A Carnival Magic Cruise Review

On our last cruise, somewhere in the Caribbean, the wife and I met with the Future Cruise guy, and signed up to sail on the Carnival Magic during Spring Break in 2017, from April 8-15th. If you were on that one, write a comment.

So on Friday the 7th we began our arduous journey to Port Canaveral. The first thing you have to know about driving from South Carolina to Florida during spring break is, it sucks. There’s just no way around it. Our state pays the lowest gas tax in the nation (so I’ve heard) and as such there is little money to fix and improve roads. Although I-95 in Georgia and Florida are three lanes the whole way, in South Carolina: they’re only 2. It’s not a terrible route until you get south of the I-95/I-26 intersection, then it slows down sometimes to a crawl. We made it through, even after the WAZE app tried to get me to get off and go around, and, like water through a fire hose, got squirted out into the relatively wide open space that is Georgia.

Georgia is pretty, but boring. You’re almost within sight of the ocean for a lot of the drive, and it’s all marshland and lazy rivers, with few opportunities to get off the interstate for food and gas. But finally you go over one last bridge and you’re in Florida. We stopped in Jacksonville for the night and stayed with some relatives, then it was up the next day for the 2.5 hour drive to Port Canaveral.

Port Canaveral is my absolute favorite of all the ports I’ve been to. Charleston is convenient, but because it’s downtown you have to deal with traffic. Miami sucks. There’s no organization at the port, it’s like a free-for-all, and I-95 ends in downtown Miami, so you have to deal with confusing directions and getting across traffic through 4 or 5 lanes to make right and left turns several times before hopefully getting the right terminal, because Miami terminal is huge. Plus there’s the depressing GPS that says, “Take I-95 south for 500 miles, then keep right.” NO! Port Lauderdale is just about as bad distance-wise, but at least it’s organized.

But Canaveral is a thing of beauty. First it is out in the middle of no-damn-where. Since apparently space isn’t important anymore there’s not a lot of traffic around the cape. You get off I-95 and go east along a 4 lane causeway, get to the terminal which only holds two or three ships, and they have actual traffic cops to get you a spot with the porters right by the door. Then you park across the street using pre-paid parking, and walk right in. We always try to get to the port an hour after they start letting you on. Usually the lines are down a bit and there’s not much of a wait. This time there was a huge line to get into the building, but it went pretty quickly. I think half the problem was people not knowing what to do with passports and health forms.

Before they let you on the boat you have to produce your passport (or license and birth certificate), your boarding pass, and your health form. They spell all this out on the web site and even let you download and print everything before you go. Yet there’s always someone that’s missing stuff, or it’s in their bag they just gave the porter, or they have to put down everything they are carrying (because they’re trying to carry on 6 suitcases small enough to fit in the X-Ray). The most common forgotten item seems to be the Health Form.

If you’ve never cruised before, they make you promise that you’re not sick, feverish, have the runs, or are past 24 weeks pregnant. Since you probably paid $3,000 or so to get there, probably don’t have trip insurance, and if you did start feeling sick its only in the last day or two, you’re probably going to lie on the form. So we take loads of hand sanitizer. They give you the forms to print out, but there’s always a line of people at the health form table filling out their lies.

Finally through the third stage (passport check, x-ray, health forms/door keys), you’re shoved off past the photo guys and up a ramp to get onboard. This is when I start feeling good. Up until now, anything could happen. I have HUGE cruise day anxiety. From the ride there (where I could have a flat, an accident, or even some total catastrophic engine failure), to the port issues (like parking, porters, forgotten luggage), to the check-in process (did I remember the passports, the health forms, the boarding passes, and did getting gas in Florida trigger the bank to lock out my credit/debit card?), I’m always worried something bad will happen to keep me off the boat. But the moment they wave you through check-in over to the photographers, there’s a sigh of relief. It keeps getting more relaxing the whole way up the ramp, and then when you step across onto the deck, it’s all good. You’re on.

