Update for Thursday, April 29

My fingertips are still numb from the other day. As I was cutting back and forth down the hill into Damascus, in the dark, on Tuesday night, I was listening to a radio station that played, on a five-minute loop, an info segment boosting the town that began with "Welcome to Damascus, the friendliest town on the Appalachian Trail."

I zeroed here yesterday. In the evening I joined a group including Creepy, Tintin, Kashmir, an older guy named Hyway and a younger dude named Tornado in hitching to Abingdon, a slightly larger small town 12 miles west of Damascus, for the cinema. It took about 20 minutes before a kindly couple and their toddler pulled their VW van over. Here it is:

[Tintin and Creepy, Damascus, hitchin'!, April 28.]

We saw the movie "Kick Ass," a surprisingly good flick.

My plan now is to hike 24 miles by evening tomorrow and meet up with my parents, who will be visiting for three days. I'll be doing some hiking by day and staying in a hotel by night, which I'm looking forward to. And my parents will get a real live boots-on-the-ground look at the Appalachian Trail and the life that lives on it.

Salut!

[Me in front of the Abingdon Cinemall, Va. Wicked Yoda riding a goose.]

Long live the hike

Earned my dinner today.
Finally I broke the 30-mile barrier. I came very close - twice - last summer, but I put that challenge to bed today. The terrain was ideal. In fact there is already a standing challenge for thru hikers to do 40 miles in one day into Damascus. My feeling is that is ridiculous.
Hike start: 9:30 am, Vendenventer Shelter, Tennessee.
Breakfast: Pop Tarts, 20 oz. Dr. Pepper, multivitamin, gingko biloba capsule.
Snacks: Nutty Butty, Powerbar gels, energy shot.
Terrain: Rolling ridge walk with some up initially, levelling out after Iron Mountain Shelter [1/2 way point], trail weaving along hills but avoiding peaks. The trail itself was soft with some roots and stones. It was mostly wooded except for a meadow mile.
Weather: Shitty overall. Mild spells punctuated by cold wind and rain, sleet at one point. After 5 pm or so the rain stopped but the fog came and went.
Snack: Trail magic cache of oatmeal cream pies and a 12 oz. Dr. Pepper. Declined offer to warm up in truck at Tenn.  91, just before meadow; hands went numb crossing meadow.
Final food: Energy shot, Snickers, bread and cheese, peanuts at Abingdon Shelter, 6 pm.
Hike finish: 10 pm Damascus, Virginia.
Miles hiked: 33.
Now: Calzone and beer at Quincy's Pizza, tenting at The Place, a, church hostel.
Feet: Ache?

Days 145-147: Roan Mountain to Kincora

On April 19 I tented outside the highest shelter on the entire Appalachian Trail: The Roan High Knob Shelter, standing at 6,275 feet elevation [Mount Washington is 6,288 feet].

The climb up Roan Mountain was a steep and sweaty 2,000-feet that reminded me of Katahdin with its small boulders and cool spots under the evergreens. At the top, the chill in the air immediately struck me when I stopped moving.

At the shelter I saw a fresh sign, made from a notebook page, saying that the majority of the hikers who had planned to stay there had pushed on to Overmountain Shelter. But since it was 6:30 p.m. and I'd done 15 miles, and Overmountain was a further 6 miles, I set up my tent. The only two hikers there were Megladon, a 19-year-old from Pennsylvania, and Beans, a seasoned hiker from Oregon. I knew that a group just behind me, Chewy, Thin Mint, Double Dribble and Whistle [brothers], would stay there, too.

Inside the shelter, an old fire warden's cabin with two floors, I saw a sad scene: Trash in the corners and on the floors from day and weekend hikers coming in from a nearby road. Not that I could see very well. It was dark as hell in there.

The next morning I woke at 8 a.m. and was on the trail at 8:30. That's not a normal wake-to-hike time period for me, let me tell you. I completed my morning as I hiked further down the trail: Privy stop here, water there, coffee and breakfast at the Stan Murray Shelter five miles on. While at the shelter, I browsed through the register. To my surprise I found a shout-out :)

In the afternoon I hit the Roan Highlands after passing the Overmountain Shelter by. The highlands were a welcoming sight.

