morvasaaty/AppalachianTrail-LD-Hikers-Blogs-and-Weather-20-years huggingface dataset:
Date: 2017-03-15
From: Carter Gap Shelter 

To: Mooney Gap
Miles today: 4.5
Weather: overcast clouds

With temperatures below the rating on my sleeping bag, and a relentless wind that buffeted my tent, I slept miserably. My toes, though wrapped in two pairs of socks, were chilled. I tried toe warmers some time in the night, and they simply took the edge off the chill. Any part of my head that poked out of the bag was instantly met with a blast of cold air. Morning could not come soon enough.Morning came too soon. I was loathe to leave the warmth of my bag. But I awoke with a new resolve; I would get to Franklin today, no matter what. I could not imagine spending another evening of winter camping. Scotty echoed these sentiments. He slept not a wink, and much of his clothing and sleeping bag were soaked from condensation within his tent. We got off the trail at the first road we came to, expecting to call a shuttle to drive us to town. Unbeknownst to us, the road was closed for the season. A shuttle could not reach us. So we decided to walk to where a shuttle could. We walked and we walked. Eight plus miles we walked. We eventually reached a parking lot where several cars sit. Scotty pounced on the first person he saw in the lot and managed to persuade him to give us a ride into Franklin. The trail angel's name is Woody. He would not accept payment. That's how folks are here, giving and kind.We're staying at the Microtel hotel, where, to our surprise and delight, we found Wounded Knee. He was there recovering from a rather nasty infection in his nether region. Chafing is a common scourge among hikers. The day before he had hitchhiked into town and went directly to a hospital to get treatment. Lucky for him he already had a trail name.Tonight I sleep in a warm bed, with no worry of frozen toes or nose.
Date: 2017-03-16
From: Mooney Gap

To: Franklin
Miles today: 0.0
Weather: clear sky

Been off the trail for 24 hours now, kicking back in town, I fear I'm getting soft, losing that tough hiker grit. Pampered by a comfy bed with comfy pillows, three square meals cooked by someone other than me, and a toilet that has no cold air blowing from below and that actually flushes, my will to return to the snow covered hills weakens by the hour. But then I hear that still small voice which says, "You better not come home for at least a month after all that money you spent." And so I must trudge on; it's only been two weeks.Franklin is a gorgeous town. It is surrounded by mountains. The population is about 3800, so I'm told, half of which provides shuttle services for AT hikers, or so I believe. We (Wounded Knee, Scotty, and I) rode around town in Macon County Transit vans, for a dollar each, visiting outfitters and the post office. Not exactly riveting stuff, but we did get to see much of the town without having to walk. It didn't take long, though I vowed to myself that I would not submit until at least mile 750, but this morning I ate at McDonald's. No regrets. Their coffee is excellent.We also used our zero day to dry out our tents in the hotel bathroom. So much crud fell off the tents into the tub that it no longer drains. I did my best to clean up the mess of soggy leaves, mud, and twigs, but i know housekeeping is still going to have a conniption. It's time to skip town.
Date: 2017-03-17
From: Mooney Gap

To: Rock Gap Shelter
Miles today: 7.6
Weather: clear sky

Hanging over our heads this morning was the eight mile hike back to Mooney Gap using the forest service road, which was closed to vehicles by an iron barricade. Since we got off the trail at Mooney Gap, AT hiking convention has it that we resume from Mooney Gap. The eight miles, I figured, would take the morning to complete, leaving just enough energy to climb Albert Mt. (5250') and reach the next shelter. So we'd be walking almost 12 miles, with only the last four counting towards the AT. It was difficult getting excited about today's prospects. We hired a shuttle to bring us to the barricade from where we would start our Bataan march. Our driver was 45 minutes late. On the ride to our drop off point, he had difficulty staying in his lane, yawning profusely, fussing with a coffee mug on the dashboard, and taking calls on his cell. As we neared the drop off point, I noticed a white US Forest Service truck parked in a turnout on the side of the road, with someone in the driver's seat. "Let's ask him to open the barricade," I suggested, not expecting to be taken seriously. To my surprise, our driver did just that, saying something to the effect of hoping to show us a little trail magic. He shortly returned, "Good news, they are going to open the road today. If it's not open by now, it will be open soon."We checked, it was not yet open, so we returned to Franklin to kill time over a Kountry Kitchen breakfast. Afterwards, our shuttle driver brought us back to the drop off point, and lo the gate was open. I heard the chorus of angels singing "Hallelujah!" Our driver was able to bring us right to Mooney Gap, saving us eight miles of misery, allowing us to reserve our energy for Albert Mt., and enabling us to hike an additional three miles to the next shelter on fresh legs. As a hiker named Bluebird said after we told her this story, "The trail can do wonderful things"
Date: 2017-03-18
From: Rock Gap Shelter

