Day twenty-five, 22 miles
No one joins us overnight. I barely hear a dog barking most of the night over the soporific stream. We were warned, but I sleep deeply until a wood thrush gently wakes me.
It’s a day that rolls without any real mountains. We’ll find the ridge eventually after a fun ride through forest. The infamous ‘green tunnel.’
No rain, but the sky is noticeably grayer and far less sparkly than yesterday. Again, we absolutely scored on the weather. Who needs bluebird skies in the forest?
As we approach fast-moving US 19, we pass several tents with hikers still fast asleep. A butterfly dries its wings on a bridge.
We walk through a wet meadow, boulders recently placed to avoid the worst of the deep mud. I wonder how bad this must be in pouring rain. Above is a view back to the Roan Highlands, huge and imposing.
The trail dives into the trees and passes a cemetery, then meanders up and down through hemlock, spruce and magnolia. Water is everywhere in rapids and two large falls, Jones and Mountaineer, plus Hardcore Cascades.
We hit the 400 mile mark and make a wee sign, then see three more signs in succession, each certain theirs is the proper spot.
Think about that, though. 400 miles plus the ten of the approach trail from Amicolola Falls, walked in under a month. No wonder I’m tired!
As we planned to move far and dispatch the miles while the weather is good, we also had to take into consideration resupplying food stores. Roan Mountain is just a hitch away, but closer to the trail – though a day and a half walk – is Hampton.
I suggest since we’ll have a decent day today and have just enough food for another day, that we keep walking while the weather’s stable.
Just as we set our minds to this plan, including one more big mile day, I get a note from my friend Addy offering to give me some trail magic.
I met Addy, along with their sister Kayley, on Katahdin last June and we bonded in the 100-mile Wilderness. Their dad is also walking the trail over three years and Addy is in Virginia dropping him off.
I immediately thank them for the kind support, then offer to pay them if they can resupply us. They say yes! and a huge weight is released.
Imagine hiking long days as we have, then needing to take half a day to hitch into town, buy food then hitch back. Addy saves us a big hassle and keeps us moving forward, especially as rain returns to the forecast and thunderstorms which will impede progress.
We agree to meet at a forest road halfway through our day. Addy arrives all smiles with a trunkful of bars, dehydrated dinners, energy drinks and chips – plus two burgers with fried that are practically inhaled.
The fastest way to a long-distance backpacker’s heart is through her stomach.
We reminisce, laugh, dance to Steely Dan’s “Peg,” and then we toddle off, our bear boxes full again for three and half more days of walking.
It’s up and down past lazy and wide Elk River, then more gorgeous cascades. The sky continues to threaten and a few raindrops fall, so we start making a plan.
At the shelter, a few older men mill about, one smoking. It’s just sprinkles of rain so no shelter is needed.
When I asked Addy how the trail went for them and if there were any problems, they told us they were non-binary and the sexism on trail kind of grated, especially being referred to as “ladies.”
We say hello to the shelter smoker et al and of course they say, “Hello ladies!” just as we continue on past them and up a very steep hill. It was not a moment for this “lady” to look weak or fatigued as they watched my backside recede.
The first camp we planned to check out is at a water source a few miles on, still up and over a hill. When we finally get there, our energy flagging, there are two men already camped in the tight space.
Moxie leaves the decision to me of whether to crunch in or move on. We’ll have to carry water up a mile and I say we go for it.
The last mile of the day is always the longest. I love the last mile when looking back on my full, happy, lucky day. But with four pounds of water carried with tired legs to a site that could also be full, anxiety can often prevail.
“How much further?!” Moxie asks and I assure her just tenths of a mile. She starts to cry, absolutely exhausted after 22 miles preceded by a string of days hiking over 20 miles.
I can’t really guarantee anything, but I have a feeling the camp spot will be ours. Who else is this crazy to haul water uphill as the rain moves in?
We pass a view looking out to brooding blue mountains and a gray sky, then come around a corner to a wide area, and there it is, our site, empty and waiting for us.
Our tents are up before it sprinkles, our bodies inside warm with sleeping bag and quilt, then we both cook in our vestibules, so close they close over each other like we’re at a slumber party.
And before it’s dark, as the rain stops and wind pushes through the treetops, we both fall deeply asleep.