The first thing we do is check our room. It’s nice to see where you’ll be spending 7 or 8 days, drop your carry on bags, and maybe use the bathroom (especially if you just lied on the health form and you’ve got the runs). This trip, I had a surprise for the wife (not the runs). Our last cruise was on Carnival Sunshine. Every night after they finished the shows, they turned the lounge into a sort of night club by removing the tables and pushing the chairs to the side. Then they club it up until like 2am.

When I initially booked this cruise, we have a room way far forward, under the lounge. I was scared there would be a noise issue, and paid for a different room midship with a surprise – a Cove Balcony. We weren’t under the lounge, instead we were under the galley. A move we would come to regret. But the wife didn’t know about the balcony, because I kept it secret. So I opened the curtain and she was like, “whaaaaat?” Then we went upstairs to eat. Because on a cruise you have to eat at least five times a day.

The first thing we noticed over the Sunshine was this boat was a lot wider, and a deck taller. I kept trying to go to deck 9 for food during the first three days of the cruise, but on this ship Deck 10 was where they slopped us hogs. They had divided the food areas into three separate areas. Outside by the pool (yes there were already drunks and people in bikinis even though the boat hadn’t moved) was Guy’s Burger Joint and the bars. At the rear pool there was pizza and another bar. In the middle of all this was a forward buffet line and stir-fry hibachi place. Then there was a separate aft buffet line with different stuff and the Italian place. I’m not sure what it is with Carnival, but the Italian place is always staffed by Russians.

Before we left it was time for the Muster Drill. This is where they usually force you onto the utilitarian area of the deck and group you into lifeboat groups in case the boat sinks or burns up. They give you a safety demonstration with life jackets and talk about what to do in an emergency. Usually by now the alcoholics on board are already half inebriated, and some even bring drinks to the drill itself. I know it’s Carnival, sort of the Wal-Mart of cruise lines, but people, please: Try to stay reasonably sober until the drill is done. On the magic it was a bit nicer, they grouped us inside and the Cruise Director read the instructions over the intercom in a variety of vocal impressions. It was our first meeting of “Dr. E”.

He sucked. I still remember my first cruise director, a rather large stout Englishman who told some hilarious stories. Then there was a more recent one, Jamie D., who was really funny and attractive. She was American (I know right, an American staff member?). On our most recent cruise, the CD was some English or Australian woman who wasn’t great, but still memorable. This guy just sucked. He LOVED to hear himself talk and would come on the intercom and jabber on for ten minutes, not only telling you what was going on around the ship, but pushing sales of stuff in the stores, photo places, and bars. It was sort of like being trapped watching an irritating car commercial where they scream at you.

So, finally underway. I was able to locate a section on the front of the ship as near to the Titanic “King of the World” scene as they allow you to get these days. SO, If you’re on the Magic – go to deck 10 and go all the way forward until you’re looking at stateroom doors. At the end of the hall turn left or right and go out the little unmarked door with the porthole. Theres a second door at the end of the short hallway that leads to a curved balcony that anyone can use, but there’s almost NO ONE there. It runs around the entire front of the ship so if you want to look out either side you can. You can also go down a deck to 9, and stand on the roof of the bridge, on the little wings that stick out the side of the ship. Again, it’s another balcony that almost no one uses except in port. You can get some great pictures there looking off the front of the ship.

While I’m standing there looking out with a few other people, they blast the horn and we’re off. I got to watch us leave port, which was fun, and within ten minutes the pilot boat was gone and we were out in the ocean. There’s a beach right next to the terminal, and people were screaming and waving at us. It was impressive, more like the “Old Movie Feel” of old cruises, than the modern utilitarian Airport feeling most departures give you.

