WHAT DOES IT TAKE?

 

 If you were to ask anyone who has done any backpacking (and I refer to the hikes I speak of as this simply because it requires more than a day hike might) just what it takes to actually complete the miles, I have no doubt the responses you'd get would be as varied as we hikers are.  Some would talk about the need for extensive physical training, while others might focus more on the gear required.  Being a backpacker, I can't argue with either approach - but for me, I've found it takes a few other things to be successful, no matter what your end-goal is.

I'd be amiss if I didn't begin this by addressing the issue of the physical aspects of doing a long-distance hike (aka backpacking trip).  Please know that I'm in NO way saying that you shouldn't consider your physical or health issues when planning such a trip.  You have to.  That being said, don't let being out of shape stop you from undertaking this goal!  I've gone into a section hike having visited both ends of the spectrum - from working with a personal trainer for months before setting out to just setting out, being relatively unprepared physically.  I will be the first to say that doing exercise in some form will only serve to help you as you walk those miles (carrying that 35lbs or so on your back, up hill both ways, mind you).  Still - I have to be honest and say that I've started most of my hikes having done very little exercise to prepare for them...and I ended up here...😀

And yet, I finished!  So, check with your doctor if you have health issues that might interfere with, or be aggravated by, the type of physical exertion required, prepare if you are able to (or want to), and then just go for it.  It's amazing what sheer willpower can get you through.

The next thing I think you must be willing to give up is always making a fashion statement.  Or, maybe I should say that you must be willing to embrace the fact that your clothes might not match, they'll be soaking wet (from rain or sweat - probably both), you'll get dirty, and you'll most likely end up not caring about it one bit.  Beautification efforts usually go by the wayside rather quickly.  I'm not talking about basic personal hygiene (although that take some advance planning and effort, to be sure).  I'm talking about being concerned about how you look.  Functionality often trumps style.  So, if you're willing to just go with the flow, then go for it!  Just know in advance that you're probably going to end up looking a bit rough around the edges a day into the hike...

Then there's the issue of gear.  What do I need?  What can I do without?  What if...

And the list goes on and on.  Simply put, backpacking gear can be outrageously expensive.  Like computers, it seems as soon as one tent or pack is hailed as being the one to get, another one comes out that claims to be even better.  I've been there - it's tempting - at least till I checked my bank account.  That limited my options!  If I had to pick the gear that I think is worth spending the extra bucks on, it would be: the pack itself, a good tent, and the sleeping gear (mat, bag, ect).  Ultralight gear brings in ultra-bucks.  If you shop around, however, you'll find some that are reasonably priced and of good quality.  

Really do some research on a pack, because it can be the deciding factor on whether you finish your hike or quit before doing so.  Take time to get measured.  That one thing can make ALL the difference in the world.  In the excitement of preparing for my first AT section hike, I thought I'd measured correctly, only to find out on the trail that I had not...

The pack was too long in the torso for me.  The first time I carried it was for a one-night, eleven-mile (should have been 10, but we missed the trailhead from the get-go, so...) and all seemed fine.  The next time was on a 3-day section hike on the AT.  I made it, but the pack rubbed on my hip bones and left me in a lot of pain.  Once that hike was done, we headed straight for Mountain Crossings at Neel Gap and had me fitted by a professional.  I ended up with a ULA pack, which weighed in at about 3 lbs.  It was a single-compartment pack, so it took me some time to figure out how to load it - but the difference it made was amazing.  

I'll add that I went with a pack that had shoulder straps fitted for women - our shoulders are shaped differently and doing so allowed me to carry the weight as I needed to.

Our other gear consists of a Big Agnes 2-person tent - it's actually pretty tight for two, so you'd better like the person next to you cause there's no "personal space" once you're both inside.  We've been told that it kind of looks like our tent is giving birth when we climb out each morning.  Hey - it works for us!  Sleeping bags are important, but not as much as the mat you chose.  I started with a foam mat, moved to a Big Agnes mat (which was great but sounded like a pool raft when you moved), and have now graduated to a Neo Lite mat.  It cost more but it works for me.  It's a bit wider, so I don't find that my arms fall off in the middle of the night - and once I get the air right in it, it's comfortable.  Trust me when I say this: that ground is hard!  If you can afford to do so, spending a little more on your sleeping mat can make a world of difference.  After a lot of experimenting, this is some of what I've ended up with, but with each trip I make, I'm learning to leave things behind (like that coffee cup).

