad at all, except that the trail was a solid sheet of ice. Apparently it had a lot of seeps that had frozen. Footing was pretty sketchy, and I actually found myself wishing that I had brought my microspikes.

So how cold was it exactly? Cold enough that when we took our first water break we discovered that our water bottles had nearly frozen solid. I ended up placing mine inside my pack up against my back to keep it warm enough to avoid freezing.

We hiked slowly, partly because of the icy trail and partly due to frequent rest stops- I didn’t want to push my hiking partner too hard while he was recovering. Nonetheless, we reached Icewater Spring Shelter around lunchtime. It was a clear day, so we had great views from the front of the shelter.

We were the only folks there for the moment, which gave us some time to check things out. The shelter was fairly large (occupancy 12) and had a fireplace as well as a tarp hanging over the front entry. These were clues as to how cold and windy it could get. We made lunch, filled our water bags with non-frozen water, and lazed around the rest of the afternoon. Gradually, other hikers started to trickle in and somebody got a fire going in the fireplace. By nightfall, we were at capacity with a fun and mildly rowdy group.

Once it got dark, it got COLD. The fire in the fireplace was crucial, and the tarp helped contain the heat just enough to be bearable. Plus, we had 12 bodies worth of body heat to share.

Right at hiker midnight, 3 more hikers showed up, and somehow we made room for them. I distinctly remember that one of them was wearing cotton gym shorts and a cotton shirt (both soaked with sweat), and hauling a 60 lb. pack that included a DuraLog that was obviously useless since we already had a raging inferno going. That outfit was a recipe for hypothermia, and it remains one of the dumber things I’ve ever seen on the trail. Never mind that he had also hiked 2 hours in the dark on a sheet of ice. Day 1: 3.1 miles.

The next morning, Mule said that he felt back to 100%, so we decided to add a 1.8 mile round trip to Charlie’s Bunion, which was just a little ways NOBO. On such a clear morning, we knew that the views would be well worth the extra miles.

The trail danced along the ridgetop, but it wasn’t too windy. Just cold. There was light snow on the shaded slopes.

At Charlie’s Bunion, the views were indeed vast. It seemed like we could see 100 miles in all directions.

We then trotted back the way we’d come, passing the shelter and then the junction with Sweat Heifer Trail. I remember wondering WTH was a sweat heifer. Probably something you find in a bar at 2AM.

We finally reached Newfound Gap, and since it was around noon it was much busier than when we’d departed the previous day. A bunch of tourists stared at us like we were lunatics, and a few even asked us if we were really hiking (what gave them that idea?). We darted across the wide parking area and picked up the trail on the other side, dropping down near a creek before beginning a long but (kind of) gentle ascent of around 1,200 ft.

This was the day I learned about snacking and keeping blood sugar levels up. I hadn’t eaten since breakfast and had skipped lunch (cold and the first several days on trail both blunt my appetite), and halfway up Mt. Collins I bonked HARD. It was probably a good thing that I had a hiking partner- Mule insisted that I stop to eat a Snickers and hydrate. 15 minutes later I was rejuvenated, and wiser for the experience. I now snack 4-5 times during the day and haven’t bonked since.

About a half mile before Indian Grave Gap we passed through two fenced enclosures that were protecting some specialized type of high altitude beech forest from marauding wild boar. Based on how different things looked inside the fenced areas, they were working.

We finally reached the half-mile side trail to Mt. Collins Shelter.

Right before we reached the shelter, it started to snow heavily. We were excited at the prospect of getting a bunch of snow because we were too stupid to think about how that would impact our hiking the next day. All we cared about was that it would be pretty. But after 30 minutes and at least one inch of accumulation, there was this weird temperature inversion and it turned to rain. I think this was the only time during the trip that the temperature got above freezing.

Shortly thereafter, we were joined by a father and son who we would end up leapfrogging with the next two days. They tormented us with their dinner of reheated pork chops. They smelled SO good. That is what planted the seed that led me to becoming a backcountry foodie. Day 2: 10.2 miles

During the night, the temperature had dropped again. We had our breakfast, packed up and hiked up the side trail back to the AT. A half mile later we crested Mt. Collins at 6,155 ft., where we began to hit some intermittent snow and gusty winds.