That evening, we met our tablemates. For the last three cruises we’ve wound up at tables alone. I HATE shared tables. I guess I know why the tradition persists. Boats get full, so instead of sticking three parties of three at three tables for four and having 3 empty seats total, you put the nine people together. I get that. But I hate it. I don’t like forced social situations and would prefer not to have to interact with others in that setting. The people were really nice, though. The other families were from Conway, SC and from Lexington, SC, so at least they didn’t dump us in with a bunch of foreigners or yankees or weird eaters. No one at the table was vegan or part of the gluten-free fad or anti-GMO crowd. We all liked our meat, bread and sweet tea. And even though they were from the South, no one seemed overtly religious and asked to join hands and pray or anything. I was REALLY glad for that.

Overnight, we learned the hazards of being under the galley. I noticed in the lounge that the seats and tables were bolted to the floor, so there would be no moving stuff around for a nightclub like on the Sunshine. At 2am we learned that apparently in the galley there’s a crew bowling tournament where they use beer kegs and water jugs. I also think they were forging swords on anvils up there. I can’t explain the noise any other way. I complained to the steward the next morning, but the noise continued the whole week. The future cruise guy told me the rooms under the galley are the worst on the ship for noise, and to avoid it if possible.

Our following day was a Day At Sea. Days at sea mean different things to different people. For some people it means laying out by the pool and drinking. My family is quite pale. In mid-winter we give Snow White a run for “Who’s the Fairest of them all”. For white people, we are REALLY white. We burn quite easily and thus use lots of SPF 8000 sunscreen, which keeps us white instead of red. Unfortunately it keeps us white instead of tan. But that’s okay, because I’ve “Lobsterized” myself before, and it’s no fun sleeping on your stomach on the floor with a wet towel on your back, and having someone peel crackling skin off of you. So we tend to stay inside with our whiteness for the most part, an play trivia and other games that old pale white people enjoy. We learned the “Thriller” dance from Michael Jackson’s video, but we’ve done this on three cruises now and the steps are always a bit different.

Day 2 – Dominican Republic. The wife and I had never been to the Dominican Republic. I found it interesting and pretty, and she didn’t. The first thing about the DR was it was supposed to rain. They loaded us on these Outback Adventures open-air trucks and took us to a plantation of sorts where they make chocolate and coffee, as well as grow things like plantains. It rained the whole time and we drove through a few rushing creeks to get there. The phrase “Turn Around, Don’t Drown” is apparently unknown in the Dominican Republic. Our tour guide, Yoki (pronounced like the English word “Jockey”) was very down to Earth and even said the word “shit” like 5 times. After surviving the creek crossings (made worse because of the downpour, I guess), they took us to their outpost and fed us while some ladies in Carnival (the party, not the cruise line) outfits danced for us in traditional styles. After that it was off to the beach.

I wasn’t a big fan of the beach in Dominica. It was on the Atlantic Side, in the middle of nowhere with no bathrooms. The beach was narrow, without much room. They provided Boogie Boards and the tour guides acted as lifeguards because apparently the currents there could get bad, and they didn’t want you going past the breakers, since the next stop on your trip would be Cuba. But Yoki showed Kaylee how to boogie-board. When it was over we went back to the boat. The countryside was interesting but typical of Caribbean islands, there was a lot of poor mixed in with the beauty. The traffic was crazy and I was convinced we were going to kill a motorbike rider before the day was done.

While in Dominica I bought a bottle of wine and a bottle of Pineapple Liqueur. When we got back to the boat, of course we had to go through x-ray and they pointed me towards the Liquor Nazi. Cruise ships don’t want you bringing liquor on board, because they way overcharge for drinks and they want to profit off of that. They also want to control how much you can drink, so they like knowing if you’re acting like a drunken fool, they can cut you off. They will confiscate your booze and then return it to you the last night of the voyage. So, I have come up with a few ways of sneaking my booze past the booze Nazi. They involve subterfuge and misdirection, much in the same way a magician pulls a quarter from behind your ear. No, I won’t reveal my methods here. I’m sorry, but I need to keep them to myself in case they become enough of a practice that the booze nazis figure it out. It was a relief to get past the crew and hide my liquor in the stateroom. If you do sneak liquor on board, hide it in a closed suitcase or backpack. If you leave it in the open, they WILL take it. But, if it disappears from a closed suitcase, you know the steward has been going through your stuff instead of just cleaning, and you’ve got a heck of a complaint on them.