What else do I feel it takes to be successful in your backpacking endeavors?  This might sound a bit like I'm trying to be Captain Obvious here - but you have to be willing to give up the creature comforts of home that we usually take for granted: things like your bed, the four walls you have around you, electricity, and the luxury that's probably most taken for granted - your toilet.  

 We tend to plan our stay on the AT around the shelter areas if possible, even though we still use our tent.  I feel the need to include a disclaimer here.  This picture shows it set up inside the shelter - this is something we rarely do because you never know who might come in later in the evening a need to use it.  We ended up being the only hikers staying on Tray Mountain that night, so we moved everything inside when we heard a storm approaching.  

Sometimes this will be your home for the night.  If you're lucky (I suppose), there will be what's called a privy onsite at the shelter areas.  These consist of a structure built around a compost toilet.  And I'll say right now that they are typically gross.  Still, it affords you some privacy and an actual toilet seat - with the alternative being digging a hole in the woods, so...

Sometimes all you'll come across is the bare minimum.  This picture below is the Myakka campsite where we stayed on our very first training hike here in Florida.  As you can see, there's nothing really provided so gear is important here...

I've discussed what I believe are some of the most important "must-haves" if you're going to successfully complete your backpacking trip.  Each is important in its own way, no doubt.  But I think what's most important to have is the belief in yourself and your abilities.  It takes a certain amount of courage to head into an undertaking such as this one.  There are SO many unknowns - but that's what makes it so rewarding.  Reaching your end point of a hike gives you a feeling I can't quite describe.  I have yet to go on one in my 230 miles to date where everything has gone as planned.  Oh - other than the rain - you can always count on that.  So, I might limp out.  I might shed a few tears.  I might have the urge to steal a little kid's Cheetos while waiting for my ride at Clingman's Dome (it's a REALLY long story, but in the end, I didn't steal his Cheetos).  When all is said and done, though, what I walk away with is a sense of accomplishment and a smile on my face...

Myakka

Burningtown Gap to Southern Boundary of the Smokies

Fontana Dam to Clingman's Dome

Crossing the GA/NC state line

Neel Gap to Dicks' Creek

Happy Hiking Everyone!

Just a Short Overnight Hike - the AT Approach Trail

 

 

It's taken me about three weeks to even think about starting to write this post.  At first, it seemed kind of silly since it was just 8.5 miles.  I could have easily summed it up as follows:  It was hard.  The end.  In the days since my brother and I returned from our whirlwind hiking trip, so many things have been revealed to me about the importance of that short hike.  So, here I am - to share it with you.

I actually hiked the Approach Trail with my sister way back in 2012 (I think).  It was our first section hike ever on the AT, and we were beyond excited.  I still laugh when I think about the first thing my sister said after we'd put on our packs and started walking across the parking lot.  She stopped, turned to look at me, and said, "I don't think I can do this."  I simply told her that we would give it a try and if we really thought we couldn't do it, then we'd just turn around and go back to the car.  Well, we did it - and since that day, we have completed 223 miles of the AT, with our last hike ending at Clingmans Dome in NC.

There's irony in that, because my brother said pretty much those same words to me as we stood beneath that iconic arch - not because he had doubts about whether or not he could do it, but because he knew that I had doubts that I could.  I'd been through some pretty tough times both physically and mentally over the course of the past couple of years, and I just wasn't sure that my stiff, tired, hurting body would be able to do what I would need it to do to walk 8.5 miles in the mountains, carrying a pack on my back.  He'd told me prior to leaving for the hike that he knew I could do it, but that the problem was that it sounded like I thought I couldn't.  He was right.  I had some serious doubts - but we decided to give it a try while we had the chance.  It's been five years since we stood atop that dome on Clingmans, after completing a grueling 4 days in the Smoky Mountains.  It was during that hike that my trail name, Headlight, was given to me - but in that moment before we taking our first steps of this little hike, it felt almost inappropriate - like maybe my "light" had gone out somewhere along the way.

