The wind is gusting tonight. We’re on a ridge, Shane’s tent beside us. I used one of the guylines to provide some extra support.
It’s warm inside the tent, but as soon as you step outside, the wind strips away any heat. When we got here, we hurriedly set up camp, cooked food as fast as possible, and dove into the warmth of our sleeping bags.
My bear bag is swinging on a semi-rotten limb. It looked strong in the daylight, but when I hoisted the bag up under the bright white light of my headlamp, I think the branch creaked. I hope our food is still there tomorrow. It’s three days to more food. Two, if we hike on Sunday.
It’s gusting hard, and will be all night. The trees are roaring.
And yet, I am cozy inside the tent. I am warm inside my sleeping bag. As I write this, propped up on my elbows in our two-person tent, I feel sturdy and secure.
It’s a bit of a learning curve, feeling safe, teaching your mind to quiet and rest, accepting that what happens will happen and you will deal with it when it comes. It’s a learning curve sleeping through the night in the tent.
This is not our first windstorm, nor will it be our last. This morning was not our first rain. Sunday’s rain will not be our last. The owl in the distance is just an owl; once recognized, it can be admired. The flapping of the tent in the wind is not someone or something walking outside; it is the tent. The darkness is simply the darkness; the night is the night. Whatever will happen will happen. God is in control. I can sleep.
This does not mean I always sleep. But I am learning how to. A hard day of hiking helps. Prayer helps more. Learning to trust comes in many different shapes.
Despite the wind, we took an extra moment to make some hot chocolate and celebrate. Tonight, we sleep in North Carolina.
You heard me right: We’re in a new state.
This marks mile 78 for us, and our second out of 14 states.
The day didn’t start out feeling like a milestone day. It’d been raining that night. We’d gotten a spot in the shelter so we didn’t have to deal with a wet tent (hallelujah!) but it was still raining that morning as we hiked out. I got to test out my new rain pants.
I hiked down to Dick’s Creek Gap with Phil. He’d found a copy of The Hobbit in a hiker box and was reading it the night before in the shelter. I was jealous… I wish I had a copy of the Hobbit to read.
When we got to the gap, we made a quick stop at Around the Bend Hostel for a quick resupply. Despite the large amount of food we got in Hiawassee, we were going through our snacks fast.
The rain was just letting up when we left the hostel. Phil stayed there for the night, but Shane (who was also at the shelter) had also resupplied and headed back to the trail at the same time as us. He too was eager to cross into NC and planned to stop at the same campsite as us. We ended up hiking together the rest of the day. He came over from England to hike the trail and it was cool getting to learn about England and walk with someone of a different culture.
What’s the best way to get a backpack? Bob has been struggling with packs. He’d came with one pack, hated it within the first week, and so when he got to Around the Bend, he’d bought a second one. Five miles in with his new pack, he came trudging down to the shelter where we were eating lunch, dropped his pack on the picnic table, and announced: “I hate it.”
We all looked up at him. “Aww, Bob, no!”
Poncho also looked up, sized up Bob and Bob’s new backpack, and said, “I’ll trade you.”
Poncho, what a character. He was lounging around the shelter with a Buff for a hat, long hiker pants, and a clashing red zip up sweatshirt, covered in patches from America’s long distance trails. He’d done the AT at least three times, done the CDT and the PCT. His dog, Foxy Lady, was hunting mice, ignoring the dog food he’d put out for her.
As we arrived, he was just starting lunch, boiling fresh onions and a Knorr’s package of noodles with some beef bullion on his stove. As he cooked, he ate an avocado heaped with salt and gave tip after critique after story of long distance hiking. He’s known for running, literal sprinting, down mountains. He’s probably one of the nicest people, quickest to offer help to anyone, and livens up any campsite.
When he saw Bob in need, he sprung into action. Bob tried on his pack and found he did actually like it better. As we left, they were pulling out gear to swap backpacks, both men’s stuff overflowing on the picnic table.
From there, it was only four sunny miles to the border.
Our next day is going to be a big one. We’re hiking 15 miles for the first time, up over Standing Indian Mountain, our tallest mountain so far, towering a massive 5,478 feet. I’ve never hiked higher than 4,000-footers before; I can’t wait for this 5,000-footer.
From there, we’re hoping to be in Franklin by Tuesday, where we’ll stay the night, do some laundry, and take a much needed shower. I’m craving burgers. Actually, we might get the burgers before we get the shower.
Gotta have your priorities straight.
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