morvasaaty/AppalachianTrail-LD-Hikers-Blogs-and-Weather-20-years huggingface dataset:
Date: 2016-03-28
From: Hawk Mountain

To: Near Ramrock Mountain
Miles today: 9.0
Weather: light rain

The night before once again soaked the foot off my sleeping bag. I slept fine, but the work I had done on my feet was ruined. My feet were now completely pruned, soft, peeling, and large water pockets developed on my big toes and the pads of the balls. Hiking, and even walking without my pack off was painful beyond what I had imagined would happen in the worst case scenario, and to make matters worse, the pockets of water burst, oozing not only clear fluid, but a slight amount of blood. Once lunch rolled around, I realized not only that my feet could go septic, but I'm moving far too slowly for a four-month finish.Once the antiseptic and the flip flops were applied, I moved significantly faster. I started hiking with a woman in what I assume is her late twenties, Lisa, and we stopped at the Gooch Mountain Shelter for dinner. I talked with Jack, another Marine veteran, one who served in ANGLICO, who was out for a few days.Lisa and I decided to hike on for another few miles, receiving our first Trail Magic along the way (Yerba Mate tea) until we arrived at a campsite occupied only by Lithuania. I stayed behind for the evening, and Lisa pushed on another hundred yards, where a group of people were having a social fire next to a forest road. Lithuania was an active duty soldier on leave, taking a few days to get away from everything. He was a really intelligent, well-spoken guy, providing me with some of the best conversation I've had for a while.I don't regret putting in flip flops. Between a successful thru-hike and a failed attempt that's entirely barefoot, I have to choose the former. I can now concentrate on getting a quad burn on the climbs and a calf burn on the descents, on the vistas and woods and beautiful structures of stone and fault that perpetually surround me. I don't have to be blinded by pain and fear that the evening with be filled with the smell of early-stage gangrene.
Date: 2016-03-29
From: Near Ramrock Mountain

To: Blood Mountain
Miles today: 12.2

The day started with my farewell to Lithuania and a fast push to catch up with Lisa at Woody Gap. The Trail was easy and the day beautiful.At the Gap, the family that had provided me with Yerba Mate tea on the Trail had an RV, tents, and all sorts of soup, fruit, tea, and eggs set up welcoming hikers fit a short stay. They were part of a Christian commune living the life they knew Jesus had wanted people to live: a life of selflessness, sharing, and community. After talking with them and a few hikers for an hour or so, Lisa and I pushed forward.The hiking was a lot of easy ups and downs, crossing over Gaddis(!) Mountain and Turkey Stamp, eventually cresting out atop Blood Mountain, the highest point in the Trail so far. I found out somewhere along the way that someone finally gave Lisa her trail name: SunshineThe shelter was a two-room stone house right on the summit. A spit of rock next to the house looks west where my first real sunset was enjoyed with a guy taking his Siberian husky along for the journey.I turned my phone on to check for water damage, and to my surprise, I had full service. It was flooded with messages, push notifications, and voicemails from the previous few days. I called Julie to let her know how I was doing, and that Hiawassee was more likely to be Thursday since my feet didn't hold up.I made a small fire, then cozied up in my sleeping bag inside the stone shelter. The tarp nailed to a window flapped gently, and a murmur of conversation floated through the walls. Hopefully, no ghosts on Blood Mountain...where did it get a name like that? Bear attacks? Monsters? Murders?
Date: 2016-03-30
From: Blood Mountain

