4/11: Spring Mountain Shelter to Tent Site Near Jones Meadow

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• Mile 285.9-297.0 (11.1 mi.)
• Total ascent: 4062′; total descent: 3176′

I spent too much of today looking for tragedies of the commons, stemming from an interaction I had this morning. 

Packing her gear next to the shelter was an older, red-haired woman Rachel and I now know as Aspen. Last night, Aspen had broken not just an aluminum fitting on her tent pole, but the shock cord beneath, rendering it both unusable and unrepairable, she told me.

Knowing storms were coming (and they did, briefly but intensely), as everyone did, Aspen had asked if there was room in the shelter. Nobody had offered to scoot over or step out, assuming someone else would. 

Everyone, I am sure, wished Aspen well. And because shelters are first-come-first-serve, nobody had to give their spot. But it was still sad to see Aspen standing there in the morning, while younger people with intact sleep systems stepped out of the shelter.

Throughout the day, I saw that tragedy in other small ways. Little Laurel Shelter, where we stopped to air our wet gear, was covered in discarded wrappers and bottles. An old privy had been used up nearly to the seat, making its eventual cleaning difficult and unpleasant. Trillium flowers near the trail were crushed by shoes trying to avoid the mud. 

Not only are many of these damages unintentional, but some are difficult to even call negligent. Some obstacles on the trail must be stepped around. Trash falls out of pockets.

My mere use of the trail makes me a contributor to some of the problems I named. I didn’t pay any sort of usage or upkeep fee to hike, save for to and through GSMNP, and it’s difficult to even know who I’d pay in some places. I can’t imagine, nor am I sure I would support, a way to regulate the number of people using a public footpath. 

An incredible network of volunteers maintain the trails, but they’re struggling with an increase in thru-hikers in recent decades from dozens to thousands per year. When the trail was completed in 1937, it was thought impossible than anyone would or even could thru-hike it. (Side note: Rachel and I stayed in a room Earl Schaffer, the first person to complete a thru-huke, did on the first recognized thru-hike in 1948 and then again when he finished a second in 1998).

Ultimately, I have to accept that enjoying this trail also means damaging it. For what it’s worth, Rachel and I follow Leave No Trace principles as strictly as we can:

• Plan ahead and prepare
• Travel and camp on durable surfaces
• Dispose of waste properly
• Leave what’s there
• Minimize campfire impacts
• Respect wildlife 

Learn more about conservation specific to the AT from Appalachian Trail Conservancy. Shoutout to my mom for donating to the ATC in my and Rachel’s honor for Christmas.

The Less Depressing Parts of Today

Today was, despite my moodiness over the oldest tension of public lands, a pleasant day.

The temperature varied from slightly too cool for just my base shirt, to slightly too warm for just my base shirt. Our gear dried splendidly in the dry air and sun over a lazy midday break, and we still got to our campsite first. We found a high, flat spot, near the trail but hidden by rhododendron and with a babbling creek below, on which we pitched our tent.

We also made better decisions with our calories and electrolytes than yesterday. We ate lunch early and grabbed snacks for the afternoon from our packs, and we made not one but two sports drinks. We felt better, made better time, and met a few friends we’d made earlier on our hike along the way.

One of those people, in fact, was Aspen: Her husband drove from Pennsylvania to deliver her a new tent. She caught up with us, and while tired from walking 150% of the miles we did today, told us it turned out to be a great day.