Hidden Pond Hostel was a welcome retreat. Rainbowz and Johnny were incredibly sweet to the four dripping, cold hikers who showed up on their doorstep, and let us in with warm smiles, dry clothes, laundry and showers. As the worst of the storm crashed down around us, we sat on the couch and chatted with new friends.
We also got to dig through the hiker box. A hiker box is where any hiker can place things they don’t want to carry anymore. Church Mouse had a shirt that wasn’t working for her and my XXL pair of rain pants were added to the box. We needed a larger bag for our Sawyer Squeeze (ever tried filtering 7 liters of water in 16 oz increments?) and found one twice as large as our current one. Additionally, I found a classy pair of sandals that I traded in my Crocs for. I don’t think they’re necessarily lighter, but they are going to be easier to pack.
That night, they fed us burgers and we got to sleep on actual mattresses under real blankets in the bunkhouse. That made me happy: My sleeping bag was still wet.
The next morning, after some tasty cinnamon rolls, we got dropped off back at Woody Gap. Happy and Cuss Mustard, the two other hikers who went with us to Hidden Pond, decided to take a zero day. They’ll make the hike over Blood Mountain after another day of rest.
The Blood Mountain wilderness has a bear-can only restriction in place, meaning Church Mouse and I had to make it from Woody Gap to Bull Gap, or get fined for camping in that area. So far, it would be our longest day of hiking: 11 miles over a 4,000 foot mountain, through Neel Gap/Mountain Crossing, and back up to Bull Gap.
Maybe it was the good night sleep, maybe it’s that we finally ate our excess food down to a reasonable weight, maybe it’s that we’ve now been hiking for five days. Whatever the reason, Church Mouse and I both felt stronger today. It was noticable hiking up Blood Mountain’s switchbacks: we could go a bit longer before pausing, our feet felt (mostly) stronger, our muscles didn’t ache nearly as much. Despite being our longest day, we both felt good.
We met some interesting people along the way too. Debbie does endurance riding and has a colt ready to start training when she gets back from this hike. Windchime and Julia are both teachers who are thru-hiking. However, since school doesn’t let out until May, they’re using their weekends to section hike the beginning of the trail.
The last mile of climbing Blood Mountain was intense. It was mile 9 and lunch was overdue. However, it was well worth the trek.
The Appalachia mountains have my heart for a reason. I know they’re not the biggest, the most imposing, the most impressive. But they have stout character, a welcoming heart, the lasting beauty of graceful queen, and the folklore to go with it.
Many people joke about being homeless as they hike the AT. (“Hey Kansas, how’s it going?” “Swell! Homeless and living the dream!”) I don’t see it as homelessness for five months; rather, I see it as the mountains being my home. Standing there, walking along the trail at Blood Mountain’s peak, looking out over the horizon, it finally sunk in. I get to live here for the next five months. This is home.
It’s true: this home isn’t always going to be fun. Yesterday’s storm proves that. But it is going to be incredible, now in the warm sun, later in the cold night, and yes, later yet in another rain storm that leaves us frigid and cold. Whatever may come in the next five months, I am home.
I’ll admit: I danced a little, as much as one can with terrible dancing ability and a 35-pound pack. Church Mouse’s enthusiasm is more reserved: a smirking smile as she watched me be a child. (This is why most people think she’s the oldest of us two.)
The descent from Blood Mountain was harder than the ascent. We were scrambling down rockface, over boulders, and weaving through the rhododendron. If I didn’t have a pack, I would have been skipping from rock to rock. But a pack puts a bit of a different weight on things and makes it harder. I was also well aware of the fact that this same scrambling in Vermont is what hurt my knee over the fall. Needless to say, we took it careful.
The step descent finally evened out, and gently lowered us to Neel Gap.
Neel Gap and Mountain Crossing
Mountain Crossing is the first milestone thru-hikers come to. At mile 30, the trail passes right through an arch in the outfitters building. Here, you can get a shakedown (where their staff go through your stuff and help you send back what you don’t need), buy new gear, resupply your food, get hot food, and stay in a hostel for the night.
We needed three things: rain pants, gummy bears (always), and jerky. We both also wanted some hot food, because why not? They didn’t have Frogg Toggs, only specialized rain pants that cost over $100. (I’m not spending that much for gear I hate wearing and am notorious for shredding.) Nor did they have gummies. We did, however, get our jerky and Hot Pockets.
We also got to weigh our packs. With half a day’s water left, my pack is at 35 pounds and Church Mouse’s is 36 (though the tent was still wet from the rain, so her number is skewed slightly). Not bad, I think, though I am counting down the days till we get to send our winter gear home.
Mountain Crossing is notorious for another reason too. It’s said that 25% of people who start the Appalachian Trail drop out by here. As we swung our packs back on and walked through the arch, Church Mouse called up, “Hey. We’re still hiking.”
I stopped and looked back, at her, at the arch, at the mountain we just crossed. “The top 75%, baby!”
It was a huge mental milestone to make it to Mountain Crossing, and then to continue past. I feel invincible. I’m very much vincible, I know, but maybe that’s something we can deal with tomorrow. Tonight, I have one last bag of fruit gummies and I’m planning on stretching out next to a warm fire and celebrating.
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