On August 29, I summited Katahdin and completed my thru-hike of the entire Appalachian Trail.

All of my remaining journals will eventually be put up on this website beginning next month. Additionally, I will soon post all of my photos from my entire hike here as well – in addition to a final update of the stats, gear, and peak lists. Check back to read about the remainder of my journey.

Thanks for the memories.

Every day you may make progress. Every step may be fruitful. Yet there will stretch out before you an ever-lengthening, ever-ascending, ever-improving path. You know you will never get to the end of the journey. But this, so far from discouraging, only adds to the joy and glory of the climb. – Sir Winston Churchill

Today was book ended with highlights but the middle of it, and majority of hiking, was monotonous and frustrating. I initially had a 24 mile day in mind to reach Kincora Hostel for the evening. While other factors contributed to me stopping short of my goal, the primary reason was my late 10 am departure on account of eating breakfast at the Mountain Harbour B & B. Rumor had it that it was the best breakfast on the trail so far, and it more than lived up to that reputation. It was glorious, and I got to meet and talk with Mary who operates the B & B.

In our conversation, I learned that my friend AWOL was one of the first hikers to stay at Mountain Harbour and that he also contributed to the building of the hostel itself. I thanked Mary for the best overnight stay yet on my hike and told her I would be back with Allison in the future. I truly had a wonderful, relaxing, fun, and filling experience at Mountain Harbour.
The trail climbed to some high meadows that had splendid vistas back to the Roan Highlands. As impressive as they already were, the sight of their balds – from Big Hump all the way west to Roan High Bluff – were covered in snow. On April 28! What a sight! I’d get a view of them later in the day and the snow had disappeared. It wasn’t rime ice alone either – plenty of late arriving hikers yesterday told horror stories of the blizzard like conditions they encountered up there. While I enjoyed my warm perch in the hostel, I’m almost jealous I missed such a wild experience!

I enjoyed the trail as far as Isaac Cemetery, which skirted its border. The trail off and on followed old roads and would pass through several meadows. Even shortly after, a side trail lead to Jones Falls, which was much more impressive of a water fall then I anticipated and certainly worthy of a short side excursion.
Speaking of worthy of a side trip, I made the lengthy side trip to Elk Falls today. It was then that I ultimately made the decision to abandon aspirations of reaching Kincora. I reminded myself why I was out here: it was to see all the best sites in the Appalachians. This water fall is certainly one of them. I had always wanted to visit Elk Falls, and a recent reroute of the AT now took the trail down to Elk River. A mile side trip led me to Big Falls, as it is also known. Normally suppose to be buzzing with milling tourists, since it can be reached in the opposite direction by a forest service road, I had the falls all to myself. The water fall was spectacular and impressively powerful. It plunged with furry into a massive pool, far more voluminous than a typical falls. In fact, this falls drained into a small rock canyon. I heavenly enjoyed my side hike to this awesome location and it was worth the added time and effort expended. I only wish they would reroute the AT down from Jones Falls to include Elk Falls – even an old trail between the two exists. Shouldn’t the AT try to incorporate all of the Appalachians highlights that it can reach?

Visiting Elk Falls also gave me the opportunity to visit North Carolina one last time, as I crossed the border slightly to reach the falls, a Tar Heel possession. I found a side trail that descended from the AT to the banks of the Elk River, which I found appealing and picturesque. I was astonished by the beauty I saw on the other side of the river. A Max Patch-esque rolling hills of meadows, with a few venerable old trees sprinkled here and there framing the scene. The setting was so serene. This site was as pleasing as my visit to the falls themselves. The grass really was greener on the other side, and it’s no coincidence that the other side was North Carolina.
Following my return from Elk Falls, I resumed my hike on the trail in Tennessee. At least I no longer had to specifically turn to my left when relieving myself while hiking the state border as I had grown accustom to doing the past month. This at least makes things simpler.
The trail followed the Elk River downstream for a few miles. This was scenic and pleasing. With the AT typically following ridge lines, an over bank walk is a rare treat and out of character. When the trail left the river, I left my enjoyment of it on its banks.

The remainder of the day was a hike in and out of every possible cove, rivulet, and hollow imaginable. It was comparable to the dreaded Lake Shore Trail in the Smokies. Like that trail, today’s route had no major climbs but the culmination of three excessive, repeated ups and downs made the total elevation gain difficult to manage. The profile map makes it look flat and easy, just like the infamous Lake Shore Trail. But so far ascents do not register on profile charts because of their lack of stature. But multiply ascents and descents of 50 feet, the equivalent of 5 stories, about 50 times, and suddenly today’s hike was no easy walk.
But what made matters worse was that the trail was a green tunnel for nearly 10 miles, rarely escaping the rhododendron jungle. It was frustrating to never know my general location and have no views to assess my progress between intervals. There were very little land marks during this stretch and those that existed were very far apart. I grew frustrated, lost my motivation, and my pace slowed to a lackadaisical amble

I ate lunch at the new Mountaineer Shelter during this stretch, one of the few landmarks. This shelter was impressive – having three levels of sleeping platforms. It was constructed in just two days by the crew Bob Peoples the operator of the Kincora Hostel, known as “Handcore”. I would see other evidence of past projects completed by this industrious annual workhorse throughout my hike, though I cursed several of their excessive reroutes. I did however, enjoy both Mountaineer Falls and Handcore Falls, which they named and moved with wooden signs. I also would like to stay a night at the Mountaineer Shelter one day.

I finally emerged from this green tunnel section I deemed the “Tennessee Doldrums” at Moreland Gap where I am spending the night at the shelter. I did get a last vista of the Roan Massif from a view point while descending to the gap. It was similar to the only other one in the stretch where trees had been cut to artificially create a vista where a bench was positioned. Also a product of Bob Peoples, perhaps he realized how dreadfully unappealing this section was. But the latter view, I could see the grassy meadow ascending the hollow up to Yellow Mountain Gap – a historic route followed by the Overmountain Men, and Allison and I on a hike over a year ago.
So while the day was dominated by Tennessee Doldrums, it was highlighted by a scrumptious breakfast send off, picturesque meadow vistas, four waterfalls, and a pleasant river walk. What a great close to a dynamic day was when I hiked to the top of a knob to the west headed up White Rock, a few hundred yards up slope to improve my cell phone reception to call Allison. I was treated to the surprise of a moonrise – an event I had never previously witnessed. But this particular moonrise was a giant ball of orange – a full moon – cresting just like a sunrise over a distant mountain ridge. What great luck – and yet another dazzling display to add to my impressive collection of nature’s light shows. For this, I forgive you Tennessee, though I won’t be back to this section anytime soon. In fact, I better relieve myself one more time for good measure.

I have long known that it is part of God’s plan for me to spend a little time with each of the most stupid people on earth. – Bill Bryson

Everyone awoke this morning bitching about how cold they were last night. I don’t know how they didn’t see that coming. But everyone is an expert, so far be it from me to question them sending home their warm gear already. I’ve actually gotten criticized previously for having a zero degree bag, yet I was the only one who slept comfortably last night at 5,000 feet in a drafty old barn.

