Tennessee

Day 19, June 26

We set off at 5:50 am, and began hiking a trail led through a pretty, grassy valley, where cows were the order of the morning. Then the trail began climbing and descending, turning this way and that, and leading in every direction. The overcast sky prevented us from orienting by sun, and except for three road crossings in succession, the terrain provided no clues as to our whereabouts. We felt we were walking aimlessly in Alice's Wonderland, plodding for mile after mile with the sensation of going nowhere.

Eventually the trail led to a road, then let past a few houses. Outside one house were a number of derelict cars. Scratched on the door of one, were the initials "KKK." The Handbook had warned of this area, and we felt no tendency to linger. However, one of the residents had a large, backyard vegetable garden with abundant fruit trees, and these spoke well of its owners.

Mid-afternoon and feeling thirsty, we had long since given up looking for the Moreland Gap Shelter, figuring we must have missed it. Instead, we were now looking for the "Far Tar" (in the local parlance), three miles ahead. We had been hiking on a DR all morning, according to our usual practice, and were stunned to suddenly come upon the shelter. In theory, that set us back three miles. In actuality, I think the Data Book had the mileage in error by about that much, so we added this to our daily mileage. From the shelter I wandered down the hill and collected water. The spring's flow rate was minimal, so I collected only enough to see us to the next hopeful source.

We sat in the shelter eating cereal and drinking water as rain began hammering cacophonously on the metal roof. Soon we set out carrying umbrellas, but quickly stowed them when we discovered that the rain was minimal. From inside the shelter the day had seemed dark and foreboding. In reality, the day was a fine one, with but a trifling of rain. This was yet another example of why we try to avoid sleeping in the shelters. We were not used to seeing them on our western hikes, and saw them as human-made intrusions into the wilds. To us, they detracted from the wilderness experience, and even more so considering that most were infested with rodents.

The trail followed a steep 4WD road to a vandalized "Far Tar." Eventually, the trail led down along the bottom of a humid and darkened gully. We found a few trickles of water, but nothing collectible. After passing through an old farm yard, the trial descended to a road, then followed along a tourist's trail paralleling Laurel Fork (a creek).

The trail followed an old RR grade, then suddenly dropped over the edge. After descending a steep, rocky grade we reached Laurel Fork Falls Click on "trail segment"
select "terrain"
then zoom out , where a fellow sat fishing. The rough-hewn trail followed the drainage along the creek, which flowed over bedrock. It was a pretty setting, despite the water's caramel color. After following the river a couple of miles we enjoyed a refreshing swim.

Back on route, the trail made an abrupt 180 degree turn, and switchbacked up the slope from where we had come. then it climbed a few thousand nearly the summit of Pond Mountain Click on "trail segment"
select "terrain"
then zoom out .

Nearly dark, we searched off-trail for a place to camp, but found the area infested in prickly vines, from one of which Jenny incurred a nasty scratch on her leg. On the trail again, we reached a side path leading to a campsite, where we then stopped at 9:20 pm.

Day's mileage: 24+3=27

My right knee had been disagreeing with me, and I strongly suspected it was yet another result of dehydration; and indeed, after drinking water at the shelter and later the water we carried from the shelter, the discomfort disappeared.

Day 20, June 27

We set off at 5:49 am. The camp had been a dry one, and we were eager to reach water. We had found only one meager source the day before, and had come a long ways since. Within minutes we came to the spring mentioned in the Data Book at mile 46.5 short of Damascus. The ground was damp, but the pipes were not emitting water, and because the day was not yet light we could not traipse about looking for a seep.

The trail followed a long ridge while descending and climbing, and eventually lowered us all the way to paved US 321, fronting Watauga Reservoir. At a nearby trailer park we guzzled three quarts of water, between us, then proceeded to the Shook Branch Picnic area Click on "trail segment"
select "terrain"
then zoom out , adjacent the beautiful reservoir. There we met a fellow distance hiker who called himself "Slow Laner."

I love the many colorful and imaginative trail names that thru-hikers give themselves. During our CDT hike Jenny and I called ourselves "the Highlanders", since the first time we followed the actual Divide, where the official CDT descended to the lowlands. We quickly dropped this moniker, though, when we learned of a TV program by the same name. So here on the AT, I am "Hungry" and Jenny is "Thirsty." But we have yet to convince anyone we are "Serious."

Slow Laner expressed concern at the prospects of his reaching Katahdin not until after the trail had closed for the winter (and I was reminded of the dangers of becoming what we nickname ourselves). He had camped here, and we found it curious he had not begun the day's hiking yet, the time being 9:45. We sat at a picnic table and talked, while Jenny and I ate a few bowls of cereal. From this fellow we learned why the trail climbing Pond Mountain had appeared to be so little traveled. Blue-blazing from the RR grade where the trail had descended to the falls, the distance to Hwy 321 is only 1 mile. The white blazes had led us 7.5 miles and several thousand vertical feet up the mountain, only to descend it on virtually the same side.