There was a small group at the arch, being led by a guide of some kind, and they were kind enough to take our picture before we left.  I'd packed my little waterproof digital camera, but never took it out.  I didn't get very many pictures this time - I'm usually the one who pulls up the rear of the group so I can stop and take numerous pictures of things that will only mean something to me as I stand there in that moment.  Nope - that camera never came out of the pack.  

We had opted to take the trail leading to the lodge versus climbing 400-plus stairs with a pack on.  Turns out, that might have been easier.  The road was severely washed out in many places, making it not only treacherous but difficult to navigate.  We made it to the top, though, and had a snack in the parking lot before continuing.  One thing about us that remains a joke to this day is that whenever anyone passes us, we are typically eating.  I'm not sure where we were in this one, but we'd stopped to take a break and make a hot lunch.  We were joined by a nice man and his two young boys and one of them was gracious enough to take a quick picture of us.

Looking back, I wish I'd taken more pictures, but I was too preoccupied with simply putting one foot in front of the other.  You might laugh at this, but trust me - with my leg muscles being totally exhausted (both from the climb and from not being in the shape I needed to be in), I was asking the Lord to help me to keep moving forward because my own strength was failing me.  

We made the decision to stop and fill our water bladders at a source pretty close to the Black Gap shelter area.  It was a steep, slippery descent (of course), but once we got down there, my brother filled two water bottles for me that I immediately consumed while he was filtering water into our bladders.  We weren't sure how the water was flowing up on Springer, so we wanted to make sure we had enough to cook dinner with - oh, and to have that mandatory cup of Folgers freeze-dried crystals upon our arrival.  It's just what we do...

Just as he was finishing up the refill, the first rain drops began to bounce off the trees.  We were under the canopy, so we had enough time to pack our bladders back in our packs and to get those waterproof pack covers on before the downpour hit.  And hit it did.  Within a couple minutes (if even), we were soaked to the bone.  It was a cold rain.  Of course it was.  While we've never completed a section hike without being rained on, this deluge did nothing for our already low morale.  But we had just under 2 miles to go - we pressed on.

It took us 9 hours to go 8.5 miles.  That's not bad considering that I wouldn't even call my forward movement a turtle's pace.  I didn't think it was possible to go much slower than a turtle, but I managed to do so.  In our defense, our lunch stop was about 45 minutes, and our water stop took about 20 - so we kept true to what I typically allow when planning one of our section hikes: 1 hour for each mile hiked.  Sometimes the terrain allows us to pick up speed and make up for the slower pace (in this case, it was more like take a few steps, then stop and catch my breath while giving my burning leg/backside muscles time to stop complaining about what I was forcing them to do).  The rain stopped about 20 minutes before we reached the summit of Springer, but by that time, all we wanted to do was take the packs off and NOT climb up anymore.  

There were several people at the shelter area - folks of all ages are out in large numbers now.  We set up our tent on one of the spaces located behind the shelter.  For those of you who aren't familiar with what a typical shelter looks like, this is it:

I will add that they've redone the inside of the shelter to make it two floors now, and it's actually pretty nice.  Another change I noticed was the installation of bear-proof food storage boxes rather than the bear cables.  Apparently, the bears figured out how to work those.  While the shelter has its perks, we still prefer our tent...

Our typical shelter routine ensued, and it didn't take us too long to get the tent set up, change out of the wet clothes and shoes, and to get that steamy cup of colored water that we call coffee fixed and in our water-logged hands.  We stood in silence for a couple of minutes, and then I had an epiphany: "We could always call Ron Brown and see if he has space available to pick us up at the Springer Mountain parking lot rather than go back the way we'd hiked up."  (Ron Brown, by the way, is a shuttle driver who lives and breathes helping out hikers in any way he possibly can.  He's an outstanding person, so if you're ever in that area and in need of a ride, give him a call!)It took us about 5 seconds to agree on that, and within a few minutes, we had a ride arranged the next day.  Granted, we would have to hang around the shelter area for a while, but that worked.  We were pretty tired.