[Roan highlands, NC, April 20.]

It started sprinkling. I threw on my shell and pack cover and made my way down the mountain and to US 19. A sign directed me to Mountain Harbor B & B and Hostel, .3 to the west. There I got a spot on the couch for the night. I was keen to stay at the hostel because it was due to rain. Also, I'd seen it listed as a couple hikers' favorite hostel in the 2,000-miler awards in Maine.

That night the husband and co-owner shuttled us in his pickup truck to Roan Mountain, Tennessee to resupply and pick up pizzas and sixers. For some reason, MC [Major Chafage], a hiker in his twenties from Brooklyn, decided to go shirtless in the back of the truck on the way back:

[MC and P-Nut, and we're heading back to Mountain Harbor with our Dollar General resupply, April 20.]

That night we put in Top Gun and sat back and enjoyed the company and Maverick and Iceman and a few cold ones. Until Hightower, a 6'8" hiker, broke his chair.

"You're still dangerous. But you can be my wingman anytime."

The next day we had an amazing home-cooked breakfast of French Toast, hot links, fruit etc. I hiked out at 11 a.m. just after Jurassic Park II ended and I finished my day at the Moreland Gap Shelter, 18.4 miles later.  I would roll out of bed and mosey down to Kincora.

Update for Sunday, April 25

I'm in Johnson City, Tennessee, with my girlfriend, Ashley, for the weekend.We stayed in our room at Days Inn last night and fell asleep during SNL. Tonight we have plans to take in some folk music at The Acoustic Coffeehouse downtown. Purely by coincidence bluegrass and folk music has been a staple of our dating life since I took her out to Cafe Nola in Frederick in November. It just seems to find us wherever we go.

Ashley arrived late at night on Friday to meet me at Kincora. Kincora is a legend of a hostel situated in the hills of Tennessee at 412.8 miles from Springer Mountain, just .2 miles off the trail. The name comes from a mountain in Ireland [the owner, Bob Peoples, has a heavy Boston accent]. The hostel is a simple structure attached to a house. The second floor is a bunkhouse; the first floor is a kitchen and common room with an additional small bunkhouse and a private room. Everywhere on the downstairs ceiling there are pictures of hikers from 1996 to the present posing next to the Katahdin sign; the class of '09's shots were near the front door.

I had plans to slack-pack that morning with about a dozen other hikers. But when I woke up and looked outside, saw the rainy, gray sky, and then I remembered my last slack-packing experience, which was also rainy, I decided not to. Besides, I find that slack-packing breaks my northbound momentum. I'd prefer to walk the Appalachian Trail as it's meant to be walked: With a full pack in one direction.

So I zeroed. During the day I took the free shuttle into nearby Hampton, TN I think three times. The shuttle inched down the mountain on a twisting road without lane markers, and often without guard rails, and deposited its riders in a plaza anchored by IGA.

In the evening, there was a bounteous feast. Honestly it was a great experience. I don't remember there being an impromptu hiker feast like this on my northbound hike in the summer of '09. Thin Mint cooked chicken Parmesan with spaghetti, while a hiker named 3 Bears made salad and a cake.

[From front left to right front: 3 Bears, Greendog, Pixie, Rummy, Patch, me, Creepy, Chef, Thin Mint, Little John, Tintin and Kashmir. Kincora, April 23.]

[Cake marking our progress along the Appalachian Trail, Kincora, April 23.]

When Ashley got there I had to abandon a game of Risk, hours long, in which I was just starting to dominate after having held Europe for the whole of the game and newly conquered North America. We stayed in the "Executive Suite," a room with a door and a full-sized bed downstairs. The walls were simple boards. Through one crack you could see the kitchen. Anytime anyone in the crowded bunkhouse overhead stood on the rickety floorboards we could hear it clearly. Not that I minded not getting a sound sleep. I'm used to that, being a light sleeper anyway. It was a good chance for Ashley to experience a trail hostel. Anyway, we were off to a hotel in Johnson City.

