04/26

Creekside Paradise did not disappoint. Jeff and Cynthia were gracious hosts, and embodied the B&B fantasy. Jeff, taking pride in and flexing his culinary skills, put together one spectacular breakfast. A full spread; breads, jams, ham and cheese omelets, fruit salad, yogurt, seasoned potatoes, coffee, and fresh juice. The kind of breakfast that makes you question all your life choices, especially the one where you voluntarily hike up mountains for six months.

Today was the day we entered “Great Smoky Mountains National Park”. Surreal to think we’ve made it this far. Looking at a map and seeing just how far we’ve come helps put this accomplishment in perspective. We stood at the edge of “Fontana Dam”, staring up at the Smokies cloaked in their foggy grandeur. Before crossing, we ran into some unexpected trail magic. Pancakes, sausage, and Yoo-hoo became second breakfast. We devoured it as if we hadn’t eaten omelets and potatoes 90 minutes earlier. There was also a fully stocked hiker box and free resupply, which would’ve been far more exciting had we not already spent $100 each at Ingles the day before.

The dam itself is a marvel. Two miles long and the tallest in the eastern U.S. We savored the flat stretch while it lasted, knowing it wouldn’t. The climb started immediately after, a 5 mile ascent that reminded us our packs were now overly full and stupidly heavy.

Shuckstack Lookout marked our first big view of the Smokies. Nick went up for a look while I stood below, eyeing the rusted, rotted, railless staircase and deciding I was perfectly content with a view from ground level.

One fun rule in the Smokies: thru hikers are required to sleep in shelters. Normally not a big deal, but a recent norovirus outbreak had turned the shelters into petri dishes. To make the next one, we’d need to hike another 7 miles… Not gonna happen. I’d rather get a slap on the wrist from a park ranger than push it and risk injury or worse, vomiting uncontrollably in the woods.

So, we set up on a sprawling camp sight nestled in a canyon “Birch Spring Gap”, which appeared to technically be allowed. Or at least not explicitly forbidden. The fine print of our permit was ambiguous. Increased bear activity meant we had to hang our entire packs using the park’s bear cables, a mildly terrifying exercise that made me wonder if a curious bear might mistake my bag for a treat filled piñata overnight.