My brother hung some paracord for us to hang all of our wet stuff on, and that probably would have worked well except for the fact the the rain moved in again around 6am (or a little before dawn).  The stuff was already wet, so we made no move to climb out of the tent to try to save it.  We'd covered our packs but the wind blew off the wraps - needless to say, our packs were soaked on the outside.  I've used the tent we carried before and never had a problem with leaks - but water managed to come up through the floor, probably because we had to set up on a bit of a slant, so the rain ran between the ground cloth under the tent and the tent floor.  We stayed dry, which was the important thing, even if the bottom of our sleeping mats didn't.  

There was no drying out the gear, so we slowly packed it all up as we drank our morning coffee and choked down the oatmeal we'd taken for breakfast.  We were spent from the day before, so we moved slowly, but we did stop long enough to get one last picture before taking down the soggy tent:

We left the shelter area around noon - it was almost a mile down to the parking lot.  To say that every muscle in my body was groaning would be an understatement, but we had done what we came to do.  My brother can now cross this 8.5 mile section off his list, and I can cross it off twice.

I said earlier that looking back on this short hike, I can see that many things were revealed to me.  I've always felt "at home" in the mountains - and no matter how challenging the terrain might be, I've always accepted the challenge head on.  This time was no different.  What's different is that I can see it from a very different perspective than I ever could before. 

Some of you reading this may scoff at what I'm about to say, but when I look back at this hike through the eyes of my faith, I can see how the Lord used it as an example of His presence in my life.  He promises to be with us as we stand on the mountaintops as well as when we're walking through the valleys of life.  How does this translate into this hike for me?  Well - I was truly at the end of my physical strength, with the cold rain blowing in my face.  The path I was trying to follow under water and invisible, I was running on empty in terms of being hungry and having no energy.  I was tired.  I was cold.  I thought many times about quitting because in my own strength, I didn't see how I was going to make it through what I was walking through.  How many times, especially in the last couple of years, have I looked at the world around me and felt all those things?

And yet, I did make it.  I have no doubt that the Lord was with me - and that one of His purposes of allowing that hike to come to fruition was to show me that, with Him by my side, I can do so much more than I give myself credit for.  I pleaded with Him to help me pick up on foot and put it in front of the other.  I prayed that He would keep us safe.  He answered every single one of those prayers and blessed me in ways that I could only see days after returning home.  

Will I go out again?  Lord willing, yes, I will.  Will I have doubts in my abilities?  Probably.  My physical issues didn't just disappear because I went hiking.  Will I believe that, if He allows me to get back out on the trail that He will bring me through it?  Absolutely.  Will I see Him all around me as I walk those mountain trails?  How could I not?

Happy hiking, everyone!  Stay safe out there and be blessed!

Where Does the Time Go?

Something prompted me to visit this blog today - I'll admit that I found it hard to believe my last post was in 2109.  Where does the time go?  That's a question I've been asking myself a lot lately.

I found some irony resting simply in the name of this blog - seems my journeys lately have all been to various doctor's office and such - not strolling down a quiet path or completing an exhausting climb that resulted in a spectacular view that left me breathless.  I guess that this thing called Life is just that way sometimes - there's a season for everything - the trick is waiting patiently for whatever comes next.  Some we'll understand.  Most of it, we won't.  One thing I know for certain, though, is that I'll never lose sight of what brings me a special kind of peace - wandering along the Appalachian Trail.

I can't say with any degree of certainty just when I'll set foot on the AT again - we had a short section hike planned but opted to wait a bit longer to hit the trail.  Sometimes it's just the right thing to do - what you need to do at the time.  That being said, it may have been longer than I thought since I walked amongst those white blazes, but the trail never really leaves you - I carry all those memories with me in my heart - and they still make me smile.  So, while I cannot answer the question posed above, what I can say is that it's not over yet - there are many more adventures to be had - and I'm looking forward to them, no matter how far into the future they may be.

If you're like me, it can get a little discouraging at times when Life doesn't seem to cooperate - but don't give up on it - when the time is right, it'll happen - and when it does, it's going to be epic!!!

