TRAIL DAYS 33-34
Thu, Mar 24, 2016 I had breakfast at Crockett’s Breakfast Camp – again – always after Theo’s relief and feeding – and then sometime this day, I made my way to the NOC Outfitters on the main drag, not too far from the motel. We were only about 70 trail miles from the original NOC itself. I guess they branched out to Gatlinburg as the nearest city to expand their business. The store was well appointed and it was here that I made the purchase that would change how I ate on the trail.
I had not forgotten Minute Man’s MSR stove at the Derrick Knob Shelter nor how easy it was for him to boil water quickly. In addition, the way the stove was constructed, he didn’t have to fuss with a windshield, nor pour fuel. His stove was heavier than my .4 oz homemade alcohol stove, but I would come to accept the weight for the advantages. I bought one and it did make my life easier.
I also bought some “tenacious tape” which I had heard about. It was clear and apparently tenacious. I thought I’d give it a try especially on little tears or spark holes in my down jackets. There are many little tenacious dots still doing their job of keeping in the down.
Since this would be my last zero, I noted that the store had a sign-up sheet for a shuttle back to Newfound Gap. The 8:00 a.m. one was full but there was a seat on the 10:00 a.m. one. I signed up.
After supper Theo and I were in for our last night in Gatlinburg where I became pretty much judgment free.
Day #33 Newfound Gap (Gatlinburg TN) 0 miles
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Fri, Mar 25, 2016 I didn’t know it when I awoke but it was Good Friday. I’m not sure if I knew it when I saw a half-crushed worm crawling across the parking lot of the motel. I would reflect at some time on the trail on the life of that worm dragging his useless half through the dampness of the driveway. Life winning over death, the suffering reality of his near fatal injury never leaving him and not stopping him. What an inspiration from the merest of God’s creatures. I will never forget that worm. Not in a sentimental way but in a thankful, spiritual way. He spoke to me and I am still listening.
Many large SUVs passed me without a hint of stopping. I began reflecting that a tourist Mecca was probably not the right place to expect down home largesse. Maybe Theo was a drawback. I remember so very well how he sat right in front of me with his saddle bags on, looking right up at me for approval and direction. Knowing dog-speak as I do, I’m sure he was saying things like “What are we doing now? Are we heading back to the trail? Why are we standing here in the road? Doesn’t matter. Just tell me what you want me to do and, if I understand what you are saying, I will do it – you can count on it!”
However it happened, the day dragged on a bit and I missed the NOC shuttle. Time for the thumb. I went to the main intersection nearby and stood on the berm by the eastbound lane back to Newfound Gap. Soon Mike or Camo, showed up. It was good to see him but, given what he said, I was doubtful that I would see him again. As I mentioned before, he was looking for Farmer and Sinatra. They were going to hang out and party. Honky Tonk Haven had captured their fancy.
My thumb was not having any luck. I reasoned that the big-vehicle vacationers were too loaded with their belongings and too fixed on their travels to bother about a hiker and his dog. I was getting ready to go to the garage at the corner just west of me to see if I could scar up a ride there when a pickup truck pulled over just east of me. My benefactor had arrived!
I went to the truck and the driver said we could ride in the back. He had stopped because of the dog. He was in town from Alabama to pick up a beagle he had purchased and he clearly cared about dogs. Theo saved the day.
I threw our packs in the back and Theo and I followed. There was a large crate in the bed of the truck, obviously for the dog he was in town to get.
It was a cool, overcast-but-sunny day and Theo and I enjoyed our ride as we wound and climbed back to the Gap. Of course, he hung his head over the side to get the ram air pressure up his nose stimulating his profound frontal-lobe appreciation of life. I held on to his hind quarters and he mounted the gunnels of the truck to maximum effect.
Back at the familiar parking lot, we seemed more in sun than shadow. We hopped out, thanked our kind driver and walked over to the retaining wall over which there was a broad and deep view into North Carolina taken in by more than a few tourists.
Theo was a people magnet as was my beard and backpack, I suppose. People asked where we were headed and I answered, as I would often proceeding northbound from the deep south, “Dare I say, Maine?” This would always prompt big smiles and not infrequently suggestions of quiet respect and awe. A small group asked if it would be all right to take our picture. I obliged happily and, again, as would often happen, they asked if I’d like them to take a picture with my phone. I was happy for their offer and Theo and I posed gladly.
Picture taken, I retrieved my phone with thanks, bid farewell and Theo and I turned and headed for the trail which started at the right side of the Monument where our Gatlinburg experience began. The trail hugged the side of the mountain behind the Monument and was peopled by folks heading into and emerging from higher elevations to the north. This was the first time I encountered non-thru-hikers, vacationers, and a tourist-worn trail. It was also the first time I saw what I was doing through the eyes of ordinary citizens. I was a thru-hiker. A phenomenon. I was doing something pretty extraordinary – walking from Georgia to Maine. I was not going to be heading home after a mile-long hike into and back out of the woods. I was going into the woods to stay – for many days. I was going to keep going for month after month as the seasons changed around me and my immutable goal.
