Pushing to cross the 300 mile mark! This is a continuation of our latest (July, 2015) five day outing on the Appalachian Trail…see previous post “AT: Northbound from GSMNP II (Brown Gap to Standing Bear)” for the first two days of our trip.
Sams Gap to Allen Gap (Tuesday): We headed for Mom’s Store at Allen Gap (NC208/TN70) to confirm with “Mom” that it was OK to park for the next few days beside her store. The lady behind the counter corrected us that she “was A mom but not THE “Mom”” the store was named after. She agreed with our parking plan…no cost…and we left after Bob bought a couple of candy bars. Mom’s Store is more of an oasis (cold soda, beer and water and just about every snack imaginable) rather than a resupply spot although there were some items that could be considered backpacking staples (Slim Jims!).
Our plan for this next 29 mile section was to drive (trail-)north and park at Sams Gap (where the AT crosses beneath I-26) and walk back south to Allen Gap. Finding the parking area at Sams Gap was fairly straight forward and in short order we were walking down the road, under the interstate, up a steep driveway and ducking into the woods past 
an environmental monitoring station…pretty neat stuff. We dove into the steep climb, past endless barbed wire posts, over High Rock to get to Hogback Ridge Shelter, our destination for the day at just 2.4 miles. We handled the climb (660 feet/1.8 miles) pretty well and quickly found ourselves at the shelter around 11:30AM. Still riding high on breakfast and sweet tea/coffee, we decided to push on to the Flint Mountain Shelter, 8.8 additional miles. We had plenty
of time, the weather was surprisingly cool and comfortable so we continued on down the trail to Rice Gap, the low point before the climb up to Big Flat and Lick Rock, an 800 foot elevation gain over 1.6 miles. The walk was enjoyable and we stopped for a granola bar/water break at Big Flat. We continued on up over Lick Rock and then started our gradual descent into Devil Fork Gap…don’t you just love these names! Just before we got to Sugarloaf Gap, the trail narrowed as it rounded the shoulder 
of a hill. There was a steep rise to our left (to the top of Little Mountain) and a steep drop off to our right into brush and weeds far below. We were walking at a decent pace when we heard a tremendous crashing from the hill below us as a large bear rumbled down through the weeds and brush. This was a pretty sobering experience on a couple of levels. First of all, from that point on we were more vigilant not only of the path ahead and underneath our feet, but also now to either side of the trail, lest we stumble upon yet another bear. Secondly, and more disconcerting, was the knowledge that bears have terrible eye sight but a keen sense of smell. What drove that poor animal away in a terrified frenzy was our odor…YOWZER!
The final drop into Devil Fork Gap crossed an open field full of yellow and white daisy-like flowers. We climbed over a wooden step stile, crossed TN352 and started the 3 mile gradual climb to the Flint Mountain Shelter. Somewhere along the way, we were adopted by a beagle with a radio transmitter around its neck…a hunting dog belonging to a nearby farmer. Word is that these dogs are let to run loose over the hills and hollows relying on them to tree a bear or run down a deer when they get hungry enough. 
The transmitter tells the farmer where the resulting meat can be found. Sounds like a bizarre confluence of animal cruelty and new age electronics, but then I’m from the big city. Apparently the only thing that foils the plan is if the dog hooks up with sympathetic hikers looking to unload some food. We couldn’t get him to go back to the Devil Fork Gap area where he picked us up, so we arrived at the shelter with “Rocky” around 6PM.
The shelter already had 3 hikers, a teacher from Miami and a young couple from 
Providence, RI. They shuffled things around to make room for us in the shelter. We got our sleeping gear out and cleaned up a bit, changing into our “camp clothes.” We boiled water for dinner (chicken teriyaki for me, chicken and noodles for Bob) and while we ate we got to know the other folks we would be spending the night with. We apologized and explained about Rocky and Ashley, the young lady from Rhode Island/trail name “Sas,” fell in love with him…until the fleas started popping off his back. Despite his big puppy dog eyes, happily wagging tail and determined nature, he was not invited up onto the sleeping platform for the night but spent it curled up on the picnic table. Luckily for us, Rocky followed the guy from Miami northbound back toward Devil Fork Gap the next morning.
