Date: 2003-04-24
From: Hot Springs

To: A Campsite somewhere 
Miles today: 8.3

This morning was spent in town, mailing stuff from the Post Office, getting one or two things at the outfitters, and finally calling my cousins, Ron and Mary Reever, in Ocala, Florida. We had a good long conversation, it turned out to be Ron's birthday, and I at long last explained why a one-man Akto tent had been delivered to them at the start of our hike. They had already worked out what was going on. In the outfitters, we met "Sheepstuff" along with her husband, John. She was delightful as usual, but is having knee problems. She has enlisted her husband's help to "slack-pack" one or two of the next sections of the AT. (i.e. John will take her pack to a forward location, while "Sheepstuff" still puts the miles in and passes all the white blazes). Before leaving the store, my last act was to weigh myself on the scales - 11lbs lost since I started. Verity has lost two. Neither of us is best pleased. She wants to lose weight, and I can't afford to. About 1pm we were off, over the bridge spanning the French Broad, and then into a very stiff climb back into the hills. Soon we had commanding overlooks of the river and town, although nearly always through dense thickets of trees. After an hour, the gradient flattened out a lot, though still generally upwards, the forest thinned out somewhat, and we began to walk through patches of meadow. A USFS plaque told us tobacco had once been grown on this land (presumably until it was completely worked out) but was now being protected as an area for wild turkey and grouse to breed.      A short distance on, the gradient steepened again as we entered a narrow ravine. Near the top was a concrete dam, not large, perhaps about 20 feet high. Sufficient, as it turned out, to support a sizeable pond with a plentiful supply of good-sized fish. The trail ran along the left hand side of the pond, was partially shaded, with a wooden bench about half-way along. Here, a charming, softly-spoken thru' hiker called "Bluebird" had found the perfect spot for her afternoon break. We carried on, passing up through the "Avenue of the Bees". This was a thirty yard corridor made by lines of white-flowering trees, just past full bloom, and the main attraction for what seemed like a thousand bees. The collective buzzing was quite a sound and, combined with the heavy scent of the trees, made it a remarkable place to walk through. We weren't inclined to stand around though.   On a little further, we crossed a track road winding steeply uphill, and found a sunny stretch where we settled down for our own afternoon break. While we sat, the sounds of a banjo being picked drifted down on the soft, warm breeze, just audible to us for a minute at a time then gone as the wind direction briefly changed. I have colleagues who disparage the banjo, but, at this particular time and place, it was just perfect. The rest of the day was an uneventful plod, a modest 8.3 miles in the afternoon to reach a campsite by Rich Mountain Firetower. One tent was there already, leaving plenty of space for "Dimple Rock", "Wrong Way", "Two Speeds", "The Chafe Master" and ourselves. The tent belonged to a young Canadian couple, "Undetermined" and "Sumac", from Prince Edward Island. It turned out that he is a Campbell, while she is SUe MACkenzie (from which her trail name is derived). She has visited Scotland; her father has done so several times, including one year to walk the West Highland Way. A good campfire discussion ensued before "hiker midnight"(i.e. 9pm)when we all retired.