- Miles 767.2-779.6 (12.4 mi.)
- Total ascent: 2300’; descent: 3038’
We did the one thing every child knows not to do today, and it was awesome: We got into a stranger’s van for ice cream.
While eating a Klondike bar, specifically, we hung out with someone known up and down the trail as “The Ice Cream Man.”
The Ice Cream Man completed the AT in 2003 and then again in 2009 after he retired, he told us, and now travels the trail’s length annually by van. He’d given out thousands of dollars in ice cream, he estimated, and met thousands of hikers from all 50 states. His van was licensed in Connecticut but had plates from other states as wall decorations.
We actually walked past the van itself, until the man called to us from a sliding glass window on the van. Inside, it was covered in wood paneling, coolers, and things sure to have a story behind them: a Cherokee Nation Police patch, a rusty horseshoe on the steering wheel, a richly stained wooden oar that appeared unused.
Within 15 minutes of our arrival, another hiker, “Low Gear,” showed up and joined us in the van. We’d eaten lunch with Low Gear, who has a flag-print cowboy hat and the thickest facial hair on a trail of unshaven men, at Thunder Ridge Shelter. The next people to arrive were a group of four, and then another group of four in quick succession.
For a few minutes, Rachel handed out ice cream from the window (the Ice Cream Man had a bad knee). The Man himself grabbed folding chairs, which I would have done if I’d understood at the time why he pointed at the closet and said “I’ve got chairs.”
Sensing we’d stayed our welcome’s worth, and not knowing anyone in either of the groups, we walked over to our packs and yelled a final thank you to our ponytailed benefactor.
Although it rained for much of the day, we didn’t mind. In summer, “nice” weather is overcast with light rain and a breeze. We were much more concerned with the thigh-high grasses, interspersed with nettles and poison ivy, we were wading through. If we’d known how overgrown the trails were, we’d have worn long sleeves and pants today. I found two ticks on myself, the first of our trip.
We didn’t see either of the two tramilies at tonight’s camp, to our surprise. Sites are further apart here, and the next shelter is about four more miles. People often disappear and reappear in improbable moments out here.
Tomorrow, we get to try our thumbs hitchhiking the five miles to Glasgow. It would be unpleasant, though not impossible, to walk it on pavement. We hear the city park, where we plan to stay, has a pavilion and allows “cowboy” camping, or sleeping without the tent set up, beneath it.
The light is leaving and the rain is returning, after giving us a nice dinner break. That’s more cue than I need to call it a night.
