[at-l] trip report--long--some NONSENSE-no FLAMES

[SaraSW@aol.com]

My husband John, Hopeful, Plodder, Plodder’s son Wirlwind and I took a four-
day, 35-mile trip from Hot Springs to Devil Fork Gap recently. If you’ve
already read Hopeful’s account of this trip, you may think you’re experiencing
deja vue all over again. Not so. We just figured that our perceptions and
perspectives might be so different, nobody would know we were on the same
trip. ;-)

And then too, he might tell some things I wouldn’t--and vice versa. ;-)

John and I drove through pouring rain all the way from Kentucky into Hot
Springs, where Hopeful said there had been no rain at all--until we arrived.
It was dry when we pulled into town. Then it poured. Sometimes I feel like
that Lil Abner character with the rain cloud over his head.

However, Wednesday dawned bright and clear, and we had a great day for hiking.
The first night was to be at Spring Mt. Shelter, 11 miles off. The climb out
of town is a brief, steep up to Lover’s Leap, where the view back over Hot
Springs was great, and there was just enough color to make us feel we hadn’t
totally missed the leaves. The trail is pretty level for about the first six
miles and we made pretty good time to Mill Ridge Pond and then Mill Ridge
itself, where we had a nice rest stop, stretching out like turtles in the sun.

When we started across the overpass for US 25 and 70, I whooped. John and I
are new enough at this backpacking business, that I still get pretty excited
about small victories and things that are old-hat to the rest of you folks. I
was remembering a year earlier when we had traveled 25 and 70 because I-40 was
closed due to part of the mountain collapsing on it. As we drove, I had been
thinking that I’d really like to be walking in those woods. Then we went under
an overpass and realized it was the AT. And now here I was--on it. Well, hey,
I’ve already admitted it doesn’t take much, trail-wise, to get me excited.

Once we crossed the road though, I had other things to occupy my mind. Like
going up--and up--and up. After very much going up (or so it seemed to me), I
asked Hopeful, our trail boss, what the terrain was like up ahead. “Well, uhh,
er, well, it’s mostly up,” he says. Mostly up?!? Mostly??? Well, if mostly
means absolutely, t-totally, no-two-ways-about-it up, then it was “mostly” up.
I asked him later how he could tell such a bouncer, but he swore he was just
trying to keep me from being discouraged.

It did give us a defining word for the hike though. Things were mostly up or
mostly down or mostly hungry or mostly tired or--in a drenching downpour on
the fourth day--mostly wet.

I seem to do fine on the flats and downs, but on the ups, I go into what John
calls my double low, Caterpillar bulldozer, granny gear--grinding out the
steps. Nevertheless, even I eventually got to the top of Rich Mountain and its
fire tower. We dropped our packs by the side of the trail and went up for the
view, making our first attempt at locating Mt Mitchell. We all remembered that
the guidebook spoke of seeing Mt. Mitchell from somewhere along the trail and
at each view stop we’d get ourselves convinced that this was it. We still
don’t know if we ever really saw it. But we did see magnificent views and the
extra little climb was well worth it.

We dropped down to Hurricane Gap and headed up the other side. It was then I
realized that in the AT guidebooks, the word “ascend” can be deceptively
innocent and as much an understatement as “mostly,” because that climb was
mostly up. I blessed Jim Owen once again for his lecture on attitude and tried
every mind game I knew to keep going. To really understand this, ya hafta know
that my previous mileage record was 10 miles, and that was on the TN Turnpike
south of Damascus and hardly counts. But I finally made it. Phew!

The next adventure came the next morning when my cohorts wondered aloud
whether I could pass the height test for the privy. Do what?!? “Well,” they
said, “you know how some rides in amusement parks have signs saying you must
be this tall to ride this ride.” “Yeeeeeees.” “Well, the privy seat is so far
off the ground there’s a line on a tree and a sign saying you have to be tall
enough to reach the line to use the privy. We’re not sure you pass.” Drat!
However, a good vertical leap can make up for height, so it was OK.

