Saturday, April 23, 2022

On the Trail to Damascus


Mile 470.7 for Northbounders like me

Greetings from Damascus, Virginia, A.K.A. “Trail Town USA!”


Roan Mtn Summit TN, Former Site of Cloudland Hotel
(demolished in 1915)


I arrived in Damascus at noon on April 21 after a short 10 mile hike from my last campsite. Turns out we were not supposed to camp in that zone due to “Aggressive Bear Activity” last year. My heavily blistered (and painful!!) left set of toes said “STOP,” so I did. It was my first time dipping into my supply of “vitamin I” (ibuprofen).






I am staying at Laurel Mountain Inn B&B, and HIGHLY recommend to anyone interested in coming to Damascus. Kathleen and Drew are delightful, accommodating, and most gracious hosts. The 125 year old home is charming beyond description and I am quite content just to hang out and prep food, etc. for the next 3 weeks. Breakfasts are TO DIE FOR! Drew said I left a nose hair in the bathroom, so I am not speaking to him, although I did accept the giant craft brew yesterday that was offered after I helped move a couch.



Damascus "Feelin Froggy" Craft Beer


I suppose the most challenging segment I have had since we last spoke was April 8, 9 and 10. Pam had messaged that she was glad I was out of the Smokies as that area was to get 6 inches of snow. Unbeknownst to me, so was the NC/TN border where I currently was. The snow started around noon Friday, April 8 (nephew Charlie’s birthday) and increased in intensity as the afternoon progressed. Things got slick and at one point I slipped and did a barrel roll. Winds from the west were icing up the inside left lens of my glasses. I trudged on and made it to Jerry Cabin Shelter where at least 15 people were already hunkered down. I was able to set up my tent and looked forward to better weather the next day (with no cell service to check the forecast, it turned out to be wishful thinking). The 9th was bitter cold with wind gusts. And the snow just kept a-coming! I decided it would be wise to zero then and there and spent an excruciating long, cold, and boring 36 hours in my tiny tent.



Taking a Zero Day in my Tent



Losing a day of travel would mean I’d have to average 16 miles a day over the next 6 days (I had been averaging about 12.5 to that point) in order to get to my resupply box at Elk Park NC Post Office before it closed at 11AM the Saturday of Easter weekend.


The winds died down and Sunday dawned cold but clear. I got outta there as quickly as I could but couldn’t feel my fingers nor was I able to tie my shoes tight enough as they were frozen stiff. My goal was to climb over Big Butt and get into the sun, which was blissful despite the cold. I was blazing the trail thru 6-8 inches of snow and followed turkey tracks, and crossed numerous sets of deer tracks, as well as those of a bear.



Scaling Big Butt Sunday April 10
Seeking Sunshine to Get Warm


Trail conditions ranged from snow, then slush, then ice, and finally mud and rivers of water. Nevertheless, things were getting better. I did eventually remove my shoes and found brand new blisters, which I attribute to inadequately tightening my shoes earlier. Later in the day, I came down in a Tennessee hollow and saw a sign that indicated “Snacks 300 Yards” that way. A lovely guy sold me a Dr Pepper (great time for 20-30 teaspoons of sugar) some DOUGHNUTS, and a frozen slab of pizza (“pait-za” in his awesome drawl) which I cooked in his microwave, bagged up, and carried off for my supper later that evening. “All the girls at the shelter gonna be eating dinner with you tonight when they see you have pait-za!” Let ‘em try touching MY pait-za and someone gonna get a trekking pole in the eye! I wasn’t in a giving mood. Got to Hog Back Shelter later around supper, found a great camping spot I shared with 3 really nice young men, ate my pait-za in peace, and had my best night’s sleep since Christmas. I upped my daily mileage to 16 and got to my mail drop on time.



Sunrise at Unicoi TN April 14



Trail Magic:


Lisa and Tom were set up beside the road April 10 in Sam’s Gap TN. We were served omelettes with all the veggie fixin’s, bacon, fresh fruit, coffee, water, and hand sanitizer (not to be consumed). All they wanted in return were tales from the trail and that we all extend kindness to one another, in any simple way. WOW!!!



Trail Magic, Sam's Gap TN




News Briefs:


Norovirus (a nasty gut bug) is rearing its ugly head in some shelters and hostels. Yuk!


I had heard about them but finally saw one: a thru hiker wearing flip flops! And he was cursing trail conditions as he flew by.


