morvasaaty/AppalachianTrail-LD-Hikers-Blogs-and-Weather-20-years huggingface dataset:
Date: 2016-04-10
From: Mollies Ridge Shelter

To: Silers Bald Shelter
Miles today: 17.5
Weather: clear sky

The night before was brutal. The wind was strong enough to find its way through my tent fabric, constantly blowing the tarp off my sleeping bag, and filling everything with sharp, icy claws. After I felt the Sun through the sleeping bag, I gathered everything and started hiking with the intention of getting to Hot Springs by the 15th, meaning a nearly 20-mile average until then.The Trail takes me through high-altitude fields and balds. The trees were sparse enough to let mottled sunlight drench the grass and rocks, and few enough to let every angle have a view into the draws and valleys below. The wildlife was also much more active with deer and several species of squirrel and bird making a near-constant rustle through the leaf litter. The day was warm enough to keep the shivers away, but cool enough to enjoy the climbs without getting sopped in sweat.The grade of path through the Smokies has been fantastic. There haven't been too dramatic of climbs or descents, and when there's any, it's but a slight lilt. If it continues like this, I'll absolutely fly through this park. At the shelter, a group of veterans from different branches were all gathered seemingly by chance. Two were doing a backpacking circuit, and one was a thru-hiker, and another was just "out here". Despite the rising wind and failing light, we talked for a while, once again surpring me how well this Trail brings people together.
Date: 2016-04-11
From: Silers Bald Shelter

To: Pecks Corner Shelter
Miles today: 22.7
Weather: scattered clouds

This was by far the most beautiful day on the Trail, and while I've had longer days of walking, it's the most miles I've done that've counted. It was the first true 20-miler.Silers Bald (the second of its name) offered the last bit of deciduous forest, with a ground covering of grass-like plants and white flowers. The view from the top was directed at the upcoming behemoth: Clingman's Dome, the highest point on the AT. While the climb up was well-graded, either a sudden bout of altitude sickness (odd considering this isn't above 7000 feet, and that if it were, I would be acclimatized by now), or more likely a severe lack of nutrients struck hard. I wasn't exactly winded, but my legs didn't want to follow my brain's commands and I was quite light-headed. I shoved myself forward, enjoyed the view from the pinnacle's tower, and continued on to Newfound Gap.Along the way, I was hearing rumors of Trail Magic at the Gap, but was thoroughly disappointed. The crew had torn down and left an hour before my arrival. I cooked a late lunch, watched a van pull up and hand out Powerades, but decided against begging (In hindsight, I think the guy wanted to give me one.)I knew it would be a late day, as I was intending on hiking as far as I did, but I didn't expect an evening as I had. The cloud cover thickened as the Sun went down, giving the already striking, vertigo-inducing views of the northern half an ominous atmosphere. The last ten miles rode a ridgeline with some spots having a steep dropoff within a few feet from either side of the slim pathway. Adding to the nightmarish effect, were extremely heavy winds, swaying the massive pines and firs, and nearly blowing me off the cliff several times.The last hour and a half found me in the pitch darkness save for the twinkling lights of Gatlinburg and Pigeon Forge to my left. It was cold, and if not for beauty, quite intimidating.
Date: 2016-04-12
From: Pecks Corner Shelter

To: Pecks Corner Shelter
Miles today: 0.0
Weather: overcast clouds

I had a complete loss of motivation. The rain soaked through parts of this cheap, scavenged tent, my right foot is once again swollen and pained, and a need for protein has left me in a severly weakened state.Intending on leaving by mid-day, I instead decided to stay through the afternoon...and evening...and night. The rain continues, and I can't find the initial fuse that could set me off down the Trail. To meet Julie in Hot Springs by the 15th , another bout of yellow-blazing will be necessary.
Date: 2016-04-13
From: Pecks Corner Shelter

