Date: 2017-03-21
From: Brown Fork Gap Shelter

To: Fontana Lake, NC
Miles today: 10.6

Day 14: Brown Fork Gap Shelter, NC to Fontana Lake, NC - 10.6 miles:I woke at some point last night to the feeling of a tongue rolling across my forehead. Still somewhere trapped in sleep, my initial thought was what the heck is Toepick doing? When I came to enough, I realized it was just Odin, giving me a little love after returning from a midnight trip to the bathroom.A few hours later, I tossed as the earliest of risers began packing up and hitting the trail, over an hour and a half before sunrise. The next thing I knew I woke to my watch already reading 7:30am. Dammit. Toepick was already awake, but still lying in her sleeping bag. We managed to quickly get to our morning chores, downing poptarts for breakfast, brushing teeth, checking out the local privy, and packing up. We were hiking by 8:45am, the goal of reaching Fontana Lake, only ~12 miles away. When looking at an elevation profile of the AT, one golden rule to remember is this: not all ups have a down, but almost all downs have an up. The morning would pass along simply enough, climbing where the guide showed downs, simply enjoying music and hiking in silence.Toepick suffered through another day of stiff muscles and sore feet, earning her trail name in the process, as she tripped, stumbled, and fell several times throughout the day. The sun eventually appeared in the early afternoon, just in time for our climb of ~700ft to the top of a ridge that would eventually lead us into Fontana Lake. With the temps only in the 60s, Toepick complained that she was struggling, and Odin obviously was as he walked slowly, rested often, and his tongue dangled from his mouth all day. I, being from the South, barely broke a sweat and appreciated the weather - a far cry from the extreme cold of a week ago.As we crested the ridge, Fontana Lake came into view a couple thousand vertical feet below us. It's dark blue waters stood out against the otherwise brown and grey backdrop of trees yet to change into their finest colors. One thing was obvious, the water level was very low. Running around the edge of the lake was a brown strip of exposed land, typically hidden beneath the water, that seemed to be nearly ~20ft in length. A few boats dotted the lake, but otherwise remained silent and empty, still a month or more away from the busy season. We meandered along the ridge for what seemed forever, wondering if the trail would ever begin heading down. The Smokies rose high to the north, even Clingman's Dome, the highest point on the trail, made a couple appearances in the distance as we danced through the trees.Eventually the trail did cut down, but it took just shy of two hours to finally exit the woods at a parking lot near a boat launch. A restroom stood off to the right, a couple signs advertising using a phone on a wall to call for a shuttle, simply by dialing zero. I instantly hailed a shuttle into Fontana Village, a large touristy, summer camp-like compound that sits eerily empty at this time of year. I then spent $1.25 for a can of Coke that normally I'd scoff at in the real world. However, the light burning of the carbonation down my throat was too much to resist. The shuttle arrived soon after and we were whisked away the three miles into Fontana Village and deposited at the Fontana Resort. Toepick had to pick up a package, and I went hunting for power outlets. With no luck on my end, we soon returned outside in order to catch the shuttle down a hill a couple hundred yards to the general store.After combing the isles through the limited selection, though everything a hiker could want, I emptied my modest resupply onto the counter as the beep, beep, beep of the barcodes being scanned filled the air. With an old school computer system, it didn't show you the price of each item, leaving me sweating as I waited in anticipation. When the clerk said $51, a little part of me died inside. It was the most I'd ever dropped on such crap - some candy bars, spam, chips, two cokes - just enough junk to get me through the Smokies. I went outside and joined a handful of other hikers wasting away the afternoon on the porch, snacking, drinking beer, and charging their electronics. Toepick and Odin would join, and we'd spent nearly two hours there ourselves.As we chatted and drifted into food comas, an unfortunate event happened for one hiker, a Boston native named Scout. He received a phone call from family telling him his grandfather had died. He was visibly upset for a while, and the few hikers around did their best to keep him positive. Toepick has decided not to go through the Smokies, and instead will be renting a car for five days to provide some trail magic at Newfound Gap. She offered to drive Scout all the way to nearly Washington DC so that he could then make his way to his grandfather's funeral in Boston. He graciously accepted. We then made a last-minute decision to stay in a nearby B&B/hostel for the night. Although I didn't need it, the draw of a shower, laundry, and ability to fully charge my gear was enough for me to agree. Although the B&B/hostel was only five minutes away in a straight line, it took nearly half an hour to reach it due to having to drive around a series of mountains we had trekked over earlier in the day. The B&B/hostel was even located within three miles of a road crossing Toepick and I had stopped at around noon to enjoy a little trail magic. Someone had left a Gatorade and Mellow Yellow sitting on a sign near the trail head, and we were fortunate enough to be in the right place at the right time.As we zipped around hairpin turns winding their way through green valleys, I couldn't help but watch out the window at all the photo opportunities in this place lost in time. Old barns seemingly held up by splinters, cows and donkeys, a drum barrel standing just off the road with a sign reading "boiled peanuts" nailed above, and old tractors to name a few. Our host, Cynthia, and her husband, Jeff, moved into the home a few years ago after retiring after having grown up in Canada. Cynthia is a retired veterinarian and their home has four or five hounds running around, seemingly multiplying each time I rounded a corner as I strolled the grounds grabbing pictures. Jeff seems to be a bit of a carpenter and stood working outside with a table saw, the sound of the blades slicing through wood drifting up through our upstairs window.Toepick, Scout, Odin, and me are sharing an upstairs room with three beds and a shower. We all took turns showering, I'm adorned in a soft robe as my few clothes finish in the laundry, my food has been distributed and calculated for the week ahead, and I'm enjoying a Catawba Firewater IPA offered to me by Scout. The mountains are alive with the sound of rolling thunder outside as a storm rolls through, the lights occasionally flickering off after a lightning strike. Tonight we stay dry and clean, before that is all ruined tomorrow as I head off into the Smokies. Toepick plans to do me a huge solid by delivering half of my food to Newfound Gap on Friday, reducing my food weight by half. With tomorrow bringing a ~16 mile day, all of it climbing up into the Smokies, the lack of weight will be greatly appreciated.It's currently 9pm and Toepick just returned with the laundry. I guess it's time I get back into my own clothes so I don't keep dirty grandpa'ing it. Tomorrow I climb, and climb, and climb.