To: Wayah Bald Mt Shelter 
Miles today: 14.8
Weather: scattered clouds

A tough day of hiking started off cold, in a thick fog, with blustery wind. The inclement weather was with us for much of the morning. The fog cleared in time for us to see the punishing inclines to the tops of both Siler Bald and Wayah Bald Mts. Bald means the peak is mostly rock, and often there's an impressive panoramic view from there. Don't ask me how a Bald differs from a Knob or from just your generic mountain.At the top of Wayah Bald is a stone firetower. The upper part of the tower was made of wood, but it burned during the forest fires of 2016, leaving only a single story of stone. The trees, earth, and bushes on the surrounding slopes are charred, and the smell of a recently dowsed campfire fills the air. Last Autumn this part of the trail was still closed to the public because the fires were still burning. The devastation is widespread; you see it everywhere you turn.We also bade farewell to Wounded Knee at the tower. He had received word that his grandfather was on life support and was making every effort to get back to Florida to be by his side. It was a somber moment. We will miss his company on the trail. He was a delightful companion. Sorry to see him go, but he made the right call.
Date: 2017-03-19
From: Wayah Bald Mt Shelter 

To: Wesser Bald Mt. Shelter 
Miles today: 10.6
Weather: snow

My number one goal for the day was to find the one spot in the Appalachian Mountains with cell service so I could call my mother on her 80th birthday. I have AT&T, and they provide lame coverage in the hills of GA and, from what I can tell thus far, in the hills of NC, too. Fortunately, the peak of Wesser Bald was high enough to give me two bars on my phone, just enough to get through. It made my day to hear her voice, probably more than it made hers. One of the downsides of being on the trail is that some important life events happen, and you miss out on them.One of the upsides, however, is the fantastic views with which the trail rewards you after you've huffed it one or two miles to the top of a Bald, or a Knob, or a generic mountain. Wesser Bald had a firetower at its peak, which, with wobbly knees I forced myself to climb, and from which I could see in all directions miles of forest covered foothills and mountains, many with fire-blackened slopes. In the distance, nestled between the hills, I could see the lake formed by Fontana Dam, still four to five hiking days away.
Date: 2017-03-20
From: Wesser Bald Mt. Shelter 

To: Nantahala Outdoor Center 
Miles today: 5.9

After three days and nights in the woods tramping through the mud and seeing your breath in your tent each morning, I find nothing motivates me more than the thought of reaching civilization. Getting to the NOC was today's quest, where Scotty and I hoped to find a luxiourous hotel with saunas and fine dining. Tonight we're holed up in a bunkhouse with 17 other inmates. It sits on a steep hill that requires technical skills to scale. It's easily 0.2 miles from the center of activity, meaning the laundromat, restaurant, and outfitters. Doesn't sound like much, but I've climbed that confounded hill three times, twice in crocs. Also the shower and bathroom are in a separate building, a considerable distance away, at least 36 steps downhill. I hope and pray I won't need the bathroom tonight, but my track record is not good. Oh, the best laid plans of mice and men.Nonetheless, the food here is warm, properly cooked, and doesn't have the consistency of cream of wheat as all my camp dinners do lately. And my bunk is level, unlike my tent floor the past three eves. If all goes well, I should sleep like a baby tonight, at least for the two or three hours before nature calls.
Date: 2017-03-21
From: Nantahala Outdoor Center 