To: Past Low Gap
Miles today: 0.0
Weather: clear sky

I woke up late, as the billowing tarp on the window kept me up most of the night, not for fear, but for inconstant noise. Everyone was gone, including Sunshine, leaving me to my own devices and raspberry tea.I made my way down to Neel Gap to the outfitter there, getting more stove fuel and more antiseptic. Trail Magic in the form of hamburgers was being prepared, but I pressed on, honestly regretting it. I crave meat right now. Dense, perfect protein.At Tesnatee Gap, I took an hour nap following an apple a guy in a van gave me, and hiked a little ways to Hogpen Gap (They really ought to change these names up. Wouldn't Hogpen Cut or Hogpen Back work just as well?). It was there I ran into RC, a biker with saddle bags filled with Coors Light. He hashed me one and we talked for half an hour. He doesn't a bit of time on the Floribama coast from Perdido Key to Gulf Shores. He warned of a couple of back-to-back frontal systems moving into the area, and that a shelter would be a wise idea. At our goodbye, he handed me another beer (for a around the campfire), and I started up the other side of the cut.I caught up to a seventy-year old thru-hiker, Rocksteady, soon after. While taking plenty of breaks, he keeps passing on, one foot leading the other. His "Italian friends" back home would have loved my story concerning the name "Fancy". He was a tough old man, and I'm sure he'll do just fine.After crossing Low Gap and passing up the packed shelter, I hiked up another three miles until the sun started setting. I found a campsite right off a ridgeline, having plenty of lee from the coming storm, a close water source, a view between the laurel branches. Hanging my food bag, a carabiner doubled over the branch, unable to be saved. I had to cut the cord and use a replacement. Farewell, old friend! May you hang in glory forever!
Date: 2016-03-31
From: Past Low Gap

To: Hiawassee, Georgia
Miles today: 12.4
Weather: overcast clouds

After the storm RC warned me of, my sleeping bag was once again soaked. Being but a few miles from the gap, I decide to simply pack everything wet and scuttle up and down Blue Mountain to get into Hiawassee as soon as I can. The one water source available to me is a murky, slow trickle out of an old lain PVC pipe, but as I'm out of water, I have no choice.Once I'm at Unicoi Gap, really nothing more than a parking lot and a sign, I start walking down Georgia state road 75/17 as it switches back down the mountain. Four miles later, a guy in a well-traveled Toyota truck picks me up and goes a few miles out of his way to take me to the edge of town. After some walking through the drizzle, I come across Mull's Inn, a rather antiquated, but cozy motel with furnishings from the 70s, to include the sheets and pillowcases, run by a sweet North Georgia woman in her her 60s going by the name Darlene.After so many miles and so little to eat in the past twenty-four hours (two Coors Lights from RC and a 70 calorie pouch of tuna), I was hungrier than I knew how to handle. I make a few phone calls, order an enormous amount of pizza and wings to be delivered, and take an unholy shower. Demons and fallen angels find their way of my body and down the drain, preferably back to the hellfire whence they came.As promised, another thunderstorm rolls in through the night, but I lay warm and snuggled in a dry bed.
Date: 2016-04-01
From: Hiawassee, Georgia

To: Plum Orchard Gap Shelter
Miles today: 15.5
Weather: light rain

I slept in until 10. I should feel lazy about it, but you know what? I don't. That's the freedom of the Trail. You make your own schedule and you stick to it...when you want to. I pack up my room, straighten my trash, ate my leftover pizza, and checked out.I headed down to Ingles, a Black Mountain, North Carolina based supermarket chain. I started myself with a Passion tea lemonade from the caf© Starbucks inside, sat at an outside table and did several hours of work online, including these journal entries, some college red tape, and a few messages. I also made contact with a buddy from the Marine Corps, Jenkins, whose significant other has lodging in Hot Springs, NC. Julie plans to meet me out there, and it will be my first true "zero" day, our day hiking zero miles.A college-aged thru-hiker, Hambone Sandwich, and her dog Lucy sat next to me in the afternoon, starting a conversation about her knee injury. It's sidelining her for two weeks, and a shuttle was picking her up in a couple of hours at that very location to take her back to the Trail. When he came around, he agreed to come back to get me when I needed, allowing me time to resupply (tuna and peanut butter) and to mail a letter.The shuttle went to Dicks Creek Gap, technically making me a yellow-blazer, but again, I care not at all. I'll also blue-blaze if its worth it, and in the Shenandoah I'll take the opportunity to aqua-blaze (taking a parallel river).As I get dropped off at the Gap, I wish a farewell to the two old-timers with whom I was shuttling, and start pushing myself. It took a little over an hour and a half to cover four and a half miles of trail to the Plum Orchard Gap Shelter. At Cowert Gap, the most amazing shift of ecological trope happened. The bare, gray branches of the laurel and oaks suddenly sprang forth brown, angular, sharp branches, and the skeletal canopy broke out into green needles. It was a singular wall, a portal from mountain deciduous hardwood, to valley conifers; and as soon as I left the gap, the transformation reversed. The sharp, bitter smell of fermenting needles left, and the familiar ground of pebble and leaf returned.At Plum Orchard Gap, I met White Noise and Bilbo at the front table. After a quick conversation, we all bedded down in the well-engineered three-tiered shelter. Another spat of rain is slowly making its way from the West, morphing the silent forest into a living superbeing full of creaks and whispers.
Date: 2016-04-02
From: Plum Orchard Gap Shelter