To: Davenport Gap Shelter
Miles today: 20.0
Weather: clear sky

After sitting 36 hours in a cheap tent in a truly depressed state--headache, extreme fatigue, complete lack of emotion--I finally rise late in the morning. The shelter and surrounding tentsites are empty, leaving me alone with my regrets and my now-internalized pain.The day was easily subdivided by the next two shelters, splitting the day into thirds. At the first one, I indulge myself on two packs of ramen with a healthy dose of olive oil mixed in (well...not really mixed in, more of floating atop). My energy slowly returned, and by the second shelter, I was in a good enough mood to crack jokes with the gathering of hikers.The last third saw the sun set on me an hour before I finished for the day. Before that happened, though, some movement caught my eye up the trail. At first, I thought it a fawn by its silence, until I truly focused on it. My next thought was a cub, which sent my parasympathetic nervous system crackling out commands to my fingertips, eyes, and ears. The color was far too light, though, more of a ruddy gray, and its feet far too fleet. It stopped and its turned its head to see what I was doing, showing its striped feline face and black tufted ears. The bobcat immediately restarted it trot up the trail, and despite my best efforts of pursuit, couldn't reclaim a view once it turned into the rhododendrons. The only evidence of its being there were three upturned leaves and a ghost of an imprint in a splotch of horsed up mud. I was originally let down that it was so skittish, but it's truly better for the animal. I'd rather it be hiding in the woods with its litter than as some trophy in some dung-canoe's den.At the shelter, a few embers were still burning despite everyone's slumber. I pushed a few together and relaxed to the occasional orange and blue and green flame before settling down under the stars to the sound of trucks downshifting on Interstate 40--wait, no, that's the guy in the tent next to me. snoring.
Date: 2016-04-14
From: Davenport Gap Shelter

To: Hot Springs, NC
Miles today: 37.0
Weather: broken clouds

Today once again was a late start. The night before had an errant rain shower find me in the early morning hours, forcing me to move quickly to pull my tarp out of my pack and cover everything to prevent a soaking and a following heavy load. It was quite a struggle to keep the tarp balanced on everything, but fortunately there was no wind associated with the foul weather.In the morning, an old hiker mumbled something about "amazing" and I heard an electronic shutter sound as he snapped a picture of my ragtag camp. I skipped breakfast well sure that Cosby's facilities would be a few miles up the road. At Davenport Gap, I took a left off the Trail down a Tennessee country watching as cars passed me by. The third vehicle, however, slowly halted, rolled down the window, and the lady driver asked if I was wanting a ride. I explained my intention of hitching up to Hot Springs once I got to Cosby, but she insisted that I come eat something back at the gap, as she was providing Trail Magic until supplies run out. As an exchange for what I thought would be a ride into Cosby, I helped her and her photography club friend (They're from the Leconte Photography Society that focuses on the Smokies.) set up the tables of deli meats, fruits, oatmeal creme pies and coolers of soda. After a couple of hours talking to hikers that walked through, many of whom I had earlier passed, I helped tear everything down and load up the trash and leftovers. She surprised me with not only taking me into Cosby, but by driving me all the way to Hot Springs: a sixty mile round trip. She claimed she hadn't anything better to do that day, and enjoyed helping hikers out with rides, food or whatever else they needed.Once in Hot Springs, I made contact with a few people including Julie who I get to see tomorrow, ate a massive lunch and explored the small, quaint three-block downtown. Immediately, the physical and mental stress of the Trail disappeared to the sound of people's conversations, passing traffic, and the thrum of air-conditioning and civilised utilities.The hostel was upon a hill overlooking the town, a small building with a couple of bunkrooms and a few private and semi-private accommodations for a larger fee. The proprietors weren't there, but the guests showed me around and said I could just pay in the morning. For the sake of Julie, I hastened to take a shower and get some rest for the following couple of days.
Date: 2016-04-16
To: Story time: White Rabbit
Miles today: 0.0

