Day Twelve, 18 miles
Rocky snores most of the night.
And has a smoker’s cough.
But I like Rocky and I don’t care
I am glad that I got Mr. Entitled to toddle forth. I couldn’t bear his shuffling off for a morning dump.
Instead, Rocky pops out of his tent (for a smoke) and plays me some tunes on his handmade Martin backpacker guitar. He tells me the dampness has mellowed it.
How many backpackers can say they’ve awakened to birdsong and guitar picking?
The morning is stunning, the light gently angling in on an entire mountainside of flowers. And amidst the wild geranium and trillium, I spot my first lady-slipper. She’s pink and plump in a pair, her “shoelaces” whimsical as if made for Cinderella.
Most of my day is down to Fontana Dam, with a major road in between, so a big up before the final down.
We do tend to follow the ridge, rolling up and over on a steady workout. But sometimes the trail sidles the mountain, rising slowly to a gap, where the downward slope seems to greet our upward slope.
It’s here where the sun finds its way in to backlight the spring green. I feel such a rush of joy I begin singing Durufle’s Ubi Caritas. The words speak of when people are gathered in the spirit, the spirit will always be with them. Richard and I had it sung by the Houston Chamber Choir and Cathedral Choir at our wedding. A good one, that one.
Once I cross the very unbusy road, I reach another shelter. This one has a tarp tied to its roof. Maybe don’t stay here when it’s raining.
After so much climbing, I’m not sure if I can manage more, but here it is. Nothing is particularly hard about it, just its relentlessness.
I go into granny gear and ‘stay under my breath’ as I toddle forward. I prefer not to stop but just rise slowly. The day is getting warm and I’m soaked.
I also smell awful.
At the ridge I spy Fontana Lake, the result of damming the Tennessee River. It’s deep blue and beautiful and beyond are the pointy mountaintops of the Great Smoky Mountains.
I’ll drop a couple thousand feet then gain them all back once I cross Fontana Dam. But now it’s all downhill. I mean, surely it is since the dam is right there, right? We’re not going to climb over those big humps, are we?!?
You bet we are, up and up and up, then over and a long, long way down. I have no idea what today will bring. A young man named Persistence sits on a log about 1/4 the way down and asks me what I plan to do when the thunderstorms come.
Rocky tells me the shelter on the lake is superb with running water, power outlets and even showers! I could wait out storms here, but first I need to get down and assess.
I also need food to see me through the Smokies.
I hit a road and try to get a hitch to the wee town where I can buy food. Only motorcycles pass and I notice a sign for the marina which offers ‘hiker resupply,’ as well as snacks and cold beer on the lake. Plus the marina is within walking distance.
A very long runway leads to the marina which is on piers. Boats are docked but very few people mill about.
Once inside, I notice it’s more snacks and less resupply, but there are pizzas and a special rotating stove, so I get one and share it with Spuds, a hiker from Canada, I walked with last week.
Other hikers wander in – Edison, Slag and Yoshi – and we make a motley crew eating lunch, charging our phones, and trying to decide what to do for the rest of this lovely day.
A shuttle takes hiker to the store every two hours, but I can’t bear to waste this gorgeous afternoon. I still have a good amount of food left, so I buy some tuna packets and bars, then convince Yoshi to sell me one of his dried potatoes.
If worst comes to worst, I can always hitch out of the Smokies into Gatlinburg, Tennessee.
This is not my preferred plan. I visited this touristy town with my friend Joan, the only other time I’ve been in the Smokies. We hiked the main sites, but I love the idea of toddling through end to end.
Just then, I get a text from Moxie, who somehow is behind me – but is on her way! She offers to top off my bear box with bars and such and now I know I can make the five days through!
We hug when she arrives. She looks good and strong, moving fast even carrying a lot of food. She’s game to head into the Smokies this afternoon and manage tomorrow’s rain. The next days will be spectacular and it’s best to get the biggest climb out of the way.
I lighten her load a little, then head out. We do make one bad mistake, looking at distance based on the marina. It calculates us four miles as the crow flies, when the trail is actually eight.
Good thing I feel strong as I pass the Fontana “Hilton” where Hershey and Peter have already claimed a place. DaVinci is being resupplied by his mother, but also won’t head up today.
I feel all alone crossing the huge dam, entering the national park, then beginning a steep ascent to Shuckstack and its firetower.
Again, it’s granny gear and steady breathing up switchbacks that afford views of a very tall, but tiny from here, tower.
I pass a hiker named Blake who promises to meet me at the water. Even after three liters, I need more and carefully scoop out a liter to filter in the tiny pool.
A bit higher I meet Epsilon and his dog Zet. She’s a beautiful labradoodle trained to aid him should he have s seizure. I wonder if Epsilon served in Iraq and uses hiking to manage PTSD.
It’s steep up and I’m so excited I’m walking now and not in rain as the views open up. The tower is enormous, metal and rickety. Next to it are ruins of the watch’s home.
I set my pack and head up slowly, tightening my hat so it won’t blow away. The first flight has only one handrail, and each landing lacks any kind of protection.
The wind is light and I feel safe and balanced as I wind up to a closed space with broken windows and barely a floor.
The scene is astounding, looking into the Smokies in early spring with tender green shoots, red buds and frothy smoke-like beginnings of new life. Butterflies, yellow and black, dance just below and the shadow of the tower floats in the trees from the setting sun.
I take pictures and soak it all in before carefully heading down to walk the final mile+ to the campsite. We’re asked to stay in designated shelters and sites and Birch Spring is lovely with an eating area, flowing water, bear hangs and built up tent pads.
I grab one on the far edge where a Wood Thrush and Grosbeak welcome me. Three wild hogs pass above on the trail and I’m promised I’ll see bear this trip.
As I turn in, Moxie arrives. I point to the site I saved for her and it lifts her spirits. She’s crying because it was all too much today. Our mistake with the mileage had her worried she’d get here in the dark. Luckily she didn’t – and especially luckily, she took the small detour for the spectacular tower.
I’m glad we’re together. There should be breaks in storms tomorrow and the shelters are really close to each other now that we’re back on the ridge. It will be fun to take it on as a team.