It’s always a bit of a relief to get back on the boat after an excursion. I have a fear of something happening and the boat leaving us behind. I went out to the balcony when it was time to leave. A young woman about six balconies aft of me stuck her head out as the thrusters came on and we started moving. She looked at me and yelled, “Are we LEAVING?” in a very frightened voice. I said yes and she ducked back in saying “Oh my GOD!” I really would like to know the story behind that. I’m assuming maybe she had a cabin for one after we left Dominica?

That night was “Formal Night”. Formal night is optional, but if you want to eat the the main dining room, you are supposed to dress up. Despite my protestations to the contrary, my wife strongly urged me to wear a suit jacket. A lot of men have dumped the jacket and just wear a button up shirt and tie with some slacks. Formal today just doesn’t mean what it used to, thank goodness. I tried to get the wife to save some packing room and dump the suit for a nice button up shirt, tie, and slacks, but she would have none of that. We took a few awful pictures after dinner, and went straight to one of the shows. I REALLY like the Magic’s theater over the Sunshine’s. It’s a large theater, and unlike on the Sunshine, you don’t have to show up 30 minutes early just to get a seat. Even during the show I noticed a lot of empty seats.

The next day, we rolled into St. Thomas. We’ve been there a few times, and it’s always nice. We lined up right on the pier and got on a ship to St. John. The wife hated it. This trip was pretty turbulent on the water, and the little boat was no exception. She wound up moving to the back of the boat at the Captain’s suggestion, and felt much better back there. St. Thomas was also considered a US territory, and AT&T worked there, so I got to catch up on both e-mails from work AND facebook. Time to send pictures and make the people at home jealous.

Once on St. John, they took us to Trunk Bay, considered one of the top ten beaches in the world. I’m not sure why. Yes, it was pretty, but the beach was also sort of narrow without a lot of shade unless you went into the trees off the beach. The facilities were okay (it had a small beach bar and place to get a drink), but not overwhelming. I liked it, and would go back, but I’m not sure why it’s one of the top 10 in the world. We snorkled a bit but the current kept pushing us to one side, between a small island and the main island. The small island was only 100 yards away or so, but they didn’t want anyone going to it and kept fussing at people.

When it was time to go I put on my purple shirt with the Flying Spaghetti Monster logo on it, and while I was turning my snorkel in, a man said, “May you be blessed by His Noodly Appendage”. I was shocked and felt relief that I had met a like-minded soul. R’amen.

The trip back to St. Thomas was uneventful as well, although the seats in the back filled up and the wife had to sit by herself again. We walked right off the little boat, across the pier and onto the big boat. Safe onboard, it was time to eat. No formal night tonight, just unlimited bread in a box.

The following morning we rolled into San Juan, and I really do mean rolled. The waves were pretty steady at 4-5 feet. Every now and then the boat would shudder as we hit one just right. The wife would ask “What was that?” and I’d say, “We hit another whale”. We were late getting into San Juan and parked at a difference place than normal, because apparently someone climbed the fence and was messing around at the main terminal overnight, so they had to move us. We parked right next to the Norwegian Gem, which was pretty impressive. The piers look pretty wide most of the time, but with that other boat parked next to us, it looked like a narrow back alley.

We filed out of the ship after the main crowd got off, and walked around old San Juan on our own. San Juan is somewhere you really don’t need to pay for exorbitant excursions. Everything to see in Old Town is within walking distance of the ship. Theres an old fort (San Christobal), although El Morro on the point is nicer, you can get a taxi and do a walking tour in about an hour. Colon’ plaza is right up the hill from the boat, as well as old city hall, some really old church, and if you walk the other way (east) there’s the capitol building and a long display of bronze statues of US Presidents. There’s plenty of vendors selling counterfeit merchandise and lots of little places to eat. There’s also Starbucks.