If I sound negative, it’s because I had a run in with one of the world’s biggest experts this morning. A problem with thru-hikers that have reached this far is that they prematurely have become experts even though they have only hiked 300 miles. This was everyone last night, at least until they woke up this morning dumbfounded though not humbled. But even worse is a section hiker who “hikes” on the internet all week long, takes a few side trips a year, and has more expertise than you could think possible.

I inadvertently encountered a guy like this morning while packing up. Naturally, he volunteers his opinion, unsolicited. He was talking about how he and his fellow experts at work put in a $100 each year – this year for a total of $1,300 – and they bet on people and whether they will make it all the way. I was actually somewhat amused at this fantasy footballesque spin on hiking. But then this a_ _hole was actually sizing me up and my prospects of making it. He had the nerve to tell me that “I was carrying too much sh_t” and continued “that I already knew that”. Oh no he didn’t. Suddenly someone not thru-hiking is judging my prospects of thru-hiking? And with such a smugness that he was lucky to not get my trekking pole through his neck. I was carrying too much, after all, and I would have been willing to part with it.

He also told me that “I quit my job to join the circus”. I usually don’t volunteer the information unsolicited but I decided this was as good of situation as any, so I let him know that my side career is writing hiking guide books and that my GPS, which he ridiculed, was an added luxury seeing how it allows me to get paid to hike the trail. This guy was a monumental a_ _hole.

Yahtzee, a nice girl from New York that I met yesterday and stayed last night, was sweet enough to offer up that she thinks I would be a pretty good bet to make it all the way. I appreciated this. But I hoped the jacka_ _ from Tennessee doesn’t bet on me – I’d be tempted just to spit on him if he did.
While I’m ranting, I’d like to reiterate how for each person out here that I like, there is an equal amount that I don’t, and this excludes know-it-all idiot section hikers. People have made this trip for me in ways I never anticipated, the great friendships I have made with so many. But plenty of other people have made their presence around me a miserable and intolerable experience. I knew that there would be a lot of drugs out here before I came, but I never could have anticipated there prevalence. I first thought about 50% of the people out here were involved with drugs, but I now know the number is easily 85 -90%.

Smoking weed and talking like an idiot isn’t my cup of tea – rather I detest the practice. Yet being out here is sometimes as ridiculous as being a teenager in high school, where suddenly I’m “not cool” because I don’t get stoned. I’m so heavely in the minority, frequently I remained ignored in large social situations or amazingly enough, negatively judged. No wonder why hikers have a bad reputation among regular society – they really are all stoners. Even many of my friends have this habit. I do my best not to judge them on it after I’ve gotten to know them and judged them in absence of the habit, but I make myself scarce when the drugs come out. I came to the trail for the mountains, the history, and the scenery. Most people apparently came out here to get high. I could do without all of them.

Perhaps now I’ll get back to speaking of my hike. I began a steep climb out of Yellow Mountain Gap, though not before idiot Tennessee section hiker exerted his correction to the information on the historical marking there. He managed to depart the barn just after me, though in spite of “carrying too much shit”. I had no problem leaving him in the dust while hiking up hill. Funny how that was ……..

The clouds were beginning to part, and I was very lucky to get a picturesque view back down the slopes to see the red barn nestled in the cove. When I emerged on to the bald before Little Hump, the clouds had not parted enough to make a side trip to Big Yellow Mountain worthwhile – a place that I love dearly when its amazing views are available. I’d get my chance for other balds today, as it turned out. I summited Little Hump and I was still socked in, but the clouds began clearing shortly thereafter. I was initially irritated by yet another TEHCC reroute descending Little Hump, though I came to terms with it since it used an elongated switchback that brought the trail back to the bald before turning toward Big Hump and reentering the forest.

By the time I reached Bradley Gap, the skies had cleared a good bit and the fog had dissipated. I could even see a few patches of blue sky though big, gray clouds loomed in the distance. Lee Barry, the oldest man to ever thru-hike the AT and father of modern southeastern peak bagging, once told me a story of hiking through this gap and seeing a fighter plane fly low and fast overhead, even waiving its wings at him. The view of Hump Mountain from the gap was so impressive. Hump is such an incredible mountain, one of my favorites and even a summit that North Carolina can claim entirely as its own. The entire 600 foot ascent climbs a bald ridgeline with nonstop views. While the climb is steep it mattered not since I stopped almost every 50 yards to take pictures and revel in the beauty that surrounded me. I never had a chance to lose my breath in the first place. I saw 2 cows during my ascent but did not view any longhorn steer that the others claim to see.

I reached the summit of Hump Mountain and was irritated to see a bumbling group of stoners getting blazed in a communal circle. It had, after all, been about 2 miles, so I’m sure they were well over due now since their last hit. I can’t wait to get away from this group of imbeciles. I almost wish for continuous sever weather, as I know our lack of it thus far has kept the dropout rate low. All these morons may have made it this far, but it won’t be difficult to break them.

I stopped just below the summit at a plaque honoring Stan Murray on the scenic Houston Ridge. Murray was the founder of the Southern Appalachian Highlands Conservancy and was instrumental in both protecting the highlands of Roan for future generations and bringing the AT over its scenic ridgeline. We are all indebted for the preservation of this southern Appalachian treasure and for its incorporation to the trail. Stan Murray, whom also chaired the ATC, is a personal inspiration to me – a man who devoted his life to protecting this beautiful land for the enjoyment of everyone. I gazed across the mountains and thought how rewarding it must be for an unspoiled view such as this and its indefinite preservation to be the result of your career and lifetime of work. This vista and its magnificence as a monument to your dedication is such a fantastic prospect. How amazing would it be for my children or grandchildren, or even those who didn’t know me to be able to enjoy and marvel in a place that I contributed to preserving. I could easily devote my life to protecting places like this, and I’m thankful Stan Murray gave his to save a place like the Highlands of Roan.

I took several photographs at the plaque and looked at in astonishment at the trail traversing the bald Houston Ridge. I descended the ridge slowly as to take in all of the scenery, though this was the equivalent of trying to drink water from a fire hose. The experience was visually overwhelming. Grandfather Mountain’s Craggy ridge line seemed surprisingly close. I could also see some of northwestern North Carolina’s most impressive peaks – Hawks Bill and Table Rock, Beech Mountain, Sugar Mountain, and Hanging Rock. Behind me, Grassy Ridge Bald was entirely enveloped in clouds.

It began raining, of which its intensity would increase gradually throughout the rest of the day, just as I exited the bald and reentered the forest and left the ridge. Yesterday I debated staying on Roan High Knob and rolling the dice that the weather would perhaps be better to traverse the balds today. I pressed on, and as it turns out I was lucky once again. I managed to traverse The Humps in the single weather window of the two days. Hikers are arriving this afternoon at the hostel with horror stories and photos of snow and blizzard-like whiteout conditions on the balds just hours after I passed through. At the moment, it is hailing outside and the hostel porch is completely covered in white ice pellets. Had I laid up at Roan, my theory that “the weather couldn’t be any worse” than the day prior would have been completely shot to hell, and I wouldn’t have gotten my cherished views from The Humps. Well played, I guess.

