TRAIL DAY 91

Sat, May 21, 2016 Three Springs was so named because of – guess what? – 3 springs.  That many springs flow under the hostel and Oma said there are many more under her grounds.  This led to a discussion of the water table and the effect on the hostel and work that had to be done but all was, pardon the expression, well.

Three Springs had a Smart Car and vanity plates.

Over breakfast, we got talking about the trail going north.  It started with Bald Knob, “not really bald” per AWOL.  Oma offered that it wasn’t that bad a climb.

I had resupplied the night before from Oma’s larder, weighing price and quantity against the many choices, some new to me.  I selected two dense, thick, square bars which were supposed to be full of everything you needed for a nutritious and energy-rich food.  I would sample then along the way but flavor, palatability and price were against their continued use.

I paid my tab and by 10:00 a.m. was back on the trail.

As I hiked, I reflected that Oma must be a strong hiker – or perhaps just naturally optimistic.  It was a 2000′ climb to the Knob and you know my thoughts about “UP” no matter the length.  I found the summit sufficiently bald to warrant that description.  En route, I remember seeing some awesome plants in another of the wettest-May days.  I had not seen the tough stem with little beads on it before.  Walking alone in the wilderness for days and months on end, you notice such things.  The first bright green leaf.  The first flower.  The first stone wall.  The first squirrel.  The first white birch.  And, coming up from the Georgia woods, even the sound of the first airplane – around Roanoke.

As we summited Bald Knob we saw more peaks wrapped in clouds up ahead.  We pushed on and eventually the clouds cleared and we were in a green-blue-and-white world again – at least for a good stretch of the afternoon.

I took more pictures of the little, innocent glories of nature and then a wonderful surprise.  There was a long gradual descent to USFS 48 and Hog Camp Gap.  On the edge of the road was a sign with glasses, keys and a lanyard hanging from it.  When I crossed the road at 3:45 p.m., I saw a couple of tents off to the right with an old codger (listen to me!) and a young fellow sitting on rocks nearby with a coke, peanut butter, their food bag and other items scattered about.  I asked them if they knew anything about the keys I’d seen.

“How should we know?” came a rather curt response.

“Just thought I’d give it a try – someone will be missing them.”

Notwithstanding the lack of invitation in the early exchange, I asked them if they were thru-hiking.  They were just out for a couple of weeks.  We eventually came to trail names.  They were “Pops and the Kid.”

“Pops” was 69 and “Kid” was 19.  I had to admire the old boy.  I thought the whole thing rather neat and asked if Pops and I could have a picture together.  Kid obliged with my phone.

We had moved from an attitude of “who cares” to fast buddies; from a kind of “get-lost” to more than Santa Clause.

There was again a little of that so-you’re-camped-already envy but I knew I needed to keep on.  I wished them well and headed for the nearby hill in bright sunlight, thinking about our pleasant encounter.

We saw much natural beauty over 3,500′ hill and dale until we descended into Piney River north fork and a very eerie setting for camp.  It seemed there was water in multiple channels for us to cross before we came to a place where we could set up our tent.

We were on a low, flat area with boulders and trees and odd configurations that evoked a sense of mystery.  It could be a wooded crime scene; a scene for a movie about alien creatures or known earthly varmints crawling out of crevices or out from under rocks or hanging from the trees or rising up out of the water.  Just plain eerie.

What are you going to do?  Call for mummy?  Take a cab?  Keep hiking after hikers’ midnight?  No.  You take the next meaningful step.  You settle in – and we did.

I guess I hadn’t yet gotten in the habit of getting water first thing so it could filter as I set up the tent or maybe I just didn’t need to do that here if my filter was working well and quickly.  At any rate, I went back to the water source we had crossed, filled up and took a picture of the tent in the distance.

I remember this spot so well for several reason that will emerge.  I’m sure I had supper leaning up against a nearby log.  I hadn’t yet discovered that I could make a very comfortable chair in my tent.  I’ll describe how farther along.

When it was time to bed down, I left Theo’s saddlebags with his food in it in one of the vestibules.  Even though it was getting dark, I saw a little mouse scurry to his bag and begin exploring.  I banged the side of the tent which had enough slack that I hit the bag and the mouse scurried off.  I opened the halfmoon mesh screen and hung Theo’s bags from the strap of my trekking pole, well off the ground, figuring that would take care of mouse matters.

Back he came and up he went.  I thought mice had claws that enabled them to climb.  How did he bolt right up my metal trekking pole?  He was on the bag in a flash but it was even closer to me than before so I just swatted him off and brought the bag inside the tent.

Now food inside the tent is not a good idea when there are animals around – especially big animals.  I may have put too much stock in bears not liking dogs but whatever the situation, I had not yet seen a bear and I took the risk notwithstanding the thief at Watauga Lake.  Happily, we got through the night without further incident.  Morning would be another matter.

Day #91   US 60 (Three Springs) > Piney River north fork 12.1 miles