The rain was coming, so we didn’t stay in San Juan very long. I’ve been here five times and haven’t gotten a geocache yet. Next time, damnit. Next time. We were back on the boat before the mad rush and watched the rain roll in while we played trivia.

Our last stop was Grand Turk. We were late getting there because some idiot decided to sink their sailboat in 7-8 foot seas, and had washed up on a little island in shallow water. Our boat had to head that way in case they needed rescuing, but the water was too shallow for the cruise ship and we just hung out until the Coast Guard arrived to help them out. Grand Turk is a nice place, Carnival owns the port and there’s only room for two ships. When we arrived there was a Norwegian CL ship next to us, but they were going to leave first. We got off the boat and looked around in the little shops. They have a fenced-off area with chain stores like Del Sol, Margaritaville, Diamonds International, and all the standard big name cruise shops that they try and get you to hit up in ports. The locals can’t go in this area and harass the cruise ship passenger to buy crafts and hock tours and hair braiding, so it’s nice. There are two beaches with free umbrellas and chairs and such. They have greatly increased the amount of stuff available.

Once we had looked at the overpriced cruise wares in the shops, we went back to the boat, changed, and went back out to the beaches. We tried the area to the right of the pier first because it was less crowded. We found out why really quickly. There is a rocky reef that’s hard to walk over, and keeps you from getting to the swimming area. If you just want to lay in the sun or under an umbrella, this is the side you want. So we moved to the other side where there are few rocks and you can actually swim. After about an hour in the semi-cool water, we were ready to get out, tired and hungry. We boarded the ship quickly because we didn’t wait until the last minute, and watched Grand Turk disappear into the distance.

The last Sea Day is always both relaxing and disappointing. There are no more islands to look forward to, just getting home. Then there is the repacking and all the last evening. It was very bumpy and windy. They shut down the ropes course, so the daughter and I never got to do that. Rain and wind killed the pool deck, so everyone came inside. The biggest indoor game draw of the week seemed to be the Friends and Harry Potter trivia games, we had the whole deck 5 plaza full of people. There was a side door that people kept coming in, and with 40mph winds blowing across the plaza inside the ship every time it happened, the crew finally turned the door off and blocked it. We played a little of the slots in the “Cancer Club Casino”. I’m sort of glad they allow smoking in there, because I might spend more money if I didn’t worry so much about hacking up a lung on the trip home. I lost $10.

We have learned to pack light and carry off our own stuff. On our first cruise we have about five bags for me and the wife. Now we are down to a bag each for the wife, daughter and I, plus a backpack for me and the wife.  That’s pretty much it. The schedule on the paper they gave us said our “zone” would be released about 1030am. BUT if we wanted to carry off our own stuff, we could leave at about 8:00. They were even faster than they estimated, and we were off the boat in the car before 8:00am. It was a whizz getting through customs and out the terminal.

My only concern was the coffee. You’re not supposed to bring back plant and animal products without declaring them. There’s some huge fine and penalties if you don’t, and there are certain things you can’t bring back at all. I bought the wife Roses once on an anniversary cruise. Even though they put them on the ship in Florida, and they never left the ship, I couldn’t bring them back into the US and we had to dump them in the trash. So here I am bringing foreign coffee into the country. The customs guy didn’t even look twice at the declaration form. He took it from me, put it in a pile, and looked at our passports. That was it. You used to have to meet with the customs agents before getting off the ship, but they don’t do that any more.

The worst part of the trip? The drive home. If you thought driving SOUTH on 95 was bad, drive north into South Carolina during the end of spring break. Not only do you have all the cruise and Disney people going home. All the old people and northerners wintering in Florida are clogging the freeway since Spring has sprung. I swear every other license plate was new york/new jersey. We got near the Georgia/South Carolina border and WAZE told me to get off. We took a scenic tour of the SC Low Country and passed a Welcome to South Carolina sign in the middle of a swamp, but we skipped a lot of the worst part of the interstate. We got home two hours later than WAZE predicted, but we did skip traffic and stop to eat at Tijuana Flats.

