Into the Smokies.

After a slow, sleep and breakfast filled, morning I got back on the road.

The weather again perfect, I left Fontana Dam behind to enter the Great Smokey Mountains National Park. This was the first road hiking I've done while on the trail, it feels odd to be walking on an unyielding surface and hearing the clack-clack of my poles on the road.

To enter the park you walk along the dam. A lovely lake, slightly marred by a brown line, where the lake was lower than usual, it looked like a bath after a hiker. Like a giant had just gotten out of the tub.

Just as we were walking onto the dam we came upon some trail magic.

'Trail Magic' is where someone, usually a hiker who lives in the area leaves out a treat for hikers who pass by. Juices, fruits, water, donuts anything a hiker would like but is unlikely to carry, because it's heavy fragile or otherwise impractical.

The magic on the dam was beer. I didn't take one, I'd started late and had too many miles to go, but those who were closer to home partook and enjoyed.

Into the park and up into the hills I went. About 4-5 miles in I got to the Shuckstack tower. (See previous post.) I've said it already, I'll say it again, magnificent view. Being able to look down on the dam, where you started the day gives a disproportionate amount of achievement.

Four peaks of over four thousand feet got me through to the end of the day,15 miles total.

The real joy of this section was the wild flowers. Whites, blues and purples that carpeted the forest for the last few miles.

It looked like something Snow White would have sent back to Walt saying 'They'll never buy that, put some ugly sticks and muck in.' Again, my image doesn't do it justice.

Overnight we received delivery of a storm. 70 mile an hour winds, according to the radio. The radio also suggested care when driving high sided vehicles, suggestions of what to do while trying to traverse a bare mountain top in these conditions was not forthcoming. Buffeting winds and some high peaks (Including Thunderhead, at 5,527' our highest yet) made for tough going, by the end of the day, the weather worsening, I was feeling it. It was the hardest day to date.

Some times the mountains are magical in the Disney sense, and sometimes in the 'Who angered the wizard?' sense.

That night the rains came.

Here's the problem, the shelters are 3-sided, with the rear wall facing the prevailing wind, however, as this storm was coming in from the wrong direction we were essentially sheltering in a concrete wind sock.

Using a tarp, some rocks, and a piece of bungie chord someone magic'd from their pack we got comfortable.

The shelter, was a large one with sleeping for 16, and space for a fire we were better off than we had any right to be with the storm raging away.

Rain fell heavily all night, the rattling of the tin roof ensuring we knew when it stopped. By morning it was down to heavy showers. We rose to a camp covered in cloud, in an odd 80's dry-ice music video type of way.

First order of business was Clingmans Dome (6,643'), highest mountain on the A.T. The assent was complicated by the previous night's rainfall. The trail changing from track, to stream, to river, to swamp, with an occasional cameo as a slick cliff face.

It was like dagobah, only colder, and carrying a pack.

While expending an exceptional amount of attention trying to not fall on my face I missed a turn. I'm not sure I've ever experienced anything as disheartening as negotiating my way down stream for thirty minutes to find a sign, pointing behind me saying 'Appalachian Trail, .5 miles'.

Rather than going back the way I came I decided to follow the tourist path up to Clingmans Dome, as I knew that the A.T. had a junction there.

As I began the climb visibility was maybe twenty feet, the cloud flowing quickly from left to right across the road, then suddenly it lifted. Like a fog machine running in reverse, or someone pulling a white blanket off the mountain. Thirty seconds later there was easily ten miles of visibility, and sweet, sweet, sunshine.

Shortly after that I found the A.T., and determined north from south with the aid of some passing hikers. (Thanks Forest and Goldilocks!)

I decided to take a look out from the observatory, a large concrete spiral structure that allows people unwilling to smell as badly as I do to get a good view of the mountains.

At the top it has annotated views in each of the directions, it was pretty special to trace our progress of the last week along the ridges.

I could see Standing Indian Mountain, where I'd stayed 8 nights and 130 miles ago.

Down off the peak and back into the swamp. The decent was slow, messy and unpleasant. I'm not sure what I looked like to the bubbly, bouncy, clean scout group that passed me going up. The creature of the black lagoon in an orange headband.

I surfaced again at Newfound Gap, hitched into Gatlinburg.

I've eaten, drank, and been merry. Three meals in town.

There are four hours of daylight left, and ten miles to where I want to sleep tonight. Looking forward to being back on the trail.

T.