After a little bit the trail started to roughly parallel the approach road to Clingman’s Dome. We dashed over to the road just as it reached a parking area with buildings. We figured that we’d at least use the restrooms. But they were locked. Given the 40+ mph winds, sleet/snow mix hitting us sideways and frigid temperatures, I’m not sure why the Park Service felt like they had to protect the bathroom from off-season vagrants. It’s not like anyone other than hikers would’ve been up there. We said foul things about them, but not for long because we were freezing our asses off and we were hungry.

We ended up huddling behind a small building and attempting to fire up our stove, but the swirling winds kept blowing it out. Somewhat desperate and maybe even a little bit nervous at this point, we cobbled together a windbreak with some stray wooden pallets and our CCF sleeping pads. We cooked and ate our lunch with a quickness, then hauled booty the rest of the way up to Clingman’s Dome itself.

There was no point going up to the observation tower, as visibility was nil and the weather was fit for neither man nor beast. Apparently, the views are spectacular on the rare days when the weather is clear.

We discovered an unlocked metal door at the base of the walkway that opened into a long room that smelled of hobos and cat pee, thus explaining why the earlier bathrooms had been locked. But we were at least able to enjoy a brief respite from the weather.

Feeling slightly better, we scurried quickly back down to the AT. Once we re-entered the “green tunnel” we were largely sheltered from the wind. Clingmans Dome is the highest point on the AT at 6,611 ft., thus we began a steady descent. Several miles later we crossed the Goshen Prong Trail junction. Yet another weird trail name. After descending about 1,200 ft. we reached Double Spring Gap Shelter. It was not the uplifting moment it should have been.

The grounds around the shelter were an absolute hog wallow. We had to painstakingly pick our way through just to keep our shoes free of mud. And the shelter itself was obviously well-worn and filthy. Whoever had stayed there last had pretty much trashed it. We spent the better part of an hour tidying the place back up to a level of respectability.

By nightfall we were joined by an interesting sister-brother combo. In this particular case it was the sister who was the expert backpacker, and she had brought along her brother for his first-ever night in the backcountry. I have never heard a male whine so much in my life. While his sister did the work of two, he sat there and griped about the cold, the food, the cold, his sleeping bag, the cold, the lack of cell service…..She was visibly embarrassed. Sissy boy would’ve curled up in a fetal position at Clingman’s Dome and waited to die. Well before dawn, she had had enough. I woke up at 5 AM and they were long gone, presumably having bailed. Day 3: 7.0 miles.

I don’t remember a lot about the next day. I had developed a head cold, and the entire day was spent hiking slowly in grievous wind and cold. Mule says that I was pretty much on autopilot.

I do recall reaching a bald with wide open views (presumably Siler’s Bald) and seeing these thin wispy clouds dancing in the air like flames. My synapses weren’t all firing, but I had enough of them working to be mesmerized by those clouds.

It was so cold that the rhododendron leaves were about as curled up as they could get. The wind just made it that much worse.

Mule led us to Derrick Knob Shelter and left me curled up in my sleeping bag to get warm while he went out and got water and enough firewood to burn all night in the fireplace. He then got a roaring fire going. He is a hiking partner without peer.

The relative warmth, followed by dinner and some medication, perked me up for a little while. Just in time to welcome a group of 5-6 hikers who arrived just after dark. They were all college buddies from somewhere in Florida, and they were half-frozen to death. They greatly appreciated Mule’s fire.

I vaguely remember that they were pretty funny guys, but apparently I crashed early even as the group partied well into the night. I hate that I missed that. Day 4: 7.4 miles.

I actually felt really good the next morning, which was fortuitous. We had bigger miles to make. This day turned out to have the best views of the trip, and also featured a chance meeting with another hiker that I’ll never forget.

The first mile was spent descending down to Sugartree Gap at around 4400 ft. We then began what shows on the elevation profile to be a merely 900 ft. ascent to the peak of Thunderhead Mountain. Other hikers had warned us that this was a fairly tough climb, however, and at the time it felt like it was three times the elevation gain than it actually was. Plus, it was one of those soul-sucking climbs with many false summits on unnamed knobs.

Oh, we gave those knobs some names. But they’re not suitable for print.

