Week Two, PUDs and PUDishments, but no PUDding

Day 8, 9 miles to Bly Gap

Donna at the Green dragon made us French toast and Bill dropped us at the library in town. Thank goodness for libraries! The Hiawassee Library was like every library I’ve ever visited—warm, calm, quiet, and welcoming. Alex reserved a quiet room for her job interview and I got on the computer and figured out how to post to the Trek. Their system is very well set up, but I always struggle with this sort of thing, and today the photos fought the formatting. At 1:00 we raced to meet the shuttle back to Dicks Creek and sluggishly headed up hill.

I felt pretty overwhelmed by the bag of new food I was burdened under. This trail is the origin of the term PUD, Pointless Up and Downs. Most other trails I have hiked felt like they were moving you from Point A to Point B; the Appalachian Trail is taking you for a ramble, up this mountain and then another and so on, as if Point B was irrelevant. In this way it reminds me of the Colorado Trail; Coloradans are obsessed with peak bagging, and the trail climbs every peak just because it can. I expect New Hampshire will be even PUDier, as they are another state known for peak bagging fever.

Late afternoon, we hit a cruisier section of trail and crossed into North Carolina, to camp at Bly Gap. One state finished! Georgia was such a beauty, but North Carolina is starting strong.

Today’s highlight was finishing the first state, but I am most grateful for public libraries, a treasure I hope we never lose. I remember my childhood librarian Mrs. Conklin introducing me to On the Road in eighth grade, and my recent librarian Marly holding baby Alex as her older sister picked out books.

Day 9, 15.5 miles to Curtis Shelter

Last night was cold and windy, with drafts sneaking under the edge of my cozy quilt until I added my rain jacket. We slept in and started slowly packing in the cold. The morning was sunny and beautiful, so we made good mileage. We ran into friends from the hotel and hostel and trail. A group stopped at Standing Indian shelter, for a short day, but we pushed on into the rain. Eventually that cleared too and we finished up a really stunning section up to the Carter Shelter, with just enough room for us. And then another hiker arrived and we squeezed them in too, so it’s tight. No one wants to be out in the wind and rain.

Today’s highlight was the luxury of dry feet, slipping on my sandals, a luxury I have not carried in years. For this more humid trail I decided they were important and it’s been a treat to take off wet trail runners. Today, my feet felt like icy prunes. Also Alex referred to the PUDs as PUDishment, which I will think of all summer.

Day 10, 16.8 miles to above Winding Stair Gap

The shelter was phenomenal last night, so cozy and quiet despite the crowd. The sky unleashed a fury of rain and wind that stayed outside. Hikers who camped in it described a soggy night, but the campers ahead really must have suffered, for the ground all morning was covered in large pieces of hail mixed with slush.

Alex, in typical form announced mid morning that “ this is the best day ever,” which is her somewhat Zen way to think of every day. Today was “the best” because we could hike so fast because of the cold. Imagine how nice weather would’ve slowed us down!

North Carolina has more Hurricane damage, but so far they have cleared most obstacles. It’s sad to see the huge trees down. The wild flowers are changing and today we met Early Blue Cohosh, which doesn’t have blue flowers, but looks blue with cold. There were lots of conch mushrooms in unfamiliar colors and shapes.

We have a lovely camp to ourselves because everyone seems to have retreated to Franklin to avoid the cold tonight (28) and tomorrow (23). But the highlight today was stronger legs that meant to make fifteen miles and managed farther. Climbs are slow and painful still, but occasionally it feels familiar, cruising along.

Day Eleven, 14.96 miles

Today really was the best day ever. The sun was out all day, giving us warm breaks, but it was nicely chilly to hike in with the wind. The terrain is changing and spring has not reached these trees. We climbed up to Wayah Bald, which we are uncertain how to pronounce, but Alex asked, “Hey Mountain, Why ya Bald?” So I will think of it that way always. Wayah was our first “bald,” a mountain top without trees, obviously, and wicked views. John showed us the mountains we had climbed in the past days, with the tiny fire tower in the distance at mile 100.

Then we had deliciously cruisey downhills and ridge lines and one final push up to Cold Springs Shelter. A troop of Boy Scouts are wrestling in a tent nearby, with lots of wedgies and shrieking. It’s very cold. Right  after dinner, Alex got a voicemail that she had been chosen for the job, however, with a possible hiccup from a hiring freeze at the University. DOGE’d again. 

The life-changing job offer is of course the high point, but all day, I thought the apex would be meeting a nine-year-old trail runner decked out all in pink. Remember, it was a very cold morning, and she was running with her dad from Winding Stair Gap to Wayah Gap, almost five very steep miles. Her dad said her “big” run was the day before and this was just a recovery run. This trail has so much beauty, and part of it is the people for sure, but she was one of my favorites so far.

Day Twelve, 11.5 diabolical miles

The cold was fierce last night, and I was just barely warm enough. Alex, struggling with a leaky sleeping pad, had cold feet and slept badly. Ice formed in our bottles and it was hard to get out of bed. The first climb was easy, and the second rewarding, leading to a massive observation tower on Wasser Bald. The sun came out and the wind died, making the tower a beautiful place to enjoy. Another hiker declared, this is “church.” It doesn’t seem like anyone could see this view and not feel protective of public lands.

