Hiking the Smokies Pt. 1

“We’re just going to have to put our heads down and get to the next shelter before the rain hits”

Some enter the Appalachian Trail with an idea of scenic views, perfect weather, endless smiles, and unlimited town beers decorating their journey to Katahdin. 

I’ve spent enough time in the outdoors to know there are going to plenty days where staying dry and comfortable are out of the question. I’ve been waiting for one of these gritty days, not with excitement- but because I knew the fortunate stretches of sun for nearly every one the first two weeks on trail would run out eventually. 

I’ve been hiking with Salt Daddy since Franklin, similar in pace, mileage, and mindset- we quickly meshed and have been working our way through North Carolina together. On our first day in the Smokies, Ridge Runners warned us a pretty big storm would be coming in the following afternoon and advised us to get to a shelter before the thunder began. 

We decided on heading from Spence Field to Double Spring Shelter, 12.5 miles before noon- doable at our pace. 

The next morning we got up around 7, packed up and got moving. I was fortunate to have been able to largely out hike the storm, only spending the last mile in rain.  

A welcome sight

The shelter was a welcome sight, one other hiker was outside under the awning cooking. I took off my pack and entered through the tarp covering the opening of the shelter. There were about 10 other hikers inside, some sat in their bunks, others on benches around the fireplace while another hiker attempts to coax a fire out of damp wood. The shelter is dim as the grey light outside peers through the clear roofing. I nod to some of the hikers in the shelter as I reenter with my pack- no one I recognize. Damp and tired, I didn’t feel like immediately introducing myself and making conversation- instead choosing to claim a spot in the loft and begin setting up my sleep system and changing into dry clothes. 

A few of the hikers continue working on the fire while others bring in wet deadfall from outside. About 15 minutes later, Salt Daddy enters and we chat briefly. Chilly and hungry, I make an early dinner. Eventually the fire catches and morale throughout the shelter immediately rises. Throughout  the rest of the evening, people chat, continue to feed the fire, and make their plans for the next day. Eventually, most go to bed earlier than “hiker midnight” with nothing else to do. 

Gatlinburg 

The next morning nearly everyone from the shelter hikes out to the Kuwohi/Clingman’s Dome parking lot to catch shuttles into Gatlinburg. Needing to resupply, Salt, White Snake and I head into Gatlinburg. We get dropped off at the local outfitter and head in, leaving our packs in a closet for hikers and head back into town for breakfast. I had heard tons of weird things about Gatlinburg- mainly that it’s touristy and very Southern. I was expecting something along the lines of Lake George, NY but soon realized the beast we were in. Sure, there were elements of Lake George: the surrounding mountains and outdoors themed tourist shops and t-shirt stores- but the suffocating amount of themed restaurants, amusement attractions, and animatronics was closer to Times Square. All I could think of during yesterday’s hike was a diner breakfast and the three of us quickly found a place to eat and walked in. Still having not showered and smelling like a wet dog in a largely non-hiker town, we were promptly seated in the corner of the restaurant. The cheap coffee was incredible, and it was difficult to decide what to order but I eventually settled on a platter of pancakes, sausage, eggs, hash browns, and sausage gravy. I savored every bite, finally getting a non-rehydrated hot meal after a week. Full and in good spirits, we leave the restaurant and go to grab our packs and check into our hotel for the night. I gut my pack and sprawl my quilt and pad on my bed to dry, scattering what’s left of everything out on the floor and take a shower. As clean as we’ll be, Salt and I change into our rain pants and jackets, load up our clothes and head off to do laundry. With the nearest laundromat a few miles away, we stop by various hotels along the strip to see if we can wash out clothes and get turned down each time. Not wanting to wait the 20-plus minutes for the trolley, we decide to walk. Chatting and cracking jokes along the way, we stick out like sore thumbs among the tourists. Eventually, the town trolley stops for us and we get on, “Are you guys hikers?” asks the driver, “We are” says Salt Daddy. The driver announces to the rest of the passengers that we’re hiking the Appalachian Trail and asks for a “woot woot”, she gets one reply in the back. I had a huge smile across my face thinking about the weird morning we’ve had. Once laundry is done, we get burritos and food for the week, and I give my parents a call, checking off all my chores for the day. 

Just trail life

It was a weird 48 hours going from waiting out a storm in a stone shelter in a National Park to being in the midst of a major tourist attraction. Yes, when I began the AT I anticipated meeting awesome people and stunning scenery, but I also knew there would be days that are just cold, wet and boring as well as walking around towns in nothing but my rain clothes for laundry. And I wouldn’t trade anything else for it. 

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