The rain slowed briefly when I approached the meadow at Doll Flats, where the trail says its final farewell to the North Carolina boarder. There, it departs into Tennessee for its remaining course to the Virginia border. Like on The Humps, it was as if the Tar Heel State was giving me a warm, final send off by ceasing its rain and granting me vistas. For this I am grateful. North Carolina will always remain first in my heart on the AT, regardless of the experiences to come. We had quite a thing going for a while. Oh, the Nantahala’s, the Smokie’s, the Bald’s and the Roan’s, how I will miss you so. You all are my best of friends, and I will return to visit you soon. Alas, I still have a long way to go and many more mountains to climb. Goodbye, North Carolina.

The rain resumed its downpour after Doll Flats, and I continued my field testing of my umbrella. Like yesterday, I loved it – even hiking downhill with wet socks and mud with the use of only one trekking pole. All the way down to the hostel, my upper body and most of my lower body remained dry. A lot of people on the trail + on my online journal have criticized or ridiculed the umbrella, but I doubt any of them have hiked with one before. Remember, everyone is an expert….

I detested the descent from Hump Mountain, especially just beneath the bald where the trail goes through a boulder field. It’s slow going, and a total ankle break zone, especially when wet. I remembered it from when Allison and I hiked it in December 2008. I didn’t care for it then, and I didn’t care for it today.

The final part of today’s hike passed through Wilders Mine Hollow. Evidence of pest mining was present from now overgrown pits and rock jumbles. Wilder was the man who owned the majority of the Roan during its days as an early resort destination during the existence of the Cloudland Hotel. He attempted to make profit from the Roans mineral wealth, though I do not believe he was ever gratefully successful at it. His Cloudland Hotel venture on the other hand, was a surprising success and put Roan on the map.

I reached US 19E, long known as one of the redneck capitals of the entire trail. I could see why. The rednecks had out done themselves this time, having made beer can mobiles using string and sticks and hung them from the small bridge just before the road. There are endless stories of red neck mischief here – including burning cars left at the trailhead, painting white blazes black, and hanging fishing hooks with fishing line across the trail at eye level. Hikers and red necks pretty much have entirely different views on just about everything. But we both love the woods. We like to walk it, they love to destroy it.

The Mountain Harbour Hostel is top notch. Many have said it is the nicest so far on the trail. It certainly is the cleanest, and coziest. Its a few more dollars than an average hostel but you get a real bed with sheets. It’s in a loft over a functioning, livestock hosting barn. It has all the amenities you need, and fits several people – not too many. I like the crowd here tonight which includes Day Tripper and Thunder, a guy and a girl that I’ve stayed with 3 nights now and enjoyed their company. I first met them my night at Curley Maple Gap. The Canadian Geese are also here and an older couple from Charlotte, as well as Blue Skies, a friendly lady I first saw in Hot Springs.

Both Day Tripper and Thunder each gave me a piece of pizza they ordered before I got here. It was so good; I’m ordering my own for dinner tonight rather than getting the shuttle to the restaurant. Having a great time here, and I’m excited about what is suppose to be a legendary breakfast tomorrow morning at the B & B house up the hill. This won’t allow me an early start, but should fuel me for a planned 24 mile day to reach Dennis Cove tomorrow – which would be my longest day yet.

“Without doubt the most beautiful mountain east of the Rockies” – Asa Gray, 1840, on Roan Mountain.

I had intended an early start today since I had the luxury of indoor accommodations. I awoke at 6:30am and heard a hard rain on the roof, so I went back to sleep sans alarm. I didn’t awake until nearly 9:00am. The hike back up to the gap was long and strenuous as I anticipated it would be when I descended the same route yesterday afternoon. I reached the gap and finally resumed my hike on the trail at 10:00am.

The first part of the hike I ascended Little Rock Knob. By the time I reached its summit, clouds had rolled in and obscured the views from just before the top at a rocky bluff. Nevertheless, I was quite pleased with bagging this peak, which I needed just a short side trip of a few yards to touch some high rocks. Having completed all the southeastern 6,000 footers and 5,000 footers, my interest in the “high” 4,000 feet peaks has grown. I’ve made a lot of brief side trips to 4,000 foot peaks on this hike because I may have interest in them all later on and relatively speaking, they are so close to my route, I can’t pass them up. But it is only the upper 4k peaks like Little Rock Knob among southeast peaks that excites me the most. This one has been on my list for a while.

On Little Rock Knob, I caught up to Brooklyn and Stretcher, two guys I frequently hiked with and spent the night with more times than not ever since Rich Mountain Lookout a while back. I’ve gotten to know them and always enjoyed their company. They also are the only two other umbrella carriers I’ve encountered on the trail, and coincidentally it started to rain. We all donned our umbrells, this being my first true field test of it despite carrying it all the way from Georgia without previous purpose. As it turned out, I loved it. I was so close to sending it home but now I think it will come with me the rest of the way.

Don’t knock the umbrella until you’ve tried it!

Plenty of people doubt the umbrella, yet haven’t tried it. How it functions is by keeping your upper body dry. If you stay dry, you stay warm. Meanwhile, if you wear a rain coat, it keeps you dry from rain, but soaks you and your clothing from sweat. It keeps you warm, but makes you extra vulnerable to cold when you are stopped or the temperature drops. But if you keep mostly dry in the first place, problem solved with the umbrella. I wear shorts to the top half which also stays dry. My lower legs get a bit wet, but they dry quickly since they’re not clothes. So even in 40 degrees, I stay warm and dry in the rain in short sleeves and shorts.

I went ahead of Brooklyn and Stretcher when we reached Hughes Gap. Here was the start of a monster climb to ascend the Roan massif. In the rain, the climb was slick and muddy. The umbrella helped to keep my spirits from sinking, as did putting on my mp3 player. As it turns out, I’d be willing to say the climb up Roan was the most difficult of the entire trail so far in terms of steepness. It reminded me of a climb in the Blacks, like the final pitch up Mitchell from Commissary Ridge or up Big Tom or Potato Hill going southbound on the Crest Trail. I handled the climb well, though it seemed like the top would never come.

I emerged at the old Cloudland Hotel site. The fog was thick and the entire ridge line socked in with clouds. This made it easy to skip an intended side trip Roan High Bluff since there would be no views. I walked briefly off the trail to a field, once the location of a popular hotel and early 20th century resort destination. Built in 1885 and replacing a smaller hotel, the resort was the venture of General John T. Wilder. Named Cloudland, the moniker bespoke “excitement, surprise, a spirit of exploration, and a place where miracles happen”. Today, the name was literal – it was a land entirely engulfed in clouds. In fact the Roan is known for this as much as it is known for its beautiful landscape and views – it’s said that Roan is in the clouds over 75% of the time.

This fact is why a fire tower built on the summit of Roan High Knob in the 1930′s didn’t last more than about 10 years since it could never get a view. I’d soon pass the remaining concrete footings of this tower on my side trip to the top of Roan. The lookout and its actual date of construction and period of existence still remain a mystery to my tower research.

The Cloudland Hotel was a 3 story structure and at 6,200 feet, was known during its existence as the highest human habitation east of the Rockies. It was popular with the wealthy tourists but also with the ill – especially hay fever suffers – who would come here seeking the healing power of the mystical mountain air.

The hotel was said to have had over 100 rooms and only one bathroom. Built straddling the state line, alcohol was said to be legal to sell in only one of the states (which one eludes me), so a white line was drawn down the center of the dinning room table to differentiate where alcohol could be consumed and representing the state line. Even John Muir visited the Highlands of Roan and was a guest at Cloudland’s in the late 1800′s.