Scenes from trail's past

My time is abbreviated here. I'm staying at a hostel in Erwin, TN, where the AT intersects the Nolichucky River. Since beginning the Smokies with Early Bear my miles have increased substantially: Last night I arrived here at 5 p.m. after an 18-mile hike, on top of a 21-mile hike the day before. I'm planning to head out today, which means chores, chores, chores and hike. To that end I'm going to flash through Standing Bear to Hot Springs in photos...

[Early Bear doing laundry at Standing Bear hostel. The washboard system really tied the place together. We arrived at the hostel late on a Friday night and did our chores in the morning. I cooked up the greasiest sausages and pancakes ever on an iron skillet and gas stove.]

[Sunrise at Max Patch, 392-acre grassy summit of a 4,629-ft mountain. EB and I hiked to the summit late at night and found the summit crowded with hikers cowboy camping, stargazing and waiting for sunrise.]

[People watching the sun come up at Max Patch.]

On our way down from Max Patch, Early Bear abruptly turned around and said why not go all the way to Hot Springs and end his section hike at the Rock Bottom bar and grill? It ended up being my first 20-mile day of this southern trek. We ate most of the appetizers on the menu. The next day Early Bear took me to resupply and then he returned to the real world. 

The week of hiking from Fontana to Hot Springs, 108 miles, was very enjoyable. It went fast. Now I'm working to keep that momentum going as I progress north. In fact, I've caught up with all of the people I left behind at Fontana when I went to Asheville.

Nature's gallery

In days most recent the trail immersed me in woods more interesting than I've seen on the trail since probably southern Pennsylvania last June. The shapes and textures of these recent trees beckoned me like pieces in an art museum, standing out twisted and moldy against a canvas of a green forest floor.

Between Spring Mountain Shelter, at 282.8 miles from Springer, and Flint Mountain Shelter, 304.1 miles from Springer, which I hiked Wednesday, and then again between Big Bald and Erwin [yesterday's hike] the trees beckoned me to stop and study them. It's been a transformative walk.

I thought I'd share what I saw. Cheers to these trees of the Tennessee/North Carolina border.

[The canvas.]

Good morning from Big Bald

Camping here last night, at 5,500 ft. with strong winds blowing my tent, meant a gorgeous sunset but not a whole lot of sleep. Big Bald has a treeless summit with panoramic views. The sun is already hot; another 80 degree day is expected.

Through the Smokies in 4.5 days, a hiking primer, Part IV

The next day we woke up and found frost on the ground. Whatever items of wet clothing we'd hung the night before were now frozen in the position they'd hung in. So my sock looked like a boomerang.

Then the sun came out and warmed the house up as we made breakfast. It was one of the better mornings on the trail so far, hanging out with EB, Shortay and High Noon and talking to a trio of retirees doing the trail in sections. Cheeseburger, a very tall German kid, warmed up his Nutella in boiling water in his camp stove.

[View from the trail somewhere near Guyot Spur, above 6,000 feet in elevation, April 9.]

It took an hour before my hands could hold my trekking poles without freezing. The first half of the day was almost as cold as the hike into Franklin had been. But the views were spectacular. The frost in the trees gave the trail a different look:

Later, around 5 p.m., I got my second wind where a side trail leads to Mt. Cammerer Fire Tower. I dropped my pack and trail-ran the .6 miles to and fro the tower, which Johnny Thunder had pointed out as a highlight. It felt sweet being able to run along the trail, dodging rocks and roots and getting my heart rate up.

The tower had been rebuilt to look the way it had in the 1940s. I actually looked down on an airplane flying over the valley floor 5,000 feet below.

[The western view from the Mt. Cammerer Fire Tower, April 9.]

At the end of the Smokies we hit Interstate 40. Again, the "I Am Legend" feel. I-40 has been closed since October because of a major rockslide that can't easily be fixed. So the road was deserted and quiet, much different, Early Bear said, than when he came through last year.

We were officially done with the Smokies. It took us 4.5 days.

That night we stayed at Standing Bear Farm and Hostel, a rustic little place with a shed full of snacks and things useful for hikers for sale, like tiny bottles of honey and single AAA batteries, and a bunkhouse, kitchen, cabin, privy and, best of all, a hot shower.

