Date: 2019-04-09
From: Davenport Gap shelter

To: Max Patch summit
Miles today: 17.1
Weather: clear sky

What a storm last night! Must have had close to two inches of rain. It came in waves throughout the night, pounding against the metal roof of the shelter like a machine gun just two feet from my head. It peters out as the sun rises but will shower a couple more times before 10. Tin Can and Food Truck help me get my bear bag line out of the tree it caught in last night. They hold the small tree down to the ground Wile E. Coyote style while I work out the knots, then release it like a catapult.I'm one of the last out. It's only a mile to the end of the Smokies, and four miles to Standing Bear Farm Hostel. I cross a flooding stream, tributary of the Pigeon River, four or five times, each time finding some unorthodox way to keep from submerging my feet. The last crossing I walk across a tricky wet log over a six foot falls and precariously support myself with one extended trekking pole against the rock face. Made it but not recommended!Everyone from the shelter is headed to the hostel to resupply and dry out but Crusher. A local to western North Carolina, she's getting off for a few days at Max Patch to attend her brother's Eagle scout court of honor. Congrats to him!Standing Bear is up a gravel road in a sunny hollow with a creek running through. It has numerous small buildings which are open air or have porches and gives the impression of a turn-of-the-century Appalachian village. There is a bunkhouse and two cabins: the two-story Treehouse, and one built over the creek. Boston Jack, with a huge white beard, greets me and gives me the tour. He's one of many old-timers helping out the owner, Maria. I spend four hours here, showering (and washing my shirt with me), resupplying, recharging my phone, drying out my tent on the second-floor pulley clotheslines, laying my socks and other wet stuff in the sun, writing postcards, and of course eating. It starts with a homemade breakfast burrito, and for lunch a cheeseburger platter with potato mash and green beans. Two meals, a shower, resupply and four drinks, only 27 bucks! I also collect pictures of some of the people in my bubble as we sit around the fire circle, so today is Picture Day.I call home and talk with Sara and the kids. They spent the weekend on a scout service project, visited a fish hatchery, and went on a confirmation retreat. They got my package and named the stuffed bears Barney and Beary. I regaled them with my story of the wild boar. I love hearing their voices and miss them everyday. But I will see them soon.There's a doctor's scale on the porch and I weigh myself. Down 9 pounds from the start to 174. Closer to fighting weight. When I summited Katahdin in 2017 I was 15 pounds lighter, so I have plenty of untapped calories stored.In the kitchen I meet El Dorado, a young blond muscled guy with tattoos, who's kept to himself. Later I learn from Tiny that El Dorado finished the four pound burger at the fifties diner in Franklin! It's 35 bucks, or free if you finish it. He was the first to do it. He asked for a bucket near the end, but didn't need it.Another new hiker is a young bearded guy named Mom. He's been here for 5 days waiting for a friend to catch up, but is leaving today.Three guys drive in, former thruhikers doing trail magic in the area - Woodpile, Wet Sticks, and Crazy Korean. They stopped by our shelter yesterday afternoon with oranges and cowtails. Woodpile looks really familiar. He hiked in 2017 like me. I decide we must have met in New Hampshire.Bubbles, Kiwi, Scrub-a-Dub and Scarecrow are staying at the hostel, the latter two waiting to be reunited with their dog Riggins who wasn't allowed in the Smokies. The rest of us are moving on.On the way up the 2500 foot climb I meet Poetic Wanderer. He just got on at Davenport Gap and is going to Vermont. His blog/channel is advertised on his T-shirt. The next morning I hear he skeeved out the rest of the shelter by sharpening a wooden tent stake with a large knife and talking about unsolved murders. Weird guy.Most of the crowd, including Clammy, UNICEF, and Fast Lane, stop seven miles in at the first shelter. They need a short day after pulling back-to-back twenties. It's a small but cozy shelter and not crowded, but Fast Lane has put into my head the idea of cowboy camping on Max Patch, a famous bald six miles away. No one else is game. I push on anyway. Adventure doesn't seek itself! I run into Morph and Womble. Morph left his expensive baselayer shirt at the hostel and is clearly bummed out. I realize I have Scrub-a-Dub's number so I contact him and he agrees to bring it to Hot Springs.After more rolling ridge I climb up to Max Patch as the sun dips toward the mountains. First I see a film crew, with a boom mike, following a man carrying someone on his back in front of the sunset. As I climb I see a family playing frisbee, a bunch of tents, a photography shoot, and a bunch of hikers calling to me. It's Woodpile, Crazy Korean, and Wet Sticks with four thruhikers, grilling hot dogs and drinking beers. Wet Sticks is whooping it up as the sun starts to set. Someone from the film crew comes over to ask for quiet so they can get audio. The photography shoot features a guy in a Blue Man suit. They take pictures in different color suits at various locations as an art project. The crew joins us for a beer when they're done.The sky cleared as I hiked up and now we are treated to a gorgeous sunset over the Smokies and foothills of Tennessee. The Bald is large and completely treeless offering a full circle view of mountains in every direction.The thruhikers are new to me: Blue Eyes, a thirty-ish guy with unusually light blue eyes; Tripod, who carried a third trekking pole when his buddy Sandman fell and broke his other one and threw it in the woods (he was castigated by a ranger who didn't seem as concerned about possible injury); Sea Legs, a part-time Coloradan who owns a 36-ft sailboat; and Tiny, a fiftyish guy from Doylestown, PA who quit his job, talked to his wife, and hit the trail three weeks later.Crazy Korean is a military brat whose mom is Korean. His parents opened a hair products shop aimed at blacks in Alabama. Now he works winters matching subcontractors with construction projects making good money to hike the rest of the year. Wet Sticks is a local and the wild man of the bunch. He was the last to hike out of a local wild fire in 2016 and got all over the local news with a story about rescuing baby rabbits. Guardian of the Vortex also shows up. He owns Rattle River hostel in Gorham, NH, finished the AT in 2016, and has been loafing around Central America during the off-season.I finally recognize Woodpile. Not only did I meet him in 2017 but we actually summited Katahdin together! Along with Second Workout, Squatch, and many others. So another crazy coincidence to add to my AT collection.I drink a little too much but we have a great time and still turn in around 9. The stars are out as the crescent moon sets so I leave the tent fly off.Fantastic day!