The hotel was abandoned in 1910 and demolished about 5 years later when the Roan was logged extensively. But people kept coming to the Roans, as they always have. John Fraser visited the mountain in the late 1700′s and it was here that the botanist discovered Catawba rhododendron – a plant that now makes the peak famous when it blooms every summer. A survey team in 1799 was surveying the state line and included Tom Strother who wrote of the presence of the Roans famous balds even 200 year ago. And Doctor Elisha Mitchell came here in the mid-1800′s and claimed the Roan as “the most beautiful of all the high mountains”. That’s an impressive testament from a man whom had also explored Grandfather Mountain and the Black Mountains.

I press on in the rain and fog and reached the side trail to Roan High Knob. I touched the summit rocks and took a self portrait, pleased I had reached the top of the whole Roan massif – a county high point of both Mitchell County NC and Cater County TN as well as a 2,000 foot prominence peak, a range high point, and the highest point in the Cherokee National Forest, to a densely covered area in a balsam forest. I dearly wished the fire tower still stood though I would not have received views even with its aid today. This would be my last 6,000 foot summit until I reach Mt. Washington in New Hampshire, well over 1,000 miles beyond.

The small cabin that served as the living quarters for the tower watchman does still remain, however, and it was where I stopped to eat lunch and escape the cold rain. Erroneously but without exception described in guidebooks as a “fire warden’s “cabin, it was the fire tower keeper’s cabin – which is not really synonymous. The former presence of a lookout tower seemed ignored by the book writers and not at all odd for a house to be erected on a summit in the wilderness for the purpose of giving out burning permits.

The completely enclosed, two story house is really neat, and as I shivered while eating lunch, I was heavily leaning towards staying here for the day and night. I was thinking of gambling that the weather would be clearer tomorrow to go over the near-by balds beyond Carvers Gap. I remember thinking that “it can’t be any worse”. The temperature read 31 degrees and it was 3pm. The prospect of pushing on in the rain was a depressing one, but my friends Brooklyn and Stretcher were hiking on as were Day Tripper and Thunder. Staying would also mean along tomorrow, and I had been looking forward to a short day and relaxing at the Mountain Harbour Hostel. Begrudgingly, I sucked it up and got hiking again – I was ultimately glad I did this and proud – as it wasn’t easy to do. If there was ever a time to be lazy, this would have been a great time.

I descended Roan rapidly, as if somehow going fast would get me less wet. I reached Carvers Gap and took a side trip to get photos of the state line and gap signs, even in the rain. I had been here many times before, most recently last June when I joined three ultra-runner women on their final miles as they completed a South Bound 6,000 speed run. The weather was warm and sunny then and the rhododendrons were blooming. Today was dramatically different – conditions were miserable. It was here I confirmed my fears that my umbrella would not stand up to the wind on the balds, not even with crafty pointing it to adjust for gusts.

The Roan Highlands are a special place. I am lucky to have experienced them several times prior since today I could not see their beauty. This would truly be the first section that I would be deprived of views for an extensive period of the whole hike. That is quite good luck considering this type of white out fog and ice water rain that is inevitable along these high ridges nearly every other day on average.
Historical expert on the Roans, Jennifer Bauer, says the Roans “breed an air of optimism and possibility”. I had to try hard today to see the optimism! Roan comes with many legends and tails of mystical occurrences. This is said to be one of the only places in the world where you can see your shadow inside the clouds, as well as, the only place on earth you can witness a circular rainbow. I would have needed a hint of sun for each of these, and today the sun was nowhere to be found. And for centuries people have told tales of hearing mystical music on the mountain without practical or scientific explanation. Today my music was a deafening wind seemingly always in my ear.

The trail was a miniature river, but already soaked I tramped through it. I side stepped briefly to touch the summit rocks of Round Bald and then raced over Jane Bald – named for a women who perished here from milk sickness while crossing the state divide – and Engine Gap. Soon I was at the side trail to Grassy Ridge Bald, and neglecting a visit to its summit today was an easy choice.

Shortly thereafter, I passed a significant spot to me along the trail. Though nondescript in appearance, it was the location in December 2008 where Allison and I reached on a day hike. Our conversation had stalled and we were both quiet for some duration. Allison eventually broke the silence. She said: “I think you should thru-hike the Appalachian Trail”.

It was a moment I would never forget. In that single instant, I had a strange visual flash forward where a hundred visual images were running through my mind like a slide show on fast forward. All at once I saw myself on Springer Mountain, myself on countless summits. I saw sunrises and sunsets, I saw new faces. I saw good times and I saw hard times. I could feel the exhilaration and I could feel fear and tears. The slide show came to an abrupt end, one that gave me goose bumps to my skin. I saw myself weathered and bearded, standing on Katahdin.

I didn’t say anything back to Allison for a long period. I was deeply involved in this emotional side-consciousness. When we finally spoke and as our conversation went wild with how such an adventure would come to fruition, I realized how deep our relationship was, and how deep Allison’s love for me was. My burning desire to thru-hike the AT was something I never spoke about with her. I never could bring myself to suggesting I leave her for 5 months. As it turns out I didn’t need to. She knew my greatest dream anyway. She already knew how important hiking the Appalachian Trail was to me, and she knew I thought about it and dreamed about it every day of my life. Most significantly, she wanted me to live my dream, even if it meant sacrifices and a period of time apart.

So this ones not from the thru-hike, but it goes well here

It was this spot where my thru-hike really began. Ever since that moment, I had been preparing for my hike, dreaming of it not whimsically but with a sense of reality. I will never forget my emotions at this spot. Today, even in the pouring rain and driving wind, I stopped and cried. I got out my phone and called Allison. I left her a message and I thanked her. I told her how much I loved her. I tried to let her know how much this spot and what she said to me here truly meant to me, and that I felt like she was right here with me again. Even this moment I saw in my mental slide show over a year ago, right down to the tears.

After this spot, the trail ducks off of the balds and back into the forests. The wind became less of an obstacle as it was just prior on the balds blowing me off the trail itself. I moved quickly and completed the final miles to Overmountain Shelter.

I took the side trail to the shelter after descending to Overmountain Gap, a very historically significant location to perhaps even the existence of the United States itself. There, in October 1780, a militia of about 1,000 men from Tennessee – who would become known as the Overmountain Men – marched and crossed over the high state divide. They camped in this very gap before marching onward, gaining more men, and brutally defeating the British Colonel Patrick Ferguson at the Battle of Kings Mountain, what would be a turning point in the entire Revolutionary War and ultimately leading to the defeat of the British and American Independence. This gap was an important place indeed.

Tonight I am in a shelter – a red barn converted for trail use well over 25 years ago – with what seems like a million people. There at least 30 people here – too many for my tastes. I am not sure how so many people ended up here together. Some are my friends – including Brooklyn and Stretcher, Yahtzee, Day Tripper, and Thunder – but many I would rather not be around. This is a cold shelter and it will be a very cold night. I’m glad I have my warm sleeping bag. I am excited about the Humps tomorrow, but fear this rainy, foggy weather will continue.