To: Beech Gap
Miles today: 15.9
Weather: clear sky

The day started early with a damp chill in the air, despite the clear sunrise. A fun, lovely group in their mid-20s were all traveling together, but their pace seems just too slow for me.I started quick, and got to the North Carolina boundary before the morning was over. I sat next to a gnarled tree and drank my celebratory Schlitz (so terrible it's amazing) while enjoying the heavenly, fay weather: 45 degrees, breezy, and sunny; and I let several of the group pass by.At Deep Gap, an extraordinary couple, Fieval and Littlefoot, who hiked the AT in 2014 were making veggie burgers for everybody along with chips, salad, and soda. I stayed for an hour, enjoying the food and community.I departed thinking I would stay at the Standing Indian Shelter, before the big climb, but missed the sign, and hiked to the top unexpectedly, all the while cursing myself for having such a slow pace. Despite being the highest point in the Trail so far, there was no view. It was rather disappointing.I continued hiking until I hit Beech Gap, where the group from last night was camping. I made a fire for them, talked a while, then had to get into my sleeping bag and tarp. The wind was growing as the sun set, turning itself into a roaring monster sprinting through the canopy.
Date: 2016-04-03
From: Beech Gap

To: Rock Gap Shelter
Miles today: 16.0
Weather: clear sky

(Again, with the gaps!) The morning was frigid, upper 20s at most, and besides a couple of tents still set up, I was the only one left at the site. My positron shifted throughout the night, until I was partially wedged under a moss-covered fallen tree.The first mile took me through a tunnel of eight-foot tall laurels in a deep valley, before lifting off towards the false peaks paying homage to Albert Mountain. Along the way up, two footbridges took me over and by a moss covered spring leaking the cleanest, tastiest water I've had, second only to the spring atop Mount LeConte. The atmosphere, the sound, the soft dripping dark green moss all played a part, I'm sure. The chill of the day lingered well into the afternoon, but by Betty Creek Gap, I could finally remove my fleece.The summit of Albert was 400 yards of a near vertical rock scramble--by far the most strenuous and beautiful climb so far. At the pinnacle was a watchtower with a locked house, but from the top of the stairs, one can overlook not only the recession of foothills to the south, but the craggy peaks of the Smokies. A late-middle-aged couple took a day hike for what seemed like one of their first dates. The woman was from Franklin, and the man from Detroit, having worked on cars since he was 14.The way down was much less steep, but just as beautiful as before. It took me rhododendron tunnels, across springs, and through the north face's deciduous forest pulsing with springtime anticipation. At Long Branch, the Trail not only followed the stream, but was superimposed on it, making me step from stone to stone for a while.The last three miles were the most bizarre so far. It followed the edge of the massif down, but curved around fifteen draws that looked EXACTLY alike. I would curve around the finger, only to see the same trees, the same rocks, the same blazes I saw 200 yards ago. After a little more than an hour of this spiritual torment, I start hearing conversation and laughter, and smell a campfire, signaling the approach to shelter.It was there I met Moose, an overweight trucker who took three weeks to get there. He was a gruff, hilarious retiree who I honestly wish hiked quicker. He would be really fun to have around for a while, as everything around him seemed ripe for a joke.Certainly, a unique day.
Date: 2016-04-04
From: Rock Gap Shelter