Hostels:


I finally experienced one, The Station at 19E near Elk Park NC. Manager, “Kitchen Sink”, was so helpful and kind to me. I had a shower, did laundry, charged devices, had lunch, dried my tent, and had a delicious craft brew. Kitchen Sink liked my trail name, but thought it needed something more to round it off, so I suggested Sponge FOB Old Fart. He loved it! But that was just for him. Anyway, that place was pretty cool and trail buddy, Lone Wolf, told me that later that night there was a live band and a huge crowd of hikers, bikers, and “country folk”. Everyone got along and the bikers drank the most.


Awesome Night in Nature:


Sugar Hollow along the Elk River April 16. Just moi and Potholder — the frog song as I drifted off to sleep was pure magic. There were spring peepers and 2 other species I couldn’t identify… times like this I really miss my kids and kids-in-law who know ALL this stuff.


Whippoorwills: one of my absolute-all-time-favourite bird calls — first heard at mile 366!


At night in my tent, Unicoi TN


Hitchhiking:


We'll call him Adam picked me up April 16 as I trudged into Elk Park in the rain. I likely could have done a complete re-supply from all of the crap accumulated on his passenger's seat and on the floor of his vehicle. When I got out and was wrestling my pack out of the back and thanking him, several pieces of unopened mail spilled onto the parking lot, including a “Summons to Appear” from the state of Tennessee. Am confident he would get around to opening it, perhaps the next time he cleaned out his SUV?


“Hike Your Own Hike” is a bit of a mantra on the trail. It means go by your own rules, to an extent, and don’t measure yourself by other’s yardsticks. To be recognized as a thru hiker by the Appalachian Trail Conservancy, you must complete all 2192 miles in a single season, without “blue-blazing” which is taking a more direct route via a side trail, without “yellow blazing” or getting a ride in a car (an absolute sin!), and without “aqua-blazing” which is paddling a portion on an adjacent river here in Virginia. Which brings me to “slack-packing”. Slack packing means getting your heavy pack, or yourself, to some point down the trail, and hiking back or forward with only the barest essentials on your back. It involves vehicle shuttles and is often coupled with hostel stays. People can really increase their mileage per day, but to me it seems a real pain in the posterior and would greatly take away from the hike I want to have. So to this point, I have been on every white-blaze-inch of this path with all my gear, and have no plans to change. Fellow hiker “Never Better” is following this same philosophy, but he IS making use of hostels often, and shelters occasionally. His reasoning is that shelters and hostels are part of the history and the vibe of this trail, and I think he has a valid point.



Day Hikers: are people too, and they are just as much a part of the story out here as the rest of us. I met 2 delightful women over a week ago and had the pleasure of seeing them a few more times. At Carver Gap I met a family: mom from Germany, Dad from Kenya, Kid # 1 born in Canada, Kids # 2 and # 3 American, and Kid # 4 to be American when it is born in the fall. Challenged my fellow Canuck to strap on my pack... he might have been 7 or 8 years old. He staggered but he took a few successful steps!


Toenails: they really do grow back after they fall off.


Hermits: there was a time when people were scorned or shunned that they sought permanent refuge in the forest. There are numerous references along this trail to folks like this and even the odd monument. Makes me sad to think how that must have felt then, and how it must feel today.



Nick Grindstaff Monument, Iron Mtn TN
Lived as a hermit for more than 40 years


Critters that want to bite, kick, or scratch you: There was a large bear last week seen perhaps 20 minutes after I passed near Iron Mountain TN, and a cub “playing” nearby the next morning. On Friday April 15, I was descending from Big Bald Mtn and navigating a rather rocky stretch of trail. I was on the lookout for snakes as the day was quite warm and I figured prime conditions for an animal that requires sunshine and heat to regulate body temperature. I stopped to rest and get water at one point and 3 young men asked me if the Copperhead was on the trail when I passed. I had not seen anything.


Next Phase: about 3 weeks in Virginia ‘til I meet up with Pam (!!!!!) who will hike with me for a couple of days. I cannot wait to see her and show her this lifestyle and experience.


Trail Pals: I met up with Virginian Tim a few weeks back. I had not seen him for some time. He told me I was responsible for his official trail name. Weeks ago we were both at the summit of Blood Mountain in Georgia. We both left the summit to carry on, but not together. A little while later we came face to face. I was navigating by white blazes and gravity, and Tim by Guthook — a popular A.T. app. “Are you going the wrong way or am I?” asked Tim. “Pretty sure you are,” says I. And that’s the day Tim became “Wrong Way.”


