“Difficulty is the excuse history never accepts.” – Edward R. Murrow

Day 28

Refreshed and recharged, I crossed the French Broad River, hiked along it for a few hundred yards, and then climbed the mountain out of Hot Springs. At mile 278.5 I came across Dammed Pond, the first mountain pond on my journey. It was the kind of place where you’d want to get engaged, catch a fish, or spend a Sunday afternoon reading a book.

At Tanyard Gap I passed Tree Hugger as he stopped to pray and hug a white-blazed tree. If he completes his thru-hike, he will have hugged 165,000 trees and offered 165,00 prayers in about a 6-month period.  Let that sink in for a moment.  A while later, I came across several miles of a controlled burn area on the west side of the trail. Controlled burns are a technique used in forest management to reduce fuel buildup (leaves, brush, dead trees, etc.) and decrease the likelihood of serious hotter fires. It also stimulates the germination of some desirable trees, thus renewing the forest. I was impressed to see hundreds of square miles of burned forest to the left of the trail, while the right side was untouched. I was also impressed with the placement and wording on several tombstones/memorials at scenic spots along the ridge.

As the day progressed, the temperature dropped and light snow began to fall. At Allen Gap, near the conclusion of a 14.8 mile day, I headed .2 miles west on NC 208/TN 70 to get water under a bridge at Paint Creek. (That’s just water under the bridge now.) I found a campsite nearby around 5:00 p.m. and checked the forecast. The snow had stopped but, here at lower elevation, rain was expected in 15 minutes. Three minutes later, as I was unpacking my backpack, the rain started to fall. Quickly setting up a tent in the rain, while keeping your gear as dry as possible, takes some practice and precision. The goal is to get your tent, gear, and self under the rain fly as soon as possible. I did fairly well but will become more proficient with practice. I sat there in my tent, feeling cold, wet, and alone…holding my food bag as a special invitation to bears to come get me. Fortunately, I had warm, dry clothes to put on and a warm sleeping bag to crawl into.

Day 29

I awoke to a cold, wet, see your breath inside the tent kind of morning. Just a few hundred yards into my climb out of Allen Gap, I came across some…Trail Magic! Yes, the good people of Chuckey (Tennessee) United Methodist Church had placed a cooler of ice cold Gatorade along the trail which gave me a much needed morale and electrolyte boost. Less than a mile later…more Trail Magic! Someone had placed a pile of oranges on the trail. With the cold temperatures, I wasn’t quite ready to take my gloves off and peel an orange, so I placed it in my front pants pocket. As I hiked, the single orange swayed back and forth, reminding me of what it must feel like for my youngest son, Kyle, to hike. (Inside family joke involving… “imbalances”. Guess it’s not so inside any more!)

At around mile 296, I began a stretch of beautiful, scenic, rocky, and strenuous cliffs…specifically, Blackstack Cliffs and Big Firescald Knob. I took a quick break on Howard’s Rock and read his story.  (I invite you to do the same…see photo.)  The section along Firescald involved a brief hand over hand scramble, the first since Albert Mountain.

After celebrating the AT mile 300 milestone with a Snickers candy bar, I climbed over Big Butt Mountain. (I liked Big Butt, I cannot lie.)  Shortly after, I met two section hikers from Alabama…Hiccup (who does so after eating trail mix), his unnamed friend (who works for NASA), and their dog, Blaze.

As the afternoon progressed, the temperature dropped and there was light snow on the ground. To pass the time and keep my brain from freezing, I began brainstorming what the Pisgah in Pisgah National Forest stands for. I came up with…

– Perhaps I Should Garner A Heater
– Place I Should Generally Avoid, Honey
– Peasants In Scotland Get Awful Hernias
– Pastor In Skivvies? Gross! Avoid Him
– People In Straight-jackets…Great AT Hikers

I welcome your own “Pisgah” acronyms.

In addition to playing mind games like what Pisgah stands for, I also pondered other questions like:

– Is there a Guiness World Record for “Longest Running Nose”?  (By that, I mean duration of drip, not size of probiscus.)  Mine has been running virtually non-stop for 29 days.

– Given the popularity of the movies/books Wild and A Walk in the Woods, what percentage increase (if any) will there be in attempted AT thru-hikes this year?  Also, will the 20-25% success rate remain the same?  (I predict a 15% increase in attempts and a similar success rate.)

– Percentage-wise, how much of a successful AT thru-hike is physical and how much is mental?  (For me, so far, 70% physical, 30% mental.) How much does that vary between hikers, and does it vary by month on the trail?  (I’d say wide variance between hikers, with the physical % increasing with age.  I’m guessing mental percentage increases during the middle third of the trail…then back to more physical for New Hampshire and Maine.  We’ll see.)

After a long, cold 17.9 mile day, I arrived at the Flint Mountain Shelter with several other hikers. We built a huge campfire and gazed up at constellations in the clear night sky. Just before dozing off, I pulled the orange out of my pocket, pealed it, and ate it. Because nothing takes your mind off the cold better than sticky hands that reek of citrus.

Fob

The reward of a thing well done is having done it.  – Ralph Waldo Emerson

Day 24

I awoke with the weird sensation of being in a bed…because I was! The first voice I heard was my tibial collateral ligament telling me we were taking the morning off. One thing I’ve learned out here is to listen to your body. You have to be able to hike with a certain amount of pain, but you also need downtime to rest your body and mind and regroup for the next section ahead. Over the long haul, I’m not going to be able to out-tough or out-ego the AT. It is far superior on the toughness scale. But as a 50-year-old, I may have a chance to beat it by making wise choices related to rest, nutrition, hydration, mileage, and weather. That’s really my only chance.

