Date: 2017-10-24
From: Little Laurel shelter

To: Hot Springs, NC
Miles today: 15.9
Weather: overcast clouds

"Don't take the shortcut trail.""Don't come down Roundhouse Ridge trail.""I'm seriously not kidding."These were the series of messages I received from Sweetblood's crew, who'd gone ahead on the path of the old AT, which was four miles shorter than the current trail but was reputed to be a little overgrown. As they'd headed off, they said they'd let us know what it was like and whether it was worth doing.And she did indeed let me know via a series of messages at the time -- but which I received only AFTER I'd completed the shortcut trail and walked into Hot Springs.Such are the perils of failing to follow the white blazes that mark the official AT, which is why hiking this trail is called whiteblazing. This in turn has led to a series of related terms: blueblazing for following non-official routes that are marked in blue; yellowblazing for using roads to bypass sections of trail; and even pinkblazing for opting to, um, pursue romantic options in the form of another hiker.In this tradition and because the AT had once gone this way, we'd dubbed today's route as retroblazing, which made us all feel better about shortcutting.Considering the strength of yesterday's tempest, today dawned with calm blue skies as if nothing had ever happened. Only the number of branches and leaves covering the trail ahead provided corroboration. An hour or so after I left the shelter, I reached Log Cabin Road just as some of those we'd seen yesterday -- Halfway, Turtle Trax and a couple of section hiking women -- were hiking back up from Hemlock Hollow hostel. Given that they'd soaked themselves in yesterday's storm and had to spend money to get dry again, our decision to take a shelter zero was looking pretty good. That impression was bolstered when they gave a very lukewarm verdict on the dilapidated hostel, with lots of things in poor repair but with the key parts -- the ability to get warm and dry again -- functioning properly.We had a short standoff as I prompted the others to head on because, having become accustomed to always being the slowest member of Team KRT, it took a while to realise that of the five of us standing there, the other four were even slower than me.After a couple of grunty climbs -- the Carolinas Mountain Club didn't seem to believe in switchbacks -- I reached the shelter and then followed the trail as it undulated along a ridgeline towards a fire tower. Just as I started the final climb, I encountered a young guy with a truly enormous backpack stuffed to overflowing and who was carrying even more stuff in a bag in his left hand and then his sleeping bag in his right. It was quite a sight.He explained how he'd got completely soaked yesterday and was out on the trail because he'd just quit university "because it's for losers". He also asserted in defence of quitting school that he'd "made millions" -- of mistakes, I suspected -- and aimed to hike north for as long as it was working out for him. I suspect of the millions, he was in the process of making one more but opted instead to keep that observation to myself and to give some platitudinously supportive comment instead. I was still mulling this when I reached the turnoff to the retroblazing trail. Apart from sending me a message, the others said if they backed off the route, they'd leave crossed sticks or something similar to say it wasn't feasible. At least five of them had gone this way but there was no such indication so I followed them.What followed next was the classic example of the psychology behind why people stick with bad decisions. The trail started off being as good as the main AT and slowly deteriorated but in time it became seriously overgrown when it entered a burned area where there was lots of shrubby regrowth because of the absence of tall trees taking the sun. Then a huge downed tree lying lengthways along the trail a few miles after the turnoff prompted those who had gone this way to head off in two directions. Happy Feet had left a note for me saying that Sweetblood and Sriracha had headed left, straight down towards Hot Springs, but she and OK were heading right.Heading left was what prompted Sweetblood's later phone messages to me. Going right seemed most likely to be the correct way -- and some old and faded white blazes later showed that was accurate.Our approach was familiar to anyone who's made a bad property investment or believed in letters from Nigerian princes, is that we'd already invested too much to back out and retrace our steps back to the turnoff. I remember thinking to myself: "How bad can the rest of the trail be?" And of course, the consequence of (a) the amount of time and energy I'd already invested, (b) the distance back to the real AT, and (c) the teasingly close proximity to where the old AT emerged onto a road ensured that the final mile or so was the worst bit of all.In truth it was doable, if not particularly enjoyable, but with the wisdom of hindsight, the smart decision would have been to take the longer real AT route. Now, if only I'd been warned!Soon I was crossing the French Broad River -- it was brown, roiling and swollen, just to prove that yesterday's storm was no figment of our collective imaginations -- then walking down the main street of Hot Springs. This was a very pleasant town and that impression was bolstered when I discovered the outfitter offered thru-hikers a free computer terminal to book and print their Great Smoky Mountains National Park permits. I then found a restaurant selling awesome food that was awesomely stodgy even by the standards of the South and then found the others at Laughing Heart hostel.2am was there, having hiked in the previous evening in the rain and then opted to zero, along with Boss, Sweets, Bangles, Counselor and Tea Time, who all hiked in today.Soon we'd all resupplied and showered, after which the sobo mega bubble met up again to have dinner at a bar/restaurant with a singer then went for a hot tub from the town's eponymous springs, which were warm enough to keep us toasty as we wandered back through the streets of Hot Springs on a night that was clear and bitterly cold.Life is very good.AT fact of the day: Also in town was Vietnam Vet, which was something of a surprise given he should have been at least a day behind us. It turned out that he too seemed to be a manifestation of that subset of AT hikers who only pretend to hike. The presence of his car key on his belt -- which had confused me when I'd spotted it way back at Clyde Smith shelter, at which time he said it was so he could get into his car at home in Maryland if nobody was present when he returned from the trail -- now made more sense. This fake-hiker thing is a very puzzling phenomenon of this trail...