The shower was heated by a gas burner that we had some difficulty with. In general it was overwhelming arriving at the busy hostel after dark. But one of Curtis's [the owner] assistants helped us figure the burner out.

I have to say, that shower was one of the best in my life. Washing away nearly five days of Smokies was a trail highlight. It was similar to the shower I took in Gorham, NH after finishing most of the Whites.

We had heated up fries, burgers and rib sandwiches for dinner and were entertained by Lucky, a Viking-looking SOBO who drank an energy drink and said he planned to hike south to Charlies Bunion by the light of his headlamp that night, while listening to metal music. That's a SOBO for you.

Through the Smokies in 4.5 days, a hiking primer, Part III

It was supposed to rain starting after midnight. Nonetheless, the rain waited until the very moment I started packing up my tent at Icewater Spring Shelter. I crammed everything into my pack and hauled it to the shelter. Though there had been more than 20 people altogether staying there last night, the place was mostly deserted at 9:30 a.m. on April 8.

The wind-blown rain soaked the dirt floor under the roof of the shelter as new hikers arrived.

We hit Charlie's Bunion, a spectacular rock formation that positions you over the middle of a deep valley with a regal view of the surrounding mountains, when the rain was still weak.

Just past the bunion we ran into Ridgerunner Scott. Ridgerunners patrol sections of the trail, back and forth, making sure people are leaving no trace and generally serving as guides to hikers and stewards of the land.

He strongly advised us not to go to Tri-Corner Knob Shelter, our intended destination for the day, because of a "habituated" bear. The bear had stolen a hiker's pack a couple of days before. Scott himself had chased the bear up a hill. "He knows what he's doing," Scott said of the bear. We had a great chat on the trail while the rain dripped off our shells and pack covers.

"Keep fighting the good fight," EB told him in parting.

After that I immediately lost Early Bear, who was hiking slower than usual because of a blister problem, because I was hiking in a manner to generate enough body heat to fight off the ill effects of the cold rain. At the next shelter, Peck's Corner Shelter, I wanted to take a lunch break. When I saw the sign saying that the shelter was .4 miles off the trail I changed my mind. I knew that if I stopped moving for much more than five minutes I'd want to be in my sleeping bag to stay warm, and that I would take off my boots and wet clothes to do that, and that once all that happened it would be very hard indeed to start hiking again.

I reached into my pack and plucked out a Trail Mix bar and a packet of Pop tarts and ate them right there.

The rest of the day was a blur of hiking. I met new hikers at Tri-Corner Knob Shelter - Shortay, High Noon, Cheeseburger - while I did camp tasks. The rain continued. When I drew out my sleeping bag the stuff sack was wet, and a little bit of dirty water fell out of the bottom of my pack when I hung in the rafters.

The hours passed, I got in my sleeping bag and still no sign of Early Bear. After dark he and another hiker, Bojangles, showed up in the shelter in their headlamps. They'd been kicked out of a packed Peck's Corner Shelter when section hikers with reservations showed up. Luckily there was just enough space on the bottom level of the shelter for two people. Barely. Neither of us got hardly any sleep in the tight conditions, with the nasty weather and some loud snorers.

The bear never showed up, though.

To be continued...

Through the Smokies in 4.5 days, a hiking primer, Part II

The next day we hiked out of camp at 9:30 a.m. and busted out big miles in the scorching heat. The dust from the dry leaves in the trail kept me thirsty. I think we both ended up drinking four liters of water that day. That's a dog days-of-summer level of water consumption.

[Early Bear and me, atop Rocky Top, Tennessee, elev. 5,440 ft., April 6.]

Lunch on top of Rocky Top was a highlight. I boiled up some coffee and packed a small stone from Rocky Top in my pack, just so I can get to Harper's Ferry with a rock from Rocky Top.

Rocky Top, despite being immortalized in the Osbourne Brothers' song, wasn't much to look at. It wasn't all that rocky and it was pretty small, no different than dozens of places I crossed in Maine.

We hiked 17.2 miles and bypassed three shelters to stay at Silers Bald Shelter. There we met an older lady named Cody and an older dude named Rawhide, as well as a quartet of spring break boys. We liked Rawhide. He never moved from his sleeping bag on the bottom level until he hiked out the next morning. Though he said he was trying to quit smoking, he didn't do much else, and he had a cig for breakfast and seemed to feel alright.