Wednesday: We were up early after spending a decent night sleeping and not too sore from our 11.2 mile previous day. Our Wednesday would be a wimpy 6 mile walk to the next shelter. The obstacle de jour would be the 1,200 foot climb over Big Butt Mountain. To complicate things, as we ascended the side of the mountain, heavy weather set in with fog, wind and rain squalls. The fog provided 
an eerie ambiance especially when I walked past the small grave site for David Shelton on the side of Coldspring Mountain. Apparently David and his young nephew were from North Carolina but had enlisted and fought for the union during the Civil War. Upon their return home, they were ambushed and killed by Confederates. Somber testimony to a long, but not forgotten war, especially in these parts.
The push over Big Butt Mountain took a long time but was not too bad due to a recent trail relocation that added about a half mile to the distance but made the incline less severe near the top. The relocation was more recent than my map so this turned to be a nice surprise. The issue with climbing over the top of Big Butt was the rain-slicked rocks. We elected to take the by-pass trail since neither of us wanted to break our necks, but the by-pass was nothing more than a rock slide that had to be negotiated with equal parts personal dexterity and solemn trust that the moss-covered, wet rock you planted your boot on wouldn’t move…too much.
We made it around the mountain and started the decent into Chestnut Log Gap and the Jerry Cabin Shelter located there. However, about a mile from the mountain top, we had to cross an open field, with shoulder high weeds (mostly blackberry bushes) and only a two-track to follow. I caught sight of a hen turkey scurrying into the brush as I entered the field followed by a bunch of babies running to catch up. 
I walked slowly just to see if I could get a closer look as I passed by when a big old tom exploded out of the brush and flew to the trees at the edge of the field. I had to consciously restart my heart. A lesser man would have had to change his britches!
At the far end of the field a non-blazed trail went off down the hill to the left and an old washed out road, also with no blazes, went to the right. We elected to follow the trail for no good reason other than it seemed right and we were 
finally relieved when we spotted the first blaze about 10 minutes down the trail. It was a bit further down this section of trail when we heard and then saw a four-wheeler making its way along the ridge above us. It was a Tennessee Wildlife Ranger who stopped and talked with us for awhile. He was out checking bear baiting stations that he 
had set up back in the spring to gage the number and movement of the bear population. We told him about the bears we spotted over the last two days and he confirmed our suspicions that these were juvenile male bears. They had been pushed up the mountain by the older breeding males who were following the sows further down the mountains where the blueberries and blackberries were already ripe enough to eat…much to the irritation the folks that lived down there. After he took off, we continued on and shortly arrived at the shelter. It was 12:30PM. We 
cleaned up, hung up our sweat-soaked hiking clothes and generally made ourselves at home…no one else had arrived yet, but it was early. Bob took a nap while I read. About 5PM we made dinner (which is to say we boiled more water) and were enjoying our beef stroganoff when a trio of modern day hippies came down the hill from the south.