“To myself, mountains are the beginning and the end of all natural scenery; in them, and in the forms of inferior landscape that lead to them, my affection are wholly bound up.”
-John Ruskin, Modern Painters, 1850

Since it ended up raining sporadically yesterday afternoon and more steadily in the evening, it perhaps was a good decision to stop short yesterday. Today, to the contrary, was sunny and rain never once threatened. I spent much of the first several miles of hiking today on the cell phone.

Still in visible sight of Erwin, I was excited to have cell phone service and knew that I would lose it soon enough in the days to come. I talked to Allison for a good period and to my parents even longer. I found the section of trail between the shelter and the first road crossing to be generally uninteresting as it was, so the telephone proved to be a perfect distraction that allowed me to connect with my loved ones while making good time on the Trail. I find I am often able to put away miles while talking to someone, be it on the phone or in person, and never dwell on how many miles I have to go or try to guess – always inaccurately – how many miles I have come thus far. Finished with my conversations, I arrived at Indian Grave Gap in practically no time, having hiked about four miles without once thinking about my progress. This proved strategic since I was to attempt 20 miles today, even in spite of my now routine late morning departures from camp.

Before the camera hit the ground…

John Sevier, Revolutionary War general and leader of the Overmountain Men that he marched from Tennessee to North Carolina and in the Battle of Kings Mountain, wrote that he buried the bodies of 145 native Americas in the gap now with the appropriate but grisly name Indian Grave Gap. I reached the gap at about noon. A paved highway crossed the mountain here and several highway signs marked the state border between North Carolina and Tennessee. I thought this a great photograph opportunity and I used my monopod trekking pole to set up a self photo. While I waited for the camera’s timer to count down and take my picture, the pole became loose and fell forward, slamming the camera into the hard gravel ground.

This how all the pictures looked after that hard hit…

While I was alarmed, this had happened a few times already on my hike, so I was only mildly concerned. However, this was the camera’s hardest hit yet, and it proved a fatal one. The camera still operated, but soon I discovered that its photos would only appear as while stripped images. I spent nearly an hour in the gap trying to repair the camera though what was causing its dysfunction was clearly internal and beyond my ability to fix. Nevertheless, I attempted a hundred different combination of its settings and after much frustration, I ultimately was successful in finding one specific setting where images could still be made without error in their development. My emotions had been uplifted after they spent a considerable time proverbially on the ground, like the camera. The thought of trekking through the Highlands of Roan without the ability to take photographs was a disappointing one, so I was excited I would not have to miss documenting that beautiful upcoming section of trail.

I climbed out of the gap through a recently burned section of the ridgeline. The trail was rocky and the lack of foliage on the trees made it very hot. I finally reached Beauty Spot, a small bald summit with tremendous southern views that look back into the direction of Erwin. And what a beautiful spot it was. This was my intended camping location last night, so I am fortunate that I waited until today so that I could enjoy its vistas. Unaka Mountain was visible to the east, and it loomed large and its spruce covered summit made it appear dark and ominous.

Shortly after Beauty Spot, I ran into Grapevine hiking in the other direction. He had arranged a slackpack at Uncle Johnnys and was hiking southbound back to the hostel without a pack. It was good to see him, and in spite of his lack of weight on his back, I had no interest in his hiking method. I am a stubborn traditionalist, and I personally will always hike northbound, I will pass every white blaze, and I will carry my pack every step of the way. That’s just my style, though it differs from the majority of those out here. I find slackpacking to be a break in what it means to thru-hike. Changing direction and forgoing your backpack suddenly turns the expedition into a series of section hikes and day hikes.

I made a slight detour through open woods to an NC4k peak. It is nameless on the topo map but I refer to it as Beauty Spot East. Afterward I reached Deep Gap and found the climb out of it and up Unaka Mountain to be steep and strenuous in spite of the switchbacks that I am sure were not always in place for my convenience. I think the rocky treadway of the trail made the ascent especially difficult. The heat didn’t help either.

I reached the top of Unaka Mountain, a summit I have visited twice before. It has no views but it does not need these to make it a magical place. Rather it is a eerily dark spruce forest, one that makes the top of the mountain so lacking in light that it seems like dusk even in the middle of the afternoon. It is a mystical forest albeit a bit spooky; it is a welcome contrast to the other forests through which the Trail passes.

Unaka is a P1k peak and NC 5k summit. It is a matter of debate whether it is the high point of the Unaka Range; this depends on one’s opinion as to the inclusion of the Roans in the range. I haven’t yet decided myself, to be honest. Nevertheless, it is a big mountain and I was pleased that the Trail actually passes over a summit for once. When Earl Shaffer crossed the peak in 1948, it was completely treeless following the devastation from a recent fire. These spruce were planted by the Forest Service shortly thereafter and in the sixty years since, the mountaintop has been reforested with a dark crown of evergreens.

The remainder of the day was uneventful, as I put my nose to the grindstone to churn out the rest of the miles to Greasy Creek Gap. I took a side trip to an unnamed peak but one identified on the topo quad with a benchmark listed as RFG 154. This peak is just east of Low Gap and the AT was supposed to come within a quarter of a mile of the summit. Unfortunately, the Trail appeared to have been rerouted, without purpose of course, so that the closest I got within the summit by trail was about 0.4 mi. I bushwhacked through open woods to reach its top, en route crossing the old route of the AT.

I stopped for an extended lunch at Cherry Gap Shelter before heading onward. Once again, the AT was supposed to head directly over the summit of another peak on my list, Little Bald Knob, another NC 4k peak. Yet once again, I found the trail to not reach its summit and instead contour around its north side. For me, this was the final straw with the TEHCC maintainers. I bushwhacked to the summit and found the old trail which did not suffer in the least from erosion. I swear that club sits around twiddling their thumbs thinking about where they can reroute the trail.

This particular reroute infuriated me. It wasn’t because I had to make a side trip, but rather at the lack of regard for the historical route of the Trail itself. The AT has gone over the summit of Little Bald Knob for seventy years. And without reason, this club has eagerly destroyed the history of its path. Rerouting for whatever reason as opposed to fixing whatever problem exists with the current trail is absolutely unacceptable to me. The eastern Smokies haven’t been rerouted in eight decades, and some of it even faces the damages inflicted by horses. That’s an example that shows that if built correctly in the first place, such drastic action isn’t necessary in spite of its high usage.

I’m suspicious that a reroute is more appealing to this trail club because of the enticement of a large scale project and the lure of building a new section of trail, rather than the less appealing effort of fixing an established trail. If the TEHCC could put half the effort that they put into reroutes into building and maintaining privies, then their entire mountainsides near shelters wouldn’t be the desiccated fields of human waste that they are now. And their trail shelters themselves are without question the worst on the AT thus far. I’m sorry for the soapbox, but their enthusiasm for reroutes simply burns me up.

Such effort is put forth to an unnecessary solution, and in the process results the destruction of history. Aurora told me that the ATC intends to begin a project to list the entire Appalachian Trail in the National Register of Historic Places. This is a sham. This is no preservation of history on the AT in regards to its route. It shouldn’t even be close to eligible considering the thoughtless abandonment of its historical course. I hope the listing succeeds, as per its regulations, any reroute wouldn’t be allowed considering it jeopardizes the history of its route, much like you cannot make drastic modifications to a historical structure without loss of its historic designation.