The next day took us to Clingman's Dome, the highest point on the Appalachian Trail. At 6,643 feet in elevation, it's a couple hundred feet higher than Mount Washington.

[The thing on top of Clingman's Dome was built in the 1960s.]

Between Clingman's and Newfound Gap we hiked on top of our fair share of packed snow. It was feet deep. Every now and then a foot would plunge through a spot weakened by the warm weather. Hiking it took extra energy.

At Newfound Gap the one highway crossing the Smokies heads into Gatlinburg. Almost every hiker we met in the Smokies had stayed or was planning to stay in that town. Not us.

Just ahead of the gap, I said that it would be great if there were trail magic. Early Bear said, "Don't count on it."

But a thru-hiker's mom was there visiting her son, Bandito, and his hiking partner and they gave us Cokes [the best thing for trail magic, if there's nothing else: A cold can of Coca-Cola. It's unexplainable, but that's how it is], oranges and plenty of Swiss rolls.

On the way up the hill we stopped and let pass a swarm of park rangers wheeling a woman down to the gap. They used a stretcher supported by a lone mountain bike tire. The rangers in front were grim, the woman in the stretcher had her eyes closed, but the rangers in the rear were jovial and told us it was a sprained ankle or a broken ankle, something, and disappeared down the trail. That's what the ambulance in the gap must have been for, I thought. We continued to see the bike tire track for miles.

The shelter at Icewater Spring Shelter was packed to the rafters. The bear cables sagged under the weight of the many food bags already, and the patches of flat land around the shelter were dotted with about ten tents. Early Bear and I had no choice but to set up in an area with a sign depicting a tent with a hashmark through it: No tenting.

We had a great noodles dinner past dark, with the lights of Pigeon Forge glittering in the valley floor below and west, visible through the black stalks of Fraser firs.

To be continued...

Through the Smokies in 4.5 days, a hiking primer, Part I

As my girlfriend, Ashley, departed Hot Springs for Pennsylvania on Monday, April 5, Early Bear [GA->ME '09] and I headed south in a shuttle driven by Gene Laney. While we were making a pit stop at a gas station, Gene told Early Bear how he had been 17 when the Tennessee Valley Authority built Fontana Dam, at the southern tip of Great Smoky Mountains National Park, in the 1940s.

The Smokies, like the Whites in the north, have rules that differ from those that prevail along most of the Appalachian Trail. Mainly they have to do with the shelters.

There are 12 shelters along the 70 miles of AT in the Smokies. Because the Smokies get more visitors than any other US national park, backcountry hikers must submit reservation forms for the shelters. Tenting is prohibited, but if you are staying in a full shelter as a thru-hiker and section hikers show up with reservations, you must vacate, either to hike on or to tent outside. Early Bear experienced this.

Seven of the 12 shelters have privies. That's just something to keep in mind heading in.

Dogs aren't allowed; horses are. Though I never saw a horse, I saw plenty of footprints, and many of the shelters have places for parking horses. It gave the trail a more western feel.

We hiked out of the Fontana Dam visitors center at 1 p.m. The dam had an "I Am Legend" feel, or a "Silent Hill" feel, as Miguel put it before I went to Asheville: A huge, man-made place, a vast, empty road and a giant hole disappearing into the earth, and it's eerily quiet.

[Island in Fontana Lake, April 5.]

We headed up the mountain at 1 p.m. At the end of an unseasonably hot day we claimed spots in Mollies Ridge Shelter. Like all of the Smokies shelters, it had two levels accommodating about six people each and a roofed table area. We met some new hikers, one of whom wowed everybody with his tiny wood-burning stove and another who hung his hammock inside the shelter. Thankfully snoring was kept to the minimum. That wouldn't always be so.

To be continued...

Spring break in retrospect, Part III

On Saturday, April 3, Ashley and I drove west to Hot Springs, NC. The Appalachian Trail passes straight through the town. In fact, the AT symbol is etched in the town's sidewalk, replacing the white blazes until the trail crosses the French Broad River.