If you don’t have the WAZE app – get it. WAZE is a user-fed GPS/Traffic program. It works like a normal GPS, telling you how to get places. But it knows where other users are along the route and how the traffic is moving. It uses that information, as well as user-inputs like construction zones, accidents, and stopped traffic, to automatically reroute you. You can add stuff as you go along, such as police (hidden or visible), objects in the road, vehicles on the shoulder, roadkill, bad potholes, etc., all with safety in mind. The app will warn you when you are approaching these things, and you can confirm they are there or you can say they are gone. It’s a really helpful and fun app, just don’t try putting in roadkill while you’re doing 80 on someone’s bumper.

Oh and here’s our cruise movie:

I apologize for the bad resolution but since I use the Vimeo free side, I’m limited to 500mb movie uploads at any one time.

Rainy days in Roan Mountain.

Our hike on the weekend of March 31 to April 2 was indeed sort of an “April Fools” hike. It started with the weather. Three of our intrepid adventurers headed to Mountain Harbor Hostel on 19E late Thursday, and spent the night. Because of work and family stuff, I got 2 hours of sleep and drove up for four hours on Friday morning, getting there at 8:30am. And I missed breakfast. Thankfully, although I drove through a lot of rain and lightning on the way up, Mountain Harbor Hostel was in the clear. Our shuttle driver picked us up and we headed over to US321 at Watauga Lake.

On the way over, we found the rain. By the time we hit our dropoff point, most of us had fished out the raincoats and were ready. A friendly Sheriff’s Deputy sitting along the road at the dropoff took our picture, and we headed up into the woods, Southbound towards the hostel. We immediately missed a turn and the mailman who was driving by pointed out the AT and we headed up the hill. Our first hill was a doozy, up almost 2000 feet for half the day, then back down the other side. We followed a river down to Laurel Fork Falls where, thankfully, it was too cold to swim, because apparently people have drowned there. We had a nice leisurely snack and took 87 pictures, including a group pic, before moving on. From Laurel Fork it was a straight up climb along rocks piled into stairs, and then along the river corridor. The highlight of this section was the cliffside walk along the trail where we had to hold onto the rocks to keep from falling into the cold swift water. I forgot to unsnap my hip belt, which is a prudent thing to do is you fall into the water, so you can dump your pack instead of being dragged down to the Appalachian equivalent of Davey Jone’s Locker. (Billy Joe Jim Bob’s Holler?)

My original plan was to just find a campsite somewhere, but Dorothy had other ideas. Before we left, she said she wanted to go spend the night inside somewhere, mainly due to the likelihood of rain. Putting up tents in the rain sucks, taking down tents in the rain sucks, and carrying around wet stuff sucks too. We aren’t thru-hikers, we have options and the opportunity to “wimp out” in the weather. So, she had arranged for us to stay at Black Bear Resort, just half a mile off the trail down a paved road. We were assigned the “turtle box”, a sort of garden shed style building with four beds (two bunks of two). We took advantage of the dial-up speed internet (it was Hughes Net satellite, but I think the satellite they were using was Sputnik), the communal TV room (we watched “the rat race” with a group of thru-hikers), and their vast selection of frozen foods. I had a root beer and a frozen pizza. We talked with one of the caretakers, who had intended on moving through, and wound up staying and working there with his son, for the season.

I was asleep by 9pm, and up at 6, where I took advantage of the shower and real toilet, and thoroughly enjoyed getting ready, despite the rain. We were trucked up to the trail crossing and hit the road, ready for a LONG 15.5 mile day. It was still cold and on and off misting rain, and soon we spread out; Thomas was in front by himself, with me, Jim and Dorothy alternately meeting and leaving each other. At one point we were notified of some “Trail Magic”. Hoping for maybe some burgers and hot dogs for lunch, we took off at a pace the could be described as “desperate for food not boiled in a bag”. It turns out the Trail Magic was a cooler full of snacks and drinks, but they were appreciated. I had a Coke (but don’t tell Jim, because he’s really health-conscious, while I’m the realist of the group). At some point right before the trail magic, I got out in front of Jim and Dorothy somehow. Normally I’m way in the back, so I don’t really know what happened, but it might explain not being able to move well between Tuesday and Friday of the following week.

