In the late 80s/Early 90s I bought my first shortwave radio. I don’t remember what got me into it, probably just an extension of the CB Obsession at the time. This was of course before the internet, facebook, world wide web, and in some places, cable TV. So people would get on the radio and talk to other people. Mostly it was so-called “rednecks” in their pickups, hunters, and over the road truckers, but it was something to do. I had my own radio of course, but I enjoyed talking to places far away more so than trying to talk to the locals. I had a map on the wall and I would stick a pin in it when I made a contact in another state.
Shortwave was different. I could listen to stations from all over the world, and hear Amateurs (or Hams) talking about stuff. Mostly what it seemed like they talked about was what radios they were using. Amateur radio in the time was an elite group, people that studied hard and learned morse code, in addition to everything else.
It turns out that several years ago, the FCC dropped the Morse Code requirement. There’s still a use for it, but for whatever reason they dropped the code test. I’m guessing it was to keep Ham Radio alive, under pressure from radio manufacturers. Radios are expensive and good for the economy.
I like listening to shortwave, and I even bought a little receiver to use for hiking. Hearing that they dropped the code test inspired me to look into getting my own license. There are lots of books and apps to use to study, even some online study guides sponsored by Icom, a rather well-known radio manufacturer.
I dug out my old DX440 recently, because it has the best collection of receive modes, and I strung up a long wire antenna I can put up and take down quickly. The radio still has a cheat sheet for ham frequencies on the bottom that I made 25 years ago. I’ve listened to a lot of stations lately doing emergency check-ins from Florida and Puerto Rico. It has been rather interesting and fun, and I look forward to being on the air myself, provided I pass the test.
I finally plugged a hole in my AT Journeys this weekend. It was long, arduous, and somewhat painful, but I did it.
My original goal was Sam’s Gap (off I-26 at the TN/NC border) to Spivey Gap, which was only 13.5 miles. But that left 11 miles from Spivey Gap to Erwin, TN. So either I would have to come back for a long day hike or two short days to finish the other half. Then there was the shuttle – paying for two shuttles and using two weekends. The Hobbit said we could probably do the whole thing in two long days.
I usually shun summer hikes for a good reason: I hate bugs and heat. But – I figured the bugs could be dealt with permethrin and when I looked up the shelter weather it was supposed to be high in the 70s and overcast with possible thunderstorms.
I set off at 4am to go hiking, met with 2 others and we all headed to Uncle Johnny’s Hostel in Erwin, TN. The shuttle drivers are nice people, but the staff at the place rubs me the wrong way. After this trip, I was glad to put Uncle Johnny’s behind me.
The shuttle driver arrived and took us over to Sam’s Gap. It was the work of a few minutes to get suited up and ready to go. We had a heck of a thing ahead of us.
Our hike was to be 24.5 miles, total Ascents of 5374 feet, and total Descents of 7373 feet.
Right out of Sam’s Gap there are a series of upward climbs that really make you reconsider your pack weight and whether you brought too much stuff. From 3700 feet all the way to 5500 feet, there are several up and down stairsteps. But finally you reach Big Bald, which has some great views and wild blueberries.
By the time we reached Big Bald, my hiking friends were out in front of me. About the time I reached the post in the picture above, I was starving and out of gas. I plopped my pack down against the pole, leaned back and ate lunch. I was exhausted and hot, and couldn’t eat much. A woman and a much younger man came through, I assume mother and son. She asked me “Where does this trail go?”, pointing north. Confused, I replied, “Maine.”
I know it sounded like I was being a smartass, but it was true. I didn’t know what she meant. Who puts on a day pack and just wanders onto a trail? She then asked, “No, I mean, where does it go short term? Like, what’s that way?” So I pulled out my map and said there was another bald and then some woods, and eventually Erwin, TN. They walked off to the North. I finished what “lunch” I could eat – half a Bagel with some Nutella on it, and a few pieces of Jerky, along with a propel drink powder in water.
The rest of the afternoon I was on my own. It was some steep downs punctuated by steep ups, with more downs than ups. I have said it before – but down isn’t always better. Give me a gentle uphill slope over a steep downhill slope. Steep downs are hell on the knees and leave your thighs shaking and burning.
The last steep up of the day was High Rocks. It was a steep 250 foot route to a little peak with a side trail and some clifftop views. I skipped it. No, I don’t hate myself, despite what the graffiti on the sign said. I was hot, tired, and at the peak I was sucking on my water tube when I hit air bubbles. Oh crap.