To: Sassafras Gap Shelter 
Miles today: 6.7
Weather: overcast clouds

Today brought comfortable weather conditions for hiking, dry, sunny, and in the 60s. From the NOC we had a 5.8 mile, 3000 foot uphill climb of Swim Bald (its real name). Our objective of the day was to reach Sassafras Gap Shelter, though it only gives us 6.7 miles for the day. The next shelter was another 9 miles away, and we didn't have the legs to reach it, especially since the climb of Swim occurred at a crawl of about 1.5 mph. So we (Scotty and I) spent a leisurely afternoon at the shelter with Einstein, his brother Little Cheese, Pogo, and a husband-wife team of southbounders in their late 60s. Einstein hales from Denver and Little Cheese from DC. You can tell these guys are bros by the way they verbally abuse each other, all in jest of course. What a terrific way for them to build lifelong memories together.Pogo is a level-headed 21-year old from MD, who's taking a semester off to do something exciting. He will still be graduating on schedule and is contemplating grad school in ME for climate studies. He wants desperately to go to Antartica. How refreshing it is to come across a youngster with his shit together.The 60-plussers -- I did not get their names-- are from GA and in astonishing shape for being old foggies. (I hope they don't read this). The guy looks like Jack Lalane (is he still alive?).They are all sleeping in the shelter tonight, while I enjoy the privacy of my tent. Shelters are full of mice, so I avoid them like the plague. (Chortle, chortle.)The trail is about hiking, lots and loads of it, but it's also about the friendships and acquaintances made along the way. A t-storm is rolling in, so it's time to duck inside my sleeping bag and ride out the storm. I'm situated in a gap, which is low terrain between high mountains, so I'm confident I'll be around to add another journal entry tomorrow.
Date: 2017-03-22
From: Sassafras Gap Shelter 

To: Cody Gap
Miles today: 12.0
Weather: clear sky

It was not an extraordinary thunderstorm, as thunderstorms go, except last night I slept, or tried to sleep, though it. My tent was pitched low in a ravine amidst steep mountainsides filled with tall trees, so I slid into my sleeping bag assured I was in about as safe a place as I was going to find. My bravado however wilted with each blinding flash. Its brightness pierced even closed eyelids. The crack and roll and echo of the thunder was deafening, vibrating the thin walls of my tent, even my teeth, and yet not threatening. I convinced myself that the monstrous sound was harmless. It was on those occasions when the flash of light and sound came together that I winced in my bag and whispered a prayer of thanks. I could not fall asleep until the end of the light show. All the while a heavy rain fell. Rain. There's nothing like camping in the rain. The rain had stopped when Scotty and I broke camp. The storm had brought cold air with it. We pushed ourselves 12 miles to reach Cody Gap so that we would have a manageable hike the next day into Fontana, where we had reservations at the Lodge. The hike was tough. We ascended what's called "Jacob's Ladder", 0.6 miles of directly up, with no switchbacks. I undrrstand the architect of this section of trail is a direct descendant of the Marquis De Sade.After reaching the campsite I hobbled like a 90-year old for another 0.4 miles (round trip) to resupply water. Little Cheese, Einstein, 8-Track turned up later, setting up their tents wherever a somewhat flat space could be found. We sat around a cold firepit eating our chow and spooking ourselves with stories of bears-gone-wild. We all hung bear bags that night. Then the cold drove us into our tents. I was in the sack an hour before hiker midnight (8 p.m.); it was still daylight. The tent has become my sanctuary, where I find safety, warmth, and privacy. Tomorrow it's on to Fontana.
Date: 2017-03-23
From: Cody Gap

To: Fontana AT Crossing
Miles today: 8.7
Weather: clear sky

On my way from Cody Gap to Fontana Dam I took my second tumble on the ground. My first fall, which took place several days ago, was entirely unremarkable. It was a minor slip in the mud affair. Both feet slipped from under me, and I fell to my hands and knees. Aside from muddied pants and hands, I brushed off the event. It was no big deal. Really.My second fall was a more dramatic affair and happened because of a momentary lack of focus. I was making heady progress towards Fontana Dam, moving downhill at a good clip, when I thought to check the time. My cellphone, which is my timepiece,is in my front right pants pocket. To free my right hand to get at it, I went to transfer my hiking pole in my right hand to the left, while still walking. Instead of a smooth, seamless transfer, the pole bit into the earth just in front of my left leg. The pole stopped the leg mid-stride, and I was airborne. Luckily, my landing was a relatively soft bed of dead leaves and a few small stones. While I was lying on the ground, eye level with the turf, my backpack tried to climb over my head because of its momentum, and my hiking pole launched a half-dozen feet. My first impulse was to look around to see if anyone noticed. No witnesses -- good. Then I did a quick body scan. No pain -- that's good, too. I got off easy, this time. Lesson: if I don't want there to be a next time, don't try to walk and chew gum at the same time. I hope this lesson sticks.
Date: 2017-03-24
From: Fontana AT Crossing