As I hiked, I became aware that it was Good Friday and I thought of the one for whom the day is named. I recalled my judgments in Gatlinburg and now of tourists in the woods, MY woods. By the mystery of grace, I was caused to reflect, “He did not come into this world to judge or condemn” and I took solace in His person – His way – and kept on hiking.
I can picture the firmly-packed, wet trail, draining a light earlier rain. The climb was fairly steep and rocky. I saw many young hikers who had passed me earlier and now had turned around to return to the parking lot, their vehicle and their homes. There were few who passed me and did not return but there were some – fellow hikers bound for Katahdin.
It was probably around 3:30 p.m. that I came to a break in the trail off to my right, about an hour after our start. People without packs were standing in the afternoon sunlight talking with a hiker seated with all the trappings of a thru-hiker next to him. I stopped and listened for a bit and then joined in. The hiker’s trail name was “Rusty Bridges” which prompted me to say, “I hope you’re not an engineer.” He told me it had something to do with relationships and soon our eager thru-hiker talk tended to ware on the week-enders who seemed ready to disperse.
One of the subjects I indulged in with Rusty Bridges was other hikers. He mentioned a “Sponge Bob” and a “Mr. Bean” whom I would meet many miles north and “Zam” and “Shivers” and a brother-sister team named Claire and Rob.
Soon I left Rusty Bridges in place. I never saw him again.
Three miles in, I came to Icewater Spring Shelter just east of the trail. Beyond was a beautiful view over mountains as clouds began to settle in the valley. I was tempted but decided not to stay returning instead to the less well-worn trail. I would learn later that a bear had been seen there that night.
As we moved forward, dusk descended with a heavy mist and fog. I was hiking into a cloud layer. As I climbed up and down irregular terrain, I saw my first trail maintainer. The essential and vital work of these volunteers had been evident in cuts through trees that had fallen across the trail and in retaining walls I’d seen. He was carrying a chainsaw in a backpack rig. I thanked him for his work and watched him disappear in the mist with about four miles to go back to the parking lot late in the day after his heavy labors.
Another volunteer appeared soon after. We greeted him with thanks as well and moved on into the mist.
At about 5 miles, Charlies Bunion Loop Trail was reputed to provide a spectacular view but the day was getting on and our 2:30 p.m. start didn’t allow for a side excursion. We opted to keep going.
Before long, we climbed out of the clouds and misty dark to a spectacular view of the setting sun over a thick cotton field of white. We drank in the scene and moved forward into the night on a narrow ridge which fell off steeply on both sides presenting serious hazards but for a bilateral growth of tall, thick brush.
It was getting darker and my headlamp became essential to pierce the thick black of night which consumed the narrow mountain trail. As I write, I can just about see some of the stones I stepped over that night. Oh what infinitude dwells in the mind!
We continued into the darkness until somewhere on the ridge, I happened to look up to see the sky. Gatlinburg was out of sight south and west of us and now, beyond light pollution and above cloud cover, we were alone in the Smoky Mountains beneath a black canopy pierced with pinholes into the infinite dome of brilliant light. Although space is infinitely black, the illusion of eternal light beyond the dark night sky was heavenly.
Our destination was far beyond but we were captured by the moment. I turned off my headlamp and Theo and I lay back on the edge of the trail looking up in silence.
Well, O.K., I did the looking while Theo did his master’s bidding.
It had to be a good half hour until the need to move on took hold and we returned to the narrow beam which would light our way step by step over roots and rocks and dark, wet earth. Another hiker passed us on the gentle descent perhaps a half mile before we came to Pecks Corner Shelter (0.5E).
As I approached my destination, I saw a tent set up off to my right and someone coming toward me from the direction of the shelter. It was “Shivers!” He was on the trail for one purpose – to pack in supplies for thru-hikers. Like a Saint Bernard, he showed up with not a little barrel around his neck but with a backpack full of small bottles of Bourbon. He had hiked the year before and knew how welcomed his kindness would be. I thought of his kindness with a little remorse because I was too late. He’d given everything away. My regret was short lived. It was time to find a place to pitch my tent, grab supper and turn in.
The place I found was across from the tent I had seen before. There was no clearing but I managed to make a spot by headlamp among small trees and underbrush. Once the tent was set up, I headed back up the trail a ways to a clearing to cook supper. This was my first use of the new stove. I had Pad Thai.
Water was just over a knoll from where I set up to cook and a gal from the tent across from me came by in the dark. We greeted each other and carried on. She too got water and headed back to her tent. I had my supper, cleaned up and turned in.
Day #34 Newfound Gap > Pecks Corner Shelter 10.2 miles