Happy hiking, my friends -

MISSING THE APPALACHIAN TRAIL - THE STRUGGLE IS REAL

If I've learned one thing that can be counted on as a certainty - as something you can absolutely count on, no matter what - it would be that life, at best, is odd.  I will say that I am someone who has come to believe that everything we go through happens for a reason.  Sometimes we blame it on the weather - or on not being prepared - whatever excuse we come up with, it cannot replace the fact that we might not ever know the reason why even our best-laid plans never come to pass.  I've had to wrestle with this fact for the last two years - since completing my section hike from Fontana Dam to Clingman's Dome in June, 2017.

We had a hike scheduled for June, 2018 that was set to begin at Davenport Gap and end at Hot Springs.  The day before we were scheduled to leave, the hike was cancelled - the possibility of too much rain, news that had been received, and not being prepared were all listed as reasons.  Like it or not, we were not meant to hit the AT that summer.  Trust me when I say that it took me a while to get over that one.  But, I've learned to accept the fact that these section hikes simply don't mean as much to others as they do to me.  Oh - and like I said at the beginning of this post - everything happens for a reason, whether we like it or not.  Who knows why we didn't go?  Maybe something awful would have happened to one of us - or to someone back here at home. Oddly enough, the exact same thing happened this summer - June, 2019 - when we made the decision to call it due to potential inclement weather.  After our experience in the Smoky Mountains two summers ago, none of us were up for spending day after day hiking in the pouring rain.  I have no doubt that we made the right decision, but it was still very disappointing.

Life does go on, but that little voice that calls one back to spend a week in the woods never really stops whispering to you. I wish I could put my finger on just what it is about the whole process that makes me long to go back.  I mean, it's by far the most physically challenging thing I've ever done - I tend more towards being overweight and out of shape in my "real" life.  I've said before that I've experienced more in one moment than I ever have: tired, wet, cold, hungry (I mean, like steal-the-little-kid's Cheetos hungry), muscle failure, blisters, stomach aches - all things that I avoid like the plague in my day-to-day life.  But then, I come across a picture like these...

...and I remember why I love being on the AT so much.  Gone are all the problems I face in my every-day life.  Gone are the demands placed on me.  The cell-phone is shut off.  My concentration is focused solely on waking at first light, eating, packing, and heading off to put in whatever miles I have to cover that day.  The people I've encountered are kind - we've had some great times sharing a shelter with 12 other hikers - where we probably looked more like sardines packed in a can than people in sleeping bags.  I was speaking to someone recently about the way things are at home, and she said "this is where I live.  This is my reality."  And she's right - we all have our own versions of "reality" into which we've been placed.  But for those few wonderful days, I get to change my "reality" and just let myself relax into the person I really am.

Today, I'm sitting here, looking out into a future that's even more uncertain than ever before - but I'm okay with that because I've set my sights on completing a section hike early next summer.  I can't say with any degree of certainty whether or not it will actually happen - but at least it gives me something to look forward to.  Life has changed in some pretty big ways these last few months - but, change usually ends up being a good thing once we're in a place that allows us to look back on things.  And I, for one, have to pushed into change.  It's something I've avoided at pretty much all costs over most of my adult life.  One thing will never change, however - and that's the way being out on the trail makes me feel - even if I don't always know it until after the hike is done and I've had time to reflect on it.

Someone will often ask, "Can you actually miss something like the Appalachian Trail?"  Oh yes - you most certainly can.  And that's where I'm at today, in this moment.  I miss being out in the woods - and not just being out in the woods, but the whole "reality" that being on the AT allows me to live in for a few precious days.  Yes, my friends - the struggle is real - but for now, I've got my photos (most of which aren't very good and only I'd appreciate) and my memories of time spent with my brother and sister.  And for that, I am grateful.  As I look upon those mountains, I know that I have not said, "Goodbye..."

...but, "Until we meet again..."

COULD THIS BE MY CALLING?