As I rolled out of bed, I also realized that we were out of the Smokies and the Great Smoky Mountains Bubble was about to burst. Some folks (Orbit, Mom, Stitch, and Deadwood) were departing that morning. I was departing mid-afternoon and still others (like NesQuick) were taking a Lumpy zero. On top of that, Princess Elle and BooknBoot had been sucked into the great Gatlinburg vortex, and Master Wayne was at home eating Cheetos and watching Netflix. Such is the nature of hiking bubbles…you love them, appreciate them, and ride them while you can. And if you’re lucky, you’ll cross paths with one or more of your friends again further down the trail. I also found it interesting that in 5 days in the Smokies, under tough conditions, I had learned more about these people than many of my casual acquaintances back in the real world. You can learn an awful lot about a person during a 5-hour, uninterrupted hike with him or her.

I gave Lumpy a final fist pump, thanked him for his hospitality, and coveted his beard a final time. His parting words to me were, “In case anyone hasn’t told you lately, I’m proud of you.” While I suspect those are his parting words to all his customers, he sounded sincere and I appreciated them. In fact, I may have gotten a little lumpy in my throat.

I got back on the trail about 2:30 p.m. After a 5 mile, 2500 foot climb, I was standing on the beautiful grassy bald of Snowbird Mountain. I looked up and saw a really interesting facility. It looked like a building one would enter in order to solve a puzzle and unlock a new world in the computer game Myst, one of the most popular PC games of the 1990s. I was tempted to enter, throw some switches, and be instantly transported to Katahdin. Unfortunately, it was just an FAA Control Tower, with a warning sign that if you mess with anything, people could die.

After a 6.9 mile afternoon, I arrived at the Groundhog Creek Shelter and set up my tent nearby. As I cooked my 2.5 servings of New Orleans-style Rice with Shrimp and Ham, I became acquainted with a whole new cast of characters, including…

– Lindsay and Patrice – 2 ladies who are making a movie about women thru-hikers entitled Thru. Be sure to check out the trailer at thruatdoc.com. I told them that if they changed their minds and decided to include a token man in the film, I would like the character Fob to be played by Bear Grylls.

– Little Bear, Squirrel Nut, and two friends both named Tyler who made great fires.

– Tree Hugger – a man who wears the same hiking shirt as me along with a kilt. He literally stops and hugs every tree with a white blaze on it, and says a short prayer asking that God will protect him and keep him on the right path. That’s a lot of trees, folks…and a lot of prayers. I can only remember hugging one tree…a double blazer at Quesalupa Gap, but that’s ground we’ve already covered.

Day 25

I got an early start this morning and was thankful the pain in my left knee had subsided. As I began the descent into Brown Gap, I came across an old man with a white beard just wandering along the trail. He had no pack or gear and we were several miles from civilization. We exchanged hellos and he smiled and told me he was fine. I found it kind of odd but I hiked on.

About 10 minutes later, I caught up with Lindsay and we discovered some Trail Magic! Yes, there was a case of cold Cokes along the side of the trail by a tree.  I can’t be certain but I believe the bearded man was a Trail Angel who had hiked way out into the wilderness carrying a case of cold sodas for me and my fellow hikers. I suspect he wasn’t looking for praise, which explains why he had walked southward from the Cokes. His reward was intrinsic, because he knew that he had refreshed and encouraged some hikers. That might also explain the big smile he gave me as I passed by.

The highlight of the day came at mile 253.9 when I summited Max Patch Bald. Several years ago, my family decided on a Christmas vacation in the mountains. I insisted we take a day trip to Max Patch, a place I had read about in various AT books. The family was reluctant to say the least, but I told them the view would be well worth the 30 or so minute trip to get there. It ended up taking an hour and a half to get there. When we arrived at the parking lot, the temperature had dropped to 20 degrees and the winds were gusting. Half of those in our group refused to get out of their cars. The other half begrudgingly followed me up the bald. With each step, the temperature dropped a degree and the wind picked up. At the summit we all were frozen to our core and looked like Jack Nicholson in the maze at the end of The Shining. We took a two second look at the view (which was spectacular!), and then rushed down the mountain to get in our cars to warm up. The family was not happy with me. I knew this because they told me so. I was the butt of jokes for the rest of the vacation and still get grief over Max Patch. So it was great to return on a somewhat warmer, low 40s, day and think about my sweet family.

As I descended toward Lemon Gap, I entered a beautiful section featuring rolling hills, stream crossings, birds chirping, and mountain laurels. I remember thinking that the place looked like how I would imagine the Garden of Eden. Ironically, not even 5 minutes later, I came across my second AT snake! He was a little fellow, scurrying across the trail. Had he offered me an apple, I would have been really tempted to go for it.

After a personal best tying 18.4 mile day, I stopped at a stealth camping site on a ledge by a stream. I was alone, but fortunately Rocky, a really cool section hiker, strolled by to snap a photo of me and the site. I dozed off to the sound of the stream, with visions of Hot Springs dancing in my head.

Fob

 

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“It is not the mountain we conquer but ourselves.”     – Edmund Hillary

Day 22

It was another interesting night at the shelter, featuring a conglomeration of humanity brought together by a love of hiking. In addition to our core Great Smoky Mountains Bubble, we were joined by…

– John E. Just from Peoria, Illinois – he’s out here attempting a thru-hike to draw attention to a rare genetic disease that he has. It’s called Fabry disease and it affects 1 in 40,000 people, including 6 in his family. To stay alive, he has to get an IV transfusion every 2 weeks for life. And he’s hiking the AT! After each transfusion, he begins working the logistics for the next one. (And here I am complaining about a sore knee.). He said, “Fob, I hope my hike sends a message to people with this disease and others that you can still get out and do things and enjoy life. I want to raise awareness.” Message received loud and clear, Mr. Just…hike on!