We did have fine views from Thunderhead, once we finally got there, but it was the views from Rocky Top shortly thereafter that stole the show.

The descent from Rocky Top was very pleasant, and before long we were crossing Spence Field.

We made great time and reached Russell Field Shelter in time for lunch. Strangely for a lunchtime though, the shelter was packed with an extended family group. We soon learned why.

The group leader was one David Dinwiddie, who turned out to be one of the grand old men of the Smokies, and a man linked with two of the great real-life dramas in the history of Great Smoky Mountains National Park.

It was New Year’s Eve, and his family convened every year on that date at Russell Field Shelter to continue the search for his missing relative (nephew I think). Dennis Martin was a 6 year-old boy who had disappeared on a family hike at that very shelter back in 1969. You can read the story HERE. David chilled me by telling me “his bones are out here somewhere.”

David himself was the center of another misadventure, this one with a happier ending. He was hiking to Tricorner Knob Shelter in a near blizzard when he stumbled off the trail and rolled about 100 feet downhill, sustaining a compound fracture. As the blizzard picked up (in temperatures that went below zero) he burrowed into his sleeping bag and hoped. FOR FOUR DAYS. He was ultimately rescued but lost portions of his feet to frostbite, and parts of a couple fingers too from what I could see in person. The full story is HERE.

David claimed the rescuers carried him part of the way off the mountain in a body bag and that he lost about 60 pounds during the ordeal. That latter comment sounded a little exaggerated, but there’s no doubt that he was lucky to have survived.

We ate lunch, and then hit the trail in early afternoon with 9 miles already under our belt. We reached Mollies Ridge Shelter well before dark, and there was more entertainment awaiting us there.

There was already a group of three people there- two guys and a lady, all middle-aged, and each were burnt out fried East Tennessee rednecks. The good kind. MY kind of people. They were sporting ginormous backpacks, because they were planning to stay for a few days and had brought the requisite supplies. Namely, moonshine and weed. These folks literally had to blaze up before they did anything. Need to make a run to the privy? Gotta fire up a J first. Need to go get water? Gotta spark one up to get ready. But they really were great folks. My judgement here is possibly clouded by the willingness with which they generously shared their ‘shine.

They had also brought a saw. We had heard that the low that night was going to be single digits, so Mule went out and sawed up any and all deadfall remotely close to the shelter. We had that fireplace cranking all night long, and thanks to the added warmth of fire and corn squeezins, we slept very well. Day 5: 12.1 miles.

Mule and I were packed up and ready to leave at dawn. We were ready finish this hike, find real warmth, and destroy a McDonald’s. Our shelter mates woke to bid us goodbye, but of course had to light up some doobs first.

Sure, it was downhill all the way, but we were starting to get our hiking legs, and we made quick work of the trail between us and Fontana Dam. We skipped a side trip to Shuckstack Tower in our lazer-focused determination to reach Big Mac nirvana. About 3 miles up from the dam, we ran into a group of 3 college-aged hikers wearing jeans. We had heard that a big snowstorm was expected that night, and I thought about stopping to talk to the guys and check on their preparedness. I didn’t, and I regretted it. Search & Rescue took them off the mountain sometime during the night. They turned out to not only be unprepared, but also made bad decisions to compound things.

We reached our car around noon, and it didn’t take us long to head in to Robbinsville and wipe out their McDonald’s. I had 2 quarter pounders with cheese, a Big Mac, a fish sandwich, large fries and drink. Hiker hunger strikes again. I still weighed 10 pounds less on my scale when I returned home.

Surviving this challenging trek cemented in our minds that we were backpackers, and that we needed to do more weeks together on the trail. And of course we continued to learn things about gear and clothing choices that would allow us to cut weight on future hikes, hikes that we hoped would be warmer! Day 6: 11.4 miles. TOTAL 51.2 miles.

The fall colors and views just kept coming

It’s another warm sunny day, and we’re up and back on the trail by 10:00. We hike briefly through some of the maples that fascinated my wife. In retrospect, they remind me of Weirwood trees from Game of Thrones.

But before long, we were back out in the open hiking the rocky ascent of Wilborn Ridge.

The views in all directions remained spectacular.

Near the top, it was almost like a tableland. There were flat areas with stunted green grass (likely grazed by ponies) interspersed with rocky outcrops.

