05/10

We woke up yesterday to find our bear cans covered in slobber and tooth marks, a little morning excitement, courtesy of last night’s uninvited guests. I’d had a fever the night before but woke up feeling marginally better. Not great, but good enough to hike, which is the only real requirement out here. I downed some cold and flu meds, walked to the river for water, then made a solo trip up to the fire tower I’d skipped the night before. The view didn’t disappoint, but I didn’t linger long. We had 11 miles ahead of us.

It was a beautiful day. Overcast skies, cool air, and the smell of wildflowers and sweet grass drifting across the trail. About three miles in, we ran into a familiar face, “C^2” a hiker we’d seen a few times in hostels. She’s been nursing foot problems and slackpacking to recover. She let us know there were more bears up ahead. More bears. Of course.

A mile or so later, we spotted them. A mamma and two cubs, playing just off trail. It was hard to tell if they were the same ones from the night before, but it was cool seeing them in daylight. The mother lounged nearby while the cubs bounced around, totally unbothered by our presence. We stayed just long enough to feel like we weren’t intruding, then moved on.

Right up ahead was a shelter where we met a woman named “Ebenezer” her trail name, anyway. She was section hiking south from Virginia in preparation for a thru-hike next year. We let her know about the bears, and she lit up, scrambling for her phone before running down the trail to get a photo for her grandkids. When she came back, she was glowing. Said it made her whole hike. We sat and chatted for a bit, about the trail, about ourselves. It was a good reset. I hadn’t felt especially motivated that morning, but people like her tend to pull you out of your own head.

Ebenezer told us about someone called the “Cookie Lady,” just a few miles ahead.

Cookie. Lady.

We stopped for lunch and then pushed on, curious. Just like something out of Hansel and Gretel, we emerged from the woods to find a hand written sign pointing toward a log cabin “Free cookies” We hesitated…sounded too good to be true, but followed the sign anyway.

Sure enough a beautiful old cabin sat framed in a flower-filled yard. A kind elderly couple who live there full time and bake cookies for hikers. Year-round. For a $10 donation to the local library, you could also get peach cobbler with ice cream. I only had six bucks on me, but they took it anyway and even offered to split a cobbler between us. How could we say no?

We sat on their porch, cobbler in hand, watching the trees sway in the breeze like we hadn’t just been nearly eaten by bears the night before. It was one of those absurd, wonderful trail moments that makes all the misery feel worthwhile. Then you remember you still have four miles to go. Uphill.

We eventually dragged ourselves away and made the climb to camp. The miles weren’t brutal, but they weren’t quick either. Got to camp around 5. A bit later than usual, but not terrible. Dinner, then bed.

Now, every night since mailing home our sleeping bags, a new nightly ritual has emerged: wondering if we’ll freeze. I’m currently sleeping with a thin blanket, an emergency bivy, and a sleeping bag liner. It’s a bit like trying to sleep inside a takeout burrito wrapper. Last night wasn’t freezing, maybe 50 degrees give or take, but the wind cut through camp and made it feel colder. I’m hoping tonight’s a bit warmer, and I can catch a few good hours of sleep.