#78 Clyde Smith Shelter to Grassy Ridge Bald Day 34: ATMM 370.5 to ATMM 382.6
Learn how Sprawl: An Accidental Section Hiker story came to be
Princess and I hike together today from its beginning to its end. We talk about everything from how people create their own coping mechanisms when dealing with issues such as dyslexia, OCD, anxiety, depression, and other learning disabilities to lighter subjects such as good health habits and training for future mud races and triathlons. What sparks that whole conversation about coping mechanisms is my suffering from anxiety and depression and her being a special needs teacher of children with varying emotional issues.
This ongoing conversation gives birth to the idea of combining many of my past, present, and future writings together to create one over-sized story called Sprawl: An Accidental Section Hiker - Trials and Triumphs on and off the Trail.
Little by little the vision materializes: write a story based on why I’m section hiking the Appalachian Trail (AT), when I had originally planned to through hike it with my son; why that never came to fruition; the emotion distress I faced over the past couple of years; daily stories from my hikes. I could organize the whole story into four books, based on four periods of time and four sections of the A.T, then present it in a way people can identify with, especially to those who struggle with their own demons, to bring some hope that there is life after catastrophic events, though the scars will remain and life might not be quite the same ever again. Also to tell how nature and big goals can be therapeutic, and that they can also overcome difficult challenges.
The thought of organizing my stories in this way excited me and gave me a new purpose.
The idea to create the Sprawl Blog wouldn’t come for nearly a year, while bicycle touring along North Carolina’s coastline. Stories from that trip coming soon.
The morning is cool but the air is thick with humidity. On a high un-named peak Princess and I pull food from our packs and sweaty shoes from our feet. Second Breakfast stops momentarily, but continues on, his mind set on resting at Ash Gap.
We find Second Breakfast sitting on log at Ash Gap. Sitting on a log surrounded by tall green grass with bright sunshine breaking through the young trees, looks content. The humidity has dropped dramatically, enhancing the pleasure of being in the wilderness.
We stop for a moment to talk with him before moving on through the enchanted landscape. Walking through this section feels like floating through a dream. Everything is bright and clean. The bird’s chirps sound different, as though the tall grass is absorbing their sounds as it comes out of their little beaks, like the padding in a sound room where acoustics are being controlled.
Our next climb takes us through a wilderness unlike anything else in the southeastern part of America. This spruce-fir forest phenomenon exists here for no other reason than high elevation and cool temperatures. This ecosystem is usually found in similar elevations of northeastern states like New Hampshire and Maine and western states like Colorado, Wyoming, and California.
As we walk through the trees six-thousand feet in elevation I tell Princes that the scenery reminds me of other places I’ve backpacked. While standing on a rock in the middle of this stunning environment on the Tennessee/North Carolina boarder I turn to Princess with arms outstretched and yell, “Welcome to Maine.”
We hike up the mountain in awe of our surroundings. The tree roots wrap around large boulders, hanging on the best they can after years of erosion has swept away the soil. The rugged terrain reminds us how small and young we are in the grand scheme of things. We pass through with reverence and humility.
An old sign waits at the summit with information about the Cloudland Hotel, built in the late 1800’s, which once stood here.
Fun fact: It was built on the NC/TN boarder. At the time North Carolina was a dry state and Tennessee a wet state. There was a line painted down the middle of the dining room/bar area. It was legal to drink on one side of the building and illegal in the other.
Beyond the summit we rest at the highest shelter on the Appalachian Trail, Roan High Knob Shelter. This two-story shelter looks like small log cabin. It has four walls and a porch, unlike most A.T. shelters. Medicine Man is already stretched out on his foam pad near the fire pit when we arrive. Uncle Lody hikes in shortly after Princess and me, Second Breakfast brings up the rear. We explore the old shelter’s interior and climb into it’s second level. I wouldn’t mind sleeping up here, but it’s early in the day and we have miles to hike.
We find the foundation of the fire tower that stood there years ago. The shelter, built in 1933, is where the fire warden would stay. The five of us leave the shelter together as Zuzu walks in from the trail.