Somewhere along the way was the mis-named Fatman Squeeze. I was able to negotiate it without difficulty.

Periodically there would be small clumps of trees, and it seemed like there was a pony or two enjoying shade under each one.

The trail remained rocky, but we were so engrossed with all the awesomeness around us that it didn’t really detract from the walk.

There WAS one pretty rugged and rocky final climb that kicked our butts a little bit. IIRC there was even a little bit of actual rock scrambling involved.

We finally summited the ridge at 5526 ft. and proceeded to descend- sometimes steeply- through Rhododendron Gap, and then had a stretch of cruising trail where we encountered a volunteer work crew. One of the crew members was an Andrew Murphy with the Appalachian Trail Conference. We stopped for 5 minutes to chat and he apparently decided we were good people. Before we continued on, he gave my wife a trail charm that she still has.

After a bit over 5 miles we reached Thomas Knob Shelter for a late lunch of Packit Gourmet black bean burritos which was excellent. While there, we met Colorado and his friend from Richmond, and then an older guy named Stan.

We were low on water, so I went out behind the shelter in search of its water source.

Said water source was where? Thaaat’s right, it was way down the hill! It was better described as a seep that was being channeled into a metal gutter that that produced a drip as the final product. It dripped. Not gushed. Not flowed. DRIPPED. It easily took over half an hour to fill our water bottles, and during that time I managed to get quite a sunburn.

We returned to the trail a little after 4:00, walking through what seemed like acres of blackberries. I remember thinking at the time that the bears must really feast here, and apparently that’s true. Thomas Knob Shelter in fact was closed for a while in the past few months due to some very aggressive food-pilfering bears.

We got to Deep Gap after a couple more miles and found a nice place to pitch our tent. Of course, with it being so hot we had burned through all of our water again, so I set off- steeply downhill per usual- in search of the rumored spring. It was about a quarter mile way down in a holler, but it was piped, cold and gushing, so it was worth the effort. And as nightfall drew near, I got the tent pitched quickly and decently.

We had a great dinner of Hawk Vittles Linguini with Mushroom, topped with extra parmesan cheese, and fell asleep listening to a chorus of owls. A great day. It was worth the heat to have such clear skies and great views. Day 5: 7.3 miles.

Marmot Girl was excited the following morning when I told her that we only had to hike 2 miles to reach a paved road, from where we could probably call Gecko and get shuttled back to Damascus.

We got on the trail pretty quickly by our standards. The trail graced us with some more beautiful views along the way.

We then passed through what might have been a really old overgrown orchard that had hawthorns and crabapples. After that, we hiked up and over a couple of green pastures, one of which had a bench positioned for a maximally awesome view.

As we crested the final pasture, I saw the road and parking area (an area known as Elk Garden) down in the distance. But even from afar, I could tell that there were a few people milling around down there, maybe more than that even. And a couple of cars.

We reach the parking area and WOW, it’s trail magic! We have stumbled into the famous Leapfrog Cafe, run by none other than Fresh Ground himself. Colorado, his friend, and a couple of new hikers are already partaking of Fresh Ground’s generosity- hot dogs, home fries and ice cold Kool-Aid.

Fresh Ground typically bounces up the trail in the spring, serving up trail magic to NOBO thru-hikers, and if his money holds out, sometimes he even catches the smaller SOBO bubble in the fall. It turns out we’re sort of at the edge of this bubble, et voila. Fresh Ground was a really generous, friendly and humble guy, one who is held in great esteem by the thru-hiking community.

After satiating ourselves and thanking Fresh Ground profusely, I tried to call Gecko….but there was no cell signal there. One of the other guys said if we hiked a ways down VA600 we would eventually get service, so that’s what we did. We walked about a mile and learned why hikers hate road walks in the process. Eventually we got signal, reached Gecko and got picked up. We were back at the Old Mill in Damascus by 4:00, and by 5:00 we’d both showered and felt like new people. Day 6: 3.0 miles including roadwalk. Trip Total: 41.3 miles.

We spent the next day and a half exploring and falling in love with Damascus. It’s population may only be 900, but boring it isn’t. Multiple restaurants, hiker hostels, bed & breakfasts, outfitters, etc.

