Date: 2013-03-26
From: Asheville, NC residence

To: Groundhog Creek Shelter
Miles today: 6.9
Weather: light snow

(In which I leave the Smokies behind and spring still doesn't come)I sleep in this morning, not looking forward to the hitch back to the Trail. I have not yet attempted hitchhiking in an urban area. I have hitchhiked successfully in areas that thru-hikers are unlikely to frequent, but those areas certainly did not have an easily-visible transient population. Hopefully some folks passing by can recognize that I am actually a hiker. A seasoned hiker or folks that are frequently around them should be able to tell the difference - my pack is pretty trim and the only things lashed to the outside are toiletries and my trekking poles. I doubt many drifters have trekking poles with fluorescent pink duct tape on them.I say my goodbyes and Alison's landlord drops me off at the onramp to I-40. It is maybe half an hour before somebody pulls over to offer a ride. The driver introduces herself as Catherine. She is not going all the way, but can get me 20 miles up the road. She also admits to only picking up hitchhikers that look like hippies or musicians. I don't quite consider myself to be in the hippie group and am certainly no musician, but I bet I could get some members of either of those groups to vouch for me. Catherine tells me she has hitchhiked extensively in the past, crossing the country five times by thumb. She also mentions knowing Elmer, of Hot Springs' Sunnybank Inn fame, and recommends I stay there when I get to town. I was already plan to do so, having heard of the place and the character in my reading.Catherine drops me off at exit 31 and my hitchhiking attempt resumes. There is plenty of traffic here and very many pickup trucks, but nobody is offering a ride. An hour goes by, and I start evaluating other options. I cannot walk on the interstate or even be on the side of the interstate as a pedestrian, but I reserve that as a desperation move if it comes to that. I would have to walk a very roundabout route if I wanted to hitch off the next exit. That exit is where another freeway meets I-40, so I would really have to walk another exit further to get to the next place I could hitchhike. Fortunately a Subaru pulls over to give me a ride before I feel the need to try any other options.This ride the remaining 35 miles to town is my single biggest dose of Appalachian culture thus far on the trip. The driver introduces himself as Doyce and is likely the only Doyce I will ever meet. He is one of the locals out here in the mountains, and is traveling with his dog Bubba. Bubba is an affectionate puppy, maybe a boxer, and spends most of the ride with seeking attention and licking my hand. While he admits that folks here are living 15 years in the past he is upset by their poor portrayal in mainstream culture. I hear some things that are sad but not surprising - rich suburban folks are encroaching into this area and changing age-old ways of life. Doyce says the poor folk living out here are too occupied with day-to-day life to interact with local politics and fight the changes that the intruders set forth in committee meetings.Back to the TrailDoyce winds up giving me a ride all the way up to Standing Bear Farm. He only discovered the place was there recently - understandable with so many minor roads winding through the woods. I jump out to find Trail Movin' for the first time in a while. I had passed him on one of my long days in the Smokies. I see Ben, now going by Corduroy, for the first time since before Nantahala. I meet Radio, who is now going by Truck Surfer, for the first time. Blue Moon had told me about the pickup ride shuttling a dozen hikers out of Gatlinburg to Newfound Gap. It had been pulled over solely because one of the hikers was standing up in the truck bed. Truck Surfer was that hiker. I decide to stay a little while and carb-load on an entirely overpriced frozen pizza. After that is consumed, I head out into the snow and resume walking.The day begins with a climb from 1800 feet to the top of 4263-foot Snowbird Mountain. The snow down here is not very deep and the Trail itself is mostly clear of snow. I am making good progress uphill, but there are over four miles of uphill until I am on top of Snowbird. Occasionally I rum through patches where snow is accumulating on the Trail, and after a while the snow becomes deeper and the Trail is completely covered. There is still a channel of shallower snow to indicate where the Trail is, fortunately.So far on this hike, the danger above my head has at least equalled the danger below my feet. I expect roots, loose rocks, and patches of mud and those features can make up most of the Trail on some day. I am usually looking down with brief glances up, as there are almost always things on the ground to trip me. Because of this, low branches and fallen trees at head height can avoid detection until I run into them. As the trees become increasingly laden with snow, they bow down over the Trail and increase the frequency of overhead obstacles. Progress slows to a crawl in many places as I must stop to shake the snow from the trees ahead of me. If I do not do this, or a tree escapes my noticed, the result is usually a branch or an entire tree dumping its load of snow on my head.After painfully slow progress I finally reach the mountaintop. This is a grassy bald, and is buried under more snow than the rest of the mountain. While there is low cover on either side of the Trail and there are white-blazed posts to delineate the Trail, forward progress is very frustrating. The diffuse lighting created by the snow and the overcast sky combine in an awful way with the smooth mountaintop snow. Looking down in front of me I have only the most vague reference point in the grasses poking out if the snow. It is impossible to tell where the shallow snow ends and the drifts begin. The featureless surface in front of me makes it impossible to walk in a straight line, and I stumble into snow drifts repeatedly.There is an FAA tower on top of this bald and even in this weather I would have liked to visit it. However, visibility is poor and I cannot see the tower 50 yards from the Trail. I push off the bald and begin the descent toward Groundhog Creek Shelter. It is a tricky descent but I am relieved to reach Deep Gap and get into the shelter. Green Sleeve barks the alarm at my approach - he is there with his owners. I meet a few new faces in this shelter - an older gentleman that goes by Goat, a young North Carolina gal going by Rocket, and another younger guy going by Tracker. I quickly get settled into the shelter and changed into dry socks for the night. This has been an exhausting half day, and I know tomorrow is going to be a hard day.Peace,