Day nineteen, 16 miles
The severe thunderstorm just grazes us. Thank the goddess since one-inch hail fell just north of us.
The rain lets up and we both have been holding our pee for so long, we hop out while it’s dry. The stars are out and a sliver of moon rises.
Not for long. The rain comes with a vengeance, just pounding down. I’m safe and warm in my tent, though condensation builds up on everything – my sleeping bag, my backpack, my hair.
Thankfully it stops when we pack up, though everything feels like goo stuffed into my pack. I don’t mind it so much as I walk, I just wonder how I’ll set my tent tonight.
We go up steeply to Mill Ridge, where the sun appears briefly and keep climbing to a dammed pond. Frogs leap into the water as we pass.
We cross a bridge over a main road where a trucker comes towards us. We both make the signal to toot his horn and he makes a dramatic gesture of toots.
It’s now up and up to a camp site. I’m exhausted today after so little sleep and a resupplied pack. I’m sure the sopping wet tent is adding a few pounds too.
It’s also humid. The wind is blowing and the 85 degrees that were forecasted are feeling a bit unlikely with all the clouds. But the cool air and leafless openness of Georgia are long gone. It’s intense green and verdant here. The trillium are fading.
We pass a campsite and a few people are sleeping in. Sounds kind of good right now.
Below, the wind is blowing and feels wonderful. At a campsite, we decide to give drying the tents a try. Just as I find a place to hook things up, I hear the wind shake the trees.
But it isn’t wind.
It’s a downpour.
A few f-bombs pop out as we re-stuff the gear, throw on rain coats and keep walking. Had I mentioned the AT is a roller coaster? Ups and downs and then more ups and downs. You measure the day in small increments of 2 miles here, 3 miles there.
Moxie and I toddle along eventually reaching a shelter and meeting a trio of men, one with a beautiful dog. Below, one’s wife waits having found a windy and somewhat sunny spot to dry gear.
Magellan and Journeyman walked the AT in 2016. True Mama supported and John is out for his first time. We have a good conversation, but drying takes an eternity in this humidity.
So off we go, up and down (getting water) then being delivered to Log Cabin Drive. Glancing right, we see a lovely log cabin (of course) where Peggy, the Southern Cookie Lady.
Apparently, Peggy just pulled a fresh batch of peanut butter cookies out of the oven. A blind hiker and her guide join us as we load up on sugar. Her guide hiked the AT last year and is concerned we plan to camp at the top of the mountain with severe weather on the way.
It’s, as you guessed, steeply up from cookie lady to a shelter, thundering the entire way. Two guys are here, one smoking and the stone shelter with a wooden roof looks kind of gross.
I hike down to the spring which is a spectacular piped source filling my bottles in seconds. Then we sit down to discuss. A few miles on was our goal, but my sleeping bag is still a pile of goo, wouldn’t it be wonderful to wake up dry tomorrow morning?
Smoker and his buddy decide to move on, and I move in. Moxie makes a broom with a branch and we settle in.
The guys catch up, then a small family, more single hikers, a gal who says she gave the finger to every blaze because she hates the trail.
It pours again, then stops and people cook at the picnic table and sitting on the edge of the shelter as I lay down and try to get my body heat to dry my bag.
The conversation is fun, joyous, inclusive. It’s a small party without the screaming, boasting, inconsiderate behavior of the jerks of the trail. Everyone here is just eating and enjoying being together.
I’ll admit, I am frustrated by the rain and how it slows us down. The relentlessness of the hike and its sameness is starting to get to me, so probably a good idea I’m walking for just a month.
So now sharing the space with such a grounded, friendly and lovely bunch, I’m buoyed to keep going and seek our goal to walk into Damascus before I have to fly home.
So grateful as the din lulls me to sleep and the air cools and the sky turns pink. Good for body, mind and spirit.