About a mile before the stop for the night, which was supposed to be Mountaineer Shelter, I found a large campsite right on the creek. An older couple were setting up camp for the night, and I told them I was just stopping for water and food. It was about 4:30, and I was close to empty on water, and fully empty on my stomach. I was exhausted and had begun asking northbound hikers if the cabin was filling up. They had all said no so far, but I was worried about a crowd forming around the shelter. I pulled out my food bag after getting some water, and figured I would go ahead and cook dinner, which would leave me time to get to the shelter and set up without having to make food again. While my stuff was heating and rehydrating (I used a chicken/rice Knorr Side), Jim and Dorothy came by. They asked if I was stopping for the night. I told them no, I was just eating. They came down off the trail and started poking around. The decision was quickly made to abandon the shelter and just stay where we were.

At first we weren’t going to make fire, but it was getting cool and everything was wet from days of rain. Jim and Dorothy gathered what dry twigs they could find (they did a REALLY good job of it), and I built the fire. I was really surprised how well we got it to burn, considering how wet everything was. The older couple joined us, and talked about their thru-hike. They were “Granny Legs” and “Willie Makeit”. A skin cancer surgery delayed Willie’s hike, so they started farther north than Springer, intending on going back to finish after getting to Maine. After seeing so many young college-age people trying to thru-hike, the courage and determination of the retired husband/wife was incredible. They took a real interest in the hammocks, and everyone sort of compared tents. About 8:30 we all drifted off to our shelters and called it a night, while I watched the fire burn down from my hammock.

Sunday morning was the “April Fools”, a day late. See, Friday we had a hell of an up followed by a heck of a down. Saturday, although long, was mainly gradual ups and downs punctuated by a few short steep ups/downs. Sunday looked a little challenging on paper. In practice though, it was tougher than Monday. Two days and a marathon’s worth of hiking later, and we were worn out. I packed and left early, while Jim and Dorothy revived the campfire and took it slower. When I reached the shelter, I asked about Thomas, and the guys inside said he left already. A short way from the shelter was Mountaineer Falls, and just uphill from the shelter was a flat tentsite, but I was glad we camped where we did, because of easy access to water. The rest of Sunday was some ups and down followed mid morning by a never-ending uphill climb that seemed worse than Friday’s climb. Every time I check the Guthook AT Hiker App, it depressed me. I started telling Northbounders to say hello to Jim and Dorothy, as I had left them behind at camp and knew they had to be close. Cell serivce was spotty most of the time, but I was able to find a few spots at the tops of hills to text my hiking friends and let them know where I was. Unfortunately, the time stamps were all screwy because of the receive delays.

Right before the big climb, the trail followed a river for quite a ways, and it was noisy and beautiful. The meadow next to the river was at least a quarter mile long and over a hundred yards wide, with a few trees but mainly wide open space. It would be a beautiful place to camp. At the end of the meadow the trail took a sharp turn and headed up 1500 feet.

Finally I reached the top of the big climb, came out onto a meadow and started down. There was another short climb or two but it was mainly down out of the mountains towards Mountain Harbor. Along the way were two falls (one I can’t remember, that crossed the trail – the other was Jones Falls), both worth stopping and seeing. When I crossed Buck Mountain road, I was supposed to go up another couple of hundred feet then right back down onto 19E, which I could see from the road. I made an executive decision to cheat and lop off about 3/4 mile of trail and head down the road. I walked into Mountain Harbor an hour behind schedule and 90 minutes behind Thomas (who hikes like a BEAST). We had lunch right there from the concession stand at the hostel. It’s not often you get a french dip in the mountains, but paired with beer-battered Sidewinder fries, it was damn good. Jim and Dorothy found us within half an hour, and we cleaned up, piled into the cars, and off we went.