To: Wayah Bald Tower
Miles today: 13.9
Weather: snow

The night before, two guys in polos came to the shelter, offering a free shuttle into the town of Franklin (meanwhile advertising their hostel and hotel for a discounted price). I slept until thirty minutes before it arrived, and made it to the pick up point right on time.My first stop was a massive breakfast at Huddle House, followed by a walk across town to the Ingles, thinking it would be as the other one, with a caf© and Wi-Fi. Despite the lack of commodity, I found an outside plug and called Julie, and checked the news and weather for the next few days.In the same plaza as Ingles was a Goodwill with a decent fitting pair of shoes. The flip flops held well, but the arch support was breaking my feet, the right one especially. I felt immediate relief upon their wearing. As I said earlier, it's the thru-hike that's important, not the footwear.After a fast food lunch, and a shuttle back to the Trail, I pushed onward. At Silers Bald (the first of its name), a group of far-out, groovy, reefer-smokin' hippies dressed in mostly bandanas and aviators (Yosh the Oracle, and Vanilla among them) recommended I make the side-trail climb to the summit. They were right. It was a clear view better than Albert Mountain, with sight lines in every direction lasting as far as the atmosphere allowed. The Smokies made the northern horizon a few degrees too high, and the flatter ground of South Georgia disappeared after about a hundred miles. The bald itself was lined with scrubby juniper, moss, and grass save for a thicket of short trees down the far side.I kept hiking, passing on two shelters, until I finally arrive at Wayah Bald. A two-story stone tower sits atop the peak, with the most dramatic views in the evening overlooking Franklin: snakes of orange and yellow streetlights slithering through the valley.The wind is cold and strong, and I'm miles from the nearest person...living person.
Date: 2016-04-05
To: Story Time: Night on Wayah Bald Mountain
Miles today: 0.0

Around midnight, two high school aged girls show up to the tower with a flashlight, seemingly to get as scared as they can. There's a single human-sized entrance to the lower level where I'm camping, and a small 18-inch squared window on the wall to its left. The weather permits no natural light from entering."Shine your light in there!""No way!""C'mon! ...Okay, well let's go up top."I hear their footfalls on the wooden steps, and I start to drift back into a light slumber..."Let's just see what's in there," one says, as they're now back at the entrance.My sleeping bag slowly fills with a yellow-white light, until I see the circle of the flashlight's lens through the fabric."HEY!" I burst forth from my sleeping bag, my doofousy grin right in the spotlight."E!E!E!E!E!EEEEEeeeee....."They scamper down the trail towards the nearby parking lot, the car's "unlock" signal honking over and over.
Date: 2016-04-05
From: Wayah Bald Tower

To: Nantahala Outdoor Center
Miles today: 17.6
Weather: clear sky

I awake the next morning to a freezing chill in the air. It took a great deal of mental fortitude to pull myself into the open air, put on my (semi-)new shoes and fleece, and pack up. The goal for the day was to get to the Nantahala Outdoor Center, the lowest point on the Trail in the southern section. It wouldn't be strenuous, but I'd be going downhill, WAY downhill for the majority of it.After a few miles, I hit Tellico Gal, where a set of power lines forced the majority of the saddle to be culled. In its stead, a ribbon of soft grass, dandelions, and violets stretched about. The Sun was warm, the ground was cool, so I stretched out...I feel asleep for about an hour. It was a beautiful, perfect nap. I pushed forth from there, and pushed, and pushed, stopping every hour to let my pained feet catch up to where my legs and mind wanted to be.I got into the N.O.C. around 7:15, starving, thirsty, strained, but the reason I pushed--the restaurant--closed at 7. By far the biggest disappointment in the Trail so far. I look for about an hour for a stealth camp site, find it, and go to sleep hungry.
Date: 2016-04-06
From: Nantahala Outdoor Center