Trail Names: Desie, Spicy, Name Game, Shalulah, Sam # 1, Sam # 2, Cinderella (he arrived at a vacant shelter to find an empty pair of Crocs and they fit perfectly), Lone Wolf, Legend (am told his parents met and were married on the trail), Aquaman (I met this guy Easter Sunday at Mountaineer Falls. He was southbound with a big pack, so I assumed he was doing a section hike. We chatted and he congratulated me on 400 miles. Had I known who this guy was, I would have congratulated him on 1800 miles, as he is an actual southbound thru hiker who started in Maine just after Christmas!), Brett, Detour, Black Hole (my age category who was observed in a shelter back in the storm I describe above, eating sticks of butter), Pot Holder, Waffles (from some place called Waterloo ON!), Roller, Gizmo, Loris, and Mosey.



Mountaineer Falls TN, April 17



Taking Chances in Life:


It is with regret that I learned this morning that Late Bloomer, the 71 year old woman with whom I chatted with on at least two occasions and made reference to in an earlier blog post, has had to leave the trail after "blowing out her knee'. This woman is the essence of the A.T. thru hiker... defying the odds and the skeptics (i.e. her hubby) and taking her shot. Late Bloomer, I tap my trekking poles in your honour and salute you for your "don't tell me what I can't do" attitude.



The Trail Thru Damascus




Thanks to all for your interest and supportive comments. Rest assured they keep me connected to my family, my people, and my country. I may describe some challenging moments from time to time, but am loving this opportunity and experience and know how lucky I am to be out here.


Robbie Robertson: “Little friend, I am skinnier than when I left and look a little like Santa Claus from the shoulder blades up. We will walk and play ball again soon enough.”


Pierre

Tuesday, April 5, 2022

The Smokies: By the Skin of My Teeth

Mile 275, Hot Springs, North Carolina


Clingmans Dome: 6643 feet, Highest Peak on the A.T.


Hello!

I hiked a 7.5 mile “nero” yesterday and will zero here in Hot Springs ‘til AM April 7.  I made it thru the Smokies, having spent March 27 until midday April 1 traversing the 73 miles.  Hiker “Stumpknocker” (doing his 8th thru-hike since 2000!!!) told me that getting out of the Smokies unscathed** is an accomplishment worth celebrating, as many get off the A.T. for good after the experience. So, having “graduated” that stretch and not yet ready to quit, allow me to offer the following, out of the imaginary Great Smoky Mountains National Park yearbook:


NAME:  P.G. Lemieux

TRAILNAME:  SpongeFOB

ACTIVITIES: Walking, digging cat-holes, finding and filtering water, wiping out, doing tick checks

FAVOURITE TUNES:  Rainy Night in Georgia (B. Benton), Walk On (N. Young), Walk Don’t Run (The Ventures), Walk and Don’t Look Back (Tosh/Jagger), Ain’t Nothin Gonna Break My Stride (M. Wilder)….this one’s a shout out to R.S. in Ville Emard and S.S. in Brome: I think about your father a lot out here.

FAVOURITE MOVIES:  Walk The Line, Gone With the Wind, The Ghost and Mr Chicken (threw that one in just because)

FAVOURITE BOOK:  Who Has Seen the Wind

AMBITION:  To summit Katahdin 

PROBABLE DESTINATION:  Testing mouse poop for Hantavirus in A.T. shelters

CHERISHED MEMORY:  March 23, 2022 at Locust Cove Gap and 5 Days in May (2022)

PET PLEASE:  Root and rock-free ridge walking

PET PEEVE:  Hard toe-jamming descents and running low on T.P.



Signs of Spring:  Spring Beauty (Claytonia virginica)



**ABOUT LAST NIGHT


I, and many others, spent a very anxious night March 30 in the Smokies. Due to poor cell service, hikers were largely unaware of forecasted 90 mph winds and wildfire alerts (Pam knew about the fires and did get that bit to me). The only road that crosses the park is at Newfound Gap, and it had been closed that morning as a precaution. People who had previously arranged shuttles to Gatlinburg were out of luck, along with the rest of us who hadn’t planned zero days but were trying to get off trail due to warnings to avoid forested areas. So we had no choice but to hike on and hope we’d find refuge in a shelter. Icewater Spring, 3 miles distant, was slam full when I got there so made the decision to go another 7 miles to Peck’s Corner. This was going to be in excess of a 15-mile day, which is about my max right now.



