TRAIL DAY 49
Sat, Apr 9, 2016 Usual morning stuff. I went out behind the shelter with my wide-mouthed bottle under my down jacket, a bottle of water and my toiletries. I disappeared behind a big tree for morning relief and to empty and rinse out my nighttime assistant. I brushed my teeth and headed back for the shelter.
My toiletries were in a light green, tight mesh pencil bag my youngest son had thrown out. I am known for retrieving stuff from the trash that I find still useful. Even had his discarded, leather-bottomed book bag for a while. I guess this trait goes with liking little things, efficiency, being a minimalist and a recycle nut. Well, it was distressing later in the day to realize I must have dropped my little zipped, geen, mesh bag on the way back to the shelter. I’d put out the word when I got to Uncle Johnny’s Nolichucky Hostel and Outfitters at Erwin, Tennessee. It had medicines and other important things inside and someone might bring it to Uncle Johnny as a lost item. Hikers do that kind of thing.
Uncle Johnny’s was far at the north end of Erwin from where I had been before. This is probably where Journeyman had stayed.
It was another wonderful day to be hiking – bright, clear and cool. There was still a dusting of snow on the hills soon to disappear with the sun, especially with descents to warmer elevations. It was an easy hike down to the Nolichucky River. A few ups and downs and then the longer descent to the water.
En route, I came upon a group of hikers. One of the guys said, “We’re the Johnson City Hikers Club.” After a brief pause, he added, “You probably couldn’t guess – we’re all from Johnson City.” It was light humor but for me it served the purpose of all humor. If it has even a little wit in it, it sends me on a brief vacation from a tendency to be serious. Maybe it just opens up the door into that fun-loving side of me that can laugh even at my serious side. It helps when the usual is turned on its head or expectations are flaunted or where that obvious and certain destination is anything but. Delightful! And best of all when the joke is on you and you are forced to laugh at yourself. That was soon to happen.
The River was visible at many points on the way down, sparkling in the bright sunlight.
The trail led right to Uncle Johnny’s – can’t beat that for business. He had it all. Maybe the best full-supply hostel-outfitter on the trail. He had the only supply of multi-purpose, collapsible, wide-mouthed bottles I saw on the trail. I was impressed and wondered if he knew what I knew about one of their uses.
I’d already made my Erwin stop farther south and it wasn’t time to bed down so I stop for a bit and then head out. Applejack did stay at Uncle Johnny’s, however, and showed me his room. Some Mennonite girls were staying there in tents set up on the lawn in the courtyard formed by the hostel buildings.
Others were just passing through like me: Purple Haze, B-Hiker, “Moon Boots,” and many more. Several were going to shuttle into town and I’d ride along to resupply. It was here that I met Pastor Talmage Brown by a storefront. Perhaps I looked like a hiker and he wanted to connect. He was a little lonely and told me his wife had Alzheimer.
On the way back to the hostel, you had to know where to turn off the main drag. Where to head down to the River. I asked about the fare and the driver said I should talk with Johnny to see if I had to anti-up for the ride. Because I wasn’t staying at the Hostel and hitched along with those who were and their ride was covered, I was off the hook.
Business accomplished, I set out for the trail across the road leading over the Nolichucky River. Pedestrians had a walkway protected on the right side of the road by a guardrail. After crossing the road, you could easily get to the far side of the guardrail by walking a little to your right to where it began. But that was too much trouble for this watch-how-cool-I-am hiker. No sir! I’ll just swing my leg up and over the rail on the most efficient path to the bridge and be on my way.
I approached the guardrail and being well versed in various mount and dismount exercises and having swung my leg up and over many a log in my preparatory hikes, I just did the same here.
Facing southbound with countless patrons diagonally across the intersection at Uncle Johnny’s enjoying the sunshine, I placed my left hand on the guardrail, poles under my right arm and, in one smooth, efficient and supremely effective movement, I swung my left leg up and over the guardrail, planning to head northbound with ease.
It didn’t happen that way.
I must have become so used to my pack that I didn’t account for its weight. Up went the leg – how cool! And down went the pack.
I quickly scrambled to avoid crashing onto the highway and to salvage a bit of decorum befitting an elderly gentleman so well versed in things of the wild. A misstep would be unthinkable.
Nonetheless, I wish I had been at Uncle Johnny’s looking across the road as I departed. If any there saw me, they were very polite. I heard not a single guffaw. Maybe the quick reach of my left arm for the top of the guardrail led them to believe that I had just executed a most unusual but effective traverse of the rail. My sudden, incompetent shenanigans and wild flailing about might have looked like a superlative gymnastics maneuver but, in truth, while trying to save face, if I did at all, I lacerated my left arm, through a few layers and suffered a minor wound to my self-esteem but the humor, even if on me, was most definitely hilarious. I still see myself in this chaotic moment and chuckle.
Once over the guardrail, it was time to move and mend.
It was almost 4:00 o’clock and the trail was gentle until a climb to the Curley Maple Gap Shelter – mile 346.4; elevation 3063′. After streams and fallen trees the shelter appeared at 6:30 p.m.
Chopsticks was here with Sacket and “No-Home” who was rather gruff – but he did love Theo. My fellow hikers had set up a tarp to block the wind from Chopsticks’ nightly fire. Theo shook off dust almost answering a summons. No-Home busied himself with chores and then set up his tent in the shelter. I’d last seen this at the Emily Proctor Shelter on The Long Trail in Vermont where a vet and her husband shared a Big Agnes tent inside on a cold night.
In both cases, I slept on the floor next to the tent. It was brisk but doable.
Day #49 No Business Knob Shelter > Curley Maple Gap Shelter 10.8 miles