Leaving Slow Laner to resume contemplating the scenery, which was marvelous, we resumed following the trail, which climbed and descended around the reservoir a ways, led past another shelter, climbed a peak and descended its far side to a road, then entered the Laurel Branch Wilderness. After yet another ascent, the path leveled, more or less, and led easily many miles. The farther we hiked, the more obviously those who had gone before us had turned back. The path became less traveled and much more weedy. And unfortunately for those of us who persisted, poison ivy was among the more well represented shrubs. At one point I left the AT and descended a steep declivity in search of water. Down I went; down and down. Eventually I found a tiny pool, where I managed to collect a bagful using a Frosties cereal container, which we had been carrying for such an occasion. The water tasted somewhat odd, but reason suggested its palatability, judging by the well-worn trail leading to it. I climbed back up to Jenny, half an hour later feeling well exercised. Normally, we avoided long detours for water, but here our bodies had been needing rehydration.

Shortly we came to the Vandivent Shelter Click on "trail segment"
select "terrain"
then zoom out , and while approaching it, Jenny let out a muffled shriek, which could have meant only "snake". and there, hanging from the rafters of the shelter, was a large black snake (Eastern Ratsnake). We took a few pictures, then essentially ignored the creature and sat inside, signing the register. An inn keeper like this snake in every hut would surely make the demise of any rodent population, and we wondered if this one had established residence here for that reason.

The trail led ever onward with only gentle ups and downs, but was heavily overgrown. Even so, it allowed excellent progress. We encountered a few white tail deer, as we had most days of the journey. We also enjoyed listening to the abundant bird life.

Late afternoon we decided to press hard for the town of Damascus, to try to reach its post office before its closing time the following day. We increased our pace markedly. Late evening we crossed Tenn. 91, then after grappling our way in increasing darkness, we gave up and at 9:45 pm stopped and pitched the tent on a wide spot in the trail. As usual I checked the area with a lighter (in lieu of a flashlight) for poison ivy. In the last quarter hour march, the forest was embellished with fireflies flitting this way and that. Usually these insects seemed reassuring, but when deeply fatigued they seemed almost eerie, like something is watching from the forest.

Day's mileage: 27

Day 21, June 28

We rose, stepped outside, and were surprised to find we had pitched the tent nearly touching a log that we had not noticed. This indicates the degree of darkness beneath the ubiquitous green canopy, even under a waxing crescent moon. We set off at 5:46 am and hiked at a determined clip, passing by an unserviceable spring, then by a hut where a few people were sitting inside, bathed in the soft light of their candle lanterns. They were cooking in otherwise darkness, unaware that their darkness was caused by the hut that was supposedly "sheltering" them. Outside, we hiked in ample light.

The trail was heavily overgrown in nettle. My long pants would have offered considerable protection, but in such humidity I was reluctant to wear them.

Once again the trail was gently graded and conducive to excellent travel. We passed by the Abingdon Shelter where a lone hiker was preparing to set off. Several miles farther we met the fellow's partner. This gentleman was hiking in sandals, and said that they made for comfortable trail wear.

hiking hard, we eventually reached Damascus Click on "trail segment"
select "terrain"
then zoom out at 1:30 pm, and proceeded to the hostel known as "The Place." It was a gathering place for travelers: hikers, bicyclists, and past hikers. And here we luxuriated in the amenity we had longed for the most - a shower each. For once during the trek we had eaten good food, but we had carried no soap and were feeling like a couple of bedraggled rats. Especially as the previous night had been so warm that a few times I had awakened fairly swimming in sweat.

After pitching the tent on the grass in the shade of a big tree, we set off to explore the town. In the process of shopping for groceries, laundering clothing, and eating dinner, we walked many more miles. The townspeople were friendly and made us feel welcome.

Chores finished, we returned to the Place, and socialized with some of the other hikers. I met "Smokey" (Vincent Stone) sitting at a study near his 60 pound pack, and sat with him for a most interesting chat. At age seventy he was probably among the patriarch of this year's thru-hiking brigade. I have had the privilege of meeting a few people like Smokey, and have always been interested in their philosophies on life - which generally is to live life to its fullest. Smokey considered old age a stigma, and said that he was sensitive to being called old; and for good reason: he acted and lived like a man half his age. He said he had trained for the AT when he was 65, but had injured his leg while stepping off a curb in downtown Vancouver. In fact, he had torn a large portion of the calf muscle from its Achilles tendon. This would have been the ultimate setback for most, but Smokey refused to give in, and after a course of electro-therapy, as opposed to surgery, he managed to pull himself back together. He had been writing poetry most of his life, and he recited one poem after another. We found his poems quite moving.

After a second round of showers, Jenny and I retired to the tent at 11 pm. Day's trail mileage: 19.5 which seemed good because we had still managed nearly half a day's layover - thanks to the gentle trail and our concerted efforts.