To: Fontana Dam Lodge
Miles today: 0.0
Weather: clear sky

Took the day off from traipsing through the countryside, using the free time to rest the muscles, fill the belly, and allow the knees to return to their unenflamed state. We have the Great Smoky Mountains ahead, standing between us and our third state, TN, and the 200 mile mark. If all goes according to plan we'll be through the national park, a 70-mile trek,in 5-6 days. We're carrying enough food to last a week, which accounts for about 12 to 14 lbs of weight, easily a third of the total weight of the pack. Fortunately as we eat the pack grows lighter. The Fontana Lodge at which we find ourselves is part of a complex of several buildings. The grounds include tennis courts, volleyball, horseshoes, multiple swimming pools, baseball field, and a children's playground. Most of the resort is closed at this time, it being too early in the season. It strikes me as a fun place to bring a family for a summer vacation. The Lodge treats thru-hikers well, giving us reduced rates, having on-site resupply store and an all-important laundromat. I have come to appreciate such simple pleasures. Phone reception at the Fontana Lodge is non-existent for AT&T subscribers, and I don't expect it to improve when we're in the clouds. I will update the journal at my earliest opportunity. As for now, I will sleep well tonight at this splendid Lodge and leave the problem of climbing into the Smokies to tomorrow's guy.
Date: 2017-03-25
From: Fontana AT Crossing

To: Mollies Ridge Shelter
Miles today: 12.6
Weather: clear sky

The climb into the Smokies is tough. It's 10 miles of steady uphill grunting from Fontana Dam to the Mollies Ridge Shelter. I prepped for it with the "Hungry Hiker" special at the Lodge's restaurant. The usual breakfast fare, but lots of it. The first 8 miles of the hike went well enough. The trail took us over the top of Fontana Dam. The water level was about 25 feet below the high watermark. Couldn't tell you if it's the result of water control or drought. Another highlight was the Shuckstack firetower. It provided an unequaled panoramic view of the region, but I was not comfortable climbing it. The stairs were rickety, a couple of side railings were missing, and the viewing platform was made of warped, moldy, and thin plywood, some of which was torn up. I did not trust it could support my weight, so I walked on the perimeter where I figured beams would be located underneath. Frankly, the tower should be closed to the public. It's a four-story high accident waiting to happen.Beyond this point, the hike gradually took a difficult turn. I had just eaten a peanut butter fajita that just didn't sit right. Then I became insatiably thirsty. I drank the last of my wster. My feet were like lead. I moved like a tortoise. My stomach ached, which I attributed to a tight waist strap of the backpack. The few miles left to reach the shelter seemed interminable. Another hiker named Tumbleweed saw me struggling and gave me his extra water. I made it to the Shelter exhausted and was greeted immediately by a ridge runner. His first words to me were "There's a stomach bug going around."The wind on the ridge was blowing strong, and I had difficulty setting up my tent, my energy was so depleted. Scotty gave me an assist. I crawled inside and laid down, hoping to recover strength. I was drained. Scotty came by after a few minutes and gave me some water, suggesting I eat. I had no appetite, but I forced myself, and the smell of the food nauseated me. All I wanted to do was sleep, though it was scarcely 7 p.m. I dragged myself out of the tent to hang my bear bag and filter water, and crawled back to the tent for the night. But it was a restless sleep. My stomach grumbled all night long and the taste of that peanut butter eaten hours ago kept revisiting me. And yet I kept denying to myself that I had the bug. Tomorrow will tell.
Date: 2017-03-26
From: Mollies Ridge Shelter