The weekend had started with an explosion of good feeling. Being in a town, regardless of how small, is Paradise compared to the Trail. All your basic needs--food, heat, water, sanitation--are at your immediate use; if there's any hills, they are designed for vehicles; and friendly human contact is inevitable. This town, however, was a town in which I was meeting Julie. My emotions the evening before her arrival were soaring as I shoved a buffalo chicken sandwich down my throat and draughted a couple of local amber ales.When she arrived, she brought all the luxuries I had been missing: fresh fruit, music, Sufi poetry, even better beer (Stone's Enjoy By IPA, and Lindeman's framboise), but the highlight was a fresh baked strawberry mango kiwi pie. In college, she was known as the "pie witch" and rightfully so. I was a satisfied, morbidly happy hiker.On Saturday, we take a day trip to the larger town of Asheville. It's enjoyable to just be in the city. The streets are crowded with young people and beards and musicians all going about their joyous, content lives. The sky is deep and blue and the sun is strong and warm. The trees and bushes lining the sidewalks are covered in blossoms. Spring has set upon the town in the most glorious fashion.After a slow lunch, we come to a crosswalk mindful of nothing other than our next shop. The signal changes as soon as we approach, and a woman didn't notice immediately. Her husband starts walking, and Julie, moving quicker than I, takes her place by his side. I realize what this may cause, so slow down a little. Even better than what I had imagined, the husband, not noticing that a stranger is now by his side, reaches out and caresses Julie's shoulder, allowing the gentle, loving touch to flow down to her hand where he grasps it. Julie pulls get hand away, and the woman stops in the street understanding immediately what happened, her emotions mixing together."She's behind you," I say, the smile of a spectator on my face.He finally turns his head to what he assumed was his wife, and freezes. He stares at Julie, who's wearing a similar white sleeveless top and looks vaguely like her, and three seconds of complete confusion storm beneath his face. ... "Wha-?"He looks behind him to find his wife who is now doubled over because she's laughing so hard. Julie, who was slightly concerned at first, is now laughing, and I can't contain my own humor. It was a magic trick as he'd never seen. An unintentionally perfect sense of timing, movement, and placement caused his loved one to morph into this stranger on the streets of Asheville; and as for Julie, she was the unintentional showman's assistant whose nerves were slightly rattled by the loving hand of a stranger.
Date: 2016-04-17
From: Hot Springs, NC

To: Hot Springs, NC
Miles today: 0.0
Weather: clear sky

I had three zero days in Hot Springs. Initially, Julie was to visit for Friday and Saturday, and leave sometime on Sunday, but with her only obligation for Monday being in the late afternoon, she decided to stay for a third night and leave early the next day. This was all possible thanks to a buddy of mine from the Marine Corps, Jenkins who now lives in Atlanta. His girlfriend, Macy, has a stake in a motel in Hot Springs, and with all appreciation for their generosity, they hooked me up with a room for a couple of nights. Friday rolls around and we spend the majority of it around town. The Spring Creek Tavern offers a small but excellent selection of local beers and delicious food, and most evenings offers live music from the local talent pool. The check-in process was extremely easy, and the motel manager, Melissa, a die-hard North Carolinian woman with close-cropped hair wearing a Confederate hoodie and Army BDU trousers, spent a good portion of her time getting our room DirecTV access. In the evening, we went to a diner with excellent reviews from other hikers, where I got a mountain of fried chicken livers, greens, and a biscuit--a Southern meal as I hadn't had in some time.On Saturday, we travel to Asheville to stop into the Funkatorium for a couple of beers, and end up staying the majority of the day. The streets were crowded with pedestrians of the Asheville sort: hairy, young, happy, curious faces all. With the pedestrians came the street musicians playing Himalayan singing bowls, Dixieland ensembles, fiddlers, and a few less fortunate people singing heartfelt hymns from within the alleys. We shopped at some used bookstores and vintage shops, though it was painful to know that whatever I found I'd either have to carry on my back or force into Julie's care. At the end of the day I was stuffed with food and beer and spirit. And I still had another day to relax.Sunday was the day we finally visited the springs for which the town was named. It was an hour soak in a tub that fills with naturally heated water and enhanced with jets around the side. In the evening, we camped by the French Broad River in her tent that actually makes ergonomic and structural sense. The poles have an elastic band inside that doesn't feel stretched out, the zippers don't get caught on pointless flaps of fabric, and the corners actually stretch out into their proper shape and don't get pulled back in by the warped skeleton. We built a fire and drank beer into the night talking about possible futures. It was the perfect way to get ready for the upcoming trek across the Roan Highlands and Northeastern Tennessee.This whole weekend was one of the best I've ever had. I came from a state of pained joints, hunger, sore back and legs, and dehydration into a state of relaxation, a constantly full stomach, comfort, and enough beer to last me until Virginia. I'm confident enough in my quads, calves, and feet now to take on twenty-milers on a daily basis, and once the daylight stretches further into the evening and the grade levels out, I'll be pushing well past even that.
Date: 2016-04-18
From: Hot Springs, NC

