Date: 2013-03-16
From: A. Rufus Morgan Shelter

To: Otto, NC residence
Miles today: 1.0

(In which I take a nero and hitchhike to a Brasstown contra dance)The night is the most mild one yet, and I sleep well even though I am outside. When I wake up, Trail Movin' has already packed up and left. Everyone else is starting to stir. We are all stopping at the NOC for a variety of reasons, but most are at least taking a break to eat there. Even though we are eating in a mile, most of us eat breakfast anyways. This will help prevent us from eating too much relatively expensive restaurant food. I head out toward the NOC, for my shortest section of walking yet.The NOC is quite a place to behold. It is a complex of brown wooden structures spanning the swiftly-flowing Nantahala River. I stop at the general store with most of the pack from the last shelter. Its food stores are geared entirely toward hikers. The only thing I would like to replenish for the next couple days' walk to Fontana Dam is my flatbreads, and they do not have these. A few folks get pints of ice cream and I am tempted, but I pass it up. The prices here are very steep and I could see a pint of Ben and Jerry's selling for six or seven dollars. I move across the street to the outfitter.The outfitter does not carry Hennessy Hammocks, so I get the straps for the other type of hammock they sell. I also pick up replacement tent stakes - large diameter aluminum ones that may not bend as easily as the thin steel ones I have lost. While I am here I also pick up my thru-hiker permit for the Smokies. While a thru-hike is usually an expensive undertaking, every mile has been free to walk up until this year. New for 2013, thru-hikers must purchase a 20-dollar permit for the section of the Trail passing through the Smoky Mountains. This causes outrage amongst many for violating a core principle of the Trail - that it is free for any to walk. I am upset to see that violation as well, but unlike some of these folks I plan to purchase the permit. I would not like to see my hike cut short or interrupted by any enforcement of these permits. I would like to personally avoid adding drama to my trip by making a stink over twenty dollars.There is a computer and printer set up for thru-hikers to deal with the permits at the outfitter, so I take care of that. I then head over to the restaurant and wind up joining Kyle, a Virginia Beach thru-hiker, Blue Moon, and Blue Moon's son and daughter-in-law. Blue Moon's son surprised him by visiting today and taking him off the Trail for a nero. He also pays for our breakfast, and I feel guilty for having ordered a very large breakfast. Had I known someone else was paying, I would have picked something less expensive. I hang around with these folks and the other nearby thru-hikers taking photos and chatting for a bit before I set my sights on my next goal: a 40-mile hitch into Brasstown for tonight's dance at the John C. Campbell Folk School.The road looks to be narrow and winding for a ways, so instead of beginning to walk in my intended direction of travel I stay put near the parking area. I move around a bit before finding the best spot, near the crosswalk for the AT. I get a couple offers from folks that are not traveling very far down the road, but politely turn these down. It will be easier to get a hitch 30 miles down the road from next to the Appalachian Trail than trying to get a second hitch eight miles from the Trail. An elderly gentleman stops next to me, and when I ask how far he is going he responds, "A good ways." That is good enough for me. He drives me as as far as Andrews, which is shortly before the road that will take me south to Brasstown. I jump out at the last traffic signal for Andrews and continue down the road seeking my next ride.Hitching on such a large four-lane road tires my arm out, as there is usually a car visible that is going my way. A red Ford pickup pulls off the road after a little while. I wonder if it is Cotter, who gave me a ride in an identical truck, but it is an older retired gentleman. He tells me it might be easier to continue down the road to Murphy instead of trying to hitch down Route 141. It is a shorter distance to Brasstown from Murphy, so I decide to ride along that far. This guy winds up taking me all the way to Brasstown. His teenage son committed suicide three weeks ago, and he seems happy to have a stranger to talk to. It feels like he does not know how to respond to this event and is trying to figure out what to do in the meantime. I have no answers for such a thing, but I hope I was able to help by providing myself, my listening, and a little distraction with my stories.I arrive at the folk school at about 1400, and the dance doesn't start for six hours. It is a beautiful, tranquil place and I feel at peace here. My first order of business is to clean myself. I find out it has an attached campground with a bathhouse. The place is empty, so I enjoy a long lukewarm shower and then dry in the sun while wearing my kilt. I return to the location of the dance, drop my pack, and explore the campus a bit with my camera. It makes for a few good photos, but after an hour walking around I decide to take on the task of feeding myself. There is a pre-dance meal at the school but that is $16. I choose to walk to the nearest eatery.That restaurant turns out to be 2.6 miles away, but I don't know this until I get there and check the distance. Without a pack or much prior walking today, I had covered that distance in just under five miles per hour! While walking around New Jersey before leaving for the Trail, I had averaged about 3.5 miles per hour. My speed on this short walk surprises me. I get an excellent burger at the Blue Mountain Grill and do a small resupply at the nearby Dollar General. Still no flatbreads, but I walk back to the folk school and still have two hours before the dance. I am excited for this dance, and sit outside writing and watching dancers arrive. One of them is sitting on a bench nearby playing mandolin.This dance is much larger than the Sylva dance last weekend. There are plenty of young folks around, and I am glad to have some spirited dancing tonight. The coordinator puts out an announcement for me after the break, to see if anyone is heading in my direction. Someone is going past Nantahala tomorrow night, and someone else offers to bring me to Franklin. I figure it will be easier for me to try hitching out of Franklin tomorrow than to wait all day for a ride to Nantahala. I wind up riding back to Otto, North Carolina with Avril and her husband Joel and I stay with them for the night, sleeping on the floor.Peace,