It’s been a weird, long, draining week.
Our shortest day was 15 miles, and the majority of the time we were pushing 17s. We even hit a twenty coming out of Hot Springs, and let me tell you… 20 miles with a fully loaded pack is a long day. At least it still is for us (some people have been zipping past us!).
Blues Clues stayed in Erwin, TN, to heal up an injury. Even our zero felt restless, knowing the three of us (Stealth, Church Mouse, and myself) would be moving on the next day and Blues Clues would not. It was a solemn climb away from Erwin, each of us missing Blues Clues’ presence in our own ways.
Additionally, it feels like we’re out-hiking spring. Sure, there are small flowers starting to bloom, but the trees are still leafless and the forest is more brown than green. Each time we meet a local, someone is sure to encourage us, “just a couple more days and spring will be here!” but it has been many days and yet it still feels like we’re walking through a very much sleeping forest. I cannot wait to walk through something that feels alive again.
To top this dreary week off, the widely fluctuating weather has left me with a cough. I’m doing my best to keep it from becoming a full-blown cold, but at this point, I’m not sure what else to do besides put one foot in front of the other, drink warm things, and try not let my body’s temperature drop too much too fast. We’re taking our next zero in Damascus, and I hope a night of solid rest will be the cure I need.
Other things that are going wrong? I can keep adding to this list. Seams on both of my boots are starting to break and I haven’t seen Lowa boots stocked in any of the outfitters around here. We haven’t had a privy in about 70 miles. Knorr’s are really starting to taste bland. Shelters are getting more and more full as more people start hiking. Why do pictures never actually capture the view I see?
Perhaps you can tell from my rambling rant: This week has left me emotionally worn out and in need of a pick me up.
Enter the Roan Highlands.
The Roan Highlands
When I announced at work I’d be disappearing for six months to wander in the woods, I was told I had to talk to Mr. Z from Heartfelt Radio. Both of his daughters had hiked the trail and he would have some good advice for me.
As we talked, he mentioned these highlands. If there was one place on the trail he’d like to visit, it would be here. The pictures he’d received from both daughters were incredible, he said.
That’s nice, I thought to myself, tucking the information away in my mind and forgetting it in the whirlwind of tasks that comes with preparing for a long-distance hike.
The day before the highlands was a steady climb up to Roan High Knob shelter, the highest shelter on the AT at 6,270 feet in elevation. We’d hiked steady and quickly, as much as possible, to get there before the rain, and we made it, just barely. We stepped into the shelter as the rain drops started sprinkling and ate our dinner listening to the drops against the roof.
We awoke to a foggy forest. Water hugged the spruce, pattering down in uneven patches as the wind passed through. My thoughts suddenly went back to Mr. Z’s words. Dang it, I thought. The one place I heard about and I’m not even going to be able to see it. It was like a Clingsman Dome all over again, minus the ice. I got ready to add it to my list of things going wrong this week.
As we hiked down from the shelter, we realized it was less day after a rain fog and more you’re so high up you slept in a cloud.
As we came out from under the cloud, the highlands opened up before us like a grassy oasis. Suddenly the tunnels of dead trees and bushes faded away and we could see everything.
The wind was wild still. Without any trees to slow it down, it whipped across the balds with the intensity and care of a playing cat. Resupply was the next day and we’d eaten down to the last few things. Our packs were light. By now, you know exactly what I did: I let the wind catch me, ran with it, scrambled up any rocks I could find, and stared out over the valley.
The trail was full of hikers and day hikers, but I didn’t much care. I’d hiked over 380 miles to see this and I didn’t care what someone thought about a girl with a 30-pound pack running back and forth across the trail to watch the clouds rolling across the Tennessee and North Carolina mountain ranges.
We’d hiked balds before. There was Wayah Bald with a stone fire tower up top; Siler Bald, back when it was still ice cold and we ran to the top of the bald, blew some warmth back into our fingers, and ran back to the warm shelter of the woods; Max Patch, where I sprawled out on the ground and soaked in the wonder of both sun and grass; Big Bald, where we stood and watched the smoke from a controlled burn billowing out of the valley.
Each of these were individual balds, though, a trek up through the woods for a glorious view and then descending back into the forest. The Roan Highlands, however, were connected. One bald led to another bald led to another bald. With the past rain and the morning sun, the trail shone and sparkled, and we could follow our path across each mountain and to the next. As we hiked, we could look back and see exactly how far we’d come.
On our way to Hump Mountain, we passed two section hikers. They must have only been doing an overnight because after Stealth and I passed them, we both turned to each other in shock. “They smell so clean!” Just as much as we’d been surprised by them, they’d probably gotten a strong whiff of us passing by and choked. “Dang thru-hikers.”
Hump Mountain was our last bald of the day. Unlike the other balds, with trees and bushes creeping up the sides, Hump Mountain was completely grass. As we walked towards it, we could see the trail cutting up the side (with very few switchbacks), rocks protruding against the skyline, and human dots trudging their way up.
It was magnificent.
The other best part of this day? We only had 15 miles to do, meaning we got to soak in the sights, loiter at the overlooks, and spend our day enjoying this beautiful scenery.
Four hundred miles on the Appalachian Trail
Shortly after the Roan Highlands, we passed mile 400. Only 1,798.4 miles left to go.
Plus, we reached another milestone! Starting in the Smokies, the AT followed the border between North Carolina and Tennessee. One night we’d sleep in NC, the next night in TN.
But we have officially finished the North Carolina section and are only in Tennessee. In a couple of days, we’ll finish Tennessee and enter Virginia near Damascus.
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