The rest of the miles were a steep descent to the Nantahala River. It sounded so easy—just go downhill. Except the trail kept going uphill again and again, before dropping steeply down huge steps and rock outcrops. Altogether today, we did 7100 feet of elevation change, about 2000 up and 5100 down. 

When we finally stumbled into the Nantahala Outdoor Center, we devoured salads at the River’s End. Halfway through the salads, we realized we didn’t want to climb out of this valley today, and we booked a grubby room in the hostel. Many trips up and down their hill later (more PUDishment) we are showered and laundered and fed.

Today’s highlight was trail maintenance, specifically whoever cleaned up recent damage on this trail section. The trail was sufficiently difficult without logs thrown in. Thank you to everyone who does maintenance along this trail which is so beautifully cared for.

Day Thirteen, 10.68 miles to Locust Cove Gap

I had a terrible night last night, on my hard plastic hostel mattress with the fan alternating icy air and nothing. I was constantly shivering or boiling. In the morning, hiking fifteen up out of this valley seemed too ambitious for my sleepy self, so we hung around until the outfitter opened and bought more food. While we were at it, we got our Great Smokey Mountains National Park permits from the awesome staff at the NOC outfitters. And a few treats from the hiker box. A hiker box is where you leave food and equipment you don’t want, so others can use it. I always forget to check the hiker box first, before buying everything, which is silly because it usually has exactly what I need.

Finally, we headed up the steep climb. It was hard, but better than I had anticipated. We kept expecting all the young men milling around NOC to pass us, but none ever did, although we caught up to lots at camp. And very late, an entire Boy Scout Troop showed up to the full camp, with sad resignation on their faces. They are all cowboy camped down below, very tired, very quiet. We did meet two slack packers who were doing this section downhill. It’s like some boomer joke about walking to school, but in reverse. I did both ways downhill, with nothing in my pack.

It was such a beautiful day, it was hard to feel bad about the climb. Alex reframed the “Pointless” Up and Downs as Purposeful Up and Downs, preparing hikers for harder sections ahead. It’s a better way to think of them for sure, although they are PUDishing either way. We had treats from the store for lunch (cheese and sweet potato chips) and slowly worked our way up. Midday, I disturbed an enormous black rat snake, at least five feet long and thick. It was stunning. And later we found a small patterned snake, our third species ( we have seen a few little ring-necked snakes).

On her long hike down to the water, Alex found some ramps to add to dinner. As Westerners, ramps are a new delight, snipped over dinner. They are garlicky and sweet, absolutely delicious. Altogether, this day I had been dreading was pretty incredible. Best day ever.

Today’s highlight was definitely hearing that funding for Alex’s new job is from the state, and therefore stable. But the giant black rat snake and the adrenaline rush it caused was second, and if I hadn’t been a snake fan, the warmth and sun would have been enough. 

Day 14, 11.74 miles to Cable Gap Shelter

The Scouts did manage to pitch tents on the slope, thank goodness, because it started raining around 5:30 am. Alex retrieved the Ursacks before they got wet and we briefly went back to sleep. The rain ended quickly though and we packed up and left. The day alternated between icy wind and warm sheltered sunshine, depending upon which side of the ridge you were hiking. We put on and took off layers again and again. 

We met a group from New York coming out of the Brown Fork Gap shelter. We suggested they give a shout if they wanted to pass us on the steep descent and one replied, “If I pass you, I’ll be rolling.” I know the feeling; the trail is so steep, so rocky and rooted and muddy, I feel like I might fall and begin rolling away. It didn’t help that our Smokies permit made us agree that rescue is not guaranteed in this area. This is not California, where you push the inReach button and a helicopter arrives. 

The tulip trees are blooming here, dropping thick petals on the path, enticing us to look up. Dogwoods are blooming as well, and some tree in the rose family has scattered white petals on the trail. Most trees are not leafed out at all, but the spring flowers are riotous.

We talked about reaching the Fontana Hilton (a very fancy shelter with hot water) tonight, in another seven miles, and Alex was hiking strongly, but I faded and crapped out altogether at Cable Gap. My legs are exhausted. North Carolina is much harder than Georgia. I think it’s just fatigue, not chemo fatigue, but my hair is still falling out in handfuls, so I am trying to be mindful of my limits. Chemo fatigue feels different to me; a wall of exhaustion I can’t overcome. It’s sitting down to a delicious dinner and feeling hungry, but halfway through the plate, I feel too tired to chew any more. Today is a healthier tiredness, of weak legs tired of climbing stairs and hopping rocks.

We are camped below the shelter, enjoying the sun and listening to the crazy wind roar overhead, unable to reach us at our cozy camp. The trees above sway wildly and clack together; we tried to pick sites that won’t be crushed by falling trees. There are so many trees laying around us, that we can’t count it out.