It took until Iron Mountain Gap to cool down about the TEHCC reroutes, but I know for certain my irritation will be resurrected over the next hundred miles or more. Iron Mountain Gap is today crossed by a paved highway but it is one of the high mountain passes that Daniel Boone crossed the Appalachian divide to reach Tennessee. Shortly beyond the gap, I passed through a pleasant grassy meadow that I read was an orchard many years in the past. Many hikers chose to camp here, including my friends Thunder & Day Tripper and Brooklyn & Stretcher, each whom I had been leap frogging on several occasions throughout today. I continued on in the early evening hours toward Greasy Creek Gap, climbing over an unnamed summit on the Iron Mountain range that counted as a NC 4k peak.

When I reached Greasy Creek Gap, I took a surprisingly distant side trip to the Greasy Creek Friendly hostel which was down slope on the North Carolina side. And my goodness it was down slope. I just kept thinking how arduous the start of tomorrow’s hike would be with the necessity of reclimbing all of this elevation that I had lost. I had planned to stay at this hostel based on the recommendation of my friend Allgood, who stayed here two years prior on his thru-hike. I must be honest and admit that my expectations were not met and I was disappointed with the hostel. No offense to Allgood, and no hard feelings for sure. Everyone has a different experience at certain places (note: Elmers). But I can’t emphasize enough the oddness of this place. It proved to be a decent place to spend the evening and at only $10 to stay in the bunkhouse, I don’t regret staying here. It was just really odd. The hospitality was quite present but mixed with some weird quirks and rules. Within only a few minutes time, I felt both welcome and unwanted at the same time. There is a strange, obsessive hand washing thing here. But that’s just one of the quirks. I really can’t say anything bad about Greasy Creek Friendly, but I can’t say I’d recommend it to future hikers. I’m sure I will pay the real price when I must reclimb the hill tomorrow morning in spite of the low rate. I’ll find out in the morning.

“A person needs at intervals to separate himself from family and companions and go to new places. He must go without his familiars, in order to be open to influences, to change.”
— Katherine Butler Hathaway

I stayed awake last night working on the computer. I made great progress in my work on my journal website and in catching up on coorespondence. This was a change from the typical frustration that has resulted from brief access to technology with too much to do with too little time to do it. I actually went to bed satisfied with my accomplishments rather than irritated at my short comings.

The consequence of this was that I only got about 3 or 4 hours of sleep last night. This was certainly a trade off, though I do feel I wished I would have taken longer advantage of a soft bed in which to sleep. But I didn’t think the sleep deprivation would have affected my hike today as much as it did.
My parents and I returned from Johnson City to Irwin and they treated me to my favorite breakfast, the Southern Smothered Breakfast Platter at Huddle House.

This dish involves taking most common breakfast food components and throwing them into a tall heap. This includes biscuits and gravy, bacon, sausage, hash browns, eggs, and cheese. I cut and mix it up into a massive, messy conglomerate of breakfast bliss. It takes a champion appetite to finish it, but I needed to use discretion seeing how I would have to deal with the digestive repercussions of over eating while out in the woods, so I stopped just short of finishing it off.

I bid farewell to my folks who dropped me off at Uncle Johnny’s. At the hostel, I had a prearranged meeting with Steve Schoof, a writer for Blue Ridge Country Magazine that was doing an article about the CMC’s South Bound 6,000 challenge program. Steve had completed SB6k last year and we had corresponded sporadically since then. I was excited to meet him and discuss a program that I chair for the club as well as remain so passionate about. Our interview was fun and relaxed and I am appreciative he drove from Asheville to Erwin just to speak with me.

After the interview, I saw two people I like dearly but hadn’t seen in a long time: Chef and So Far. It was great seeing them again. Like at Hot Springs, Chef claims to be headed out of town tomorrow, so hopefully he will catch me soon especially with my short day today. But he ended up staying a day in Hot Springs last week which explained why he had not caught me previously. So Far, on the other hand, plans to take several days in Erwin and it may be sometime again before I see him, though I suspect I will again soon at some point.

I really dragged my feet getting back on the trail today. It is hard to leave a town after pleasant encounters with friends and family, especially when today’s forecast called for severe thunderstorms. When I did get back on the trail just before noon, I was going at especially lackadaisical pace and hiking without drive. It was the combination of being sleepy and the reluctance to leave town. I experienced this when I left the NOC after crossing the Nantahala River. Today I crossed the Nolichucky before reentering the forest.

The trail was initially easy in grade and terrain so I was frustrated with my slow pace and missing motivation. I was just ambling along. Somehow I managed to catch Brooklyn and Stretcher, friends I had gotten to know over the past week since Hot Springs. After brief conversation, we all hiked together in silence, even when the steep, inevitable climb finally reared its head. I think they had a similar feeling to mine today as our pace wasn’t fast and our conversation limited. It was all reflected in us when we decided to stop at the first shelter at Conley Maple Gap at just 2 pm. We simply didn’t feel like hiking today.

I caught up on my sleep – a nearly 4 hour nap this afternoon, even without an inflated sleeping pad or comfort of a sleeping bag. I just plain slept. Now dark, the rain that the forecast promised is finally falling though without the severe storms that were suppose to develop. We have finally reached the point in spring and summer where it will be 40% chance of storms from here on out every day, so no need in taking stock in the weather forecast.

Tomorrow I hope to make 20 miles to Greasy Creek Gap, regardless of weather. I look forward to the return of my motivation and I am excited to get back on the trail in the morning.

When you look at your life, the greatest happinesses are family happinesses. – Joyce Brothers

I awoke to the sound of rain on my tent. It was like a lullaby to wake me up. My spacious, double wall tent allows me to rest easy in the rain, as I have no issues with condensation or water seeping in. With its large size, I can move around freely without worrying about hitting the mess against the rain ply and getting wet. Yes, my new tent is a hiker palace.

Since my parents were coming this morning, I was able to sleep in and lazily emerge from my tent. About half of the 20+ tents from last night were already gone. I reveled in not having to hastily pack up, and I enjoyed an hour of hanging out around the hostel.

My folks arrived and I was so excited to see them. It had been three weeks since their last visit and I had hiked about 200 miles since then. They were impressed with my fuller beard. I had not really gotten the chance to examine it myself at length until this evening in the mirror.

We spent the day taking care of chores like laundry, a run to Wal-Mart, the post office, etc. We ate a fantastic, extremely satisfying lunch at the all you can eat pizza buffet at Pizza Plus. We also milled around downtown for a while and visited the Chamber of Commerce before driving to Johnson City.
Erwin sits in a valley once referred to as “The Valley Beautiful”. I learned of this pleasing name from Sam Brocato, the head of the Partners of the Cherokee National Forest who is leading a project to restore the Pinnacle Mountain lookout tower on the north side of the valley. Allison and I travelled to The Valley Beautiful last fall to help with the fund raiser for the project.

We also travelled here over a year ago to meet with Charles Maynard, founder of the Friends of the Smokies and ring leader of the Mt. Camarerer restoration project in the Smokies during the mid-1990′s. We met to discuss the restoration of Shuckstack, and I hope to get Charles more involved in the initiative in the future. He is very influential in regards to the park and has the ability to aid significantly with such a project.