– Kole McKeown from Union, SC, where Janet’s family is from

– A couple and their young daughter who mistakenly thought that when they reserved the shelter, they would have it to themselves. The mom was not a happy camper when she realized their family getaway trip would be shared with a dozen stinking hikers. They brought a guitar and a telescope but no sleeping pads…all marks of section hikers.

The weather was slightly better for today’s hike. It was arguably the best day in the Smokies in terms of stunning, mountaintop views…Charlies Bunion, The Sawteeth, Bradleys View, Eagle Rocks, etc. At Copper Gap, mile 218.9, I stopped and reflected on having reached the 10% milestone. That seemed like an awfully low percentage for what I had been through.

After 12.1 miles, I arrived at the Tri-Corner Knob Shelter (elevation 5897 feet) for another fun night with The Bubble. Deadwood and Nesquick began doing Monty Python movie impressions, and soon everyone was saying those phrases and using those accents around camp. As the wind picked up and temperature dropped, we all worked our way inside the 3-sided shelter to eat and share stories. Oddly, almost everyone had some form of potato, including the highly popular Ramen Bomb (Ramen noodles with potatoes). At one point the sweet, kind, mild-mannered Master Wayne stepped just outside the hand-hung tarp which comprised the shelter’s 4th wall. He then ripped the loudest, bat cave-shaking fart I had heard since the one Daniel, my brother in law, launched during Christmas week of 2012. We all started laughing and applauding Master Wayne for his Master Piece, even while he remained outside to compose himself and assess the damage to his hiking pants. It was unclear why he felt the need to step outside, since we are in a hiking environment where such grand noises are not only allowed, but celebrated.

Day 23

We awoke to yet another very cold morning. Despite my love for the Smokies, it was time for me to end this relationship and move on. I looked at my guidebook to see how far I’d have to hike to get to a hot shower. The answer was 18.4 miles, to the Standing Bear Farm Hostel. Game on!

After an initial climb, I began a long descent down to Camel Gap. At mile 225.9, I passed the barely visible plane wreckage of an F-4 Phantom jet that crashed in 1984. To date, there have been 54 plane crashes within the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. They are usually private planes flying in bad weather. The pilot becomes spatially disoriented, not knowing up from down, and hits the side of the mountain or trees.

As I hiked that afternoon, the weather continued to improve, but I was growing weary. My feet ached and pain was shooting across the front of my left knee. At mile 236 I sat down on a log with Master Wayne. He was preparing to take a side trail and head home, as his section hike was over. Physically, I had bottomed out, but still had four miles to go to exit the park and get to the hostel. I wasn’t in a good place. After a long break, with 2 hours of daylight remaining, I said a prayer, popped 3 Advil and stood up. I put my backpack back on and it felt like someone had added 2 bricks to it. I then slowly put one foot in front of the other and continued my descent, eventually walking under Interstate 40. After a tough, painful final mile, including some killer stairs, I staggered into Standing Bear Hostel just before sunset.

Standing Bear Hostel is a really odd place. It’s managed by Lumpy, a legitimate mountain man who’s a mix between Swamp People, Duck Dynasty, and Deliverance. It’s a wonder they aren’t already filming a reality tv series based on Lumpy and this hostel. With a long beard and slow, drawn out speaking style, it almost seems like he’s playing a movie character…but he’s not. He’s the real deal.

After a brief tour of the place, Lumpy and I sat down on the porch of the old wooden bunkhouse for a chat. I learned that he got that nickname because he was a “fat kid”. I told him I really liked his beard, and hoped that one day the mangy crop of Spanish moss on my chin would grow into something that impressive. He then proceeded to tell me a true story about his beard. Years ago, Lumpy agreed to let a local organization use his famous beard for a fund-raiser to raise money to pay the hospital bills of a sick child. The organizers used an auction format, and the highest bidder would get to decide whether to cut Lumpy’s beard or preserve it. After several minutes of competitive bidding, a local businessman ultimately won out with a bid of $2800…and wanted the beard cut off. As Lumpy talked in his slow, Lumpy voice, I thought it was such a cool, heartwarming story of rural compassion. I loved how he willingly used one of his greatest assets, his beard, to help a sick child in need. But Lumpy wasn’t through yet…not by a long shot. In fact, his tale was just getting started. He continued… “They brung me and my beard over to the gal with the scissors who would do the cuttin’.” He paused for a moment and smiled. Then, in a higher octave, excited voice, he declared, “and that gal had the biggest hooters I’ve ever seen!” (He gestured just how large so I could get the magnitude and longitude.) I was speechless. We had reached the purpose for the story…the main take-a-way. It didn’t end with a sick boy in a wheelchair being wheeled across the stage to hug and thank a teary-eyed Lumpy. Rather, it ended with a well-endowed country gal taking Lumpy’s beard, but giving him a thrill in return.

As for the hostel, your $20 gets you a bunk bed with a foam mattress and linens. There’s a resupply store with reasonably priced, mostly not expired food (including pizza!) and other hiker amenities. There are laundry facilities…well, 2 tubs, a hose, a washboard, and soap to hand wash clothes, and a normal dryer. There’s also the option to tent camp for a lesser rate, although at least 2 of the tent campers were drinking, smoking pot, and had taken 6 consecutive zero days in Gatlinburg to party, recover, and party some more. No thanks.

