Up and Down

It never ends: you read about it before you embark on the trail, but you really don't fully understand the vertical nature of this trail until you walk it. The Southern Appalachian Mountains are rough. I've read a few accounts of the trail and the consensus seems to be that the middle section of the trail is the tamest, roughly from Southern Virginia to Vermont, but if you start at either the Southern or Northern terminus (Georgia or Maine), it will be tough going for a while. I'm beginning to understand why.

Morning in the mountains.

The greenery largely disappeared as I moved into bare trees and higher elevations. It will be nice when spring finally makes it up to the hills. The slopes of these Georgia mountains are remarkably steep; you would not want to wander off trail in many places.

The wind picked up on Saturday (March 19th) and the temperature started to fall a little. I took a break at Neel Gap for an hour. It's famous as the first "stop" along the trail. Some quit here. There is a bunkhouse, a store with a remarkably good selection of whatever a backpacker might need, and an old tree out front with hundreds of pairs if boots thrown into the branches by people who either quit the trail there or gave up on their boots. I stayed for about an hour and took a shower ($5 with towel) and headed on up the trail. I met some interesting people there though, including a guy who has an enormous tattoo of a Kitchen Aid mixer on his calf. He had an excuse though; he got it while in culinary school. I met another guy there who sported a long beard, wool leggings and a green plaid kilt. All kinds.

I hiked a few more miles past Neel Gap before pitching the tent on a ridge. It was very windy all night and by morning the temperature was near freezing. I hit the trail early and had my longest day yet, 18 miles. I walked for a while with a guy who had recently left the Marine Corps and we had a good chat. We all heard through the grapevine that snow and even colder temperatures were on their way, so I pushed on to Unicoi Gap, where I could catch a ride into Hiawassee, where I had planned on taking a break in town anyway. In trail parlance it's called a "zero day," as in zero miles. I really needed to rest my knee, since the pain was quite persistent that afternoon.