To: Campsite near Lover's Leap Rock
Miles today: 3.0
Weather: clear sky

As was the case in Fontana, comfort was difficult to leave. I just spent three of the most relaxing days in my life, and I now have to jump back into the cold, grizzled hands of the mountains. From burgers and beer I must now move to ramen and iodine-flavored stream water.I leave town late with a wildfire approaching town. The locals say it's sixty percent contained, but the smoke covers the town and helicopters can be seen flying through distant gaps slightly offset from the low, brown sunset. It was a fresh body I was working with, but a dulled mind unable to go into the Trail hypnosis that makes time pass. After an hour, the Sun finally disappears behind a mountain, and I set up camp for the evening.I search for firewood along a steep hillside, but being a popular site, it's A difficult hunt. I find mostly rotting logs, thumbwood, and bark. After I build it, I'm reclining next to the warmth writing away with my headlamp. A thick black spider catches my eye as it creeps across the bottom of the page. I throw the critter away without much thought and continue writing. Not even a minute later, another spider begins along the same path, so I cast it aside and look around. There are four more on my pant legs and two crawling across the surface of the log I had earlier gathered and was leaning against. I must have disturbed their townhall meeting. To avoid any further run-ins, I douse the fire and finish in my tent.
Date: 2016-04-19
From: Campsite near Lover's Leap Rock

To: Campsite well past Allen's Gap
Miles today: 16.0

I didn't want to start the day. More walking, more climbing, more pounding my body on the descents, but I tighten my hip belt and step off. I seem to be in between clusters of hikers along the Trail, making if I want social contact, I catch up to the group five or ten miles ahead, or I sit around for three or four hours as the next group approaches.Regardless of my solitude, the hike was beautiful. Small, white five-petaled flowers covered the forest floor, and when they didn't comes soon to beget melons and gourds took their lieu. Within the smattering of leaves, there was a sound reminiscent of a light rain. Upon a closer look, millions of tiny black crickets were taking flight from me as I walked by. This continued for mile-long stretches, constant rustlings of jumping insects thick enough in numbers to make one think the humus itself was alive and excited.I settle down on the side of someone's driveway. Their property longer was a hundred yards further, and previous hikers left a generous portion of healthy firewood (wood not infested with spiders). The next shelter was a bit further, but if I planned to leave early enough... Like that would happen.
Date: 2016-04-20
From: Campsite well past Allen's Gap