I soon learned of 2 downsides to this place. First, the hot water was out, so my only option was an ice cold shower that took my breath and other things away. A hot shower, the very thing I had hiked a personal best 18.4 miles for, simply wasn’t there at the finish line. Second, the port-a-john had not been emptied since Nixon was President, and was literally filled to the brim. Truly disgusting. Thankfully there was a privy by the camping area that could be used. (As I exited the next day, the new port-a-john was arriving.)

After showering and doing old-school laundry, I ate a large supreme pizza, 2 cherry pie packets, a Gatorade, Diet Coke, Mountain Dew, and package of string cheese. I then shot a video clip, available on my Facebook page, of Lumpy and my hiking buds quoting Monty Python lines. Before going to bed, I weighed myself, and discovered that I had lost 31.6 lbs! I had reached my weight loss goal for the entire trip in just 23 days! It was a bit of a psychological boost to realize that I was no longer carrying around a “frontpack”.

As we laid there in our bunks and started to doze off, a rooster started crowing loudly. Lumpy yelled, “Sorry y’all…the bird gits his nights n days confused sometimes.” It was the perfect way to close out a peculiar evening at a peculiar place. It will also be how we close each episode of the new reality tv show, “Lumpy at Standing Bear.”

Fob

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“I had come to realize that this whole place and experience is what you make of it. Your attitude and frame of mind determined everything. It wasn’t hard to see how this undertaking could be the worst or best experience of a person’s life.” – Kyle S. Rohrig, Lost on the Appalachian Trail

Day 20

The cold, windy and rainy night carried over into a cold, windy, and rainy morning. I didn’t sleep well because one of my shelter mates (whose trail name I won’t mention but it sounds like one of the seven dwarfs) snored loudly and non-stop from 9 p.m. until 7 a.m. It sounded like a freight train had gotten off track and was loose in his nostrils. Had he been next to me, I would have shoved a hiking sock down his esophagus. Of course, I would have used one of Deadwood’s socks in order to maintain my innocence. Deadwood would gladly take the fall for his beloved Ironman.

We hiked about 6 miles in the nasty weather and sought refuge at the Silers Bald Shelter. It was so cold that Stitch decided to build a very rare, midday fire inside the shelter. As we huddled around the fire, we checked the weather radar. A line of heavy thunderstorms was closing in…perhaps about 30 minutes out. Decision time: stay at Silers Bald by the fire and call it a day…or make a run for Double Spring Gap Shelter, just 1.7 miles away? I took one more glance at the radar and said, “I’m going for it!” I then took off hiking/running as fast as I could, with a few others behind me. We got to the shelter just as the thunderstorm hit. We were cold, tired and a little bummed over the wimpy 7.4 mile day. We were also very thankful to have dodged a massive thunderstorm.

Day 21

We awoke to yet another very cold, rainy/foggy day. I heard a few grumblings that folks were already sick of the Smokies and just wanted to get through them. That was a shame because the Smokies are a beautiful, magical place. It’s just hard to appreciate that when your hands and face hurt and visibility is only 30 feet.

Elle, the late 20-something engineer who is part princess, part trail diva, and self-described “adorable,” was one of the first out of the shoot, and I was a few minutes behind her. Despite the crappie weather, I was looking forward to climbing Clingmans Dome, the highest point on the AT.

Towards the end of a long ascent, in the vicinity of Mount Buckley, I spotted something in the woods out of the corner of my eye. It stood out because it was Aqua colored and only about 15 feet off the trail. As I got closer, I realized (to my horror) what it was. It was Princess Elle, embracing a thin tree, assuming the 90 degree position, and taking a dump! Yikes! Gracious sakes alive! Katy bar the door! I looked away, following the lead of a nearby squirrel, and hiked on. But the scene kept running through my mind, haunting me. First of all, I didn’t even know princesses pooped. (Cinderella? No. Snow White? Absolutely not. Ariel, Princess Jasmine, and Sleeping Beauty? No, no, and no. Peach? Technically no, she only drops bananas from her Kart to slow down Bowser. Middleton? Unlikely, she’s not the Duke of Earl. Fiona? Okay, I’ll give you that one but she’s an ogre.) And why so close to the trail, Elle…behind a small pooplar tree? Some things defy explanation.

As I neared Clingmans Dome, there was a fork in the trail and I mis-read the poorly worded and positioned sign…and entirely missed the single white blaze down low and off to the left on a rock. Turns out half the hikers in our group would do the same and wrongly veer right, adding an unnecessary quarter mile round trip to the parking lot. We all agreed this fork could use one of those warning double blazes common elsewhere on the trail. Clingmans Dome is always impressive, but I’m glad I’d been there before on a day that wasn’t cold and rainy with poor visibility. I walked around the top with BooknBoot and a friend who met her there. Eventually Princess Elle arrived, smiling, as if a heavy load had been lifted. As she talked on the phone with her dad, I interrupted and called her out for what she had done to that poor tree. She’ll be getting the bill for my eventual therapy.

With the ice having been broken in a most unfortunate way between Sir Fob and Princess Elle, we decided to hike together for the next few hours. I learned that Elle would be meeting her boyfriend at Newfound Gap in order to spend some time together in Gatlinburg. We brainstormed some April Fools jokes we could play on him, like having me arrive first to tell him she had met another guy and decided to stay at the last shelter. As the day wore on, Elle sensed that my 50-year-old body was starting to tire. So she began singing a series of Jack Black songs to motivate me. I wasn’t familiar with any of them but appreciated her efforts. At the Road Prong Trail parking lot, we stopped with Master Wayne to rest and dry out our socks on a grassy slope.