Irwin is famous, rather infamous, for once hanging an elephant to death in the early 20th century. A circus elephant in near Kingsport, TN, had trampled and killed its keeper. Irwin, having both the necessary equipment and the desire, organized to execute the elephant by hanging from a crane at their train depot. Thousands turned out to watch, though the first chain broke and another chain had to be used, ultimately taking the elephants’ life after an hour. I’m not sure if Irwin is proud of this, but it is an interesting story.

Tonight we are staying at the Doubletree Hotel, overwhelmingly luxurious accommodations that my tired body has been most enjoying. It has been a great day off spent with family I love.

“That man is the richest whose pleasures are the cheapest.” – Henry David Thoreau

This morning I tested out packing up all of my gear entirely inside my tent. The spacious room inside the tent allowed me to do this with rather ease and even in a quick, organized fashion. This will be superb when it finally comes time to actually do this in a downpour. Disassembling the tent, however, is not as quick of a process and the opportunity for the tent to get its interior wet will be present. Nevertheless, I love the new tent and the switch from the Big Agnes Seedhouse SL1 to the SL2 was a good one. The luxury and functionality are definitely worth the extra ounces.

I knew a beau coup of hikers would be descending from Bald Mountain Shelter today in route to the hostel in town and I wanted to beat them to ensure I got a spot. As it turns out, it didn’t matter because the hostel bunkhouse was full but at least I got a decent tent spot at half the price.

Nevertheless, I awoke early for my standards and left before 8:00 am, a victory for a morning that was extremely cold and one that required tent disassembly, two morning obstacles that usually slow my departure unreasonably. I would have even left earlier but I enjoyed hanging out briefly with Tree, Kricket, and Mr. Fusion while we ate breakfast.

The AT once turned off the ridge and dropped into Tennessee in Earl Shafer’s day, then climbing directly to Devil’s Creek Gap. Now it ascends to High Rocks, which I took the short side trail to its rocky Summit. The view here was limited. I could see Little Bald to the west and Flat Top Mountain to the north. Flat Top looked quite visually impressive as it is quite prominent. The lengthy side trip to its 4,710 foot summit was one I decided against today in favor of making it to town early. But I will return for it in the future. The view from High Rocks is increasingly becoming obscured by trees. Three years ago when I visited here it was more expansive. On that hike from Spivey Gap I found a lost and nearly starved beagle and then climbed to the summit to get cell phone reception to call the owner. I would hike back down to the gap to coax the stumbling dog back to its owner, and then re-climb this peak. Thus I was overly familiar with the next few miles of trail after having hiked it repeatedly.

I stopped for water just prior to the road crossing at Spivey Gap. The climb on the other side was steep and its difficulty caught me off guard. When the trail turned and began a gradual decent to Devil’s Creek Gap, I was thankful. The trail that connects the gap to No Business Knob Shelter went in and out of every single ravine and rivulet and around countless finger ridges, though it generally kept the same elevation, so the walking was pleasant and fast.

I decided that No Business Knob Shelter was named this because of its lack of privy, of which I greatly desired. The shelter itself was an unattractive cinder block structure. Kricket, Brooklyn, Stretcher, and Mr. Fusion showed up and we ate lunch there. We all headed out together and hiked in a train as far as the eastern shoulder of Temple Hill. One day I’d like to take the old road up to the summit where there use to be a fire tower. Today wouldn’t be that day, though I was pleased to discover a trail leading into Temple Hill Gap that will make a future visit easier.

I must have set the pace too high for the guys as they stopped to recuperate and hydrate at the top of the climb. I was easily hiking uphill in excess of three mph though I found it endlessly more challenging to follow a high pace yesterday chasing Kricket up Little Bald than it was to set a high pace in the lead. It’s a strange phenomenon.

Mr. Fusion must not have stopped long as he soon caught up to me. We both then essentially ran the handfuls of switchbacks down the ridge into the valley. The descending grade actually made it easier to jog then walk and brace your body weight each step. Mr. Fusion and I discussed how there exists a perfect speed where you are jogging downhill fast enough to make good time and ease the impact on your knees but yet not have your pack bounce up and down or be out of control. We both achieved that speed most of the way down. Several overlooks allowed us to see Erwin in the valley below, making us more eager. We stopped once at one exceptional overlook at a bluff that gave a view down into the Nolichucky River Gorge and a railroad bridge spanning the water. It is a view I had seen in many photographs and one I was excited to finally see in person.

We reached the road and banks of the Nolichucky River at 1:15pm, having left the shelter after lunch at 11:30am. I don’t know the exact mileage but this was a fast pace and reflected our eagerness to reach The Valley Beautiful.

As mentioned, Uncle Johnny’s bunkhouse was full, so I’m tenting out on the lawn for $8 dollars which includes a shower and bathroom privileges. Uncle Johnny, a cowboy hat wearing white bearded fellow resembling Kenny Rogers, told me he has the nicest bathhouse on the trail. I don’t know about that, but it is pretty good.

My new friends Kricket, Mr. Fusion, and Tree are also tenting here with me as well as a mid-50′s guy named Fog. I’ve really gotten to like Fog, who I met the night at Flint Mountain Shelter. He is a super-ultra light guy who thru-hiked in 2008. He has his system refined and he swears by it, though we just love busting his chops about hoe he must be cold at night, uncomfortable while sleeping, and hungry and thirsty during the day. He swears he suffers none of these problems, but we don’t believe him. Best of all, he takes our ribbing with a good attitude.

Following a shower, some relaxing, and some writing at Uncle Johnny’s, we caught the van shuttle into Erwin for dinner. One of the highlights of the day was having dinner at KFC where they had a “burger” where the middle was bacon, cheese, and sauce and the bun on top and bottom was replaced by 2 pieces of fried chicken. You’ve got to be kidding me……. And it was glorious. I ate it all without a struggle, and downed a large side of Mac among other things off of Mr. Fusion’s buffet plate. Fog took the revolutionary burger challenge with me too and also succeeded easily.

Tonight Uncle Johnny’s is packed. I counted 24 tents, and there are a least 10 people in the bunkhouse. Old Uncle Johnny is making a killing considering his overhead is practically zero. I do appreciate the free shuttle to and from town in return for my $8 dollar business. The social scene here is fun with lots of familiar faces and some new ones; though there are so many people one night will be plenty. Fog, Tree, and Kricket are leaving tomorrow as is Mr. Fusion so they will get ahead but maybe old friends will catch-up. Chef should be close, but still waiting on him and hope to see him soon.

It is a mistake to try to look too far ahead. The chain of destiny can only be grasped one link at a time. – Sir Winston Churchill

While I favor the clear days with blue sky’s to enjoy the views never is the forest more beautiful than a misty, foggy, spring morning. Today I hiked through the woods where the green of spring had exploded yet was shrouded in a mysterious fog. This persisted on the long climb up Lick Rock where I noticed remains of log cabins and several old grave sites. The history of the centuries of former habitation seem to be lingering as a secret floating in the fog. I wish to return to this area and discover its secrets in the future.

Near Devil’s Fork Gap, Kricket caught up with me and declared his desire to hike with me today. This was exciting; here was someone who wanted specifically to hike with me to get to know me and talk with me. I first met Kricket at the F-4 plane crash in the Smokies but spoke only briefly then. Kricket kind of reminds me of a young Matthew Mahconahey in both appearance and accent. He’s from Georgia and is a few years younger than I am. Apparently he took great interest in the topic of my book last night when it came up in the shelter. He asked me all about it with great interest and told me about his desire to get published. I shared with him the process and our conversation led to all topics. We discussed why each of us was out here hiking the trail, our educational background, and career interests. We discovered that we both have an interest of becoming college professors in the fields of interest that we have. We also discussed places we have traveled, gear we’ve used and now utilize on this hike, and our better halves in our life.

