Project Eveningland

3/7/2023 Tuesday

Today’s conditions made for an unusual hike. It was sort of like hiking on the moon in the sense of a dark side and a light side. One minute it’s frigid and windy, the next minute you cross to the other side of a ridge and it’s sunny and warm. Couldn’t ever get my layers quite right to stay comfortable. So, yeah, doesn’t that sort of remind you of the moon?

When I began to get close to Clingmans Dome, the landscape turned more scrubby and piney. It began to remind me of a sunny October day in the Rockies. Sure there’s more moss here, but the smell and feel are the same.

Speaking of that Rocky Mountain feel, I’ve been missing it. I’ve been missing my day hikes, believe it or not, because it was easier then to stay in the moment and enjoy the hike. Here everyone talks miles all the time. There’s such a competitive spirit—what a bummer. No one takes breaks or seems to enjoy anything. I met some guys today for the first time and the first questions out of their mouths are about when I started (what date so they know how many days it’s taken you to get to the same point they’re at) and where I started the day (to see how my mileage and pace compares to theirs). I get that the Smokies are different—some of the mileage talk is because people are nervous about getting through with the amount of food they have. I am worried about getting through with the amount of food I have. Also, I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I wish I’d packed lower fiber foods.

Anyway, I feel resentful of the rush, especially when we have had such good luck with the weather (looks likely to run out around Thursday). I want to bask, not plow. It doesn’t help that these miles feel longer due to the rugged terrain.

I reached Clingmans Dome, the highest point on the whole trail, and more or less the 200 mile point. I ascended the long ramp to the viewing platform and beheld a glorious view. There were smoke plumes in the general direction of Cheoah—a controlled burn? (BTW, I only know which of the countless mountains are which because the viewing platform has diagrams). Anyway, as I was taking in the view, I felt the (living) spirit of Trip, my brother-in-hiking, as he whispered in my ear, “it’s all downhill from here.” I turned to throw my dear friend bodily from the platform (and to his death) for making such a stupid joke, but it was only the wind.

I didn’t linger despite the view. The signs promised a longer hike to the shelter than my app—when there’s disagreement, the higher mileage is usually the one to believe.

The hike down to Mt. Collins shelter area was a real slog. The terrain was rough. My mood improved some when I stopped for dinner on the way. How can I be down to the dregs halfway through the carry?! I’ll make it but yikes to that calorie deficit.

Made it to the shelter just before six. Beaker gave me some tummy meds. Lots of weekenders about—you can spot them by their Nalgenes (too heavy for thru hikers, who prefer plastic water bottles). I saw one backpacker with a ton of stuff attached to the outside of her very full pack, making her look like an old peddler’s wagon, clanking down the trail.

I chatted with Hide a bunch at morning break and lunch break. I’ve been chatting with that tramily (Hike, Mary Poppins, Wedge, Lost and Found) about mileage. I’m gonna probably do the same as them. That’d mean a 16 tomorrow over slightly better terrain. I hope Perp and Mantra make it soon. It’s getting cold out there.