We pull into the parking lot at Clingman’s Dome in the early evening. Alanna keeps the car running while I take too long to gather my things. Her heater is turned up all the way. Outside, the sky sags dark and heavy, unrelenting rain. “I can take you back to Asheville if you want,” she … More In the Smokies I Sleep in Shelters, In the Smokies it Always Rains
It’s raining when I wake up in the half-light at Fontana Dam. Raining when I take down my sopping wet tent and shove it inside my sopping wet pack. It’s raining when I set out on the trail as it winds up, up, up into the Smokies. I slept like shit. My gear is already … More A River Runs Throught It: Welcome to The Smokies
Fontana Dam marks the official start of the Smokies, where the AT tickles the spine of the steep mountain range for 75 miles or so, criss-crossing back and forth between North Carolina and Tennessee. This section of trail, people say, is wet. And cold. And hard. And beautiful. It’s late morning when I arrive at … More Fontana Dam: Before the Smokies, Before the Rain
In the morning, I pack my things as the sun rises, eat pop tarts and drink cold instant coffee while I shove everything into my pack. The boys are still asleep in their tents when I set out on the trail. It’s cold, but not raining, so I hike in short sleeves because I know … More When it Stops Raining We Sleep Beneath the Stars
A strange thing happens after I part ways with Two Bad Dogs: I see ZERO THRU HIKERS on the trail all day (and only four section hikers who are heading south.) This is quite surprising, as this happened only once on my entire PCT thru-hike, and there are more than twice as many people on … More All the Young Dudes
In the morning, I hike a mile to the road then thumb a ride into Hiawassee from a young hippie couple. Space Time is in town, so we eat breakfast together at a greasy spoon, then I resupply at the grocery store for the next stretch. Ellen and Patrick show up and we hitch a … More Old Friends and Never Ending Rain
The crusty kids from Virginia and I hike together today. Patrick flies along the trail, barging up the big climbs and jogging down the steep descents. I’m amazed at how fast he hikes with that giant pack; camp shoes swinging wildly from carabiners, a coiled silver sleeping pad thwap-thwap-thwapping against the backs of his thighs. … More Safety in Numbers/Staring Contests (Never Camp By a Road)
The privy is, surprisingly, not too bad. There’s a lock on the door and, on a scale of one-to-death by feces smell, it’s a solid four. As I’m about to set up my sleeping bag and settle in for the night, I remember the owner of the Hiker Hostel mentioning that they’re only six miles … More Day 1 cont./Day 2: Drying Out and Making Friends
The van lurches to a stop and we spill out into the parking lot near Springer Mountain. I’m queasy as hell from the long drive up the winding Georgia back roads and take deep slow breaths of the cold morning air. The ten or so of us hikers who spent the previous night at the … More Day 1: It’s Not an Adventure Until Something Goes Wrong
I Could Drive Forever 