Most of us have come across this famous quote at some point in our lives:

"The mountains are calling, and I must go."  ~John Muir

I've rarely come across anyone who denies the beauty and wonder of a mountain view - the awe that fills their hearts as they stand, gazing out across the vast horizon of treetops that seem to go on forever.  But there are some of us for which that "calling" runs much deeper - bringing to mind another quote: "And into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul."  And that's where I fit in - what I go into the mountains to find - not the person others think I should be - the person I truly am.

Anyone who knows me knows that I've struggled for most of my life to find that place where I truly fit in.  I've always felt like the odd ball in a group of people - like I don't really have much in common with the people around me.  I can't put my finger on just why that is, other than to say that it's something that comes from deep inside of myself - simply feeling like I'm not good enough - that I don't measure up - I don't make the cut.  But when I'm out on the A.T., that feeling disappears.  There's a certain bond that all of us hikers share when we're out there, forged through sharing all that life on the trail can throw at us.  Positions in life disappear; no one person is any better than the other.  Sure, some are young and full of energy - others are old, and still full of energy!  And then there are people like me - people who struggle throughout the day with the terrain, the weather, or just being unprepared physically to climb mountains.  And yet, we do it!  At the end of the day, we gather at the shelter, or other camping area, to finally relax, often dry out after a day of hiking in the rain, and talk about our days - and our lives.  It's as if we've known each other forever -

 It's also sharing the triumph of reaching some kind of personal goal with my brother and sister:

Reaching the summit of Blood Mountain during our first section hike!

Making it to Neel's Gap!

Winding Stair Gap - another section completed!

Big personal goal achieved!  Made it across Fontana Dam!

My biggest triumph yet - conquered the first half of the Smoky Mountains, making it to Clingman's Dome!

As we've grown older, finding the time to spend together has grown much more difficult, making these section hikes all the more cherished.

But then, what I really find when I'm out there in the woods is me - and I am shown each time exactly what I can accomplish if I put my mind to it.  What's found out in those mountains isn't always a pretty version of me.  It goes without saying that after spending five or six days under conditions that require me to fully exert every muscle in my body lends itself to being very dirty and very smelly.  It's just a fact of life out there.  There are other versions of "me" that are found out there:  I've laughed; I've cried; I've sung at the top of my lungs, trying to force myself to think of something other than the pain I'm in as I fight another ascent - with going downhill being even worse; I've fought over a stupid bag of instant rice, a prized possession that I wanted to save for later; I've thrown up from exertion (particularly in the Smoky Mountains); I've been so scared at night that I think I forgot to breathe; I've had a minor panic attack during a hand-over-hand rock scramble up Albert Mountain; I've been unable to eat, feeling weaker as each day progresses; I've been exhausted, cold, wet, and hungry - yes, always hungry; I hike slower than my brother and sister and am not the best at setting up my tent - or packing my gear the next morning; I've gotten stuck between rocks when my feet slip out from under me; I've found myself on my butt in a deep puddle of cold, muddy water, when my toe got caught on a root I couldn't see.  But in the end, no matter what version of "me" shows itself, I've always finished.  I've never quit - and I think it's safe to say that I rarely complain about it, even when I'm in pain or injured.  And, I can't count the number of times when, after the trail has thrown its very best at us, we break out of the trees to a view like this one:

...or I find myself surrounded by the woods:

...and when I reach whatever my destination was, I can look back on it and feel proud of what I've done. 

A friend told me the other day that I write more about my hikes than I do about my second passion, my writing - and that maybe that means my calling lies out there somewhere.  Maybe she just might be right.  Funny thing is, it's nearly impossible to explain all of this to someone who doesn't share my love of "living" in the woods for days on end.  To most, it's something you schedule and go do, but it's not something you long for.  I mean, why would you want to be tired, wet, cold, and hungry - all at the same time?  I can't argue with that logic.  I've asked myself those same questions many times -especially after reaching Clingman's Dome.  Those are questions I simply can't answer - because the answer isn't simple.  All I can say is that some things just are.  Life dictates that I'm where I need to be right now, and I'm okay with that - but a piece of my heart lies on the A.T. - and those mountains truly are calling me.  One day, I will answer the call.

