At the Partnership Shelter I made my second cup of coffee from a sack of instant from the hiker box and eventually hiked out at the sunny hour of 11 a.m.
And I do mean sunny. The trail went straight up and over a hill and just blasted my energy in combination with the extreme heat and sun. I wiped my face often with a handkerchief I keep hanging from the strap across my chest. I took a bunch of breaks - I had to. One with Thin Mint, Creepy and Nobody [the last I'd seen Nobody was Bly Gap, waaay back] next to a forest service road. Another at a shelter.
I arrived at the intersection of the AT and I-81 exhausted from the heat and the hard walking. There, hikers have their choice of hiker-friendly establishments, including an Exxon convenience store especially suited to hikers [wide array of Ramen, computer] that included a deli, and The Barn, a roadside country eatery, and Happy Hiker Hollow, a very popular new hostel that requires reservations. In all I spent about three hours and $25 dollars, rolling between them, consuming in the process a milkshake, burger, hot dogs, fries and soda and more ice cream.
A crew of hikers walked by prepped and ready for Cinco de Mayo the next day.
[Cinco de Mayo gang heads across I-81, May 4, in front of Exxon. The Barn is in background. Not sure who all these guys are, but Greendog is at right].
Noticing my repeated trips to the store, the lady at the counter asked, "Have you run out of steam today?" I certainly had. Less than an hour after starting out, I had selected a spot on a rolling meadow for my tent and pitched it without the rainfly so I could fully experience the sunrise. A couple of farmhouses stood on other hills in the short distance; I could see cars on the Interstate still, and beyond them rose a smooth line of mountains.
[View in the morning of Cinco de Mayo.]
I heard a noise coming from the woods behind my tent. Exotic chickens?
I woke up deep in the night. Suddenly I realised I wasn't as warm as I should be. When I raised my head and touched over my sleeping bag my hands came back wet. Dew had attacked! "No shit?" I thought. "Is the rainfly for this, too?" Even my phone and camera were wet. So I found myself at 3 a.m. appending my rainfly and cursing in the lonely night.
I woke up before 8 and spent two hours letting stuff dry, writing, etc. I heard the chickens again several times. After 10 minutes of hiking I found the culprit: Cinco de Mayo! In the woods less than half a mile from my tent I walked into a large group of people lounging around a campfire; voices went up at my arrival: "Ai-ai-ai-ai-eeeee!!!"
Greendog asked me to do a shot with him, so I took the salt shaker and a lime wedge. I was a bit overwhelmed because everybody's attention was focused on me. "What do I do with this?" I quietly asked about the shaker. "Oh, wait," I said, recovering some sense. I licked the crook of my hand. "Yeah, did you really just ask that?" A girl asked. "No," I said.
After the shot I traveled a hot day over Gullion Mountain and Tilson Gap. At North Fork Holston River, where the trail crosses next to a farm, I took a long break with a young married couple, Scat Tracker and Achilles, and two older guys, Beans and Willie Walker. We dangled our bare feet in the rushing water from a low bridge and walked in the stream bed.
[old building next to crossing of the AT and North Fork Holston River, May 5]
[Achilles crossing a particularly high stile.]
I had dinner with Beans and Achilles and Scat Tracker at Lynn Camp Creek before tenting. It was a second consecutive 13-mile day for me.
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