I40 to Hot Springs: Dude Perfect, Fox News, Black Bears, and a Red Roof Inn

“Time disappears, and it is just me and the mountain, and the wind. I have always been in this windstorm, I think, as I fight my way forward. And I will always be in this windstorm. Up ahead, on a ridge, is a single tree. Someday, I think, I am going to be reincarnated as that tree. As punishment for every choice I've ever made... Or..  as a reward.” 

―  Carrot Quinn,  Thru-Hiking Will Break Your Heart: An Adventure on the Pacific Crest Trail

Running out of options for 3-day, relatively easily accessible AT hikes, I set my eyes on a 34 mile section of trail starting just north of the Great Smoky Mountain National Park in Tennessee and ending in Hot Springs, North Carolina.  I notified all of my hiking buddies of my plan and offered the invitation to all who wanted to suffer.  The only one who wasn’t firmly obligated elsewhere, uninterested, or just plain scared, was Bryan. 

“This hike will be no joke,” I said.

“The harder the better!” he replied.

This struck me as funny from the guy who couldn’t get off the trail fast enough last time and told me to “Lose his number” as he pulled out of the driveway when we returned home, but I liked the attitude nevertheless.

About a month earlier, I pulled my hamstring for the third time in a year, so I took it a little easier on my normal training routine, knowing that my cardio would suffer, but you do the best you can.  I have no idea how, but I managed to completely wreck it again on the Monday three days before we were set to leave.  I gave it 2 days off hoping it would be tolerable but finally had to call Bryan and let him know.  I told him that I was still willing to risk be stranded in the Appalachian Mountains with a torn hamstring if he was willing to put up with a slow pace.  We agreed that we’d make the best of it.  The other thing I didn’t mention was the tests and shots and meds I’d gotten the day before in an attempt to shake whatever illness that had been trying to kill me.  This was setting up to be an epic failure of a hike, but I didn’t want to be the reason we couldn’t go on an adventure.  We packed up on a Thursday after work and made our way to Dandridge, TN for the night and hoped for a decent hotel in which to catch some shut eye.

“I just hope there are no roaches,” I said.

“It’s got to be better than what we’re about to walk into..” Bryan said, with his new found optimistic persona.

As we walked to our room, all of the next door neighbor’s belongings lined the walkway.  Food, drinks, trash cans, you name it..  “This looks promising.”  Believe it or not, I slept great.  It was waking up that presented the problem.  My throat was killing me.  It hurt so bad to swallow.  We went downstairs for the continental breakfast and then set off in the rain to meet our shuttle driver.
We shared a shuttle with a hippie-ish driver and some other hiker.  As is customary, you make small talk and then whisper prayers of “Get us out of here alive” while not really listening to their responses.  This lady was actually a decent driver compared to most other experiences.  She’s the owner of Standing Bear Hostel just outside the gate of the Smokies.  She told us about her “work for stay” tenants and how they’ve been doing a great job.  “One’s been here for 2 years.  One just moved in his girlfriend.”  I feel like these are called free-loaders, but you do you.  She also told us that no one had reported seeing a bear this year, which I found kind of disappointing.  I’ve always wanted to see one.  We eventually pulled off under I-40 and grabbed our gear to start hiking.  The first thing I see is a stairwell to the trail.  Suppose this is as good a time as any to test the old hammie.

It was rough.  I felt every step and stopped at the top of the stairs to stretch.  Our shuttle driver was barely out of view and I was having second thoughts.  Oh well.. here goes nothing.

Our first day had us scheduled to do 14.4 miles and almost 5,000 feet of elevation to what was supposed to be the highlight of the trip, Max Patch.  The first five miles was all uphill and I was feeling it immediately.  I was able to modify my gait (to a shuffle) so my hamstring was doing okay, but I just felt zapped.  My energy was gone.  I was blaming the sickness and feeling sorry for myself, but continued to push on.  Up a hill and around a corner..  Suddenly, there was an explosion in the undergrowth of a rhododendron.  I saw a large black clump making a speedy exit.  “Bear!” Bryan called out.  I had literally come about 10 feet from a good sized black bear and startled it.  It jumped up and ran about 30 yards away and turned back to stare at us.  We grabbed our phones to take pictures of it.  It was incredible!  It just sat there staring at us. 

Bryan said, “I’m going to throw a rock at it.” 

“Go for it..  Wait!”  I turned my phone to video on the chance that this could get a lot of views on YouTube if it charged him.  “Okay.” 

I started the video.  “Are you going to scare it off?”

Bryan yelled, “Blah!” and clacked his trekking poles together.  The bear didn’t flinch.

“Yep, let’s go,” I said, and watched our backs as we left the bear staring at us.

Well, talk about an adrenaline rush.  My pace quickened tremendously and I felt great.  We started making really good time and knocking off some distance.  Out of nowhere, the pain hit me.  Those of you who have followed my triathlon and OCR adventures know that for some reason, I’ve become prone to debilitating muscle cramps.  My right quad locked up just before the top of our first big climb.  I was terrified.  Once they start, I can’t seem to stop them.  I sat on top of Snowbird “foam rolling” my muscles with a conveniently placed section of a log while we ate lunch.  The views from the top were good, but the more memorable landmark is a weird looking radar used for air traffic control.  It seemed like an alien’s SanAnn station or something to me, and it’s CLEARLY labeled that it is to be left alone.  Bryan suggested that if I needed a ride out, he would kick open the door and was positive someone would come get us.  Resourceful, that guy.

