Days 16-18: Three Days, Two Mice, One Trail

There’s nothing quite like welcoming a friend to the Appalachian Trail—especially during one of the gnarliest stretches so far. My friend Jodyann (along with her sweet pup Nora) drove over from Charlotte and joined me for a three-day section hike out of the NOC, and the trail decided to be extra dramatic in their honor.

Day 16: NOC to Sassafras Gap Shelter

We didn’t hit the trail until around 10:45 a.m., after checking out of the basecamp, printing permits, doing the classic last-minute gear scramble (Jodyann really excelled at this), and making sure Nora was ready to roll. It was warm, so we kept a relaxed pace, stopping every mile or so to make sure Nora had water.

The climb out of the NOC is no joke. The day ended up being the most aggressive ascent of the trail thus far: 3400 feat in under 7 miles. I was definitely feeling it, so I can only imagine how my friend was feeling. She got the perfect introduction to the Trail’s “character-building” side.

Tent space was limited at Sassafras but we found her a decent spot while I squeezed in among some downed logs. We joined fellow hikers at the shelter for dinner, and Miss Nora behaved like a champ—just a few protective growls. As the wind picked up, I turned in early, knowing a stormy night was ahead.

Day 17: Sassafras to Brown Fork Gap Shelter

The day started with sheer chaos. Wind shook the tent all night and I got fitful sleep. Then around 5 a.m., i got the worst wake up call imaginable: something ran by my head…inside the tent. Oh, no. Then something over my feet. OH NO. I fumbled for my headlamp—and found not one, but two field mice trapped in my tent. Full-blown panic ensued. Screaming, flailing, tossing my bag around. One scaled the mesh like it was Spider-Mouse. I finally managed to evict them with my electronics bag, muttering tragic curses into the wind.

The culprit of this chaotic morning alarm? A bag of Takis I forgot in an outer pocket of my pack. In retrospect, my campsite surrounded by downed trees meant I likely tented in the middle of their nests, and the scent of takis was too much a temptation for them to not chew through the thin mesh in the corner.

Needless to say, I didn’t get more sleep. We waited for a bit of forecasted rain to pass, then set out into relentless wind and punishing climbs. I definitely undersold what this section would be like for her. We had a miserable lunch break crouched behind a picnic table in a 25 mph wind tunnel, just trying to eat without freezing. That night, she tented while I opted for the shelter (and hit my head twice).

I’m not sure if mice in your tent is considered a token trail experience, but I think I’m fully indoctrinated into life in the woods now.

Day 18: Brown Fork Gap to Fontana Dam

Finally—relief. The wind calmed overnight, and we set out around 9 with better weather and better spirits. Nora got to run off-leash and was a total joy, sprinting back and forth like a fluffy rocket. She even started warming up to other hikers, collecting pets from hikers Swamply and Holiday. Her energy was neverending, with the laps easily adding several miles for her day.

The terrain was friendlier today, though the descent into Fontana Dam still beat up my knees. I was motivated, though—Fontana meant showers, food, and town comfort. I snagged a room at a hotel other hikers had booked, and continued on to Fontana Dam Marina.

After a drink and chips with Jodyann at the marina, I dropped my pack and knocked out the final stretch solo. The marina owner was a character (and tried to prank me by pretending my card was declined), but he kept her company while I fetched the car. She dropped me at the hotel with hugs and goodbyes.

Insights from this segment

• Don’t underestimate the climb out of the NOC: It’s steep, relentless, and doesn’t care if you brought a friend who’s new to the trail.






• Double-check your gear—especially food storage: Lesson learned: no food anywhere near your sleeping space.






• Wind can be just as brutal as rain: Plan for sheltered spots if you can.






• Sharing the trail changes the experience—in a good way: Hiking with a friend and their dog slowed me down, but also gave me fresh perspective and plenty of joy.

This stretch had it all: reunions, chaos, windstorms, rodents, and trail magic in the form of good company. Despite the rough patches, sharing the trail with a friend reminded me just how wild and special this journey is. Onward to the Smokies.

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