4/15: Whistling Gap to Tent Site South of Erwin, TN

• 

• 

• Miles 330.8-341.1 (10.3 mi.)
• Total ascent 3596′; descent 4242′

Today began with what we worried was a forest mirage: trail magic.

Less than a mile after we bgan hiking, we stumbled on two generous trail-runner types carrying not one, but two coolers. We arrived just after another group, two members of which we’d visited with at length last night, and which had been evidently just around a bend from us all morning.

We introduced ourselves and cross-talked, mostly about where we were from and hiker topics, like where bears had been sighted (and none had been near us, according to this group).

The coolers our interlocutors had brought were bulging with Gatorades, fruit smoothies, chocolate chip cookies, homemade brownies, cheese sticks, and granola bars. The soft one held grapes, green apples, and a few packs of peanut butter crackers.

Our stomachs wanted us to be animals about it, but we composed ourselves. We sampled the cookies and grapes, and shared a cheese stick and smoothie, which tasted like a bear must feel about honey. 

We were low on food because we did a “nero” after Hot Springs, at a beautiful site on the French Broad River, in order to let our feet rest. We’d eaten ahead on crackers and Nutty Buddies (which, it turns out, are different than Nutter Butters), telling ourselves we were doing so in order to fit everything in our bear cans. 

We marched on, feeling high on calories, to our next water sourcce. We got only a half load, having seen multiple springs in the last few miles. 

We soon saw the first of four trail crews we’d meet throughout the day, this one eating lunch on a mossy bank having just finished a set of stone steps. We’d the first to use them, so we ought to tell us how they were, the crew told us. We thanked and reassured them that no rock had budged an inch.

Within five minutes of saying our goodbyes to the first, we met the second trail crew, whose four members had just buttressed an eroding trail. Their task, which had meant moving less weight but driving stakes and working on less level surfaces, was probably just as tough, if not more, than making rock steps.

Five minutes after thanking them, we walked into a campsite, on the ridge yet strangely hidden and secluded, complete with a fire ring and sitting log. We decided it looked like a better stop than most to get out our snacks and take off our sweaters. We dumped out and retied our boots, giving our feet and ankles a good shake.

Hiking onward, we crossed TN 19, where we met Aspen staring at her feet and leaning on her hiking polls. She told us through tears and gulps that she was quitting the trail.

Even after a 12-day break, Aspen couldn’t put weight on her ankles without pain. She’d lost a lot of mobility, too, she showed us semi-swirling her feet.

Aspen’s husband would be there soon, she told us. He’d started in PA at 5 a.m. this morning and had her GPS coordinates via her InReach. Adding to his good-husband points, he’d actually made the drive four days prior to bring Aspen a new tent, as hers had broken while she was putting it up in a storm.

We were sad for Aspen, and told her so. She’s the first of our acquaintances not just to quit, but to do so right in front of us. We didn’t want to see her do so, especially after she pushed onward from the tent fiasco, but she knew it was time. She admitted she’d been eating ibuprofen like candy, and her joints only seemed to be getting worse. 

After saying goodbye to Aspen, we enjoyed the heat of the day, around 60, and the fragrant pines. Our trails, then and during most of the day, were soft and level compared to much of the prior day.

We ate lunch at No Business Shelter, after filling fully up on water at the source just before the site. At the site, we met Josh and Teal, who hikes we first encounted way back at Blood Mountain, Georgia. 

Our lunch was brief, partly on account of our uncomfortably slim food supply and partly because rumor is that No Business is haunted.

As we left, my hiking bladder decided it would be cool (it definitely was cold) to spill out the top of its (overfilled) resevoir. Rachel and I hiked the last two miles, which were relatively free of debris and downhill. 

We weren’t very fond of the site we’d planned on staying at, which lay ahead of us as an intersection to old logging roads. We checked the commonts on Guthook, which promised a better site three-quarters of a mile ahead. 

We found it perhaps half a mile ahead, on the ridge but still a better site than what we’d passed up. It was a flat spot, off the trail, with a nice view and a relatively low-trash site (aside from a real pest of a broken glass bottle).

We passed the afternoon by checking in with hikers, most of which we didn’t know. We did encounter Ben, who told us his parter (we think in real life and on the AT) ha broken her foot, before we could even ask. She was at Johnson City Hospital, Ben told us, and he was slackpacking his way up to her. She was considering just driving the trail north with him as a way to still do it together, despite her likely hike-ending injury.

Most of the hikers we met, including Ben, were staying at Little Johnny’s, where we are. Tomorrow, our goal is to be on the trail by 7 a.m. for the 9 a.m. shuttle into town from Nolichucky Gorge. 

Tonight, we dream of Taco Bell and cross our fingers that we’ll be among the lucky walk-ins to get a Covid-19 vaccine.