To: Brown Fork Gap Shelter
Miles today: 15.6
Weather: clear sky

The day started with me packing my camp, and heading back into the N.O.C. for a big breakfast. The eggs were fine, but the bacon was flimsy and tasteless, and the pancakes--I swear--were made with corn meal. It was infuriating and overpriced (And I still tipped 25%. Remember, it's not the server's fault the food sucks.).While the Trail went upwards, my mood nosedived. After about 3400 feet of elevation gain, and about ten false peaks (where the top of the mountain moves down the path when you think you're there), I finally reach Swim Bald. Of course, the path immediately falls away, and comes back up the other side of a huge gap.Because the AT is flowing the most prominent ridgeline through the Nantahala National Forest, it tends to lack any sense as far as human travel goes. Is it scenic? Sure, the first for it five vistas one comes across. Is it difficult? Absolutely. Is it a path a normal person would take through the mountains. Hahaha. It's a meandering path properly hitting every high point, regardless of the direction.On top of the mental difficulties, my right foot starts flaring up in pain after only five miles, and has been steadily getting worse. I'm not sure if it's a muscular thing, or a skeletal thing. I just know I have to keep going, and the pains going to keep coming.The rain was approaching, with the most the most rain falling around midnight. At Stecoah Gap, when I went to discard my trash, I found a complete 2-man tent someone threw out, along with a knee brace, some 550' cord, and several days of unopened food. Poor guy/gal probably won't last much longer if they're that desperate already. I kept the tent, and am now sleeping in it, out of the rain.
Date: 2016-04-07
From: Brown Fork Gap Shelter

To: Fontana Village
Miles today: 12.3
Weather: scattered clouds

The pain in my foot flares up immediately, as well as my ankles, and my knees, and my Achilles tendons. My mood is darker and more down than it's been since... I don't know. I've always tried to find the positives in bad situations, but right now, the pain and the cold and the impending rain are forcefully shoving anything merry or bright well underground and underfoot.The path once again ride a ridgeline up and down until the long fall down into Fontana Dam. I reached NC 28, where a shuttle was advertised as being able to take me into the village, but there was no reception to call, no phone, and no shuttle.After a boring, painful two mile walk into the lodge, I get a room and take the most luxurious shower I've ever had. The EarthTempo soap and shampoo smelled of herbs and jasmine and rose, and the water, unlike the Mull's Inn in Hiawassee, got hot, stayed hot, and has the ability to stay in the tub, soaking my feet and ankles. It was thirty of the best minutes of my life.After a gluttonous dinner, and a video chat with Julie, I curled up in the soft, warm need, and I...
Date: 2016-04-08
From: Fontana Village

To: Fontana Shelter
Miles today: 2.0
Weather: broken clouds

Comfort is difficult to come by out here, and even more difficult to leave. The bed was soft and warm, and everything outside is hard and cold: reminders all that my fantasy of civilised living is coming to a close.I spent most of the day staring at my phone outside of the Village's general store texting, messaging, calling, writing, reading, looking at funny cat pictures. I need to be careful, though, as far as communication with family and friends. It's something that could kill morale if I entangle myself in affairs back home.I end up wrapping the day's chores and errands and communications well past the time the shuttle ran, and decided to test my feet in the mile and a half to the shelter. There was some pain, and to further the burden, my map mismarked its location, causing me to spend an hour with my headlamp pointed down the cliffside looking for what wasn't there. A miserable end to what should have been a fantastic day.
Date: 2016-04-09
From: Fontana Shelter

To: Mollies Ridge Shelter
Miles today: 13.8
Weather: few clouds

After a very late night, I have a very late morning. I finally sloth my way out of the tent, tear down camp, and stumble a ways toward the dam, only to find a widow's ministry who set up a full picnic spread for thru-hikers: turkey and ham sandwiches, sodas, and everything from the center aisles of a supermarket. Afterwards, they hand out Ziploc bags full of Pop-Tarts, crackers, candy, and drink mixes. It's been awhile since I received any Trail Magic, and this came at a wonderful time.I push onwards, having gotten my backcountry permit for the Smokies from the Fontana Dam Visitor Center. It's a heavy climb up to Shuckstack Tower, an old fire watchtower that's nothing more than a box of rotting wood atop four flights of rickety stairs. The view was fantastic, with sightlines well into Central Tennessee, Fontana Lake and beyond, and a snowcapped Clingman's Dome.After a smuggled beer courtesy Fish-N-Chips, I make the last of the hike of to Mollies Ridge. There, a ridgerunner (a scout-type working for the ATC that checks permits, ensures regulations are met, and cleans up trash left by the more selfish hikers) is handing out stories while checking all 20-something permits. It'll be a cold night tonight, probably the coldest on the Trail for me. It'll be in the teens with a serious wind chill factor. I have a thirty degree sleeping bag, a tarp, and a once-discarded tent. Marines I've worked with who're reading this, you're now reading about the culmination of the cold tolerance I've built.