Date: 2005-04-03
From: Brown Fork Gap Shelter, NC

To: Fontana Inn, Fontana Dam, NC
Miles today: 11.5
Weather: clear sky

Day 21, in which Jess breathes in some Class D substances and waxes poetic about nature, references some guy I've never heard of, dresses like she's from LA, makes a grand proclamation and falls on her face, and ends up at a hotel with all her hippie friends: The six of us residing in what I will only refer to as Chilly Willy's Hotbox Hotel awoke to a different world: the night was wind-howling, but in the morning there was sun-- and it was blinding. The calm after the storm and all the hills white; the deep lines of the trees and their shadows crisscrossing the hills, the sky so blue it might have been seawater and deep, as set against the blazing white of the hillsides, and small wind-blown red flowerets littering the snow.Travel was slow but stunning-- from the Unnamed Cliffs (an actual, if William Goldman-esque name) you can see forever, down to the glistening blue of Fontana Lake and behind the lake rise the crevassed Smokies, white and shadowed and high.At the lower elevations the snow began to vanish and the trail became a mud-river. After lunch at Cable Gap we sat in the sun awhile. Cuppa Joe said if we didn't get moving, his get-up-and-go would get-up-and-went; I said if we stayed at Cable Gap that night, we'd become possibly the only hikers in history to take four days to get from the NOC to Fontana. Alas, the record remains unbroken-- we set off to walk the last six miles shortly after that.The sun was so bright I broke out my sunglasses for the first time since starting the trip. At the top of one rise I jumped onto a snowbank to get a better view. "I've got to get a picture of that," said Cuppa Joe. "You all in black, with the shades, against the snow." "Charlie's fourth angel," I said. Thirty seconds later I fell on my face. "Back to three angels," I said.The last three miles into Fontana were one hellacious downhill. My knees did not like it and let me know. (I can always tell when the terrain is rough because I catch myself focusing so hard that the tip of my tongue sticks out between my teeth.) But then we walked into the wildflowers-- pink, yellow, purple, white. Small surprises. And I saw my first trillium of the season, large and dark.When we finally hit the parking lot, I sprawled in the grass, took off the bionic knees, and waited for the shuttle to the Fontana Inn to arrive. At the inn, we found hordes of people-- everyone had holed up there, outwaiting the bad weather. It was great to see everyone (favorite Red Hat quote of the evening: "I can always remember Freedom and Serenity's names because I think of feminine products."), though most of them were planning on heading into the Smokies the next morning, and I knew I'd be taking a rest day before leaving. Scholar was there-- she'd tried to hike out of Fontana every day for the previous three days, and had been foiled by the weather, sliding backwards down the muddy incline of the hill. She was going to leave the following morning along with the other crowds, but would be getting offtrail in Gatlinburg to visit family, so we knew we'd see her again. Weatherman was there too-- awaiting the Forrest Gump brace but planning to hike out along with Cuppa Joe and me, though hiking shorter days. I gorged on a spaghetti dinner and slept warm and dry.