TRAIL DAYS 40-42
Thu, Mar 31, 2016 – Sat, Apr 2, 2016 I’m not going to be able to delineate days at Hot Springs. I can give you only a general recall of my time there.
HLHL was on the left as you exited the woods. It consisted of two buildings joined by a roof. Walking between these took you into a large open area at the back with picnic tables. In the distance was the lodge with a semicircular drive for dropping off quests. Theo was more interested in food than the lodge behind him.
It would be the rare thru-hiker, indeed, who would stay at the lodge. Hikers bunked in the hostel, the building on the left as you passed under the connecting roof. The building on the right was “administration” – my word but it conveys the quasi-authoritative feel emanating from those who worked there. Dogs were supposed to be leashed, a rule I consistently observed by ignorance. The lady administrator was unsmiling in her request for me to comply. On the 2nd warning, I obliged but I don’t recall using a leash. I did, however, fix Theo to a tree with the green cable if I went downtown for a meal. Lady Admin still was not happy because Theo would occasionally bark at people when I was away. I’m sure she never noticed or cared that his ferocity was all show and that people were crazy about him.
Later on the trail I would reason that it was probably some subliminal realization that I would need the Holy Cross to deal with my reactions to this humorless person and simply allow myself to die to any residual negativity. This was not easy but the demands of the trail helped push the past into the past.
As at Gatlinburg, my imperfections were showing and, once again, Christ, whom I am not quick to summon, surfaced in rebuttal. Perhaps, in spite of – or because of – my faults, I am more Christian than I am willing to admit. Perhaps I am more comfortable with the man than the religion.
As you entered the Hostel, there were two bathrooms on the left, their doors separated by a long counter with coffee and perhaps some pastry remnants. Beyond the far bathroom was a wall facing the hostel entrance door with a message board on it and the trail names of people in various rooms. Opposite the counter was the kitchen.
Beyond the bathroom and kitchen area, a long hall extended away from the entrance door with rooms on either side. On the right was also the laundry and showers.
My room was the second on the left. It was long and narrow with the bed on the left as you entered. A table was at the foot of the bed and a chair in the right back corner. I laid out my gear on the floor at the back of the room, on the table and along the wall opposite the bed. It would remain there until my brief-writing was done.
There were two places for dinner in town. They were down the hill, left on the main drag for about three blocks and across a creek. On the way, you passed a Christian Mission on the left where hikers were welcome for free food. Whenever you passed the Mission, the porch and inside were jam-packed with hikers. One morning I did stop in for coffee and pastries. But for dinners, I chose one of the two places, alternating as the days passed.
Bluff Mountain Outfitters was opposite the dinner spots but it was pricey and folks weren’t super friendly. I resupplied essentials here, however.
Breakfasts were at the Smoky Mountain Diner for which you’d turn right on the main drag and it was down on the right. The food was typical diner breakfast food. There were lots of pictures on the walls of former thru-hikers and the customary Katahdin shots of folks thanking those who made their hike possible.
It was here that I saw my favorite I-made-it! Katahdin picture.
It was here, too, that I first recited my No-Judgment verse from Gatlinburg for a couple with whom I had breakfast. A bright, science-oriented section-hiker gal said, “That’s poetic!” I confessed I had that bent.
I would have 4 breakfasts at this Diner, the last with my pack and Theo outside near the door.
But before that last breakfast we would have nearly a whole day of no electricity in town. A storm in the hills had caused the failure. All day there were predictions as to when the juice would come back on. It wasn’t until late afternoon. The restaurants were closed but somehow the Mission cooked up enough hotdogs for takers to have several. The building and porch were packed and, as I think back on it, in a sea of youth, I ate all I needed, feeling just like another hiker, although decades higher up the mountain than my comrades.
Of course, I spent a lot of time at Hot Springs researching and drafting my Reply Brief for the case before the Pennsylvania Superior Court but happily I don’t need to go into any of that. Suffice it to say, the legal hangover accomplished, I was ready to turn my mind and body over to the trail once again.
It was at Hot Springs that I got to know One Mile and Birdie well enough to know their names and to learn that they planned to hike north to Erwin, Tennessee and then catch a bus home to get married. They’d be back on the trail later as a married couple. I figured I probably would not see them again.
One Mile was intelligent and knew a good bit about physics and meteorology. He was able to tell me about the recent storm and storm system in the mountains; it was impressive.
Birdie was like a little nymph with long, soft, red hair she wore in a straight ponytail. She always had an impish smile that was fetching. It was tempting to imagine that she never got angry or upset and she had a soft, high-pitched, sweet and kindly voice to match. I would come to call her “Sweet Pea.” One Mile was equally kind and friendly also evoking a sense that he, too, was freed of anger and was happy to have his companion, soon to be wife. It was perfectly natural that they shared the trail, as well as life, together. My encounter with them was nothing but pleasant. Leash-lady they were not.
“Lormax” was helping out at the Hostel for room and board. His goal was to leave in a couple of weeks to hike the 2650-mile Pacific Crest Trail (PCT) and then the 3000-mile Continental Divide Trail (CDT). If he had already done the AT and followed through on his plan, he would have completed the “Triple Crown” of hiking! I considered his youth and freedom to be able to just head out and do it! It seemed he could carry on hiking almost without concerns of any kind except to reach his goals. I’m sure my wife and many others wondered how I could just up and disappear from my life long enough to do the AT but that seemed mild compared to the triple crown that surely was likely beyond my reach – not that some faint whisper of urging doesn’t respond to the thought.
Since he would be staying on after my return to the trail, Lormax was able to “bounce” my boxed goods forward. “Bounce” is properly used for a package that you don’t open and the post office simply forwards it on for you without additional cost. If you open the box, it is not a bounce but a new shipment. I gave Lormax $20 for his efforts and the postage. I was mailing what I had sent to HLHL from Motel 6 in Gatlinburg, having planned this stop back then.
Brief done, package bounced, electricity back, resupply finished, repeated extensions at HLHL granted and now paid, it was time to get back on the trail.
Day #40-42 Hostel at Laughing Heart Lodge (HLHL) 0 miles