Over the course of the day I thought I consumed plenty of water. I started the day with 2.5 liters in my pack. At each water source we came to, I drank some water and added to my pack. But, after Big Bald there were no more water sources, except for one which was a mosquito-laden patch of stagnant water. So now I had nothing, and I remember the shuttle lady saying that there might not be anything at Spivey Gap. I was hurting, out of water, with a mile to go.
After high rocks, I started down a steep place, and seeing the lush green vegetation in the valley, I started getting hopeful I would see a creek. I kept hearing what I thought was water but it was only the wind in the trees and the sloshing of my fuel bottle. The ATHiker App showed a water source ahead, and the first place was dry, a small place crossing the trail about 2 feet wide. The next spot farther down was dry as well, although I looked good in the stream bed for anything. The third spot was damp, but no running water. Finally I heard something for real, and found a place where a little trickling stream crossed the trail. It was about 5 feet wide but only 1/2″ deep across most of the trail, and it merged together on the downhill side. I sat on a wet rock on the uphill side of the trail, mouth dry and heart pounding.
It was all I could do not to put the first bowl directly into my mouth, but I knew I would have to wait just a few minutes. I use my dinner bowl, a squishy silicone bowl, to dip water out of a tiny pool about the size of a salad bowl, and poured it in my water bag. When I had about half a liter, I screwed the filter on and squeezed/sucked the water through. It tasted so good. I leaned back against my pack and let the water settle, because I felt nauseous. After a few minutes, I repeated the procedure. The water was flowing good enough that any sediment I stirred up was washed out of the way, so I had a nice clear pool to dip from. I did collect what looked like a shrimp, but I poured him out.
After I had two liters in my pack, filtered, and had filled myself up to as much as I could without puking, I walked on. I had to pee not long after, and what little there was, was orange. Definitely underhydrated. I started thinking I missed the campsite, as I was almost to the road crossing at Spivey Gap and hadn’t seen my friends. I started thinking about catching a ride to town. Screw this whole hiking thing. I was thirsty and nauseous, exhausted and smelled like roadkill. I could catch a ride, find a hotel, take a bath, order a pizza, maybe have a drink, and get a ride or even walk to Uncle Johnny’s tomorrow, and meet my friends there. Just when I had the plan in mind and could hear a car going by on the road ahead, I saw a familiar hat and bandanna on a tree next to the trail.
Damn. Hotel plans, ruined. No shower and pizza delivery for me.
I panted and huffed into camp, and waved at Praveen. I staggered around and found two good trees, and strung up the hammock. After laying in it for several minutes resting, I got up and finished setting up the tarp in porch mode, my underquilt to one side, and stripped most of my clothes off. I carry a “sleeping shirt” so I don’t stink myself out of the hammock, but I still smelled like a yak. My face was greasy and I was covered in dirt and leaf litter from sitting on the ground. I thought about eating, but it turned my stomach. I knew I would throw up if I ate, so I kept drinking water. I figured I would lay down and rest, and maybe eat later. It was 8:30 after all. It would cool off soon. The last thing I heard was the Hobbit saying, “I’m getting worried about Taco, I wonder where he is?” and Praveen saying, “He showed up, his hammock is over there.”
I woke up at midnight. Great, its pitch dark, I have to pee, and I haven’t even hung my bear bag. Getting out and hanging the bag was easy, and I was relieved I had to pee. It meant I wasn’t still bad off, although my mouth seemed always dry. I fell back asleep, intending on getting up at 6.
At 5:00 I woke up with a slight chill on my butt, reached under me and pulled the underquilt into place. I was almost instantly warm. The summer underquilt was a good choice for this trip, as was my fleece bag liner. I didn’t even bring a sleeping bag, just the liner and an emergency Costco down throw, in case it did get abnormally cold. The down throw wasn’t needed. I turned my alarm on for 7 and went back to sleep.
Sunday we woke up with 11 miles to go before getting a shower and food. As I was putting away stuff, we started hearing rumbles of thunder in the distance. I had just put my cappucino on when it started raining, of course AFTER i put my rainfly away. I threw the rainfly back up, and then my hiking partners were spontaneously ready to leave. I tossed most of my cappucino into the woods, chewed and swallowed half my bagel and jammed everything into the pack.
