The Gatlinburg Gang: Part 2

At last, halfway through our cross-country skiing expedition, Freefall was able to get through to her mom by cell phone, and her mom reached a Gatlinburg outfitter and paid for them to meet us at Newfound Gap. So on we went, as fast as we could, through the accumulating snow. We actually skipped the summit of Clingmans Dome and took a bypass trail around to the parking lot, where we then had to trek down the paved road to Newfound Gap.....which turned out to be another seven miles. I am not ashamed to say that this was the low point of my entire trip, and I thought I might break down and totally lose it. But at long last, when all seemed lost, I came around that last curve and saw that big red van sitting there waiting, and it was the happiest moment of my entire life. The shuttle driver, Mike, informed us that he had been told to wait for us until 6pm, and the first of our group arrived at 5:48.

Mike asked us where we were headed, and we told him anywhere cheap and easy, so he dropped us off at a place right off the main drag called Bales Motel. Our cold and pathetic group piled out of the van and hoped we could haggle for a couple of reasonably priced rooms we could all share. After some discussion and deliberation we ended up with three rooms....for $25 a night (each), for two nights. The young lovebirds among us, Pick and Rabid, took one room for themselves (which ended up having a full kitchen in it) and the other nine of us divided ourselves between two rooms - making the total cost for our 2-night stay a whopping $12.50 per person. We all dumped our things, soaked up some hot showers, and dressed in our best hiker trash fashion for a night on the town in beautiful Gatlinburg. There is so much insanity crammed into the main drag of Gatlinburg that it can hardly be described without having seen it yourself. To take an excerpt from my journal: "MIRROR MAZE! OLD TIMEY PHOTOS! RIPLEY'S! WAX MUSEUM! KING KONG! SKY LIFT!" It's a bombardment from all sides, and it really seems like everything is screaming at you at once. It was magnificent. We consumed large quantities of greasy food, and some people large quantities of alcohol, and staggered back late for a warm and cozy night's sleep after a very long day.

The next morning, we awoke with a whole day to take in all the Gatlinburg goodness. A fine breakfast at a pancake hut, then laundry, outfitters, library, and all the regular hiker chores. That night, everyone pitched in some cash, and we prepared a feast of biblical proportions at our own humble accommodations, including bruschetta, stuffed pasta shells, and bacon wrapped steaks. It was more than any hiker could ask for. In the morning, we finally had to bid farewell to this Shangri-La of the Smokies as Mike shuttled us back up to Clingmans Dome. Alas, we never did actually get our old timey photos or airbrushed t-shirts, but we all got to know an amazing group of hikers - Pick, Rabid, Cookie Monster, Freefall, Spidey, NoAmp, Long Shot, Vachon, Thinker, MOTO, Buckey, Circus, and Twinkletoes - and gain some of the best memories from our hike in place we never would have expected.

The Gatlinburg Gang

I was not excited about heading into Great Smoky (why not Smokey?) Mountains National Park. Because it is a national park, there are some restrictions that generally aren't condusive to the flexible and carefree nature of thru-hiking, or at least my style of it. Hikers are required to stay at shelters, and if a shelter is full, AT thru-hikers must give up their shelter spots to section hikers who make reservations in advance. For some reason, most shelters do not have privys, and the only access point to civilization within the park is Gatlinburg, TN, known for being the greatest tourist trap the Southeast has ever known, along with its neighbor, Pigeon "Dollywood" Forge. Needless to say, my plan was to get in and get out of the Smokies as fast as I possibly could.

I left Fontana Dam, NC (the southern access point to the park) on Saturday with a large group of people, and we had all been warned that we would probably encounter some snow on Sunday and Monday, which I was actually expecting, because the Smokies are known for their quickly-changing weather (mostly due to their high elevations). So Saturday, I spent the night at a fairly full shelter with people that I had met at previous places along the trail, and Sunday morning we all set out on our ways with a few snow flurries to greet us. The same crowd ended up together at the next shelter later that day, and as the evening progressed, the snow continued to a light powdering. After a chilly sleep, we woke the next morning to find the snow we were warned of had started through the night. I hate being cold, so I packed up and got moving early, eager to get back into my sleeping bag as soon as possible. The snow continued and actually made a pretty winter scene in the middle of April. I was strolling along, stopping to snap pictures, when I happened to cross paths with an ATC ridgerunner coming in the opposite direction.

"Are you thru-hiking?" he asked, which I confirmed, along with those arriving behind me. "Well the forecast is calling for temperatures tonight in the teens, and 4-5" of snow throughout the night, so you might want to make it to one of the next shelters and get out your warm gear."

