Project Eveningland

3/22/2023 Wednesday

I had misgivings from the start. Twenty miles, this early? Going backward? In the cold and rain? Well, at least we (Lost-and-Found, Wedge, Hide, me) would be slack packing, and we’d be returning to a warm cabin (single wide with wood paneling).

When I awoke early (4AM) my left Achilles was feeling a bit sore and tight. It’s not serious. The cold and damp often does that, and I think it’s also the calf muscle being too tight and yanking on that tendon. There are several overlapping measures I can take to address the problem. It’s just a little demoralizing.

I decided to go ahead with the plan. I took some anti-inflammatories. Had a support wrap on standby. We piled into Steve’s RAV4 at 6AM. He told us he went looking for passion fruit when he was at the grocery store because yesterday we got into a conversation about fruit and I described it vividly and rapturously. They’re out of season. Also, probably not that easy to find. Maybe at Whole Foods. We love Steve. I drank my strawberry milk—not a great choice for a mountain drive in the dark. I was miserable.

We reached Iron Mountain Gap and set off into the wet, cold, dark. The fresh air was a balm. I felt sore and stiff. Slow. Got to Cherry Creek Gap (remember, we are doing this section southbound—backwards). The reasons for hiking backwards are multiple (but I don’t gotta justify it!).

Back to Cherry Creek Gap. I walked over to get out of the rain, take off my shoes, and put on an ankle wrap. It’s too cold to stop for long. The shelter was very full. Folks were still getting up and around. Saw Chef and a few other familiar voices. Bill had tented but came into the shelter while I was there. Unfortunately we would all be going opposite directions. But I forgot to pack the support wrap. Damnit.

The wind and rain picked up. It was never a downpour but sometimes it was steady. And it was nearly always raining at least a little. I can’t use my umbrella too much because it gets caught in the brush and ends up slowing me down. I wanted to move as quickly as possible. I kept my fleece on underneath my rain jacket, though I knew it would likely get wet. It was just too cold!

I hiked in solitude across wind-blasted ridges where the rain came in at an angle. There were people behind and ahead of me, but they might have been miles away. It was a lonely day. I got to pass lots of folks going in the opposite direction, including Stickers, who exchanged friendly words with me. He said he was headed for the next shelter. I told him perhaps we would see him tomorrow, because we’d be jumping back on northbound three miles ahead of his endpoint for the day. But our shuttle back to Iron Mountain Gap doesn’t leave until 8:30AM tomorrow. He’ll be long gone.

I did not take full breaks. I ate almost nothing. I didn’t drink nearly enough. Sometimes it happens in rough weather. The tightness in my ankle faded after a few miles and I felt strong and fast. The first seven miles flew by well before 10. I could hardly believe it.

The pines at the peak of Unaka Mountain cluster so tightly that their collective shadow looms over the path. It looks as though you’re walking into the dark.

I continued to move pretty fast but didn’t catch anyone from my group until Hide, eight miles from the end, who was using an old broken trailhead sign as cover from the rain to eat. I didn’t see food or I would have stopped to eat too. I was still moving really effing fast, but fleet footed. Almost jogging in places. I took one five minute break, and a twenty minute lunch when I hit Curley Maple Gap Shelter near two. That’s it.

Speaking of Curley Maple Gap, there was an older man in the shelter who had his stuff set up, but not a bedroll. He said, “come on in and dry off” and I thought, oh boy, we got a talker. I was famished and exhausted and wet and had only stopped to cram all manner of foods into my mouth. He kept asking me questions and I would answer but not engage. It really frustrated him. I’m sorry; I’m trying to eat and I don’t have the energy to explain shuttling and slackpacking. Sometimes thru hikers are entitled assholes. But sometimes non-thru hikers are entitled in their own way. They expect a tutorial. They feel entitled to your life story and then will want to tell you theirs. There’s a time and a place for that. The time is not when someone is sending signals that they’re starving and not feeling talkative… mrah, leave me alone!

Like I said, a cold, wet, fast day. I was pretty tired and sore by the end. It was finally dry and warm in the last few miles. All-in-all it was a raging success, not least of all because it meant we didn’t have to hike up Unaka and then camp in the rain on the other side. My body is strong. I knew it could pull through on a cold day and it did. Gosh do I need new shoes.

We ordered $85 worth of pizza. I remember being unable to stop myself eating to get up and get something. I’m spending the evening icing, elevating, rehydrating. And writing.