April 22–25 : Abridged

April 22nd, we didn’t exactly jump out of bed. I had one request in town and I wasn’t about to skip it. Just down the road from Rambling Roots was a chiropractor “Scott Kirb” strangely close to the name of my former boss “Scott Kirby”. Coincidence or fate? Hard to say. One a master in life settlements, the other in adjustments. A few pops, stretches, plus one ominous “you’ll feel that later” and I was on my way. Cautiously optimistic, we started our hike later than usual… 4pm

Bookie dropped us back off at the NOC trailhead and we said our goodbyes. Packs resupplied and heavier than ever, we trudged up the steep climb out of the valley. Only made it about three miles before setting up camp beneath what looked suspiciously like a bear cave. That night it rained. A theme, as it turns out.

April 23rd greeted us with soggy tents and soggier spirits. Unfortunately, the rain gave way to brutal heat, which paired perfectly with the 5,000ft climb up “Cheoah Bald”. The ascent included a series of near-vertical rock slabs that tested both my knees and my patience. By the time we reached the summit, we were quite literally in the clouds.

The descent was long and painful, made worse by the fact that we were completely wiped. We found a rather nice site with flat ground and two other campers, each with a dog, both of which were strangely aggressive. One, off leash, and very ugly, took its duty guarding the only water source. I brushed my teeth while getting side eyed like a mailman.

It rained again that night, turning our “flat” tent site into a mudslide. I woke up with my tent floating on a thin pool of murky water.

April 24th began with a literal highway crossing, our first major one. We stepped over guardrails into what felt like a construction zone war zone. Backhoes and cranes tore into the mountain, creating some kind of faux cobblestone wall. It was less “birds singing in the morning sun” and more “asphalt meets anxiety.”

At a picnic area below, we were greeted by a plastic tub labeled “Trail Magic.” Inside, an empty water jug and a half-eaten bag of black beans. Feeling generous I left it there for the next lucky fellow.

The climb that followed was steep, unrelenting, and left me gasping like a beached whale. I dragged myself into Cody Gap where we set up camp. It started pouring… again, that was enough. I called a local B&B and booked it for the next night crossing my muddy fingers that we’d make it.

April 25th delivered. We knocked out the nine miles of descent in about four hours, tumbling into the Fontana Dam visitor center. Jeff, our B&B host, picked us up and took us into town. We ordered steak fajitas to go from a local Mexican spot and then made a quick resupply run at Ingles.

The B&B, “Creekside Paradise”, lived up to its name. It looked like something out of a woodland fairytale. Botanical gardens, a winding creek, flowers I couldn’t name but smelt great. We slept with the windows open, listening to the storms roll in from the safety of real walls and dry sheets. Tomorrow, we start the Smokies.