Without a doubt, a SOBO section hike of Grayson Highlands ending in Damascus is one of the top section hikes you can do on the AT. We missed out on the final 20 or so miles, including a hike over Whitetop Mountain, but we got to see the best of it, and more importantly, my wife had fun. Based upon reports out of Grayson Highlands in the past year, I would recommend that you consider using a bear canister. They may even be required by now for all I know. Certainly, the stretch from Old Orchard Shelter to Deep Gap isn’t going to offer many opportunities for hanging a bear bag. Trees are sparse and not very tall anyway. I think I could’ve easily completed this 60+ mile stretch solo in 6 days. Strong hikers might only need 3-4 days. In my opinion, it’s a section worth slowing down in. Savor every bit of it.

The day things got REALLY good

The 4th day of our little section hike through Grayson Highlands was when we started to hit the stuff we came for, and my wife accordingly took a ton of beautiful photos. So many in fact that this day is going to get its own entry. This day and the one that followed remain two of my favorite days on the trail. Ever.

However, the day started by once again proving one of my “laws” of the trail- whenever you depart a shelter, you’re going to hike uphill. And today’s hike started with a rock-hopping jaunt that gained a few hundred feet.

1.7 miles into the day we reached the intersection with the Pine Mountain Trail, and somewhere around there or shortly after we hit the edge of the “Crest Zone,” which is where things started to actually look like The Highlands.

From that point we started a gentle descent, and through breaks in the trees we started to see that some really beautiful terrain was ahead.

We then passed through a stile. Thankfully the kind that you don’t have to climb over.

We then continued our descent to what is known as The Scales.

The Scales is a horse corral. I think this is where they round up some of the nearby longhorn cattle and possibly some of the wild ponies. How they then transport them wasn’t immediately apparent. The small roofed building turned out to be a very nice pit toilet. Even better, it had a place for garbage. I off-loaded about 3 lbs. of garbage, including an empty chutney jar. My pack immediately felt much lighter.

The views of the nearby hills/mountains in fall color were spectacular. We lounged around The Scales for a while taking it all in. While we were there, we saw a pair of ravens, as well as what I’m positive was a peregrine falcon. There is apparently an ongoing relocation effort somewhere nearby, so it WAS possible.

As we left The Scales, we ran into what looked like trouble.

That guy made me about as nervous as I would’ve been if he’d been a bear. I had always figured that if I met my demise on trail due to a bear, my obituary would at least look heroic. I’m not sure “foolishly met his end through the horns of a deranged bull” would’ve had the same effect. Fortunately, he wasn’t aggressive and just watched us as we hiked past. There were more incredible views along the way.

As we hiked along Grassy Ridge we noticed some activity along a dirt road in the distance….seems like I remember some horseback riders down there.

After passing through that saddle of sorts we began a gentle rocky, exposed climb. It was pretty warm, and being at elevation I got some sunburn before I realized it.

And then, we finally spied our first wild pony, hiding in the shade under a nearby tree.

The trail then went through a stretch where small groves of trees alternated with pastures. We eventually reached Big Wilson Creek.

Even though it was only 0.1 miles from here to Wise Shelter- our destination for the evening- I stupidly elected not to camel up since the shelter was supposed to have a nearby water source. LOL, right. Note to self- never pass up water before a shelter. The footbridge over the creek was slanted more than just a little bit.

We reached Wise Shelter with plenty of light left in the day. Not long after, another couple came by, but very kindly decided to let us have the place to ourselves (our 3rd night in a row with nobody else in the shelter!) while they pitched a tent nearby.

This shelter was special- it had not one but TWO privies! Apparently an Eagle Scout thought that the first one sucked and built another one.

I went looking for water. And not only did I not find it (I think I took the wrong side trail), I darn near got lost. I ended up in a thicket, and only through my natural sense of direction did I manage to get back to the shelter. Of course, I then had to walk back to Big Wilson Creek for the water I could’ve gotten earlier.

Even with my water misadventures, we still had plenty of daylight, so I gathered some firewood and we built a small fire before I prepared dinner. This whole hiking fewer miles thing was making evenings in camp better for sure. We had plenty of time to reflect on the gorgeous scenery we’d hiked through that day. Even better, we knew there was at least as good if not even better awaiting us tomorrow. Day 4: 6.0 miles.

