Date: 2003-04-15
From: Carvers Gap

To: 19E
Miles today: 13.8
Weather: few clouds

When I got off the Trail yesterday, Bob gave me a volunteer maintainer patch: "Only thru-hikers who donate a day of work are given this patch. That's the only way to get one."I became number 549; that many hikers volunteered their time during their trek.I spent the evening sewing it on. Bliss, a young thru-hiker from New Jersey, decided he would work a day of maintenance. He was recovering from a bout of the 24-hour stomach bug that had been going thru the hikers, and didn't feel like hiking out of Kincorra Hostel yet.A young ornithologist who stayed here last night, Paul, helped me sort out the bird calls I'd been hearing on my hike.The first was the vireo: "You'll almost never see one, they live high in the trees," he said. " It's like a one-sided phone conversation. They never shut up all day: "Is that so? You don't say? Is that so? You don't say?"The Carolina chickadee - this was the mocking "ha-ha" whistle I'd been hearing.The titmouse - deedeedeedeeThe towhees - "Drink your tea"He also thought the thrush I'd been hearing was a wood thrush, a mystery I appreciated him clearing up.On the shuttle, Bob gave me the day's trail rundown. I'd go over four balds today, all of them over 5800 feet. I'd done the Hump Mts. with young Paul Tillery, at age 15 and on his first backpack, and I remember them as wonderful hiking.We ran into Warren Doyle in the parking lot; he was delivering something to his son, out hiking with a buddy.Up from Carver Gap I went on the bluestone path. The rhodies were curled, snow patches still dotted the hills. After a dark fir forest, I came up on the lovely Round Bald. To the east, Mt. Mitchell, highest mountain on the east coast. To the left, the mountains to be walked.Naturally, on the prettiest day, my camera battery gives up on shot three. Aaargh!All that grass! The trail stretches out to the high horizon, beckoning. There is a true sense of journey here.The giddy effect of all that space, light and sky affects my bladder. Ha! Hard for a gal to find a private place to pee on a bald. Nonetheless, I cope. I think I am on the second bald, Jane Bald, but another looms before me. I climb, obediently. Up top, lovely views but no blazes. You'd think those durn maintainers could spare at least one blaze per bald.Uhhh, maybe I've climbed Grassy Ridge by mistake? Aaargh! A mile and a half out of my way. In truth, I did not mind accidentally visiting such a lovely spot. But I had 13 miles to go, and a shuttle at 5:30 pm. I walked down the hill and found where I had missed the trail. A sign broke off at a critical junction, and the main trail had sucked me right up Grassy Ridge. But it was good suction, in the end. They say it is the only 6,000-foot-plus mountain on the east coast with a natural 360 degree view. While descending the axle grease mud on the backside of the first balds, both feet suddenly shot out from under me and I sat down in the mud, hard. Talk about a muddbutt! Yes, my hiking pants are in the washer tonight. Both feet shot forward and I sat down hard in the mud. I hadn't seen a soul all day when, of course, along comes a witness... a puffing, southbound section hiker. He didn't even blink though, just asked "How far to the top?" Ha!At Yellow Mt. Gap, the AT joins the historic Bright's Trace. This route was used by the "Overmountain Men," local, independent regulars who crossed the mountains here with their own horses, food and weapons to go fight the bloody Revolutionary War battle at King's Mountain, 170 miles away. These thousand men arrived in time to score a significant victory.This is also the way to Overmountain shelter, a big red barn that gets rave reviews from hikers. It's airy, open, and overlooks the sweep of the valley below; wild turkeys gobble in the hollow below. You can see the moon and stars from the east-facing platform - it's open below like a wide porch veranda.Looking back on the barn as I started the climb up to Humps, a person gets a real sense of perspective without all those silly trees in the viewshed. Ha!On the ridge, I could see Little Hump, impossibly far away. Yet before long, there it was, rolling uphill. Above it stretched "big" Hump, impossibly far away. What an effort it seemed to be, yet before too long I was standing there too.This naked, rocky sweep reminds me of scenes of the Scottish Highlands, or the English Pennines. A hiker could get dizzy with sky up here. In the far distance, the purple mountains' majesty above the fruited plain. Uplifting.Turkeys chuckled behind me, the ravens flew and landed and flew. I rested on a sunny rock outcrop, baking a bit in the relentless sun. I was burning through my 40 sunscreen.I had hardly seen a soul all day, and they were both SOBO. Like that a lot. I can see the trail snaking long miles over the balds - no one in front, no one behind me either. I am alone on the top of the world. That suits me fine. Far from feeling isolated, I feel content and right with the world. Would that all days felt like this.Little Hump is a beauty in her own right; but is just a warmup for "big" Hump Mt. That one is the rockiest yet. When I summit, there is the longhorn herd Bob warned me about; it was their first day out this year. They eat the briars and angelica, which helps keep the bald open.These babies were parked slam on the Trail, a bakers dozen - 12 adults and a red brindled calf. All were laying down, most were stretched flat out in the sun. Clearly, they were unconcerned about me. Good! There is nowhere to hide on a bald.Only a few had that wide sweep associated with longhorns. The horns of some swept forward "like an ancient aurochs", said Bob. The large bull stood on my approach, ring in his pink nose. The others didn't seem concerned, but he was watchful. I am fairly comfortable with big stock, and had planned to walk among them. Mom and calf seemed blase, but Big Daddy kept watching me in a way that finally made me decide to bypass on the downhill side. He tracked me all the way as I circled them. So I can honestly say I have not walked every foot of the AT so far. Will ATC forgive me?On the rocky, jumbled backside of the Humps were a number of blowdowns. I noted these for Bob. He handles 130 miles of trail under the auspices of the TN-Eastman hiking club, all the way from Spivey Gap to Damascus.At the end of my day's trail, there was the shuttle truck, waiting for me. This bus runs on time.That evening I watched Bliss sew on his volunteer patch. He showed it off to the others; the next day six more hikers volunteered. And so it goes. It was a golden day, much like being in love, giddy and perfect.