Seven Days on the Appalachian Trail, Day 2: less wet, more raccoons

Posted on by snukes

[To see the original journal entries recorded during this leg of our adventure, click here! But this post has all the photos.]

“Great news, campers!” our delightful and perky Le Conte Lodge host announced at breakfast in the morning. “It’s been raining for the last 15 days,” [I KNEW IT] “but I’m happy to report that today there is NO rain in the forecast for today!!”

This announcement was met with cheers throughout the dining room. I cannot believe anyone else got as wet as we got yesterday, but there’s only one way to get to the Le Conte Lodge, and unless they’d hiked in the early morning hours, everyone else here had been subjected to the same rain that we had.

On the right side of the frame, Dustin sits at a table in front of a plate full of pancakes, scrambled eggs, and grits. He is cutting open a biscuit. A young boy sits to Dustin's right, on the photo's left, also in front of a large plate of food.
When you pay a billion dollars a night for your room, you get a hearty, llama-transported breakfast. Thank you, llamas, for these thy pancakes we are about to receive! Though I’ll be honest: Glacier’s mule-transported breakfast still ranks highest on my list of stock-provided breakfasts. Phantom Ranch’s miniscule pancakes bring up the rear.

We had to eat fast and scram. A tight afternoon deadline would require us to get to the bottom of the trail as fast as possible, a hiking strategy completely contradictory to my usual MO. On the other hand, despite a forecast for a clear day, the clouds and fog still hadn’t parted, so while the Alum Cave Bluffs trail was gorgeous, there were no views.

Dustin stands to the left of a pair of trail signs that can't quite be read because they are wet and dark. A rocky trail slopes downward toward the back of the frame to Dustin's left. Dustin looks happy.
I’d like to introduce a new photo series titled “Dustin Standing Next To Signs While Not Getting Rained On.”
A very foggy photo of a valley that is probably full of evergreens. Only the nearest trees, on a slope filling the left of the frame, are visible.
Good morning, Smoky Mountains! I know you’re out there somewhere!

And then, suddenly, there was a …. ray of light?!

Laura hikes away from the camera, at center, along a rocky trail bordered by fir trees. A patch of sun is visible just ahead of her.
Real, live sunshine!
Laura hikes away from the camera, in the center of the frame, along a wet rocky path. A series of streams cascades down the rocks that border the path to her left.
And while the stream under my feet probably isn’t present every day, I’m pretty sure that waterfall ahead of me is a regular feature.

The hike down the Alum Cave Bluffs Trail is only 5.5 miles, which is why it was destined to be our way down, rather than our way up. And it was a WHOLE lotta down that we were trying to do at a faster-than-usual pace.

Laura stands on a sandy slope in the center-right of the frame, facing the camera. In the background, a cliff rises up, leaning outward to form a kind of overhang. Smaller people can be seen along the bottom of the cliff in the background.
The Alum Cave Bluffs, which are all bluffs and no caves as far as I could see, are incredibly imposing and really difficult to photograph well. They’re SO tall. Pictures just look like… rocks. Also, we were in a hurry and didn’t take a lot of photos anyway.
Laura stands in the bottom right of the frame, looking away from the camera out over a valley full of green trees. In the distance, the fog can be seen retreating.
A view! A real view!
Dustin, small in the center of the frame, stands on a stone stairway that is surrounded on all sides - including the top - by yellow-gray stone. The staircase runs through a small opening in the stone, which is where Dustin is standing.
Dustin comes out through the Arch, which is as archy as advertised.
A stream cascades over rocks in a small stream surrounded by low green underbrush and thin tree trunks that reach out of the frame.
All that rain sure did make the scenery pretty.
Dustin stands to the left of a sign that reads: ALUM CAVE TRAIL Arch P__k [obscured] Alum Cave Bluffs 2.3 Mt. LeConte 5.0 Dustins hands are clasped together and raised to the side of his head in a gesture of victory.
The concluding photo in my series, in which the sign definitely lies about how far we’ve come.

By the time we reached our car (which was right where we’d left it, despite the conviction I somehow developed that we would come out at the wrong trailhead, or that it would have mysteriously relocated itself), my knees were crying. They don’t like going downhill anyway, and they certainly don’t like being rushed. I’d stuffed my damaged ankle into the boot without a wrap and laced it up tight this morning, which turned out to be the right move for ankle health-and-safety, but nothing could appease the knees. I tucked them into the car and promised them the rest of the day off.

The three-hour drive to Damascus, Virginia, passed pleasantly. Once in town, we stopped at Food City to pick up our final missing essentials (cheese, banana, beer), then headed over to park at the public library, which is located directly on the Appalachian Trail.

By the time we pulled into our parking spot, we had half an hour to spare before Lone Wolf, a highly recommended shuttle driver with a personal history on the AT spanning more than 16,000 miles, was due to pick us up. It wasn’t enough time.

I spent it making sure I had all my essential gear. I knew I had too much food and reeeeally meant to sort through it, but Lone Wolf was waiting and I didn’t want to be the jerk who caused him to miss dinner. Rather than err on the side of having too little, I just grabbed the entire bag of food. How much too much could it be, anyway??