To: Hiker's Paradise
Miles today: 20.1

I wake up to the sound of two hikers getting dropped off by van. "Thanks, man!" "Yeah, 'pprec', bro!" The sliding door slammed shut, and the sound of clicking trekking poles and squishy boots disappeared up the Trail. A moment later, a skinny guy in a straw hat comes up. He sat on the log next to me for a moment, and introduced himself as Scarecrow. He was a friendly fellow.The biggest climb of the day wasn't physically difficult, but had five false peaks. I would see what I thought was the last steep portion leading up to a wooded peak surrounded by sky, so I push myself through at an unsustainable pace. As the ground levels out, though, another block of stone and distant trees would present itself a quarter mile down the path. Eventually, you become quite cynical, laughing at real acmes before you crest them because you know they're lying. The name of this mountain? My inner 10-year old (and outer 28-year old) thought it quite fitting and hilarious: Big Butt Mountain.The day marked a week without encountering any Trail Magic. I shouldn't be sad at the lack of extreme generosity, but the residents of Georgia and North Carolina have truly spoiled me. It's such a lovely high point for the day when someone brings Gatorade and sandwiches, or even an apple. It's one of the driving factors inside this robust, happy community.Around midday, I'm eating lunch with Scarecrow and borrow his guidebook to see the upcoming terrain in detail. I notice that a hostel is right at a road crossing near where I was planning on stopping. Knowing that a bed and shower will finish the day, I start taking my time. At 6:15, I'm talking to an older group at a shelter about the hostel as I'm taking my first bite of dinner. "Now, my guidebook says it's open seven to seven, so watch the time," one of the men says. I'm 2.7 miles from the crossing, and my ramen is far too hot to eat quickly. By the time I finish and an packed up, it's 6:30. I start running, not walking quickly, not shuffling--running. I'm shoving myself up the ascents, and smashing my feet going down. At 6:53 I see the road through the trees. I can do this! I push harder, my fifty-pound ruck and fanny pack bouncing around despite the straps tightened all the way down. At the road, an evil, rotting sign says what I feared: "Hostel! Showers! Wi-Fi! 0.5 miles down Trail, take left, 0.5 miles down road!" After another mile, I arrive at the hostel at 7:10 with my body covered in sweat, and my feet covered in blisters. Jill, an older lady I had met earlier says that the proprietor left for the day just a few minutes ago, but there is a bunk left. She showed me around the small, raw wood building, and explained the house rules. After a cold drink, a shower, and some time with overly friendly hostel cat (he caught two mice that day, from what I heard.), I settle down into the mattress two feet from the ceiling. The things we do for a bed.
Date: 2016-04-21
From: Hiker's Paradise

To: Bald Mountain Shelter
Miles today: 26.1
Weather: overcast clouds

I miraculously woke up early. Well, not really a miracle when everyone else is up, I suppose. As I sat down to my warmed up Jimmy Dean breakfast sandwiches, I talked to a retired Australian Army veteran. He fought in Vietnam with a regiment reinforced with New Zealand troops.I got back on the Trail mid-morning and begin a long, sometimes hard climb up the shoulder of the Bald Mountains massif. At Low Gap, once I crossed under I-26, a Tennessee native with a 90s model F-250 diesel was passing out water, tangelos, and apples. He was also passing news that another wildfire has been burning up the Roan Highlands and shuttles are taking hikers around the inferno. It was also confirmed as arson. Some idiot thought it would be funny to destroy some of America's most beautiful countryside.I continued the climb up to the triplet peaks, watching the fair weather cumulus and occasional lenticular slowly turn into cirrostratus and curious congestus; a front was fast approaching. I might not make this a night hike after all.At the top of Big Bald--aptly named--rolling hills of open grassland spread out before me. The Sun had dipped below the now-present horizon a few minutes before. The wind was bending the taller grass stalks down to the ground, and the few thickets of oak and hemlock in the crevices were roaring in protest. To the south, thick indigo clouds rolled about on top of a wall of rain. To the west, the last bit of red lighting up this part of the world was slowly fading. To the north, the lights of Erwin, Tennessee snaked through the valley, its residents cozy in their warm sheets and blankets. It was a beauty I've only experienced on the ridgeline between Mount Cammerer and Mount Guyot in Smokies: stark, ragged, dangerous beauty.I made it to the shelter before the storm, and with enough light left to set up my tent without a headlamp. I fell asleep to the sound of increasing rain and angry trees.