Transcription of journal page photos can be found below. A more traditional blogpost of this hike can be found HERE along with lots of pictures.
Today was so tightly scheduled, we had to conduct the morning hike in a manner completely contradictory to my preferred mode of hiking: get to the end as fast as possible. That’s a pity, because we took the Alum Cave Bluffs Trail, which most best-of lists agree is the best hike in the park. On the other hand, the clouds and fog still haven’t parted, so while the trail was gorgeous, there were no views.
We zoomed from the park to Gatlinburg so Dustin could get a cell signal for a work call. I pointed the car toward Damascus, where we were scheduled to rendezvous with Lone Wolf, our ride to Kincora where we were meeting Hobz to start our official AT time. Lone Wolf already thought our 4:00 meeting was scratching the end of the day, so we couldnt be late.
We arrived with half an hour to spare, and it still wasn’t enough time to properly inventory and repack our bags. In the end, instead of carefully considering all the food I’ve been debating for the last three weeks, I just said “screw it, bring the lot,” and now I’m sitting next to a pack that is embarrassingly heavy for a five-day trip. I can’t stand to part with things I’ve paid for (at a slightly worrying compulsive level). I guess we’ll see how strong that resolve holds after an 8-mile hike wearing my fully loaded pack. (I just did the math: 13 pounds base weight [essential, non-consumables] plus almost 18 pounds of food, plus water. I don’t think I’ve ever hiked with a pack heavier than 25 pounds before. I’m starting to feel some regerts.) (To be clear, that’s all the food for both Dustin and myself for 5 full days.)
We arrived at Kincora to find… Cats?? We’d just been abandoned at an ivy-covered shack in the near-literal middle of nowhere, and no one appeared to be home. A TV was on, so we figured someone must be somewhere. Signs suggested we should make ourselves at home in the hostel building, where a $5 donation was suggested for our stay. The place looked like a fort thrown together by generations playing hide-away in the woods, which I guess it technically. is. Mismatched, well-loved furniture and every surface covered with hiker mementos or cast-offs. Vines from outside have crept inside through various crevices. Mysterious (and mysteriously not-moldy) containers filled a fridge in a tiny kitchen. A fresh plate of cat food waited on the counter.
“Not what I expected,” I mumbled, checking my watch to see how imminent Hobz’s arrival was. I had been expecting quirk. I had not been expecting quite so much must.
Hobz and Bob Peoples, owner of the hostel, appeared at the same time. Bob is a hiking legend. He and Hobz swapped stories (including, to set the mood, the one about the hiker who machete-murdered some other hikers in this neck of the AT a few years ago) while we shared the pizza we’d imported from Butler, 30 miles up the road. The source of the hostel’s quirk was apparent in Bob, who is not just quirky but totally charming.
Having gingerly chosen the least-dodgy looking sleeping surfaces, we turned in for the night.
Thither & Yon 