An hour’s drive later, Lone Wolf pulled into a side road off a side road off a very windy side road and abandoned us in front of what we’d been told was the Kincora Hiking Hostel:

A building fills most of the frame, surrounded by bright green foliage. The building is almost completely covered in dark green ivy. The shape of a chimney can be made out at its center, with a window and stairway barely visible to the chimney's right.
No banjos. No… anything, really.

We went hullooing around the property to no effect. A TV was playing inside an open door, but there didn’t appear to be anyone home, and it DID appear to be someone’s home, so we didn’t want to go tromping through looking for someone. A couple random cats came by to say hello, but had nothing very helpful to say about what we should be doing. We eventually noticed a sign that said to “make yourselves at home in the hostel!” so we went exploring.

Another side of the ivy-covered building is easier to see, with a covered porch filling most of the frame, the stairs and railings appearing to be made of logs.
This is not the part of the building that is someone’s home, so it’s probably the hostel side? (Photo credit: Hobz)
A room lit only by lame fills the frame, with a worn couch on the left and a couple chairs covered with mismatched pillows on the right. The plank walls are covered by certificates and photos.
Or possible a crack den…? (Photo credit: Hobz)
Three pairs of bunk beds line the wall, constructed of rough timbers and each covered with a different color blanked. The timber walls between the beds are covered with photos. The section of wall at the far left is a suspiciously dark color.
Ah. This looks like a place hikers sleep. Might sleep? Could lay down, anyway?
(Photo credit: Hobz)

“When does Hobz get here?” Dustin asked. Kincora was the designated rendezvous spot with our college friend Hobz (both a trail name and his chosen everyday name, too). It was supposed to be a hostel run by a legendary hiker.

“Uh… within the next hour,” I said, consulting my watch. Hobz was already out on the AT, and he would be arriving here at the end of a 16-mile day. I sent him a nervous text message, encouraging him to walk just a little faster because we didn’t know what to do in this rather creepy neck of the Tennessee forest.

And then we parked on the porch with the cats to wait because Lone Wolf was long gone and the cell signal was spotty at best.

Dustin sits on a bench facing left over a wooden porch rail. He pets an orange cat that is curled up in his lap, looking content.
The cats were grateful for the company.

Hobz rolled in exactly on schedule, looking a bit like a trail pirate (I didn’t take a photo, so I can’t back up that statement). At the same moment, Bob Peoples, the legendary proprietor of the hostel, also materialized from wherever he’d been hiding. Cheerful (slightly relieved) greetings were exchanged, and we sat down to work on the two giant pizzas we’d imported from 20 miles up the road.

Two closed pizza boxes fill the entire bottom half of the frame. Behind the boxes (which is actually across the table), Hobz sits to the left and Bob Peoples to the right. Each holds a slice of pizza. They are looking at each other, both wearing incredulous expressions. Green trees can be seen behind them.
I love the mutually doubtful expression being exchanged here.

Bob and Hobz swapped trail stories while we ate, 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. Dustin and I just listened, bemused and unable to contribute.

Hobz stands in the center of the frame. He is wearing a striped white shirt and a pair of shorts that come down to the middle of his calves. The background is obscured by lack of light.
The hostel offered laundry service, which meant Hobz traded in all his clothing for this dashing get-up borrowed from the pile of hiker cast-offs.
Two bowls and two plates, all dirty, sit on top of a picnic table. A raccoon peers into one of the bowls, looking for the last scraps of food.
After Bob headed to bed, a few of his other pets came out to play. This guy was pretty cute and really entitled.

We spent the rest of the evening catching up a bit with Hobz, who we haven’t seen for nearly twenty years, and stepping gingerly around the hostel, where the outdoors has come in a little more than is strictly comfortable. The whole place has the feel of a giant tree-fort set up by kids playing in the woods, full of discarded furniture, cherished knick-knacks, faded photos, and a little mold. I suppose that isn’t far from reality, really.

Tomorrow, the big hiking starts.

DAY TWO STATS:

  • Trail Map Says: 5.5 miles (cumulative: 16.1)
  • Laura’s Watch Says: 5.79 miles (cumulative: 18.79)
  • Cumulative Elevation Gain: ~60 feet
  • Elevation Loss: 3,061
  • Start Time: 8:43am
  • End Time: 11:39am
  • Active Hiking Time: 2:56
  • Average Pace: 30’27”
  • Average Heart Rate: 104bpm
  • Calories Burned: 2,124

And now, a few random pieces of trail photo-candy:

A black salamander on a rock surface, curled into a U-shape.
My first salamander! He’s about 2″ long.
A close-up photo of white, pipe-shaped flowers sprouting between strands of wet, bright-green moss.
Monotropa uniflora – Ghost Plant, Ghost Pipe, or Indian Pipe. Translucent white through its whole life cycle, it can grow in almost complete darkness.
A branch of a rhododendron bush bearing clusters of light pink flowers and dark, oblong leaves.
Rhododendrons! I don’t know if I’d ever seen one before this trip, but the whole forest is basically oak trees and rhododendrons here. They provide lovely shade.
A tattered, bright red bee balm flower sits at the center of the frame. The background is out of focus.
Bee balm, regal red and slightly rumpled on the edges.

Click here to hit the trail with us on Day 3!

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