"Would you recommend getting off the mountain and into town?" I inquired. He suggested that any lower elevation would be ideal, but since we were still several miles from the closest parking lot at the top of Clingmans Dome, the road up the mountain would most likely be closed by the time we reached it. At the next shelter, we waited for those behind us to arrive and weigh our two options - hunker down in the shelter or trek through the snow to a road, where the possibility of getting a shuttle to town was unknown. And not just a "town', but Gatlinburg, the exact place each one of us had hoped to avoid completely. (Truth be told, I actually wanted to visit Gatlinburg...someday. Just not in the middle of a long-distance backcountry hiking trip.) Finally, when all the pros and cons had been debated, 11 people made the consensus to save ourselves a miserable (but survivable) night and slog it out to the road, with our fate unknown. And did I mention that the next 4+ miles of trail ahead of us included our first 6000 ft. mountains, including the highest point on the entire trail?

The saga continues in Part 2...

Do you believe in magic?

So probably the best thing that a thru-hiker could ever come across on the trail, next to an All-You-Can-Eat buffet, is something called "Trail Magic." Trail magic can come in all forms, such as people leaving extra fuel at a shelter, or getting a ride to town from a stranger. Basically it is any helpful thing that a person does for a hiker out of the kindness of their heart, and these people are called Trail Angels. Obviously, the best kind of trail magic you could ever come across is the edible kind, and lately, I have had a huge dose of it. In the last week, between stopping in towns and trail angels, I have only had to cook one meal for myself (and really that was just so I could get rid of some of the food I was carrying).

It all started last Wednesday, when I was getting back on the trail from Franklin, NC. It finally stopped raining, the sun was shining, I was strolling downhill, and what do I come across, but a wonderful man staked out in the middle of trail with a cooler of cold drinks. What a pleasant surprise for lunch! The day continued easily, and then, about a mile and half from my destination, I walk out of the woods to see a full blown picnic set up right in front of me. Kevin and his daughters Kelly and Charley had brought chips, drinks, cookies, spare ribs and hamburgers for any hiker who happened to come by, PLUS they had some awesome bluegrass playing. I sat there and hung out with everyone for probably about two hours before I realized I finally had to move on to my campsite. It was really a great day.

The next couple of days were spent in town and then back in a shelter, until again, this past Wednesday, I hobble down from the mountain to cross a road, and what do I find? - a practically luxury hotdog roast. Two former thru-hikers, Bare Bear and Shufflefoot, had set up some amazing roadside trail magic. There were chips, cookies, sodas, as many hotdogs as you could eat (I ate 3), a wash station, chairs for everyone, and an up-to-date weather report (also a God-send for any hiker). I and others sat there for so long that Bare Bear pretty much had to kick us out just to get us hiking again. And now, here I am again in town, feasting on microwave pizza and chocolate ice cream. It's a tough life, being a thru-hiker. But I can really tell you, that on a hot, miserable day of hiking (or a cold, wet one), finding that a stranger has taken the time to come out and do any kind little thing for you is truly amazing, and those people truly are angels. They really make the trail the great place it is.

Team Appalachia

So you may have heard of these mysterious spring break people that I was wandering about with for a week or so. Well, they called themselves "Team Appalachia" and they hailed mostly from Northwestern U. and one from St. Olaf's in Minnesota. I initially encountered these three lads at the shelter my first night on the trail. I was struck by how elaborate and gourmet their trail food was, and also at how skilled they were at starting campfires. The next day it was discovered that there was actually a fourth member to this party, whose arrival was being delayed due to air traffic problems. As the day continued, snow began to pour from the sky, and my motivation greatly deteriorated. I finally stumbled upon a campsite inhabited by none other than Team Appalachia, and remembering their superior fire-making skills, instantly stopped. The night was a jolly and enjoyable one. The next day was a much happier affair, and I was glad to be nearing the first town on the trail. As we approached our seeming point of departure, the boys made the bold decision to forgo frantically searching for a nonexistent campsite and live it up with me in the hostel. Thusly, I decided that I must discover who this mysterious fourth team member was, and my fate was sealed with Team Appalachia. For the next three days, we hiked, camped, laughed, cryed, and ate lots and lots of summer sausage. Did I mention they had packed food for five people for a week? Finally, Saturday arrived, and it was time for Team Appalachia to leave the lure of mother nature and rejoin their former lives of normalcy, and for me to continue on in the rain with fewer companions and much less free food. So farewell, Team Appalachia - Barney, Paul, Michael, and Chris - wherever you are. And by "wherever" I mean the midwest. Perhaps we shall meet again one day...