I spent the entire day hiking with Kricket and by the end of the day we had gotten to know each other well enough that it was as if we had been friends for years. Never had I hiked an entire day with someone on this trip until today, and it was a great experience. Kricket and I hike at the same pace – a fast one – and we got so lost in conversation that we were burning up the trail without realizing it. We hiked the nearly 9 miles to Hogback Ridge Shelter in only three hours, which included a brutally steep climb up Lick Rock in the drizzling rain.

It was this climb that included a neat water fall cascade as well as graves and old log cabin remnants. Lick Rock was on my peak bagging list as 4,000 footer. The trail went right over the top after climbing steeply following an old fence line. There were no rocks at the top despite the name. I side stepped from the trail to touch the top, explaining my hobby and obsessive – compulsive traits to Kricket and Tree, whom we reeled in on our hasty ascent. I’d later go over the summits with similar side steps of High Rocks, which again had no rocks whatsoever, an unnamed peak just prior to the grassy meadow before Street Gap, and Little Bald, a “fiver” which I had previously tagged on two occasions. I’m glad these peaks were all right on the trail as any side trips today would have separated Kricket and me.
We took an hour lunch break at Hogback Ridge Shelter marveling at our blazing pace. We made good time down to Sam’s Gap, where we took another 30 minutes to take advantage of the cell phone reception accompanying the interstate corridor. While on the phone with my Mom, I walked up hill and checked out a cemetery on the knoll that straddled the state line. I removed my coat and switched to shorts in anticipation of the drawn out ascent to Big Bald that we would tackle next.

We crossed under I-26, a route I had driven over handfuls of times and always mystically looked at the AT. It was finally time for me to pass through a moment I day-dreamed of every single drive over the mountain through this pass.

Immediately upon beginning the climb I encountered a familiar and friendly face. It was Jay Bretz and his wife, a Carolina Mountain Club member who has enthusiastically attended both of the hikes I have led for the club last year. I was hopeful to see a few CMC members on this section, and our coincidental encounter was quite fortunate timing. As it turns out, Jay had met Kricket several days prior near Max Patch while hiking, another unlikely coincidence. The brief run-in with Jay was exciting and lifted my spirits for the impending climb.

Again Kricket and I burned up the ascent by getting lost in conversation. We again maintained a 3 mph pace, even on this 6.5 mile, nearly 2,000 foot climb. We enjoyed the views from the meadow prior to Street Gap. Big Bald still looked very distant, and a big cloud was still hovering over its very upper summit. We hoped it would lift before we achieved its peak, and our timing was fortunate that it did that just in time, though not without extreme effort in climbing its final, rock pitch of considerable steepness just prior to the bald.

Right before emerging on to the bald, we passed a side trail that leads down slope to the cave and former living quarters of the “Hermit of Big Bald”, David Greer. Known as “Hog Greer”, this man became a reclusive and lived years in solitude on this majestic mountain. The story is extensive and I will skip its bulk though if interested both George Ellison and J. R. Tate are authors whom have published excellent narratives on this man and his peculiar story and life style.

We soon reached the summit of Big Bald, at 5,516 feet, the highest peak in the Bald Mountains Range and highest between the Smokies and the Roans. This is a 2,000 foot prominence peak and the high point of Unicoi County, TN. But most of all, its views were out of this world. The clouds had lifted and individual rays of sun were protruding through them all over as if being beamed down by space ships. These rays were illuminating both valleys and distant peaks, and the light show was as fascinating as any sunrise or sunset. We could see Camp Creek Bald looming large in the distance were I had laboriously climbed to the summit just two days before. The Smokies were distantly visible to the southwest, and Mt. Mitchell and the Blacks seem tangibly close to the east. The Roans were hidden behind clouds to the northeast, obscuring our intimidating destination of the next week.

It was great to share the exhilaration of reaching this summit with someone else like Kricket, as well as Mr. Fusion whom we caught upon reaching the summit. I shared this feeling with Allison last spring on a crystal clear day on this very mountain top.

The wind was howling and temperatures in the low 40′s, so we all were freezing are asses off, but so excited that we spent at least 10 minutes taking photos of both the views and each other standing on the bald. This was another summit that was difficult to leave, though the frigid conditions made our parting somewhat less difficult.

Our hike for the next mile took us down the peak, though the gap of Big Stamp, and across a ridge that all remained bald and with captivating non-stop views in all directions. The Smokies will always be my favorite, but the southern Appalachian balds will always exhilarate me to the utmost degree every time I walk across their beautiful summits. These dramatic transitions from deep forests to overwhelming vistas that persists across ridges are a highlight of the trail in the south. I look very forward to the grandest of southern Appalachian balds in the Highlands of Roan as the ultimate finale before leaving my home state for the final time on this adventure.

Kricket and I reached Bald Mountain Shelter at 5 pm and discovered a large crowd of thru-hikers that we had caught. We were both feeling good despite a challenging 19 miles thus far, so after getting water, chose to push on to a camp site further along the trail. The strategy of getting a head start on this conglomerate of hikers, all surely hostel-bound for town tomorrow, also appealed to us. Yul the Mule, whom I met at Albert Mountain weeks back and drank with at the Laundromat in Hot Springs, recently, joined us.

Having led all day, I let Kricket lead for this final 3-plus mile leg. I learned it is infinitely more difficult to follow a high pace then to set one. The short climb up Little Bald nearly did me in and it took all my energy to stay on the heels of Kricket. I side stepped to the summit at the top of the climb, but this act was as much to steal a break to catch my breath as it was to touch the top. I had been here before, after all.

We reached Whistling Gap in under an hour from the shelter finishing a long day of amazing pace at its highest speed right at its end. Tonight I am camped with Kricket, Mr. Fusion, and Tree, whom also had a big day and pushed the distance here. This was my longest day yet and involved several killer climbs, yet my body feels great. Perhaps I am finally coming into my endurance hiking form. I have no blisters, foot wounds or hot spots, and no muscle aches or even foot soreness. My feet must have finally acclimated to the Superfeet insoles, which finally seem to be worth their high price tag. And I attribute my lack of blisters and soreness in my Achilles and ankle to the thinner liner socks that Southern so graciously bestowed to me in Hot Springs last week-end. Thanks, Southern – they did the trick and have me hiking in top form.

We have a fire going and are enjoying the evening just shooting the breeze. Mr. Fusion mentioned that our day was a “one percent day”, or a hike in excess of 21.7 miles. We’re proud of our accomplishment today. It was Tree’s first 20+ miler, and it sure made me feel better about my sub 6 mile layup yesterday, especially feeling as good as I do after that distance and pace. “Only” 13.6 miles to Erwin tomorrow and we are all drooling over the array of food options that will greet us upon arrival.
I’m using my new Big Agnes Seedhouse SL2 tent tonight for the first time. I’m already excited about the looks of its spacious interior. I hope for an early start in the morning to head off the crowd coming down from Bald Mountain Shelter. Town tomorrow!