To: Russell Field Shelter 
Miles today: 3.1
Weather: overcast clouds

The desire to stay all day in my sleeping bag was overwheming. It rained throughout the night, and the wind still blew hard through the treetops. In my short time on the trail I've learned that camping anywhere with the word ridge in its name is going to be windy. As I lay in my bag I could not decide whether to take the day off from hiking or push on to the next shelter as planned. As though in answer to my question, I got an urge of a different type suggesting I get out of my tent, quickly.They say you haven't walked the Appalachian Trail until you've shat your pants. Well, today I've walked the trail. I also knew definitively that I had the stomach bug. I saught advice from the ridge runner who said most people who get the bug leave the trail until they recover. He suggested I return to Fontana. I wanted nothing of that, Fontana being 12 miles in the wrong direction, and a hellacious climb when coming back. So he then proposed I go up to the next shelter and take a series of side trails down to the Cades Cove campground. I was concerned about phone reception there, but he assured me personnel at the ranger station could call a shuttle for me.The path to Russell Field Shelter was an easy hike, thank God, because my stomach felt like the day after doing 500 situps. The side trail supposedly branched off from the shelter, but I had difficulty finding it. At that moment a hiker came out of the shelter and started an idle chitchat. He had just come up from Cades Cove using the side trail, and he showed me where it was. Thank God for little favors.The side trails to the campground were easy hiking, predominantly downhill. My trouble was the frequent urge to race behind a tree. How fortuitous it was that I had just borrowed a whole roll of toilet paper from the Lodge. Not going to lie, but after several hours of this I started thinking about how nice it would be to be back in Massachusetts. The trail crisscrossed a large stream numerous times. Under different circumstances, I might have found the trail to be downright beautiful. But my every thought was focused on keeping my butt cheeks watertight. At last I reached the campground. Of course the ranger station is at the farthest end of the park. And of course the restrooms are closed, although the place is full of picnickers.At the Ranger Station, the ranger behind the counter said "I know why you're here. You're sick. Don't come any closer." She called a shuttle service for me, and, after I agreed to pay the extortionary rate, she said the shuttle would be here in 90 minutes. After thanking her and after finding an open restroom, I laid out my foam mat against a large tree, took off my boots, set my face to the sun, and in its warmth took a snooze. Life is good, after all.
Date: 2017-03-27
From: Russell Field Shelter 

To: Townsend, Tn
Miles today: 0.0

My shuttle brought me to Townsend, instead of Gatlinburg, as originally intended, because it is much closer to the National Park. It saved me about 30 minutes of sitting in the car, an important consideration when one's chief concern is the nearest bathroom, but it saved not one red nickel. I took a no-frills room at the Tally-ho, and, to my suprise, learned that a tub is a frill. Dashed were my plans to do a two-hour muscle-relaxing soaker. I did sleep soundly, and later tested, and passed with flying colors, my intestinal fortitude with a brunch consisting of two bananas, a loaf of french bread, a box of Cheerios (dry), and a bottle of Gatorade. Yum, yum. I think tonight's dinner menu is calling for much of the same.Townsend is a small, quiet town, a nice place to rehabilitate, one street light, an IGA, and several river tubing shops. The temperature has been magnificent, in the 70s, and the birds have not stopped singing since sunup. But I'm anxious to get back on the trail. I am staying here at the Inn for one more night, but will be calling for a shuttle for tomorrow morning to take me back to Cades Cove. I dont feel 100 percent, but I'm no longer traumatized by being far from a bathroom. Another night's good sleep should do me good.
Date: 2017-03-28
From: Russell Field Shelter 

To: Derrick Knob Shelter
Miles today: 8.9
Weather: moderate rain

My rehabilitation mostly over - not quite 100 % - I set about returning to the trail. Michael Talley, the proprietor of the Talley-ho Inn, offered to drive me back to the Anthony Creek trailhead, where I had emerged a beaten man just two days earlier. He overheard me asking the woman behind the front desk if she knew of any local shuttles. I could see the shock and pity on his face when I told him I had paid 85 bucks to the Walk in the Woods shuttle service to be driven 9 miles to his Inn. I've paid Boston cabbies less to travel 30 miles. I said I would pay him any amount less than 85 dollars. His price: free. I could not thank him enough. The rest did me well. My legs felt strong and I was able to reach Derrick Knob shelter by 7 p.m., an hour before sundown. I walked 14 miles total, but only 8.9 of them counted for the AT. Along the way I saw so many fat grey squirrels I decided to take them off my endangered species list. I will report no more of such sightings. I also climbed to the peak of Rocky Top, the entire way singing, "Rocky Top you'll always be, home sweet home to me. Good ole Rocky Top, Rocky Top Tennessee."Home sweet home is actually Massachusetts, but it will still be some time before I sing that verse.