We eventually arrived at the popular, touristy Newfound Gap, a mountain pass dedicated by President Franklin Roosevelt in 1940. After so many days of solitude in the wilderness, it was odd seeing so many cars and people there. One person not there was Elle’s boyfriend, but I defended him and assured her that he was probably in town making preparations.

I have read many, many books by AT thru-hikers and several of them talk about the “rock star” treatment that aspiring thru-hikers get at points along the trail. I hadn’t experienced any of that until Newfound Gap. As we organized our backpacks, dumped our trash, and ate a snack, several families and individuals approached us like you might approach a wild, smelly emu. “That’s a thru-hiker, dear,” whispered one mother to her young daughter, as she held on to her to keep her from getting too close. “Aspiring thru-hiker,” I clarified. “You don’t earn the thru-hiker title until the final summit in Maine.” From a variety of young and older folks, we got the usual questions about where we began, how far we had gone, and whether we had seen any bears. I so wanted to answer, “No, but I saw a princess poop in the woods this morning.” I showed restraint, not wanting to cause confusion for the young tourists and aspiring princesses listening and staring.

Honestly, after hiking 207 miles, recently in the cold and rain, I appreciated the rock star treatment, even though I’m just a smelly hiker. It brought back memories of the last time I had felt that way. I was on a plane full of troops on our way to Afghanistan. We stopped to refuel at 1 a.m. at Bangor (Maine) International Airport. As we exited the plane and walked down the ramp for a 2-hour break, we saw rows of people lined up on both sides, 25 to 30 of them…clapping, shaking our hands, and patting us on the back. It was 1 a.m., most of them were elderly, and we hadn’t even stepped foot into a combat zone. They handed us cell phones to use and had snacks and drinks set out for us. I felt like a rock star, even though I hadn’t done anything yet. And I felt so very honored to be among these troops, some of whom had been on multiple deployments…perhaps a few of whom would be called on to give their last full measure of devotion on this deployment. I truly appreciated the kindness and appreciation of fellow Americans that night (you can read more about them at http://www.flybangor.com/troop-greeters )
And I appreciated the kindness and interest shown on my hike by those at Newfound Gap. Memo to self: Do as much as you can, as often as you can, to make those around you feel like rock stars.

I said farewell to Princess Elle whose boyfriend would arrive just after I left. I hiked uphill a few more miles and settled in at Icewater Spring Shelter along with the rest of the Great Smoky Mountains Bubble. It had been another cold, rainy 13.4 mile day…and yet a wonderful day. As thru-hiker and author Kyle Rohrig once wrote, “Your attitude and frame of mine determined everything.”

Fob

“Write it. Just write it…Write until your fingers hurt, then keep writing more. Don’t ever stop writing. Don’t ever give up on your story…Don’t ever let anybody take away your voice. You have something to say, your soul has a story to tell. Write it…Love you work. Be brave. Just write.”     – Melodie Ramone

Day 19

Today was a nostalgic day of hiking for me. I would be covering familiar ground, as a result of a 2011 Smokies section hike with my friend John, his brother Scott, and my eldest son, Jason. The morning of Day 19 was chilly and windy, considerably colder than the last time I was in these parts.

Near privy-less Russell Field Shelter, I stopped to take care of some business behind a tree in the recently named Oats n Dark Chocolate Granola Gap…just across from Nature Valley. (For those keeping tabs, that was just the #2 tree-side #2 in 180.4 miles. Also, for those keeping tabs, no need to…I am doing it for you.)

At mile 183, just south of Spence Field Shelter, a 2-mile stretch (to Thunderhead Mountain) constitutes what I consider to be the prettiest section of the first 250 miles of the AT…stunning views, sprawling grassy balds, birds chirping, interesting rock formations, etc. The only thing missing was Julie Andrews streaking across the landscape singing Climb Every Mountain. (I don’t think “streaking” was the word I was looking for there. Try getting that visual out of your head now.) Anyway, I decided to stop, take my pack, boots and shirt off, lay down on a sun-baked grassy bald, and eat an entire package of sliced salami. If John, Scott, and Jason had been there, they’d have done the same.

I continued the climb up to…(drum roll)…Rocky Top! Rocky Top, you’ll always be, home sweet home to me, good ol’ Rocky Top, Rocky Top, Tennessee! Go Vols! Okay, I got that out of my system. As I stood on top of Rocky Top, I had a flashback to 2011 when Jason and I stood on those same rocks. I learned from Elle that later that day, some Tennessee hillbillies were up there serving shots of moonshine and singing Rocky Top. That would have been something to witness. The only trail magic I got was a handful of tic tacs from some section hikers from Cincinnati.

As I descended Thunderhead mountain, BooknBoot was on my tail and we started picking up speed. For no particular reason, we wanted to see how fast we could go. Like alpine skiers, representing the USA and Australia, we tore down the mountain, with rocks and roots serving as poles or gates to dodge and maneuver. Near the bottom, we stopped to catch our breath and get water. It was there that we had a really interesting conversation. First, she told me about her doctoral dissertation. It’s based on the book Suttree by Cormac McCarthy (whose other works include Blood Meridian, All the Pretty Horses, and No Country for Old Men). She’s hiking the AT, in part, to gain some perspective on the character Cornelius Suttree, who left a life of privilege with his prominent family to live near Knoxville in a dilapidated houseboat on the Tennessee River (probably next to the guys who were singing Rocky Top and giving out shots of moonshine earlier in the day). She spoke passionately about her research and made me want to read Suttree and her dissertation.

