Date: 2017-10-16
From: Missy's mountain house

To: Overmountain shelter
Miles today: 9.2
Weather: moderate rain

"So, North Carolina," I said, trying to conjure up the voice of a James Bond villain. "We meet again."Nobody was there to hear me but I'd been waiting for this moment for more than four months. And, in a sense, I'd actually waited for it for 53 years.Back in 1964, when I was two years old, my parents took me and my three older siblings on a seventh-month around the world trip while my father took a research sabbatical from his job. I remember none of this, unsurprisingly, and the only lasting impact it had on me was that in Raleigh, North Carolina, I was jumping up and down on a bed and managed to swan-dive into the bedhead, leading to an anxious moments for my mother, who had to spend the night waking me every hour to see if my pupils were dilating as a way of assessing potential brain damage.I still have the scar.But for 53 years, North Carolina and I have coexisted without crossing paths. Until today, when after a long and steady climb I reached Doll Flats, a campsite straddling the ridge and featuring a sign that showed that this was the watershed that formed the border between Tennessee and North Carolina. Fortunately there were no beds to jump on or fall off. I suspected falling off my Thermarest at camp later wouldn't have the same effect as on that fateful day in 1964.The strenuous 2800ft climb was almost welcome because the storm front that had delivered rain overnght and into this morning had also brought with it another blast of chilled air. Fortunately the overnight rain eased off while we were being driven back to the trail by Brian, picking up Dirt along the way, but this was a cold-ass day of a kind that I suspect is going to become the norm.If I thought it was cold on the climb up through the forest from the highway, a helpful recalibration was provided by emerging from the treeline soon after. The strongest winds we'd encountered so far on the trip added windchill to the already cold temperatures and the high humidity meant it felt even colder. Cold-but-damp is an awkward combination to dress for but it's also the default weather in New Zealand so it was a familiar challenge. Everyone I met was rugged up in rain jackets but I opted for a windstopper fleece vest and a strategy of not stopping, and it worked perfectly.It helped that this was some of the most scenic trail in a very long time, despite the distinctly less-than-poetic name of Big Hump mountain. From the top, we could see that our progress would be mostly along balds, with occasional patches of forest in between. Nice trail has always had an effect of adding an extra gear to my performance and that was the case here.Having magnificent views in all directions certainly added a sense of enjoyment to the process and more than compensated for the lack of shelter from the freezing gales. It also showed how viewless so much of the AT has been since New Hampshire.The goal was Overmountain shelter, an old barn made available to hikers and in a spectacularly beautiful site nestled in a sheltered corner of the range.This is likely to be our coldest night yet, which ought to be the first real test of the thermal liner and bivy bag I've been carrying since Damascus. It was so cold, I immediately jumped into my sleeping bag and am cooking from that. OK and Happy Feet were already here and over the course of the next hour the rest of Team KRT rocked up to the barn too.Life is good.AT fact of the day: You can tell this is home turf for southern Virginia native Dirt, who spent last night with a college friend and has arranged to meet another friend tomorrow and then yet others the night after. And when she arrived at the barn today, she realised she knew one of the section hikers present. The South is a small world...