To read Pt. 3, CLICK HERE

A perfectly timed couples hike

By the fall of 2014, our growing family (then with kids aged 17, 13, 11 and 8) had been on quite a few overnight hikes together on weekends, but although the older ones seemed to enjoy them, it turned out not to really be their thing as they grew up. They claimed to love camping but not so much the work involved getting there. So I had started to do a few hikes on my own, which in the previous year had included the Foothills Trail and the Smokies section of the AT the week after Christmas (yes, it was really damn cold and no, I don’t know what I was thinking). I felt like I wasn’t a noob on the trail anymore, and I finally felt capable enough to take my wife on one of my journeys. Obviously, I was going to cherry-pick a great section of the AT for her, and when she learned that Grayson Highlands was both beautiful AND had wild ponies, she was sold. The fact that I happened to hit peak fall colors was sheer luck but definitely a great bonus.

Our plan was to drive up to Damascus for the night and stay at the Old Mill Inn, and then get shuttled up to the Mt. Rogers Visitor Center and hike southbound 60+ miles over the following 6 days, winding up back in Damascus for a couple nights at the Inn, with days for exploring the town. It was a great plan. And per usual it was not adhered to. But it all worked out great in the end.

Our shuttle driver Gecko met us early the morning after our arrival and shuttled us up to the Visitors Center by around 10:00. It was already warm and humid but we were excited and quickly hit the trail. The first 4 miles were more or less the typical green tunnel. We had a ways to go before reaching the really good stuff.

It’s probably a good time to note that these are my wife’s photos. Mine were vaporized on my old hard drive along with all of my earlier trips. A real tragedy.

The trail was easy early on, and Marmot Girl took plenty of pics of things that caught her eye.

I was used to hiking 10-12 mile days on my own, and I was pleased to see that Marmot Girl seemed comfortable with that pace. As a result, we made good time. At nearly 8 miles we crossed the South Fork of the Holston River on a fairly long (120 ft.) wooden bridge.

I noticed that the sun was dipping lower towards the horizon, and we still had over 2 miles to go, so even though we were tired we put the pedal down and made it to the side trail that led to Trimpi Shelter about 30 minutes before dark. There we met Dave and Gary. Dave was on his way to Damascus to decide if he was going to live his dream and purchase a hiker hostel. Gary may or may not have been homeless, but he was very friendly, as was his 15 year-old canine companion. He said he was holing up there for a few days waiting on a package and noted that he hiked on a total knee replacement.

I went down to the slowly-flowing water source and filled our water bottles, and then we set up our tent together, a Tarptent Rainshadow out for its maiden voyage. We fumbled a little bit but managed a decent pitch without killing each other in the process.

We offloaded some pack weight by cooking up some really tasty Fishpeople Coconut Curry with rice. We shared a little with an appreciative Gary. After dinner, Hops and Chaco arrived. They showed off their mess of stings suffered during an encounter with a nest of “tracker jackers.” They were hiking NOBO so we got the details from them about the location to be wary of.

As we were getting ready to turn in, Marmot Girl found another friend.

My wife got a nice introduction to the social side of the AT, which seemed to put her more at ease. All in all, it was a great first day back in the woods. Day 1: 10.1 miles.

Somehow we managed to take forever to break camp the next morning. Marmot Girl isn’t exactly a morning person, so it was 10:30 before we were back on the trail, which had me a little bit apprehensive. We had a 10 mile day ahead of us.

We remained in the woods, but the character of the woods changed. We started to see these big old maples with gnarly trunks, and Marmot Girl was fascinated by them.

Early in the afternoon, we discovered that Hops and Chaco had left a message- a note in a ziploc stuck to a branch that read “Tracker Jackers Ahead! Highly pissed!!!” So we crept forward very carefully, and sure enough we discovered that there was a yellow jacket nest hole right in the middle of the dang trail. Because AT. Naturally, the trail at this point was skirting a steep slope, with dense stands of rhododendron both above and below the trail. We watched, and it was like a Star Wars scene with a spacecraft returning to the mother ship every 15 seconds. Finally though, the activity tapered off, and we were about to make our move…when all of a sudden, an acorn fell and landed right next to the hole. Instantly, several hundred angry yellow jackets swarmed out in a cloud. They were gonna mess some shizzle up, that was clear. There was no way we were going to sneak through THAT. So begrudgingly, we bushwhacked around them through the rhododendrons, which at times required us to belly crawl. It took a good long while too. We rejoined the trail 50 yards beyond the winged hordes of pain and got moving again.

