Project Eveningland

6/23/2023 Friday

We had one final strange breakfast at our B&B—French toast and hot dogs—then hit the road. There’s rain in the forecast for the next week or so. Rain and rocks are an interesting combination.

My parents and I parted in a large gravel lot next to the trail. It took me a bit to get situated for a rainy day of hiking.

The rocks were awful in the rain. It’s not a question of will one slip but when and how fast. I had to use my hands and very careful foot/pole work to stay safe.

There’s a part of the trail I heard someone call “the knife’s edge.” If that is its name it is apt. Huge piles of huge rock—slippery and jagged and tilted. My pace slowed to a wet crawl. It took me more than four hours to hike six miles to an intermediate shelter.

Along the way there were a few water caches and some even better trail magic—hot dogs! Those folks were just packing up but I got two dogs and a refill on my water, which saved me a hike down to a spring.

The forest was gorgeous but not very hospitable. The mists persisted all day. The entirety of today’s walk took place in a cloud.

As wet as it is, this is a dry section from the perspective of water sources. I didn’t see a single one on trail. There was one water source below the shelter six miles in and maybe a spring or two down a side trail. Tomorrow there is a 20 mile stretch with no on-trail water, though there are steep side trails one can take to access seasonal springs.

Tonight I’m camped in a slightly piney, extremely ferny little site. Tons of needles here—will be well drained. We could get 1-2 inches of rain tonight. Sigh.

Just as I was tying my ursack to a tree, a young bear came strolling right by me. I made noise. He took notice and moved away but didn’t scarper. He gave my tent a sniff and then walked lazily across the AT and off to the other side of the ridge.

Less than an hour later I heard him walk back. He was making his rounds. Still no interest in me or my food. You may be wondering, why not move camp? There’s nowhere I can go that’ll be any safer. There’re notes in the comments for all the nearby campsites and shelters about a young bear that walks through. Maybe it’s the same one. He seemed chill to me. And it’s gonna rain like crazy tonight so he’ll probably be warm and snuggly somewhere.

I am not worried about the bear and you shouldn’t be either. He hardly scared me at all. I felt a mutual disinterest in any further interactions. And what a beautiful animal to see, too.

I confess I am more worried about the rain and the rocks. Also I don’t relish the thought of hiking ~15 miles tomorrow with no water refills. But it’s a Saturday tomorrow—I can probably “yogi” some water off of day hikers (that’s thru-hiker slang for bumming water, not stealing it—our jargon is too cute by half). If I don’t get a refill, I will have to hike down a steep side trail. Or hope the rain will have created other opportunities.

And that’s life really. There’s only so much you can do to ward off discomfort and pain and loneliness and deprivation. I try not to dwell too long on the adverse conditions. They’ll give way to other conditions soon enough.

Some great stuff happened while I was off trail! My parents and I had a peaceful four days together. Several games of dominos were played. My book is now out of my hands—the proofs are checked and there are no more steps for me.

Between hours-long proofing sessions, I napped and patched my tent with more duct tape. I got new trekking poles. I have good snacks and my medicine “cabinet” is restocked. Mom made me a turkey sandwich with a leftover bagel for lunch.