FINISHING WHAT I STARTED...DAY 4: DOUBLE COLD SPRINGS SHELTER TO CLINGMAN'S DOME

It's hard to believe it's been six months since we completed our last section hike; and even harder for me to believe that it's taken every bit of that six months to finish writing about it.  I can't put my finger on just why, other than to say that the fact that the trail was unkind to me caused me to question whether or not I would return.  But, as 2018 came rolling in last night, I realized that I need a change of scenery; that I need to get back out in the woods and finish what I started.  I've never considered myself a quitter when it comes to hiking the Appalachian Trail, so it's time for me to let go of the hard times I had on this last hike and turn my sights to the next one...

For the first time in two days, the clouds parted, revealing the warmth of the sun to a shelter full of water-logged hikers...

Having made the decision the night before to end our hike a day early, our spirits were a bit lighter than they had been over the past couple of days.  I have to say that a part of me did feel like I was quitting, something I had never done on previous hikes, but I had to listen to my body as it told me, "It's time to go."  Thrilled to put on our one set of dry clothes, we packed our soaked gear into our muddy packs, put on our last pair of dry socks, then slipped into our wet boots.  The end was in sight, so the damp shoes didn't seem so bad.

While the trail had been unkind, the people we met along the way made up for it tenfold...

Marissa, Donelle, Debbie, Me, Goose, and Scott (rear)

This was our first experience sleeping in the shelters, so we really didn't know what to expect, but the time spent each afternoon with our fellow hikers is what made this trip so special.  I can only hope to be so lucky in terms of shelter-mates when I return to hike the second half of the Smoky Mountains.

I think what was most notable about this last day was the beauty of the terrain.  Double Cold Springs Shelter sits at roughly 5500 feet elevation, so we noticed a change in the foliage as we neared the shelter the night before.  But what met us on this last day was nothing short of breathtaking.  The almost sub-tropical undergrowth gave way to almost prehistoric-looking pines, filling the air with the smell of Christmas trees.  I was in heaven!  That being said, the trail still gifted us with more than our fair share of mud...

And, just like the three days before, the trail seemed to delight in going up...and not just in small sections...no, each step seemed to be at least a 20-inch step, forcing our already-tired leg muscles to carry us, and our packs, forward.  I think my comment was, "I am SO tired of going up!" 

We'd been told that views from Clingman's were rare, so we were thrilled when we neared the summit and the sky became clearer.  It was pretty cool to be able to put my right foot in North Carolina and my left foot in Tennessee.  I think it was my brother who made the comment that being privy to such amazing views is what made all that we'd been through worth it...

 I will never forget the joy I felt when we reached this point on the A.T.  My brother looked at us, as we contemplated whether or not to complete that .3 miles to the tower, and said, "Come on, let's do it!  We've come this far."  He was right.  We'd come that far!

 We passed numerous tourists as we traversed that final .3 miles.  They were all clean and fresh...full and happy.  Some were headed south on the trail, and hopefully headed our warnings concerning the treacherous conditions on the trail.  Knowing what we'd come through, seeing the mix of sneakers and sandals made it obvious to us that they were not prepared.  Sometimes, all you can do is try...

There really are no words to express how thrilled we were when the tower at Clingman's Dome finally came into view.  Of course, we had to take our exhausted selves up to the top...cause we'd come this far.  It was absolutely freezing up there, but worth the steps!

 Reaching the top of that tower empowered us with such a feeling of accomplishment!  Scott and I gave each other a "high five" and I think I might have even shed a couple of tears, because I'd truly given everything I had in me to reach that point...to be standing atop the tower at Clingman's Dome.  After a couple of photos and a minute or two to reflect, we slowly made our way down towards the parking lot.  Since we had a bit of time to wait, we sat in the sun, removed our wet socks and shoes, and just absorbed the warmth of the pavement under our feet.  We were completely exhausted, but proud of ourselves.  But, as we left Clingman's behind us, I truly felt that I would not be back.  And that feeling has come and gone in the days since...

...but as I sat there last night, watching the ball drop as 2018 came rolling in, I felt that old, familiar longing in my heart...the A.T. was calling to me...and today, I can't wait to get back out there!

Happy New Year, everyone!  And, Happy Hiking!!!!