There, the thermometer says it is 78 degrees, not a tremendous difference but certainly a pleasant one. It's humid, though, as dampening mists still hang in the air above the creeks which arise on either side of the gap. Down by the misty creeks, it's easy to find the old Unicoi Road. There is an underlying order in the natural environment, but to the eye, things can look kind of ragged. The north side of the gap shows signs of a recent windstorm.
Trees are down, a profusion of undergrowth thriving in the newly admitted light.
Insects flitter about and boulders are strewn where ancient upheavals, floods, and the effects of ice have left them. In contrast, the old Unicoi Road has a character which only man can impart. As flat and straight as its builders could make it, the road marches over the mountain and through the gap, full of determination and purpose, for it once had places to go and a great wilderness to cross. Back in the gap, about a dozen cars are parked, their occupants dispersed along the Appalachian Trail. On the edge of the parking lot, a sweaty and tired-looking young man sits in the shade.