Thursday morning we started out for Little Laurel Shelter, 8.5 miles, and the
way was mostly down till we reached Allen’s Gap. Water was low all along the
trail, and we hadn’t taken the time at the shelter to fill all the bottles,
but waited till we got to the store at the gap. We had also eaten a gorp
breakfast because of the low water and so decided to eat our supper at noon
and not bother with much cooking when we arrived at the shelter. We figured
the water would be low there too. I washed down beans and rice with a coke, a
V8 and an Orange Crush. Bloat. We filled all our bottles there, even though
the water looked like ice tea, even after it was filtered.

About a mile and a half from the store, we decided to take a short rest before
starting the 3.5 miles of “mostly up” to Little Laurel. While we were sitting
on a log, a good old boy came along to check us out and raised my spirits
immensely by talking at length about how the way was steep and long, up all
the way, with no let up. He was mostly right.

Friday’s journey to Jerry Cabin was the shortest, but caused John to come up
with his theory that just as a job expands to take up all the time allotted
for it, so will hiking expand to take up all the available daylight. We had
only 6.7 miles, but we started with a leisurely pancake breakfast and got
started much later than usual. We also had many wonderful views along the way,
which meant much stopping to search for Mt. Mitchell.

The first two miles were mostly up, ending with a side trail to a fire tower.
The views were fantastic. The whole valley down Rt. 11 (we think) was open to
us on one side, and the Smokies were visible in the other direction. It was
one of those places where you just look and look and your smile gets bigger
and bigger. Later we also made a side trip to the White Rock Cliffs.
Magnificent! 

We also learned an important lesson on this stretch. We had not bothered to
fill the water bottles because we were running late, the spring was just a
dribble, and several springs were coming up soon. Unfortunately the first
couple springs were dry, and Plodder and John were feeling the effects of
dehydration. We finally came to a pool of water, but we first had to filter it
through a hanky and then use the filter. Even then, it was still pretty ugly.
Next time we’ll take advantage of water where we find it and not count on
finding more.

I loved Jerry Cabin, from the electrical outlet to the mailbox to the phone to
the computer shelter mouse--or should that be shelter computer mouse?

Saturday we awoke to a drizzle and what turned out to be best-trick day and
naming day. I had brought a hat for the cold, but nothing that would do for
warm drizzle. I didn’t want to wear my rain jacket just then because I figured
it would get hot. What to do? Well, to understand what comes next, you must
know that I am a devoted Kentucky Wildcat (Big Blue) basketball fan. Choovers
will understand, being a Terrapin supporter and all.  I have been trying to
spark an interest in my TN hiking partners since I've known them but they just
mutter about blue puddy tats and the Lady Vols. But there I was, saying I
needed a cap and sure wished I had a hat like the rest of the group.  And
Hopeful says he has a second cap he can loan me. Granted, it was morning, but
still, I should at least have been suspicious. But I was too dumb toeven ask
myself  why he would carry two hats over those mountains. And then he pulls a
TN Vols orange hat from his pack. AAARRRGH!!!! Set myself right up, I did!

Oh well. At least out of this comes a trail name. Because of the Cats, the
caterpillar, the hat, the Vols, the victory over the miles, and other reasons,
I have become Vcat (or V-cat).

We didn’t have the long-range views Saturday, but fog creates its own kind of
beauty and gave the woods a look of mystery. I liked the variety of these four
days--views of mountains and long valleys, pretty little hollows, big
boulders, some open areas, blankets of ferns, creek bottom, thick woods. It
was great.

Near Big Rock (4,838 ft) we met Mt Roamer. That was great too. I had been
following Outta Chocolate’s journal and enjoying it a lot. Mt Roamer in person
is just as exuberant and embracing of life as she appears in the journal.

At Flint Mt Shelter we met Highlander and her husband, Marty, who had walked
in to meet us. Wirlwind, who hikes like one, and his dad had reached the
shelter earlier and had everybody primed to cheer for the Vols when I arrived
in my orange hat. I think of the motto: Don't get mad; get even. We will hike
together again. :-)

We walked out in a downpour that was mostly wet, but the hiking was still
good. Highlander and Marty took John and Plodder to town to get the cars,
while Hopeful, Wirlwind and I put up a tarp, put down a ground cloth, brewed
up some hot spiced cider and ate any leftover snacks we could find. Nothing
like high tea--well, probably low tea since we were sitting on the ground--to
end a hike. 

BTW, the hike was mostly great! :->
Vcat (aka Sally)

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