At that point, it began raining in earnest. It was okay, because we had an 800 foot climb in front of us, and the rain helped cool everything off. It rained for a good hour, soaking everything. A few miles on, it slowed and then finally stopped. Thankfully for the most part it stayed overcast, so the humidity wasn’t bad. Our last hill of the day was a 400 foot drop into Temple Hill Gap, then 400 feet right back up As we reached the bottom of the steep descent, Praveen and I stopped to check the map and have a snack. Hobbit had wandered off ahead, and we wouldn’t see him until the end of the day.
Praveen headed up while I finished my snacks, and then I started out. About 100 yards up the hill It started thundering and got windy again. within half a mile the rain started coming down HARD and blowing sideways. I didn’t care, it was washing the grime and grease off of me, and keeping me cool. There were a few more ups and downs, with a final push to the top, 100 feet up a steep grade. The rain stopped right around there, before I started down the other side.
Surprisingly, I caught up with Praveen on the down slope. He hates downs as much as I hate ups, and is even more cautious than I am. We had 1800 feet to go down before hitting the road. About 1/3 of the way down everything seemed to dry out, like the rain didn’t even hit that side of the mountain. A view opened up on the side, with a gorgeous post-rain view of Erwin.
I had to stop and get the phone out for a picture. Unfortunately this trip I didn’t get many pictures. at the last minute I ditched absolutely everything I didn’t think I would need. This included my waterproof camera and GPS. I saved over a pound, but when the rains came I had no camera, and the phone is sort of inconvenient anyway. So, there were nowhere near enough pictures for a video.
Once back at the Hostel, I paid for the second best $5 shower I’ve ever had. My legs were shaking so much I could barely stand up, after pounding down 1800 feet. I didn’t dare sit in the shower, and wind up with athlete’s ass, so I struggled through it and put on clothes that were fresh and dry. The staff at Johnny’s redeemed themselves, being friendly to grimy hikers buying showers.
I was still feeling sick when we reached Los Jalapenos, but I tried to eat the fajitas I ordered. I ate about half the meat, some of the chips and a little rice, and drank both sweet teas I asked for. I was really hoping for a pitcher and a straw.
What I learned on this hike:
Summer hiking is still not my favorite. Did I have a good time overall? Yes. I saw some nice stuff and had a good time with friends, but it was a bipolar trip. Either I was really enjoying it, or it sucked ass. There wasn’t much in between. On the good side, I slept in the hammock almost as well as the time I ended the night with a half percocet and a shot of rum. Exhaustion is great for sleep.
Lighter, lighter, lighter. I was 27 pounds out the door this time. Praveen was 19. I don’t know what 8 pounds I was carrying more than him, but I need to lighten my stuff. I could have gone stoveless. After all, I only heated up cappucino in the morning. I was too sick to eat anything else. I could have left my fleece shirt at home, it wasn’t cold enough and I had my down thing. I didn’t use my Grizz Beak because it wasn’t raining at night. So, I probably could have saved a pound or so.
Oh- I did pour out my stove fuel in the morning. It evaporates really fast, so I wasn’t concerned about it. I also poured out the 2 ounces of coconut rum I brought, since I didn’t drink it the night before, and every little bit helps when you’re trudging up a mountain dehydrated with no breakfast to speak of.
But that was my trip. 23.5 miles in two days was tough, but I’m glad I closed up that hole in my trail trips. Onward to Georgia and Virginia.
Way back when I was in college and most of the monitors were either amber or green text on a plain background (we’re talking windows 3.0 was new and the world wide web wasn’t invented yet), there were Bulletin Board Systems you could sign onto if you had the right phone number for your 4800baud modem. This was one of the first pictures I ever downloaded, and it took probably 30 minutes to get it.
Okay, that was a little off tangent, but true, and leads into what I really came to talk about. Seeing as how this is sort of my “off season” and I won’t be hiking much because:
Itching and stinging plants
stinging and biting insects
I have decided to turn my attention to other pursuits that may involve hiking later on. We are going to the beach in a few weeks, and one of the problems with the beach is the sun. It is relentless and hot, and so we take a pop-up tent, of the kind usually reserved for tailgating and the like, and which Myrtle Beach banned because they’d rather you rent their umbrellas. That’s one reason why Florida is better than Myrtle Beach. Also thong bikinis are legal in Florida and not at Myrtle Beach… but that’s off topic again.