She then mentioned my blog and said she had read several of the AT entries. She looked me in the eyes and said, “Fob, you need to write a book. Seriously, your stories are quite good and funny and people will read it. Not everyone can be out here hiking the AT. Tell your story for them.” This sweet little Aussie, with a big brain, striped leggings, and a giant winter owl hat, couldn’t have been more sincere. I found it all rather touching. So, I told her I would. Just like that, at a watering hole at the foot of Thunderhead Mountain, in the Great Smoky Mountains, I gave my word that I’d write a book about my AT story. So I will.

After 12 miles, with the temperature continuing to drop, we arrived at Derrick Knob Shelter. One by one, members of The Great Smoky Mountain Bubble came rolling in…Master Wayne, Nesquick, Stitch, etc. The Smokies are conducive to hiking bubbles because stealth camping (tenting wherever you want) is prohibited in the park. You must sleep in a shelter if there is room in the shelter. If not, then you are allowed to tent near the shelter. Also, section hikers with shelter reservations are allowed to bump thru-hikers out of the shelter…because they have reservations and because most aspiring thru-hikers would prefer tenting anyways. All these rules left some hikers with a bad impression of the Smokies, but I understand the need for some rules given that it is the most visited national park in the United States.

After eating some Mountain House Beef Stroganoff, gummy bears, 3 Advil, and a Little Debbie, I sat on the grass feeling tired, stiff, and cold. Then, from out of nowhere, I spoke 6 words that I had never said before: “I want to do some yoga.” Before I had the chance to take it back, Patricia (Mom) offered to guide me through a yoga session. Next thing you know, I’m on my back, contorted like a pretzel, trying with all my might not to shoot beef stroganoff at the bear bags hanging nearby. After watching me struggle through the first exercise, Mom mercifully suggested we stop there and build on that progress in future sessions.

That night, we packed ourselves into the shelter and hunkered down as the temperature dropped, wind gusted, and rain fell.  Little did we know that for the next four days, at elevations from 4700 to 6700 feet, we would endure not only rain but some of the coldest temperatures any of us had ever camped in. If Spring had sprung, someone forgot to tell the Smokies.

Sir Fob

 

Bubble – noun – “a good or fortunate situation that is isolated from reality or unlikely to last.”

Day 17

I awoke, broke camp, and ate a granola bar dipped in peanut butter…another breakfast of champions. After climbing out of Cable and Black Gum Gaps, I began the long descent into Fontana Dam. Halfway through this 5.5 mile hike, Moses zoomed past me like I was standing still. (Moses was trail named by members of a church youth group as he sat in all his bearded glory atop Preaching Rock (mile 21.8). He’s a Christian from Louisville KY who hikes fast and posts great AT thru-hike YouTube videos on the Phollowing Phil channel.) Initially troubled by the disparity in our hiking speeds, it occurred to me that in the wilderness, it’s always best to let Moses lead. On the other hand, would following him result in 40 years of wandering on the AT? That’s a lot of granola bars. Regardless, the plan was for Moses to get to Fontana Lodge first and book a room for me, Stitch, Robi Dobi (named after an elephant in her favorite children’s book), and himself. He delivered as promised, as one would expect from a Moses.

Fontana Dam is a great touristy place for families to vacation and for tired hikers to re-charge and re-supply. It’s also a great place for hiking bubbles to take shape as you prepare to enter The Great Smoky Mountains. A hiking bubble is a group of hikers who will generally travel together over the course of several days, weeks, or in rare instances, even months. You may or may not actually hike near them during the day, but will camp with them near the same shelter or campsite at night. Being a part of a good, fun, mutually supportive bubble is, without a doubt, one of the very best things about hiking the AT. It’s within those bubbles that friendships are forged, burdens are shared, and memories are made. With each successive shelter, campfire, or frigid morning shared, the bonds grow tighter. You tend to ride the bubble until your hiking pace, be it slower or faster, causes you to fall behind or get ahead. If you’re fortunate enough, you’ll eventually catch on with another bubble and ride it for awhile.

At the Fontana Lodge, the first order of business was to pick up the second food package I had mailed to myself. It contained a 6-day supply of food…about double what I needed. (Lesson learned: no more food mailings.) I then took a long hot shower and ate fish n chips with Moses and Stitch. (To clarify, I was alone in the shower and together with them at the restaurant.) We then walked down a hill to do laundry and re-supply at the General Store. Later, we had dinner (Pasta Primavera!) and were joined by Patricia (trail name Mom) and Megan (trail name Orbit…because she has a big beautiful open-mouth smile like the girl in the Orbit gum commercial). This was the same mother/daughter team from Vermont that I had shared a cup of coffee with on Megan’s birthday back in Hiawassee. As we enjoyed dinner and conversation, little did I know I was sitting in the nucleus of what would become my first incredible hiking bubble!

Day 18

“If you drive to, say, Shenandoah National Park, or the Great Smoky Mountains, you’ll get some appreciation for the scale and beauty of the outdoors. When you walk into it, then you see it in a completely different way. You discover it in a much slower, more majestic sort of way.” – Bill Bryson

For the first time in my life, I awoke with a bearded Moses in the bed next to me. (Words last spoken by Zipporah several thousand years ago.) I got up and, in Macgyver-esque fashion, made oatmeal by heating water with the coffee pot. I then hitched a ride back to the trailhead where I hiked a couple of miles to and across the beautiful Fontana Dam. I immediately entered the Great Smoky Mountains National Park and walked along an asphalt road several hundred yards with Big Bird, a retired military officer who dispenses advice like the big yellow fellow on Sesame Street.

