from Kristen on the trail

By far the rockiest and most fluvial section of the first day was climbing up Springer Mountain and back down to Forest Road 42. The first thing I did atop Springer Mountain was break my digital snapshot camera. On a rock. In a puddle.

(Not my best move ever.)

I was immediately struck by how little it really mattered to me. I was here for a hike; objects being replaceable. What is no small miracle, however, is that with some forcing and prying and a few slaps, it totally works again. So the good news is: someday you get pictures!

Finding the trail register, I simply signed in; no notes, no exclamation.

“3/5/11 Kristen Paige Gregory”

I really don't remember my first few steps of the trail, but upon reaching the bottom of the hill, I walked the rest of the day in the same grey rain on a soft path through long green tunnel, primarily deliberating whether to hike nine miles or sixteen. I had a few rough moments, but largely I was a happy camper. In the end I decided to take it easy on myself and break myself in gently (given recent conditions) and so found myself camped at Hawk Mountain shelter in the top corner. I was surrounded by an unadmitted vagrant with 2 dogs, two first timer marines, five thru hikers and a dad plus weekend groups and a few others in half a dozen poor tents in the rain.

With a little shaking disillusion between dinner and second dinner, I nonetheless fell asleep in a relatively good state of mind. It poured seriously all night long. I can't say I made a early start on day 2, but my body didn’t ache which was promising. An orchestra of fluty whistles filled the day; that's how crazy the wind was. Descending a switchback, I caught my first glimpse of the Chattahoochees. Then, upward, resumed to otherwise walk thru a blasting mist, overlooking an abyss of fog, wondering which of the foggy tops was Sassafras Mountain and which was Justice Mountain. My primary deliberation was not where I could stay, but how much of what was in my pack I could ship out at the post office in Suches.

My sites were thus set on twelve miles to Woody Gap. Other than the shelter midway, everywhere I stopped turned out to be a wind tunnel. The ridge up to Ramrock Mountain showed a panoramic view thru the trees, which was a favorite moment. But Ramrock doesn't have a top... it has LOTS of tops and lots of mini gaps, which at this point in the day was at least as psychologically exhausting as physically. And then out of nowhere, on yet another ridgewalk (only unique for skipping across spring runoff) Woody Gap slaps you right in the face, quite literally. Taillights in the fog were never yet such a welcome sight. Katherine and her dad and Andy preceded me and we were soon fed and tented as bits of snow pelted our little homes.

It was a cold, cold night, but we all woke in good spirits and somewhat rested. By the time I walked down to Suches and hitched back, courtesy of Mr. Nelson Angler. Frost-covered mountains and raspberry canes were dropping chunks of frost like oversized coconut flakes. Even with my side trip, I made a decent midmorning start and most of the day was spent ridgewalking to Blood Mountain, my first “big mountain” (800 feet in 8/10 of a mile). Clear skies and vistas! I passed up the shelter of creepiness for Neels Gap where I picked up my first mail drop and made a sudden decision to hostel and regroup. I've cooked a nice dinner and showered; it hasn't been the easiest start, but I'm not unhappy with it either. For the most part, conditions continue to improve and you should hear from me again in a week, hopefully at Nantahala.