Anyhow, the problem with the tent is: The SUN MOVES. It is unfortunate, but whether you’re a round-earther or a flat-earther, the incontrovertible truth is, the Sun moves around quite a bit. Thus you’re all the time having to adjust where you’re sitting under the tent. SO – I decided to make a zip-on set of walls for the tent, which should cover two sides. I’m never out there long enough to need to cover three sides, and if you need to cover FOUR sides, well then you might as well stay inside, right?
As Captain Picard would say: There. Are. Four. Sides!
No Captain, there are only two.
So I’m zipping along sewing my zipper to the tent top and my piece of fabric and thinking, “Jeez it would sure be nice to be making something to hike with!” And I got to thinking about my ultimate project, something that would require all my skills with needle, thread, and construction, and started musing about making my own backpack.
My first backpack was way too large and heavy, see. I got into the whole hiking thing rather uninformed. When I started shopping around for a second one, I almost bought this one:
The videos made it look really nice, with easy-to-use pockets and all that. Unfortunately, I wasn’t sure if I could fit all my crap into it, and I went with the 65 Liter Deuter ACT Lite. It’s a great pack, and it’s taken me on great journeys and has a LOT of life left in it. BUT! It suffers from an issue that the Gregory above looks to have solved.
It appears to have side pockets that are actually useful. See, most backpacks have side pockets, but they’re pretty useless. By the time you fill the pack and put it on, getting a water bottle out and back in becomes a struggle, so you either don’t’ drink enough OR you resort to a bladder, and the side pockets are only used when you stop for some reason. So why have them at all, other than for additional space?
The pack above was only sold for a short while, and it must not have worked out well for Gregory, because it was discontinued. Strange, because I looked up why it was discontinued and saw nothing but positives about it.
So, in addition to side pockets that are actually useful, and plenty of space, what am I seeking from a backpack?
A challenge. I’ve made hammock chairs, hammocks, even a complete hammock and bug net. I made a rain fly (which we will NOT discuss). I’ve yet to try to make clothes other than a rain kilt.
A lighter pack. By making it myself I may be able to shave some weight here and there, by leaving off some things.
A pack that fits my particular set of needs.
What are my particular needs?
Pockets that work, damn it! My Deuter has hip belt pockets that are too small for most anything. Sure you can store a wadded map, a bottle of eye drops and a 2 inch knife in there, but that’s about all. Forget an iphone 6 or a point and shoot camera. As for water bottles, forget that, too. The mesh pockets are nice but they are too far back and too high to be useful for water bottles.
A built in holster. Right now if I carry my gun it’s over my head in the top section. I have to reach way over my head and hope I can get the zipper open and the gun hasn’t shifted all the way to the back. How about a nice space between the padded back and the interior of the pack for a small automatic? pull the zipper down, reach in and there it is.
Built in raincover holder. My first pack had that, a little double layer of fabric on the bottom with a slot for holding the raincover. Pull it out to use it and stuff it back when you’re done. It made life simple.
Tie-Dye. Let’s face it, everything else I make is Tie-Dyed, why shouldn’t my pack be that way? I’m thinking red and black, but a purple and black mix might be nice too.
Expansion and shrinkage areas that really work. On my deuter pack pulling in the side straps to change the shape of the pack don’t really seem to do anything. So whether you are carrying a full load or a light summer load, the pack seems to always be the same shape.
Drain holes under the bladder area. Why has no one thought of this? My pack has a separate sleeve area inside for the water bladder. Its all good until the bladder breaks, then where is the water going? Yeah, into your pack. What about a water bag sleeve area made of water repellant fabric, with a series of narrow slots at the bottom of the pack. If the bladder breaks, sure your ass is wet, but you know it immediately and your sleeping bag stays dry.
Loops, loops everywhere. Deuter had a great series of daisy chains on the ACT pack. They don’t have them on the ACT lite but they have a few paracord loops in strategic places. I’m thinking if they had a few more of those, the pack would be even more useful for holding stuff on the outside. Say, a rainfly that got soaked and you don’t want it inside the pack.
And that’s about all of that for now. Incidentally I priced a few backpack parts like fabric and tubing, and it seems you can buy a pack cheaper than you can buy parts. I guess that’s why all the companies shifted production to Asia: Buying in bulk saves lots of money, and 12 year olds sew pretty cheaply.
This is the dead tree version. If you’d rather have the cheaper Kindle version, that’s great. It’s weird but I make more off the cheaper version, so either one is fine with me.