As we marched down the mountain towards Carvers Gape we collectively create the “Down Mountain Cadence:”
We are walking down a hill. (repeat)
On and on and then we will (repeat)
Sit by fires calm and still. (repeat)
No sleep without bourbon or pill. (repeat)
At some point while marching in a line down the mountain, Princess, Medicine Man, and I listen to Uncle Lody (a physics professor at a college in Kentucky) and Second Breakfast (the astronomer at a museum in Indiana), discuss birth places of quasars and the proper pronunciations and function of certain aspects pertaining to layered parts of the flux capacitor in concurrence with red quantum physics when contrasted and compared to odd numbered sound of the color blue…or some such thing. They lost Simple Sprawl within the first few syllables of their strange dialogue, but their passion and apparent knowledge of the topic was otherwise intriguing.
Stepping onto the road at Carvers Gap is like stepping from one room in your home into another. Neighboring bathrooms and bedrooms, while under the same roof, have almost nothing in common in appearance or function. Same with these two neighboring mountains in this mountain range.
We hiked down a mountain whose beauty and terrain mirrors that of Northern and Western Mountain ranges, crossed the street, then move onto an entirely different type of mountain; a bald mountain, scattered with small gnarled trees, covered by tall dry grass, spotted with boulders, and offers three-hundred-sixty-degree views.
There are too many—way too many—day-hikers here. Their vehicles fill the trail head’s parking area and stretch along the shoulders of the road. We gather in front of the Carver’s Gap sign for a group photo but meet Jukebox instead. He and his gear are spread-out in front of the sign, his shoes are off, and he’s pulling food from his bag. He asks if we’ve seen Zuzu. We tell him that we camped with him the past two nights and he should be walking out of the woods any time now.
We go to the other side of the sign to take our photo.
As we leave the gap Zuzu walks out of the woods on the other side of the street. Him showing up as we’re leaving areas is becoming a trend. Not for long though as he and Jukebox are waiting for a ride to a shelter where they’ll slackpack (be dropped off and picked up at trailheads with a few provisions in their pack such as snacks, water, and minimal day-hike necessities, to allow for hiking a larger section with less pack-weight).
Second Breakfast, Princess, and I, along with a few other friends, Hurley and Fairly New, hiked the upcoming fifteen-mile section one autumn weekend a few years ago. The scene then was often times eerie: cold with a thick fog covering the landscape most of the time. Occasionally a light mist fell on us and views were usually limited, trees and large boulders wouldn’t come into view until you were right up on them.
Today is much different; the sun is warm and bright with a cool refreshing breeze, We have clear mountain views in every direction. It’s as though we are traveling the same trail as then, but on a different path. We are grateful to have these excellent conditions to see what we missed last time.
We gather water from a spring then hike a side trail to Grassy Ridge Bald where we’ll spend the night. We find a small gathering of pine trees that work for Second Breakfast’s hammock hang. Medicine Man sets up his tent inside a different grouping of small trees and boulders. Uncle Lody, Princess, and I set up in a semi-exposed area in front of some large boulders with a great overlook.
Gathered together by the boulders on the west side of the bald we watch the sunset. I have been carrying this lightweight tripod for more than one-hundred miles in hopes of capturing the sunset from here.
The temperature drops rapidly with the falling of the sun.. We put on our rain gear to block the cold wind and to maintain our body heat.
Vibration caused by the wind makes it a little difficult to steady my camera on this flimsy tripod. All in all, I get a few shots that that I can add to my online store. NotYet Photography by Jason Durham
The wind tests the integrity of our tents as it beats against the walls throughout the night. The air’s moisture tests our tent’s rainflies. The ground tests us; it is slanted, rocky, and full of pits, making it difficult to find a decent position to sleep.
Princess and I both end up sleeping with our heads at the narrow end (the foot-end) of our tents due to our feet being higher than our heads. It is much easier to change your position inside the tent than it is to get out and reset it in the dark and cold damp winds. Our heads are now about three feet apart as we lay there complaining to one another through our nylon walls about the crappy ground conditions. Uncle Lody’s tent is on the other side of mine. I hear him moving around, mumbling and grumbling throughout the night.