Project Eveningland

3/4/2023 Saturday

Amy, the owner of Wing and Hoof, prepared us a hearty little breakfast bar with sausage and bacon cooked to perfection. I’m still thinking about it. Bill had carried on the small talk on the way to the hostel last night. I took up the work on the way back to the trail this morning. I left my umbrella in Amy’s other car, which she had picked us up in. I didn’t notice until later in the day. The forecast is looking pretty favorable, so I can just wait until the next outfitter and replace it then. I did the Smokies without an umbrella the first time.

I am writing at the end of the day from a hotel bed at Fontana Lodge. It’s one of those 1960s type hotels adjacent to a national park. It’s been kept up well enough, and updated, but the design cues are mid century modern meets lodgecore. Love it. I am bone tired. Just had dinner with Bill—I ordered a chicken bacon ranch wrap and it came with another improbably good batch of fries. We are nailing the fries this journey. I’m starting to wish I’d gotten an order of chicken tenders to go. It’s gonna be a long six days of cold food, though I don’t dread it particularly.

The climb out of Stecoah Gap—the very first piece of my walk today—was nearly vertical. I’ve seen people fall right off it. A few of the climbs are so steep they go upside down. No one is sure who built those parts or how they did it.

In this section there are few switchbacks. The trail is quite old and includes a series of poorly constructed (and erosion prone) paths which proceed directly, and I mean directly, to the nearest and highest ridge. Great cell service on all those ridges, though, and the weather was ideal. Sky was a pure blue. Had to keep reapplying sunscreen.

I shot off uphill to warm up in the morning and didn’t feel tired until the afternoon. My feet are what’s tired mostly. I stopped at Cable Gap Shelter and laid my back against the filthy shelter floor so I could elevate my feet against the wall.

Lots of folks out day hiking. Bill confided at dinner that he finds it tiresome to be questioned by day hikers about stuff like water filtration. He feels like he’s in a zoo and they’re in the way. Ladies and gentlemen, we have seen Bill grow from novice to thru-hiker (at least in spirit) in less than a month. I couldn’t be prouder.

Got wonderful news. My brother and his longtime girlfriend have decided to get married! I really like Jessica and she has two very well behaved sons (honestly I worry for them being exposed to us Clouds—Pat says Jessica’s boys ask to be excused from the table. Our kids run a little wilder). The thought of the engagement made me smile off and on all day. The shared work of building a family, of building a life, carries forward all around us. Should I bully my way into making an extra long toast at the wedding? Oh, but I must.

I passed Cody Gap, where Trip and I stayed in 2021. Later there was a second long climb to a ridge overlooking the winding, many-tentacled Fontana Lake. The dam came into view soon after. Then a miles long descent, which nipped in and out of tiny folds in the mountain, some with springs and cool flowing water. The shrubbery near the bottom was already leafing.

Fresh Ground (a famous, or in his words merely “widely known,” trail angel who runs a free mobile cafe out of a van) was at the Marina serving a very hearty chicken soup, some soft bread, and tons of fruit. He keeps up a friendly, teasing banter throughout. I suspect that what looks like chattiness is in fact at least a modestly self-aware effort to put people at ease. Hikers can sit and eat and don’t have to give their life stories. It’s really quite nice. The man knows hikers’ needs. I signed his van. He took a picture of all of us that’ll probably show up on instagram. I think it may have been an unflattering photo of me. See, this is why I don’t allow myself to be photographed while eating.

I caught the shuttle to the lodge. I was the only one on it. A pricey hotel is going to be a lot less popular among hikers in good weather. The trees are in bloom and I saw a willow already leafing out—they won’t look like that in northern CO for another 6-7 weeks.

I had a birthday package from Ben waiting at the hotel. Also a resupply box my parents sent—there’s not a lot of easy resupply around here. I don’t even want to tell you what I paid for six Aleve at the hotel shop. Ben wrote me a sweet note with a drawing. But it’s so precious that now I have to carry it. I called him but there’s no cell service here and the Wi-Fi is so weak that it can’t support a phone call for long.

Tomorrow I’ll climb up into the Smokies with a planned stop at Mollie’s Ridge. Should be service up there. Also a very nice Devil’s Tater Patch. This is an actual named feature near mile 177—I’ll reach it early Tuesday morning. However, that’s not what I’m referring to. In 2021, Trip decided that “devil’s tater patch” should be the generic code phrase for a “toilet area”—a designated plot of dirt (offered in lieu of a privy at some shelters) that is meant to be… uh… desecrated? People go there and do unspeakable things. They bury the evidence but we all know. We all know what they did.