But you can write in this one and make notes and circle my grammar errors since I didn’t pay the $200 to have Amazon edit the thing for me. But – the book is available. Oh, and they are still building my page, so I had to search for it by ISBNumber.
Either way, enjoy reading about my adventures while I take the summer off. Bug, Heat, and the Sun sucks. See you on the trails in September.
For some reason the Amazon store takes forever, but if you want to read me on Kindle, here I am:
Yes, that’s me on the cover. You may recognize the picture if you have been a long term follower of me. That was one of my favorite hikes, the one Uncle Johnny (Of Uncle Johnny’s Nolichucky Hostel, Erwin TN fame) called the most beautiful section of the Appalachian Trail. Its taken from Big Hump Mountain, near Roan High Knob I think, and we spent the night at Doll Flats. I wasn’t prepared to spend most of the day in the sun and wound up a little red, but it was still a gorgeous hike.
I made it free on “Kindle Unlimited” so it won’t cost you anything if you are part of that service, and I turned on the “lend” mode so you can lend to your friends for two weeks. I figured that’s the least I could do, after all with paper versions you can pass them around.
So far it’s only available on Kindle, but they tell me next week some time the “Dead tree” version will be out. I was happy with it when I finished it, but I keep thinking of little things I should have added here and there. Maybe I’ll do a volume 2 a few years from now… Also, the Kindle Store tells me I made a few spelling errors (which Pages didn’t catch while I was writing. Seriously?) so you’ll have to watch out for those. I didn’t pay the $200 for professional design and editing. I’ll only make about 30 cents off each Kindle book, and slightly more than that on each paper one, so I figured $200 was pushing the budget.
But: maybe if they send me a tax form for my income at the end of the year, I can claim some hiking food and a new kilt as a “business expense” and come out negative? So, help a fellow hiker at least get a tax break and buy a copy. I know what my family will be getting for Christmas – autographed copies!
In the meantime I’m pretty much done for the summer for hiking. I might try to squeeze in a day hike here and there. I REALLY wanted to close the Sams Gap to Erwin TN hole that I have left, before fall. When that’s done I’ll have an unbroken line from Davenport Gap NC to Damascus, VA. Otherwise I’m taking a hiking Hiatus while the bugs and plants are at their worst.
I recently had a terrible allergic rash to something. I think I accidentally weed-whacked some poison ivy near the tree line in the back yard, and it played havoc with me for weeks. Three doctor visits and enough antihistamines and prednisone to choke a horse, and it’s mostly gone. I’m really surprised I haven’t contracted it in the woods. Generally when I’m hiking I do a good job of pushing anything green out of the way, with the exception of the odd Stinging Nettles which tend to pop me in the legs. But at least Nettles are over with in around 30 minutes. Poison Ivy (if that’s what it was) goes on forever.
The rash and it’s accompanying itch and general malaise from all the meds made me miss two hiking days. So, now I’m considering other avenues of outdoor expression. Maybe it’s time to consider building that backpack I’ve wanted to design.
A couple of years ago I started writing a hiking/backpacking book, based on my initial forays into the wilderness. Mainly it was a chance to tell other people “hey, dumbass, don’t do _____”. Most hiking books seem to be full of helpful hints about what you should do, things that the author found worked for him/her.
I took a different approach, saying “Hey, here’s where I screwed up”, and giving several options that I didn’t know about. I intended on trying to get it published, but that is the part of writing that sucks. It doesn’t take much to write a book.
It takes a lot to find someone to say, “This book isn’t total shit and we might take a chance on you”. Which is why Blogs are so popular… blogs give regular people the opportunity to be authors, even though if you put most blogs in front of publishers, we’d get rejection letters and be sent home to drown our sorrows in alcohol.
BUT – thanks to Amazon and CreateSpace, my hiking book will soon see the light of day. CreateSpace and Kindle seem to be about as big a pain in the butt as anything else. First you have to upload your book, then there are a LOT of preview steps, then you proof your book. I ordered a printed copy and marked it all up with a pen. It’s amazing what you see in print that you gloss over on the screen. The I re-typed it, re-submitted it, and finally, boom, it was done.
For some damn reason though, Kindle is a separate system and you have to re-do a bunch of steps to go from “dead tree version” to “electronic version”. I’m not sure why, but you do.
So, I’m waiting on “How Not to Backpack” to be approved, but once it is, you’ll be able to buy my stuff in the Amazon and Kindle e-store.
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.