Date: 2012-01-30
From: Tri Corner Knob Shelter

To: I-40 & AT
Miles today: 17.6

The temperatures overnight were, in fact, very cold, but I slept well. I had decided that I would try to make it out of the park today. If the Trail stayed as nice as it had been yesterday I should be able to do it. So I was up before the chill dawn making breakfast and packing. At first light I set off. The Trail was mostly easy and I made good time. As I walked I pondered camping at below freezing temperatures. I've found that many things change at that point. It's not just a matter of keeping yourself warm and fed and hydrated to fend off hypothermia. It also becomes a matter of taking care of your gear. I offer the following Musings on When Stuff Freezes. It's not intended to provide answers; there are plenty of wonderful, informative sites that can do that. It's not intended as a whining session; I knew what I was in for when I started. It's just some observations. So when it gets cold enough - Aquamira water treatment chemicals can freeze. That can lead to additional problems. Mechanical water filters that freeze are rendered useless when the expanding ice breaks the filter. Water in hydration bladders, hoses and bite valves freeze. Water in water bottles freezes, leaving one with a large block of ice and no bottle to carry water in. Canister fuel doesn't work well. Alcohol stoves don't work well. Boot laces freeze (in my case, in double knots). Boots freeze in weird, non-foot-conforming shapes. Frozen socks make a great, satisfying thunk when smacked against a shelter floor. Foil packs of tuna-cicles, anyone? Frozen gloves are hard to put on. One way to eat a frozen meal "bar" is to stick one end in your mouth until that part warms up enough to break off a piece. Thinking about all this amused me as I walked. Eventually I arrived for lunch at Cosby's Knob Shelter. I took a break in the sunshine and relaxed for a bit. I still had quite aways to go, but I'm trying to learn that sometimes it's better to stop and rest for a bit, rather than just pushing on. I saw a group of 4 or 5 hikers around Mt Cramerer, but they didn't stop to chat, so I don't know where they were going. At some point on the long, long pounding downhill, my feet and knees began to complain, but I hurried on, trying to ignore them. I thought I was walking along fairly briskly. Then I heard a sound behind me. I turned to discover a young guy all in black coming down the Trail, too. I stepped aside, and he loped past me with a quick greeting. He had on a small pack, probably a hydration pack, and was running the trail. I tried to use him as inspiration and quickened my steps. But by the time I got to the next sweeping turn down the mountain, he was gone. Out of sight. Man, he made it look so easy against my plodding pace. By the time I reached Davenport Gap Shelter, the feet and knees weren't just complaining, but had taken to howling. The legs were stiffening up, and the feet felt really beat up. I probably should have just stopped, but by this time I was set on getting all the way through the park. I finally reached the gap and went up and over the little ridge that is between Davenport Gap and the river. There I found that the Trail follows a stream down to the road by the river, but there are, what, 5 water crossings to get there. Most were easy, but the last one was a little scary for me as it had a steep drop on one side. It was almost sunset when I reached the road. I could see the traffic on I-40 above me and the hillside I would have to climb beyond. Since I'm so early in the season I decided I should call to Standing Bear Hostel to make sure someone was there and that they were open. I didn't want to arrive after dark with no plan in case they weren't open. Curtis answered the phone and assured me that they were open and that I was only a mile from the hostel. Then he offered to come pick me up, and I could cover the missed mile in the morning. It didn't take any arm-twisting to take him up on his offer. I was exhausted, and my feet were really hurting. I sat limply for the few minutes it took for Curtis to drive down and was so relieved to get into his minivan. In no time at all I was installed in the bunkroom. There is a woodstove and Curtis brought in some nice oak for burning. Shortly I had a pleasant blaze going to warm up the room and went off to take a hot shower and then make some dinner in the hiker kitchen, so much easier with running water and a gas stove. As expected, I was alone in the bunkroom. I settled in, glad for the warmth of the stove. The room wasn't truly warm, but the fire took off the chill. My sleeping bag did the rest and I was toasty for the night. The throbbing of my feet and knees made sleep a little difficult, but some ibuprofen helped with that. Day 6 of the Smokys was over. So was my time in the park. I had been really intimidated by the prospect. The height of the mountains, the weather issues, etc. The isolation and lack of bailout points had concerned me. I don't think there's anywhere else on the Trail until I get to the White Mountains in New Hampshire where road crossings are so far apart. I felt very lucky that the weather hadn't been worse. The last two days had been lovely and good hiking. Still... I was glad to have the Smokys behind me.