It’s strange, thinking back to my college days – the height of “flower power,” Woodstock
and the ever popular “make love, not war” anthem – that I looked at hippies as almost noble as they embraced a world cleansed of distractions from being one with nature and eschewed the evil effects of money and success. These three kids stopped at the shelter and we all talked and played with their dogs for over an hour. I finally concluded that they were pretty much bums…bless their hearts. Or maybe, giving them the benefit of the doubt, hobos…with my sincere apologies to all hobos. They (a big scary dude, a skinny guy, a girl I wouldn’t want to arm wrestle and two unleashed dogs) were from South Dakota and had arrived in Hot Springs via jumping aboard a freight train and hitchhiking. The two guys didn’t work but collected 
food stamps to subsist. The girl “traveled” (riding the rails and hitchhiking) and seemed proud not to have anywhere to call home. They each carried an instrument (guitar, ukulele and violin respectively) in wet and tattered cases but never mentioned if playing together was something they did. They seemed genuinely happy though and talked of their freedom, living off of others’ leavings or goodwill, excited about the possibility of their dogs killing a bear or turkey so they could have fresh meat to eat and generally how awesome the world was. The big guy scavenged the trash left in the shelter and brushed the slowly dissolving I-buprofin and vitamins off the rock 
shelf into his pocket. They also rolled and lit a couple of cigarettes while we talked, passing them around and smoking them down until they burnt the last person’s fingers. It didn’t smell like pot, but they certainly treated that stash of “tobacco” with more reverence than anything else they carried. After an hour or so, they decided to move on to the next shelter. They had no final destination in mind but figured after another week or so they would head back to South Dakota…or maybe somewhere else. After they left, I just looked at Bob, shook my head and wondered when I had turned into my parents. Different strokes…
Four more people (a father-son duo from Nashville, a serious looking young man who was carrying uber-high tech gear and a young guy wearing a sheepskin kilt traveling with a giant but tired looking white dog) arrived throughout the evening but they all elected to set up their tents and/or hammocks in the nearby camping area instead of staying in the shelter. Bob and I played some cards until it got too dark to see, then crawled into our sleeping bags. I suspect I was asleep by 9PM.
Thursday: We were up before 6AM, anticipating a long hiking day and a tough but interesting walk across “Firescald Ridge.” We ate a hearty breakfast, packed up and were on the trail at 7:15AM. It was clear and cool with a slight breeze. We made good time walking up and over Bald Mountain and down into Lick Log Gap where the “bad weather by-pass trail” broke off to 
the north. Since the sky was clear, we headed up to Big Firescald Bald and the exposed ridgeline. The trail was like any other until we got within a half mile of the top where it deteriorated to a series of rock slides to negotiate, rock “steps” to clamber over and even an 8 foot vertical rock wall to scale. It was a blast. And when we got to the top, the views were 360 degree killer! We could see north and south and straight down the ridge line to Camp Creek Bald, 4 miles ahead with its communication towers. We stopped every 10 yards to marvel at the vistas and take pictures. We were so enthralled with the views and the challenge of the rocky trail, it was some time before we noticed the low, darkening sky and the fog which had enveloped the top of Camp Creek Bald. Our pace 
quickened and before too long we made it to Bearwallow Gap where the by-pass trail rejoined the main trail…we figured we should be safe from there on. We decided not to take the side trail for the vista off of Blackstack Cliffs but settled for the shorter walk to and view from Whiterock Cliff…there were just so many incredible vistas you could handle in one day.
The rest of the trail to Little Laurel Shelter was all downhill and unspectacular after 
walking the ridge and we arrived there just at noon. The plan was to stop and have a cooked meal before pushing on the last 5 miles to Allen Gap. But we were still full from breakfast (Mountain House Biscuits and Gravy will stick like paste to your gut) so we ate a granola bar and hydrated before pushing on.
The trail to Allen Gap was generally downhill with mile two and three very steep. We made it to Log Cabin Drive in no time at all. Unfortunately (but not surprisingly as this is the AT) the final mile or so before Allen Gap required us to walk up and over a hill…only a 300 foot elevation gain but we were tired and hot: the temperature had shot up to near 90. We cowboyed up and over the hill and down to NC208/TN70 and saw Bob’s red truck parked at Mom’s Store.
While we were driving over to retrieve my car at Sams Gap, we stopped for a hitchhiker, who turned out to be the sheepskin kilt kid from the night before. He had taken a side trail down the mountain after he decided it would be easier to hitchhike the 40+ miles to Erwin, TN than hike it. We dropped him off at the entrance ramp to I-26 and wished him luck.
The good news is this puts 316 miles under our belt since leaving Springer Mountain. This is where I would normally say we have just 1,842 miles left to get to Mt. Katahdin in Maine. But since we first stepped off at Springer, trail reroutings/relocations have actually extended the AT by 31 miles. So we have just 1,873 miles to go. Theoretically, if we keep our current pace…and they don’t reroute the trail too far or too frequently…I should be able to finish by the time I turn 86: Lord willing and the creek don’t rise!
flatfooting 