Not long after that we got our first good view of the trip, which picked our spirits up a bit at the time.

I’m a wildflower buff, and I was pleased to see quite a few gentians in bloom. Some gentians are really neat in that a bee (typically a bumblebee) has to pry open their petals to reach the nectar and pollen.

By mid-afternoon we had crossed Dickey Gap and reached Comer Creek Falls. I can’t remember if this cascade is the actual “falls” or not.

It was getting late in the day and we still had 4 miles to go, and for the first time I sensed that Marmot Girl didn’t like this pace. There is a saying in the hiking community that “the trail provides.” Well, this time, it provided misery. As dusk fell the trail began to follow an old logging road that went endlessly uphill, and it kinda broke her spirit. Didn’t help mine much either. We quit talking and just did our best to keep putting one foot in front of the other. As we got close, we reached a stream that served as the shelter’s water source, so we stopped to camel up…..and it started raining.

Two wet, tired and miserable hikers finally reached the shelter, which at least we had to ourselves. We got unpacked and did our best to start drying things while I prepared dinner, and somewhere in there I brought up something about how we had 11 miles to do tomorrow. I could see my wife’s shoulders just slump in despair.

This is where Old Me would’ve been stubborn and insisted that we STICK TO THE PLAN dammit, but New Me- 50 year-old me- had enough wisdom to think first. I studied our maps while we ate dinner, and I thought I saw an alternative. So I turned to my wife and offered a new plan. It was supposed to rain into the morning, so I said why don’t we sleep in, wait for the rain to stop and then just go 5-6 miles to the next shelter. “But won’t that put us way behind schedule?” “Well, yes and no. We COULD just change the schedule. We could lower our daily miles so that you have more fun, and on Day 6 we’ll call Gecko from the road we’ll cross and get him to shuttle us back to Damascus.” Her plaintive reply was “reeeaaallllly?” And thus it was decided and my wife became happy again.

This was the moment that I learned something very important about a hike- you don’t HAVE to stick to your itinerary. Hike what makes you happy. If the miles are making you or your partner miserable, dial back and come up with a Plan B. This is particularly easy to do on the AT since you cross a lot of roads that have shuttle access. You can always come back another time to hike the miles you missed. Day 2: 9.9 miles.

Marmot Girl learned during the night that many AT shelters have a mouse or two. Hurricane Mountain Shelter apparently had a whole herd, one of whom ran across her sleeping bag during the night. Having survived their savagery, she decided that they were merely an annoyance, but not one that would keep her out of a dry shelter.

We slept in late and cooked a leisurely breakfast while we waited for the rain to stop, which it finally did around 11:00. We got packed and hit the trail at 11:30 in noticeably better spirits, knowing we had a short day ahead of us. The trail did its best to squelch this good vibe with an early rocky climb over Hurricane Mountain at over 4300 ft., but our good moods prevailed.

At roughly 3.5 miles into the day we crossed the footbridge over Fox Creek.

Once again, we ran into lots of old wizened maple trees.

The terrain became pretty rocky, and the trail seemed to be going uphill most of the time. I guess if you’re hiking into the Highlands you have to hike upwards.

Towards the end of the day we entered the Lewis Fork Wilderness, and a mile later the trail meandered through an old overgrown orchard before reaching, you guessed it, Old Orchard Shelter. This is an unusual shelter in that it is practically right on the trail. We briefly met a hiker there who went by CK, but he was on his way to the next shelter, so we once again had this one all to ourselves.

Neither of us felt worn out- after such a short day we surely shouldn’t have either- but the energy around camp was unusually upbeat as a result. I made it even better by heating up some Tasty Bite Punjab Eggplant, Madras Lentils and Punjab Choley, and then broke out a bottle of our favorite Major Grey’s Chutney that I’d been humping for 3 days. Not only was it a great dinner, my pack weighed a whole lot less the next morning. Day 3: 5.0 miles.

To read part 2, CLICK HERE