We got a nice little hotel room with a view of a bank of daffodils with cats tackling each other while using the flowers as cover. Then we hit the hot tub. Hot Springs is a tourist town, and one of the main attractions is the mineral baths fed by spring water. You get your own hot tub next to a creek feeding the river, with a roof and a door, where you soak for an hour. It felt amazing. It was even better with the clear, fresh water rather than the chlorine bath you normally experience in a jacuzzi.

[Ashley hot tubbing in Hot Springs, April 3.]

We hit the Smoky Mountain Diner for dinner. Fried everything: Chicken, okra, fries, broccoli, etc.

Outside we saw this bus:

Early on Sunday morning we got suited up in wet suits at a river expedition company downtown. There were three rafts. Ours had three couples, including us, plus our guide. Our trip was to be nine miles, to be completed in about three hours. We'd hit Class I, II, III rapids and one Class IV rapid.

Somewhere more than halfway down the French Broad we hit a Class III rapid with a steep drop. Ahead of us we watched as the young man guiding one of the other rafts bounced off the rear of his raft and went overboard. This could be exciting, was the thought that went through my head.

Ashley and I were in the front of our raft. We went over hard. I bounced off my section of the raft [everybody sits on the raft, not in the raft] and landed in a pool of water in the front of the raft. Ashley had had the foresight to hold onto a cord. In the aftermath of the landing I looked back and saw that we'd lost three people: The two other dudes and the guide. All gone. It was me, Ashley and two women, one of whom was suddenly panicking: "What do we do? What do we do?"

Our raft kind of made that decision for us, in the short term. We drifted into a calm spot at the edge of the river. Meanwhile our fellow rafters and their paddles were floating downstream, where the two other rafts collected them temporarily. We had one more steep drop to go down, and we got the courage to just do it. Thankfully the raft did most of the work and we picked up our guide and the other two dudes.

Later that day I found out I'm accepted at Temple University and waitlisted at Notre Dame. That was exceptionally good news. I still have yet to hear from half the schools I applied to for the fall.

Early Bear joined us for dinner. He said he had scheduled a shuttle for us from Hot Springs to Fontana in the morning. I didn't like the price, or the 7 a.m. departure, so I told him I got a guy, a "hiker's friend from beginning to end." In the morning, EB and I boarded Gene Laney's shuttle, and Ashley drove back to Pennsylvania. She'll be coming down twice more to see me before I finish up at Harper's Ferry in June. I can't wait to see her again.

Meanwhile, EB and I had some serious hiking to do in the Smokies...

Spring break in retrospect, Part II

[Bluegrass jam at Jack in the Woods, a tavern in downtown Asheville, on Thursday, April 1. Musicians would pop up on stage and replace each other periodically.]

[Us, random place in Asheville, random time.]

I forgot to mention Chocolate Love. We stopped at this little shop on Wednesday, March 31, Ashley's first day in Asheville while we were walking around town. I didn't know what I wanted but I was sure it would have to have something to do with ice cream. At the server's suggestion I had a beer float: Vanilla ice cream in a locally brewed stout, which tasted like Guiness.

[Perfect hiker drink! Ice cream in a stout beer, Chocolate Love, Asheville. It felt good to be in town clothes.]

[Ashley having chocolate custard, Chocolate Love.]

On Friday we met Johnny Thunder and Freefall at a cafe downtown and went for a drive into the mountains above town, along the Blue Ridge Parkway and into Pisgah National Forest. We stopped at an overlook, and I peeled out in the gravel in Ashley's manual transmission car while Johnny whooped Dukes of Hazard style.

We got out in Pisgah and hiked a few miles on trails near the Parkway. It was summer-hot but the trees had yet to start budding. In the afternoon the four of us road walked down to our car. On the way we walked through a tunnel through the mountain, with cars passing close by in the darkness.

[Freefall, Johnny Thunder and Ashley. Tunnel walk!]

The road provided the best view of the Biltmore Estate, the Vanderbilts' summer estate from the Gilded Age, short of paying the $60 entrance fee. The estate was miles away in the valley.