Trail Hazards


Along the way, I met a 67 yr old man sitting in the middle of the trail. “Hi,” he said, “I’m 67 and figured I needed something to do, so I’m doing this. My wife left me at Newfoundland this morning (I doubts it, Mainlander!) and I’m gonna see how far I get in 21 days." I asked him if he knew about the nasty weather and he didn’t seem too concerned so I bade him well and trucked on but was worried about him. I did wonder if his wife bought more life insurance on him the day before… A few hours later, as the winds were screaming, I came across a woman  who was sitting along the trailside staring at the ground. She was all bundled up and didn’t acknowledge my presence, so I sat beside her and asked if she was ok. “I’m dizzy and dehydrated from all the wind and I have no water….” I gave her a litre of mine and then got her to eat and after about 20 minutes she said she was feeling better. I said I’d stay with her but she said she was feeling herself again and gave me some old cheddar. “It’s not from Wisconsin but it’ll do,” says she. So I asked her where she was from. “Ottawa!”


About 1.5 miles later, I got to the Peck’s Corner Shelter and it too was full, but one of the occupants said, “We’ll find room for you 'cause it’s gonna be tornado-like in a few hours.” I said I would (stupidly) chance it in my tent ‘cause there were 2 older folk behind me that would absolutely need to get into the shelter as they were already struggling. One guy went back to get the woman and carry her pack, and the 67 yr old gent finally stumbled in just after 7pm. He tried setting up his tent in the shelter vestibule but apparently it blew away! The next morning, some people told me that he was carrying his food in a trash bag (IN PRIME BEAR COUNTRY!!!) They gave him some Backcountry 101 lessons that evening.


March 31: Cosby Knob Shelter


The wind gusts that night were ferocious. I thought to myself “at least the trees (mostly firs) aren’t covered in snow or wet with rain (ya, the rationale of a true nit wit). At 3 AM the rain started and sometime thereafter trees started falling off in the distance. The shelter guys had told me to “Boogie my ass down to the shelter if things get crazy, we’ll stick you somewhere,” but I didn’t even want to risk that 100 yard trip at this point. Anyway, morning finally came and the winds and the rain subsided and I just wanted to get outta there! I had to crawl over a 3-foot diameter Fraser Fir that fell on the approach trail during the storm, and came across 8-10 more fresh fells in the next 2 hours, just blocking or within site of the trail. So I left that park behind feeling foolish, lucky, and rather in awe. I think Momma Nature might have sat me down and said “Son, I let you off the hook with a stiff warning: If you ever come back here again and take me lightly, I will send you home in a box, just big enough to hold a pizza……thin crust.”


The Emerald Forest:  Moss Covered Forest Floor



TRAIL CHARACTERS:


Miss Lorrelei, Stomps, The 3 Women (they provided enough material for an entire blog!), Monarch and Zobie, the 3 jerks I encountered about an hour into Smokies… they came running downhill towards me yelling and screaming so I thought “Shit, bear!” but they said “No bear; we just wanted to try this,” Rootbeer from Minnesota “We’re just like Canadians only meaner,” Willow and Mudflap “It ain’t a mullet, it’s a mud flap!”


Snowbird Mountain FAA Tower:  Dr. Evil's Hideout?


And finally, the guy with the post... I first saw him at Ice Springs Shelter a few days ago. He walked briskly by with his pack and a large wooden post over his shoulder. I mistook him for one of the many kids out here who drag ANYTHING out of the forest to burn at the shelters. I carried on and stopped at the next spring to water up. Some guy was there filling four water bottles (a lot to carry) and apologized to me for taking so long. “No worries,” says I, “take all the time you need.” Next thing I know, he stashes his bottles in his pack and RUNS down the ice-covered trail with his pack and a five foot pole, about 5” in diameter, over his shoulder. I was stunned. It took a few days and finally Mudflap was able to tell me a bit more. Seems the guy was, or is, going into the Marines and was worried about being the smallest, scrawniest recruit there, so he took to doing everything with that big ole post over his shoulder! Mudflap even showed me a photo he took of him. It was blurry and almost like an apparition, but it was him running off! “What’s his name?” I asked.  “Ah he doesn’t talk to anybody,” said the Flap, “and you’ll never see him again. One guy said his name is Shawn, and another thought maybe Larry.” “Hmmm,” I thought, “maybe Postman, Post Traumatic Post Disorder, or maybe Posthaste might be better.  But Larry!!??”


Thanks ya’ll!


Out,


The FOB

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