There's that silly joke "If you don't like the weather... wait 10 minutes" I think the same can be said about a thru-hike. One moment it's smooth sailing, next thing you know you're ready to throw in the towel. Wait 10 minutes, you're on top of the world again!
Music featured in this video: "Going Down the Road Feeling Bad" by Rockabanjobilly, "Know No No-Nos" by Doctor Turtle, and "Lucky's Tune" by Howie Mitchell
Trail Journal
Alrighty, as we established in the first post the theme for the series is Bluegrass. So, with each trail journal I'll share another Top 10 of my favorite songs in the genre.
Bluegrass on the Blue Ridge Vol. 2
10. "Ruby - Are You Mad at Your Man" by The Osborne Brothers
9. "Catfish John" by Nitty Gritty Dirt Band ft. Alison Krauss
8. "Silver Ghost" by Wildwood Valley Boys
7. "Fleeting Transient Feelings" by The Haunted Windchimes
6. "Lonesome Pine" by Blue Highway
5. "In Hell I'll Be In Good Company" by The Dead South
4. "Cumberland Gap" by Rising Appalachia
3. "Steel Rails" by Alison Krauss
2. "Shady Grove" by Doc Watson
1. "High On A Mountain" by Cathie Ryan
April 21st 2021
Deep Gap Shelter to Ivestor Gap
6 miles
(PART 2 leaves off here)
I remember the exact moment the backpacking bug bit me...
A friend messaged me about this place in North Carolina where you could see rolling hills and distant peaks for miles. And even better you could camp up there! No permit, no fees, just hike out and stay. This was actually the same friend that introduced me to my beloved Foothills Trail. I should really give her a call...
It never occurred to me before we could stay on trails overnight. I thought that was the stuff of an unprepared day hiker's nightmare. I looked over the pictures of this place practically drooling. That's the moment it bit. I wasted no time buying gear and planning a route. Have I ever told you about the time we tried to backpack Black Balsam Knob? On second tough, I'll save that story for another time...
I was really looking forward to seeing those rolling hills again, and getting a good picture of the plaques on Black Balsam and Tennent Mountain. I had a pretty positive outlook on the day ahead. But that positive outlook was quickly stripped away by the whipping wind and bitter cold. I don't think I took my base layers off once that whole day!
"It's Murphey's Law!" my grandma always says. "Anything that can go wrong WILL!" The events that followed had me considering there might be some legitimacy to grandma's words. Somewhere on Silvermine Bald I lost feeling in my fingers, and putting gloves on didn't seem to help. Then a dark cloud swept in and pelted me with ice chunks. I struggled up the switchbacks a little faster to try to get away. I reached a junction where the Art Loeb joins the Mountains to Sea trail. Right or left? I walked a little ways to the left watching the arrow on my GPS app. It veered slightly away from the route. Okay, lets try the other way. I went back and made a right. The arrow jumped back on track.
The trail led me into a dense hardwood forest, and a deep grayish green tint fell over everything. The path blended into the trees. In the distance I could see a little white circle tacked to a trunk. I weaved back and forth along the faint trail trying not to lose sight of the next blaze. Each time I stopped to reorient, the forest turned into one of those black and white optical illusions. You know the ones that start to "move" if you stare at them too long?
The trail threw one ridiculous situation at me after another. And each time, I sunk a little lower. Right about the time I crossed Black Balsam road is when I hit an all time low (like lower than climbing Pilot the day before.) I made my way down the road and into the brush to a spot where I hid a water cache two days before. Thankfully, it was undisturbed. By this point the numbness in my fingers had spread to my whole hands. Unbuckling my pack, unscrewing the cap on the water bladder, and breaking the seal on the water jug took forever. I fumbled over and over, getting more frustrated by my lack of fine motor skills by the moment. FINALLY I got the cache tipped up and pouring into the bladder. Then I lost my grip and half the jug spilled all over me and my pack.
"NO! I can't do this. I CAN'T do this." I said out loud.
I made up my mind:
I don't want to be here anymore.
I don't want to keep going.
I'm not going to make it.
Then I finished refilling my water, put my pack back on, and kept walking...
I tried as hard as I could to enjoy the views on the way up Black Balsam, but I was too focused on getting away from the wind to muster up any appreciation. I was trapped in flight mode I guess. As I reached the top of Tennent Mountain, the wind started to ease up a bit. I dropped my pack on the grassy patch across from the plaque and another song came to mind...
"High on a mountain living free
Thinking about the days that used to be"
While reminiscing on my past misadventure, I got to thinking about the man himself. Art Loeb. The kind of wild adventures he must have had back in the day. Sometime before the hike, I read a very interesting obituary for him. His children are quoted a couple times in it, reflecting on his love for hiking and the excursions they joined him on. The part when his son-in-law said "We had maps, but they weren't very helpful" made me laugh out loud. I think a lot of hikers, even today, can relate to that!
I might be remembering wrong, but the plaques looked different this time. I could've sworn one of them used to have a detailed engraving of a man with a walking stick, or some representation of Loeb on it?
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