But we opted to push through and started our first real descent. There were a lot of ups and downs but really nothing to note.  The trees hadn’t really put out yet, so we’d go from baking in the sun to freezing cold winds depending on what side of a mountain we were on.  Cramping continued for 9 miles off and on and it was slow go.  It appeared to be getting dark and foggy as we closed in on our destination.  About a mile from Max Patch was a colorful, hand-drawn sign that said something to the effect of, “Trail Magic at Max Patch in the morning! Biscuits! Coffee! Chicken Wings!”  Now, I’ve never had chicken wings for breakfast, but if there’s one thing I’m open to trying..

We made the climb to the top and crested the hill to a magnificent view of.. nothing.  Absolutely nothing.  The fog was so thick that you had to really focus to make out all the other hikers and tents.  Max Patch is a very popular place amongst hikers and with the added promise of trail magic, I’d guess there were probably 50 hikers up there.  Thruhikers, Section hikers, Day hikers..  you name it.  It probably would have been a great night but it was so windy and cold that we set up tents, ate dinner inside, and got ready for bed.  I went off briefly to look around and noticed that if I got more than about 50 feet away, I might never relocate my tent.  I finally returned and bundled up for what proved to be a less than comfortable night of sleep.  My feet froze most of the night and in the morning light, I was able to see why.  That end of my bag was soaked.  I guess it had pressed up against the tent and all the dew had soaked through.  Oh well..

 

We made our way out onto the bald and it was a beautiful morning.  The fog had settled in all the valleys and it looked like we were standing above seas of clouds.  I finally heard someone voice what we were all thinking.  “Where’s the trail magic?!” he yelled, with the cut off dictation of a kid who yells something in class and then puts their head down like it wasn’t them. 

“Point eight miles that way!” yelled someone else.

There was unintelligible grumbling across the mountain but we all knew what it meant.  To get breakfast, we’d have to back-track a mile down the mountain to get it and then come back up to start hiking.  Protein bars and oatmeal it is.

Fortunately, I was only moderately sore from all the muscle cramps and we were able to hike out pretty early.  Since we’d hiked 14.4 miles the day before, we only really had 20 miles to split over two days.  The hike off of Max Patch was beautiful.  We were surrounded by big, old trees and fences that looked to be a hundred.  I enjoyed the change of scenery for a bit.  We only had a few big climbs that day and were knocking off miles pretty quickly.  Bryan decided that at that pace, he thought he could probably hit Deer Park Mountain Shelter.  That would make it my longest trail day at almost 17 miles.  I told him we’d just see how it went.  We hiked for hours, rarely stopping and talked about everything.  Bryan is ultra conservative and constantly uses terms like hippie, liberal, millennial, etc so I gave him the trail name “Fox News.”  For those of you who don’t know, this will not make him a lot of friends on the trail, but I think it’s hilarious.  Of the names I’ve been suggested, I’ve decided for now to go with Dude Perfect, due to the uncanny resemblance of one strikingly handsome bearded stud named Tyler on the show “Dude Perfect.”

Eventually, we made it to our shelter for the night.  There was hardly anyone there at 5:10 and so we got to set up camp and relax a while.  People trickled in throughout the evening and we later made our way over to a campfire circle to chat.  Topics are all over the place.  Hikers range from all ages and backgrounds but we all seem to get along and I love telling my stories and hearing theirs.  A guy that had set up on the other side of the trail came over to use the privy. 

“How was it?” one of the hikers asked.

“Red Roof Inn,” he said.

He then went on to explain that somewhere else he’d been (I don’t know if it was service or hiking or what) classified the privies in 3 categories.  “Red Roof Inn” is the nicest.  Even though this one lacked room to actually close the door and the walls only covered the center sections, thus exposing cheeks to anyone else walking up the hill to check the occupancy, it was top of the line.  “Pilot/Copilot” he said, meant two side-by-side, like.. you can hold hands.  And lastly, “Bombardier.” He said that was on the occasion that they were back-to-back.  A girl named Sparky had one of those moments of enlightenment later where she admitted that she pictured back-to-front.. in sort of a “hey, scratch my back while you’re back there” way and we all had a good laugh.  I’ve never been so happy to be affiliated with a Red Roof Inn.

(Note Bryan in the background.  So much privacy.  And, yes, that is some fancy paracord holding the seat together.  HGTV has nothing on the Appalachian Trail.)

We decided to hang our bear bags and call it a night.  As seems to be the pattern, my second night on trail proved for much better sleeping.  I woke very sore, but decently rested.  My hip flexor was brutal to the point of almost needing assistance to get my pants on, but I eventually managed and we were very glad that after the long day before, we only had 3.2 measly miles to the car.  It was mostly all downhill and we were there in just over an hour. 

There were a lot of highs and definitely some lows.  I freely concede that I complained the whole time and Bryan completely outdid me on this one.  Since we’ve now been on multiple trips, I think he had a better idea of what to expect and he’s also become a big fan of trail shoes verses boots.  Either way, as he pulled out of the driveway, he did call out, “Lose my number again anyway!”

After sitting down to figure it up, based solely on Appalachian Trail miles, I’m totaled up currently at 118.6 miles through 4 states and have climbed a total of 29,930 feet.. just taller than Mt. Everest.  Not too bad when I think back to where I started.