I then re-entered the woods, placed my GSMNP permit in the hiker permit box, and began a 2700 foot climb over the next 10 miles. Despite the tough climb into the Smokies, it was a gorgeous, cool, sunny day…tailor made for hiking.

At mile 170.8 I came face to face with the terrifying Shuckstack Fire Tower…the scariest thing I’d encountered since hearing at Fontana Lodge that our next President would likely be another Clinton or Trump. As my wife will tell you, I don’t like heights. The older I get, the less I like them. I nearly wet myself watching The Walk, a movie about the guy who tight-rope walked across the World Trade Center towers. I don’t like steep roller coasters and so I’m usually the guy designated to sit on a Six Flags bench, watch everyone’s stuff, and eat a $9 corn dog. However, before starting my AT journey, I told myself I need to face my fears and do the fire towers…even Shuckstack.

Years ago, my eldest son, Jason, preached a sermon that, to this day, has had a profound impact on me.  Entitled “20 Seconds of Courage,” it’s based on this line from the movie, We Bought a Zoo:  “You know, sometimes all you need is 20 seconds of insane courage.  Just literally 20 seconds of just embarrassing bravery.  And I promise you, something great will come of it.”  In the movie, the boy needed just 20 seconds of insane courage to express his feelings to a girl that he liked.  Maybe you need it to jump out of an airplane, or go on a mission trip, or simply invite your neighbor to go to church with you.  You don’t need an hour of bravery…just 20 seconds.

As I approached the base of the long set of stairs, I was digging deep to find my 20 seconds. I was also hoping for a miracle…a “closed for repair” sign…or maybe a sudden lightning strike…reasonable requests from a guy who had just slept next to Moses. No such luck…it was time to dig deep and face my fears. As I took my first step, I noticed the right rail was missing on the first set of 20 steps! Are you serious? How could North Carolina, a state which brought us the Biltmore Estate (not to mention Krispy Kreme doughnuts and the Venus Fly-Trap), not have the common decency to put another rail up on the Stairway to Fob’s Death? Unbelievable!

So with my palms sweating, my heart pounding, and my knees already weak from the climb into the Smokies, I took my first step onto Shuckstack and stopped six inches off the ground. That wasn’t so bad. I then took my second and third and fourth steps and the fear began to slowly creep in. I hated it. And I hated myself for hating it. I gripped the left rail so tightly that a vein popped out of the back of my hand. If I was Jacob’s (Ladder) daddy, then Shuckstack was his grandfather. With each step, the earth moved farther away, and I wondered why I wasn’t sitting, watching the other hikers’ backpacks, and eating a corn dog. At the top of the first set of stairs, I looked down and nearly pooped myself. I needed a new strategy. Rather than live in the moment, I decided to distract myself by making up new words to a church song…specifically the song, My God and I. Weird as it may seem, with each step, the song in my head went something like this…

My God and I, we’ll climb these stairs together;
We’ll walk and talk; look down and maybe puke.
We’ll grasp the rail, and wish there was another;
My God and I, will climb to Shuckstack’s view…

That song, whether it was a God thing, simply a distraction, or both, got me to the top unscathed. For the rest of my life, that song will always remind me of the climb up Shuckstack. Unfortunately, the climb down Shuckstack was just as terrifying, and the only song I could think of was Free Fallin’! I eventually managed to make it down to solid ground, even though the rail on the final set of stairs had still not been replaced. I was relieved and maybe a little proud to have stared down one of my greatest fears..at least in this instance. But the Smokies weren’t done with me yet…not by a long shot.

At mile 174 I passed the side trail to Gregory’s Bald and then the idyllic Doe Knob, two very special places to my friend, John Walsh. It was on or near Doe Knob that, years ago, John took a nap, and was awakened by a deer licking him. A true story…and quite plausible once you’ve seen the amount of hair on John’s back. Ironically, and just as true…a few miles later, as I approached the stream at Ekaneetlee Gap, I spotted two deer in a clearing off to the left about 40 feet from the trail. As I tried to discreetly reach for my camera, one of my trekking poles dropped and the deer darted off into the deep woods. Bummer! I never had the chance to ask if one of them had once licked a guy named John.

After a 12.6 mile day, I arrived at Mollies Ridge Shelter for what would easily be my favorite night on the AT so far. My previously introduced hiking bubble had picked up some familiar faces, like BooknBoot, the Aussie lady out here working on her dissertation who I first met as she bunked under me at the Neels Gap hostel. Additionally, our bubble expanded to include…

Nesquick – single southerner, last name Quick, great massive beard, early 20s, great sense of humor

Deadwood – married southerner, early 30s, also incredibly funny; thinks Fob looks like Robert Downey, Jr.

Elle – 28-year-old engineer from the northeast; self-described “adorable” and she is; a trail diva with princess-like qualities; near-term goal is to be reunited with her boyfriend at Newfound Gap

Conductor – previous AT thru-hiker; shares his considerable trail knowledge; earned his trail name by the graceful manner in which he swats at spider webs when entering shelters/rooms

Master Wayne – real name Bruce; section hiker; green hiking jacket makes him look like The Grinch

I built a massive campfire and we sat around laughing and eating and telling stories and jokes. Really, really good times. Yes, it was just a bubble…”a good situation that is unlikely to last.” And yet it was our bubble and it was a good one and we were living in the moment.

As I was about to doze off on the top level of the Mollies Ridge Shelter, Deadwood crawled into his sleeping bag in the spot next to me. He looked over and stared into my eyes and proclaimed, “I’m sleeping next to Ironman. The fantasy I’ve had since I was 7 years old has finally come true!” Everyone laughed.

