Day two in the Smokies was gorgeous—sun and blue sky for most of the day.  With different sleeping habits and hiking speeds, our newly formed tramily of seven headed out in twos and threes, but with the same shelter as our destination. We took our time at lunch, lounging in the sun on the top of a ridge.

That night after dinner, one friend excitedly took out a package of backpacker’s apple crisp.  He went to prepare it and discovered there were multiple complicated steps (much more elaborate than most dehydrated meals, to which you just add boiling water).  We got into a hilarious discussion imagining who develops the recipes, and spent time comparing our group to the smiling and highly accessorized folks on the packaging.  The apple crisp was eventually prepared and tasted great, despite its impracticality.

Good weather continued the next day with more sweeping vistas, and I understood why the park is so popular.  That afternoon as we climbed higher, the forest seemed to transform around me, moss blanketing everything.  We had entered the spruce-fir forest that caps the highest elevations in the park.  By mid-afternoon we were approaching the highest point on the Appalachian Trail, Clingmans Dome.  We knew we were getting close when we started to encounter groups of fresh-smelling tourists exploring down the trail.  Several groups asked me and my friends if we were thru-hikers, how far we’d come, or how far we were going.  When they would pass us, the scent of laundry detergent, deodorant, and perfume was strong.  I wondered if it was our scent more than our appearance that gave us away as thru-hikers.

We emerged from the trees to see an alien-like concrete observation tower, reached by a wide concrete ramp that curled around and up to the tower.  While strikingly austere compared to the natural beauty of the land surrounding it, Clingmans Dome provides sweeping 360-degree views. Following the curve of the tower along the outer railing are maps that identify each peak in the distance.  At that point I was with two friends and we took turns taking photos until dark grey clouds rolled in.  Only a few miles later, we reached our shelter for the night.  Worried about weather, I stayed in the crowded shelter, but slept fine. 

The next morning my group headed out early, excited to eat hot food and resupply in Gatlinburg, TN.  Our plan was to hike four miles in the morning, hitch-hike into town for most of the day, then hitch back to trail to hike three miles to the next shelter.  That is not what happened. 

At the gap, we were lucky to have an extremely kind and generous woman stop and let six smelly hikers into her mini van.  Another kind couple took another friend.  The woman who picked us up owned a hiker hostel and went above and beyond to help us resupply in Gatlinburg, even after we told her we were planning to return to trail that night.  She took us to the grocery store, gave us time to shop, dropped us off at the restaurant where we were meeting our other friend, and gave us her number to call when we were heading back to trail, just in case she was heading that way to pick up a guest. She was a true trail angel, one of many who selflessly support hikers and make the AT community the most beautiful part of the trail.

Gatlinburg felt like another world with its vibrant signage advertising the dozens of restaurants, tourist shops, and attractions. After a blissful meal at Mellow Mushroom, we wandered downtown into different shops—ice cream, candy, a jerky emporium.  It was sensory overload.  We all met back up at the outfitter where we browsed gear, relaxed, and some took showers. After loitering at the gas station across from the outfitter, we finally managed to get hitches back to the gap in small groups. 

By the time we all made it back to the gap, it was late afternoon.  We had just enough time to make it to the shelter before dark.  Then we noticed the park ranger vehicles….and started to get word that the shelter was closed. We learned that park rangers were heading to the shelter we meant to camp at with a stretcher and dart guns to try capture a bear that had been stealing food bags the last several nights. The bear had figured out how to get food bags from the bear cables.  

We had to figure out a new plan.  We called the hostel-owner who had given us a ride, but she completely booked.  She gave us more info on the bear situation that she learned from hikers were staying with her.  Our options were not ideal.  Either get another ride 15 miles back down the mountain to Gatlinburg and pay for a motel, or hike on to a further shelter (with much of the hike in the dark).  No one wanted go all the way back to town, so we decided to have our first night hiking adventure.

We made it to the first shelter just before sunset.  There were 6-8 park rangers there, waiting for the bear to make an appearance.  The shelter was full, and we had heard correctly; they were not letting anyone set up near the shelter. They did let us cook dinner and get water before heading on. 

Turns out that hiking seven miles in the dark takes a lot longer than in daylight.  We stayed together, the seven of us in an ant line, with our headlamps lighting our way.  There were stories told, games played, and lots of wondering if we were ever going to make it to the shelter.  We finally did, around 1 a.m. and tried our best to set up camp silently.  The bear cables gave us away, screeching loudly as a friend tried to hoist our seven bear bags on one cable.  I fell asleep as soon as my head hit my camp pillow. 

The next morning, I stayed silent in my hammock as I heard some other hikers wondering aloud about who showed up in the middle of the night.

More to come next week.

--Catch Up