Date: 2014-03-30
From: Fontana

To: Standing Bear Hostel
Miles today: 73.0
Weather: light rain

The SmokiesThe Smokies were not undersold to me. When I first announced my intentions to do this trail Bonnie Rascal immediately warned me, "The Smokies cause a large drop out rate." I'm not surprised. I have rarely been in a place so beautiful. Or more terrible. According to my original plan (the one I made when I was still in my comfortable, thermostat adjusted home) I was going to spend a week on the 72 miles from Fontana to Standing Bear Hostel. Good plan, right? Take my time. Enjoy the views. A slower pace will keep me from abandoning my goal. Yes. Good plan. I did not take into account one very important factor: weather. Weather sucks. Yes, yes. I'm thankful for rain. It's good for the planet. Snow, too. Yes. Good stuff. Wind? Very necessary. But. Weather sucks. It can ruin a long walk really quick. My first 12 hours in the Smokies I battled knee deep snow, dropping temperatures and high winds. And that was just the beginning. And frankly, my first day was candy compared to a bunch of people that started the day before me.I purposely did a zero day in Fontana trying to avoid bad weather. I thought I was so smart. I spent my extra day lightening my pack and sending forward my stove, pot, cookable food... Anything I might be able to do without. And yet, the Smokies are their own entity. There is no padding them to make them easier or more palatable. They are what they are; which is to say rugged. The climbs are steep and long. The weather is variable and strong, no matter which direction it chooses. I was constantly cold and my feet were never dry. Also, because I was so cold I was forgetting eat. I added up the calories I ate during my first three days I the Smokies and I was consuming just over a thousand a day. I was so miserable I ended up staying one night in Gatlinburg, which I had avidly proclaimed I would avoid. The town itself deserves it own entry, but I will summarize it as "Las Vegas for 8 year olds." 14 candy stores in a three street town and enough neon light to blind the hordes of light-starved hikers desperately trying to recover their strength. One night there was enough to send me back to my fate along the peaks. I ate a chili cheese dog, 2 baskets of tater tots, three individually sized bags of chips, 3 bananas, twix, a calzone the size of an infant (seriously, they use almost 3 pounds of cheese in the thing), 3 beers, and 2 platefuls at the breakfast buffet the following morning. It was revitalizing and I was ready to face it all again. It rained all day on the 29th, but I was buoyed by a full stomach and a new found fascination in my surroundings. It wasn't just my own outlook on life that had altered. There is an ecological change after Clingman's Dome, the highest peak along the AT, incidentally and also the big scramble right before you hit Newfound Gap, where you hitch a ride to Gatlinburg. And it somehow made the scenery more worth the effort for me. Above the Gap the hard wood trees fell away to be replaced by a huge alpine forest. Moss covered everything and the entire world smelled like Christmas trees. The rain only made everything seem more lush and green and magical. I spent the day shivering in my rain gear (the temperature never rose above 33) and imagining nymphs and gnomes and magical creatures flitting about from tree to tree, staring at me as I walked. It was perfect... Until the temperature dropped some more and it began to sleet. Then I was battling some hypothermia. I have never been so cold. Mind numbing lay cold. I shivered in my sleeping bag for hours as every muscle in my body rejected what I had out it through. Thankfully the shelter was crowded and I was sandwiched between New Timer and Tenderfoot.The rafters of the shelter worked as clotheslines and every sodden article of clothing was stripped from the group and hung with care with vain hopes of dry clothes in the morning.It snowed 18" over night and everything that was not hugged to our chests within our bags was frozen. My mini thermometer read 9 degrees within the shelter, so no clue what it was outside. Once I got my feet inside my frozen shoes I decided that I had had enough of the Smokies. I packed my gear and hiked the remaining 18 miles in the snow in one swoop. I whooped like mad when I saw the northern boundary sign as I exited the park. I was done. It took me 4 1/2 days to get through. 5 if you count my night I Gatlinburg. If I ever come back here it will be between June and September. And I will have a Sherpa, personal chef and masseuse in tow. The break away realization that I got from the experience, though, was that I could push myself to do more miles a day than I had been putting in previously. I'm ridiculously pleased with myself completing the park and found myself energized by the end.