Project Eveningland

3/15/2023 Wednesday

Last night somebody started washing pots and pans, loudly, right outside the cheap door to my bedroom, at 10:30 at goddamn night. I went out and said, politely at first, “what the fuck are you doing?” He was reluctant to stop and carried on for ten more minutes before I came out and confronted him again. I don’t normally get up in people’s faces but Christ on a cracker! I was so pissed at the thoughtlessness that it took me a bit to return to sleep. Took sleeping pill…

…and slept in until eight! What a treat! What an achievement in a hostel! Had to wait a while on a bathroom. Went down to the diner for breakfast and ran into the whole gang. Then, on the way out of town, I stopped at the outfitter for some new socks. The runner’s socks I wear are great, but they’re low rise and leave a very cold little gap when I’m wearing tights or pants in cooler weather.

The climb out of Hot Springs begins just after crossing the French Broad River. It’s another steep AT climb. Classic. Lots of ridge walking and ups and downs after the first huge ascent. Then another long ascent up many small nameless lumps and ridges. The sky was a deep blue all day. It got into the low 50s. I was down to my base layers for only about a half an hour before I had to put my fleece back on. The biggest treat of the day was a glorious rhododendron tunnel. It calls you to adventure.

I can tell people are lonely. Other hikers have a way of inviting you to ask them about things. They will sometimes narrate their every decision (“OK, time to hang the bear bag”) and I wonder if this is just a habit or if it invites some kind of participation from me. I often feel that I am hiking a trail lousy with Luna Lovegood types who expect me to create interesting conversation. I haven’t felt that social today, in part because one of the guys hiking in my vicinity looks like the guy who washed dishes and made a noisy ruckus last night. I don’t wanna hike with him!

OK, as an example of the aforementioned pattern: a young blond man raves about the spring at the shelter and says “here in the East, the water just comes out of the ground; it’s amazing!” Am I to ask where he’s from? Am I supposed to? I feel like I’m being shaken down for conversation—can they smell my ability to engage on nearly any topic? Why do I feel so withholding?

Met another 18 year old hiker. He’s got a pretty fun pornstache. There’s a couple of women I’ve met before with a miniature Lassie dog who was too good to eat a Cheez-it I dropped surreptitiously near her. Good herder though.

Today was a shorter day—just 11 miles. But that elevation gain! I remember tomorrow’s hike being a bit of a ball buster too, especially that new ridge trail right before the 300 mile point.

In 2021 Trip and I spent a memorable, rainy night in Spring Mountain shelter, which I am camped just above this evening. He was on the opposite side of the shelter, between two men whose inane conversation and dense shared cloud of pot smoke were something of a trial for poor Trip. Then he got kicked in the face a few times during the night. I slept fine.