Ironman, aka Fob, finally dozed off to sleep…happy to have found a spot in the shelter…but even more so in the bubble.

Fob

Bonus Doe Knob Photos for John Walsh:

“The hero is commonly the simplest and obscurest of men.”    – Henry David Thoreau

Day 15

I broke camp and descended 1 mile to the Nantahala Outdoor Center (NOC), a paradise for outdoorsmen.  Across a sprawling campus with a river running through it, you’ll find an outstanding outfitter, restaurant, general store, white water rafting, kayaking, and more.  It’s the kind of place that sucks you in and makes you want to stay awhile and raise a family and then retire.

My first stop was to the Outfitter to pick up my first food mail drop…3 days of food I didn’t need.  Between Trail Magic food and eating less than expected on the trail, I way over-estimated food needs and wish I hadn’t sent either of my two food mailings.  I then headed to the restaurant to chow down on some Fontana Hash Browns…onions, peppers, broccoli and tomatoes sautéed and placed over home fries with 2 eggs and melted cheese…and several shakes of tobasco sauce. As I devoured it, along with four cups of coffee and five glasses of water, I watched kayakers practicing their craft in the raging rapids below. I thanked God for carrying me this far on the journey and for this moment of being warm, full, and dry.

After a few rejuvenating hours at the NOC, I began the long…LONG…ascent up to Cheoah Bald. In fact, it’s rated the 5th longest climb on the AT…3000 feet of elevation gain over 5.8 miles. It’s not technically difficult…it just keeps going and going…like a hiker in the NOC restaurant bathroom after eating Fontana Hash Browns with tobasco sauce. On the way up, I came across Simba and Firecracker, aka the Weasleys of Hogwarts, the ginger brother and sister team with sparkling hair.

At mile 140, near Grassy Gap, I found the Wade Sutton Memorial. On December 7, 1968, about 783 feet southwest of the memorial, Mr. Sutton of the North Carolina Forest Service “gave his life suppressing a forest fire, that you might more fully enjoy your hike along this trail.” I stopped and paid my respect to this man and considered the horror he faced as he succumbed to a fire on that steep mountainside when I was two years old. He didn’t become a hero that day…he was already one because he was willing to go into harms way to protect lives and natural resources. I also thought about my nephew, David Watts, and friend, Les Rydl…two men who have made similar commitments to fight fires and respond to emergencies and are heroes as well.

After 7.7 uphill miles, I reached Sassafras Gap and tented behind the shelter. Around the campfire that night, I met some new friends including…

Stone – his trail name comes from 2 sources. First, he hikes really fast downhill, like a rolling stone.  Second, he’s a Christian and loves Matthew 21:42, which reads, “Jesus said to them, “Have you never read in the Scriptures: “ ‘The stone the builders rejected has become the cornerstone; the Lord has done this, and it is marvelous in our eyes’?” So the trail name reminds him of who he is and whose he is. He is from Roanoke, Virginia, and is hiking the AT as a missionary, supported by his church.

Abbie – likes to rotate continuously around the campfire, but rejected my suggested trail name of Rotisserie.

Amelie – hails from Birmingham and Hoover High…friend of Abbie…teaches 2nd grade…just out here for a week supporting Abbie’s thru-hike attempt.

The Hikers Formerly Known as ABBA – from Switzerland or Sweden or maybe Swaziland.  Individually, I call them Swiss Miss, Fernando, and Dancing Queen.

Moses – another Christian and fast hiker from Louisville Kentucky.

Stitch – a really fun, friendly hiker and ex-Army gal from Gainesville, GA.

Around the campfire, I learned that Wildwood, the 20-year-old special needs hiker, out here with his mom (Driftwood) injured his feet and had to get off the trail for X-rays and a couple days of rest. Also, Maia, my pastry chef friend, went to the NOC outfitter to get new shoes. The foot guy told her that her toes were infected and she needed to get off the trail for a couple of days. Please pray for Wildwood and Maia.

It was a rough nights sleep because I mistakenly thought that tenting at an angle would be fine. As I crawled onto my sleeping pad, I slid to the bottom of my tent like a fat man on a greased slip and slide. I basically had to keep my tired legs extended throughout the night to avoid being in a fetal position at the bottom of my tent.

Day 16

I awoke on Sunday morning, Easter Sunday, and realized how weird it was to be out in the wilderness on Easter Sunday. As I crawled out of my tent, I heard someone talking over at the shelter and went over to investigate. Turns out it was Stone, giving a thoughtful, encouraging sunrise message about God’s love, Christ’s sacrifice, and the meaning of the resurrection. Great stuff! He also reminded us all that what Christ did is a gift, a present, and each of us has the option of whether to open/accept the present or leave it wrapped and in the box.  What have you done with Christ’s gift?

Today I would hit the toughest, short, non-scramble section of the Trail so far…Jacob’s Ladder, at mile 151.7. Brutal! As I gasped for air and felt the burning in my calves, I did what any child of the 80s would do…I put on some Def Leppard and climbed the ladder!  At the top, I looked back and told Jacob I was his new daddy.

After 15.2 miles I tented near Cable Gap Shelter with Stone, Moses, Stitch, the Hikers Formerly Known as ABBA, and Terrible Lizard…who got that name when a salamander somehow managed to crawl down into her 2-liter Platypus bag.

As I crawled into my tent, two thoughts came to mind: 1) I was less than 6 miles from the Fontana Lodge and all that would bring; and 2) I had unintentionally and creepily placed myself directly below the privy, giving myself an awkward view of the knees and ankles of hikers doing their business.  I quickly zipped up the tent and put in my earplugs.

Fob