That night Johnny and Freefall had us over for dinner: Vegan lasagna with toast. Johnny and Freefall have taken organic living to heart: They don't drive, they have a garden and they eat vegan. I was impressed, and I think Ashley was, too. I think it's a good thing that our generation is starting to embrace a way of life that feels better than driving all over and eating fast food without caring about where the energy or food comes from. Even in the hostel, Sweet Peas, each light switch had above it a laminated sign asking guests to conserve energy by keeping the lights off as much as possible.

For dessert we returned to Chocolate Love, by way of downtown Asheville, where we happened upon a drum circle in a small park. It was kind of nuts.

[Friday night drum circle in downtown Asheville, April 2.]

This time we had about a 45-minute wait at Chocolate Love. It's a hot night spot apparently. But again it was delicious. We thanked Johnny and Freefall for their hospitality. I'm sure I'll see them again soon, when they bicycle from Asheville to Damascus, VA for Trail Days.

To be continued...

Trail fail!

Stickery ambush on the top of Snowbird Mountain. I've just left Standing Bear Farm [hostel] and Early Bear and I are headed to Hot Springs.

Spring break in retrospect

After a drinky night at Fontana Village, spent with many of the same people whom I gathered with outside mine and Tintin's hotel room in Franklin, I got a shuttle ride to Asheville, NC with Gene Laney, 82, whose business card reads "A Hikers Friend from Beginning to End." I got mildly carsick twisting along the hills. The ride from the middle of nowhere to Asheville took nearly two hours.

In Asheville I stayed at a brand new hostel called Sweat Peas. I spent an hour or two waiting for it to open at Malaprops bookstore. Outside it was sunny, warm and young buskers stood on almost all of the corners, including just outside the bookstore, where a young bearded man played a mandolin for passersby.

At night I realized why the hostel gives guests a fresh pair of ear plugs upon check-in. Just below the hostel, which I shared with maybe five other people, a dueling piano night took place in Lab, a hopping brew pub. The pub owner also owns the hostel. The music traveled easily up through the floor.

The next day, Wednesday, March 31, Ashley arrived after noon. We booked a private room in the hostel, actually more like a windowless cell, but comfortable, and walked through the sunny streets. We ate the lunch buffet at the much-heralded Mela, an awesome Indian restaurant five minutes' walk from the hostel. The chicken masala was every bit as good as Miguel [class of 2010] said it would be. Then we got me a haircut. It was due. I was, as Ashley pointed out, getting the mad scientist look.

That night we met Johnny Thunder GA->ME '08, LT '09, at Barley's, yet another brew pub. Ashley and I did the alpine slide with Johnny and his girlfriend, Freefall GA->ME '08, in Rutland, VT last year when Ashley came up to visit me. Ashley gave them a ride while she was waiting for me to come down from the mountain to the Inn at Long Trail. That's when Ashley and Johnny realized they were in the same graduating class in college. Small world!

Anyway, the three of us went on to win 2nd place in the pub trivia contest. We dominated the whole game until the final round, when another team jumped from like 8th place to first with a 15-point wager. Our $15 prize made a nice dent in our bill for pizza and beer. Johnny gave me a bunch of tips for things to do and places to see on the southern half of the AT.

On Thursday, we went to REI and got outfitted. I got a warm jacket for the Smokies and inquired about swapping out my defective sleeping bag. Ashley got a pillow and a pack cover: She's getting prepared for the two AT ection hikes we plan to do this summer.

Next: Massages! We got a 30-minute couple's massage at a spa just around the corner from our hostel. I ordered the deep-tissue, she had the Swedish. It seemed over too quickly.

We switched to a downtown hotel that was the same price as the hostel, but which included a view, a private bathroom, fridge, TV and more space. It was a no-brainer. That night we caught a bluegrass jam at Jack In the Woods.

To be continued...

Hi!

So yes, it's been more than a week since I blogged here. I was on vacation in Asheville and Hot Springs, and I'll be posting all about that soon.

But for now, I'm doing the Smokies in one stretch with Early Bear. At the moment we're at a popular parking spot at Newfound Gap, where the road goes into Gatlinburg, receiving trail magic.

Perfect warmup for the 900 feet of climb coming up.

Smokies!