Abingdon Gap Shelter 1733.8 to Double Spring Shelter 1742.1 (8.3 miles, 1742.1 total miles)
Immediately silencing my 6:50AM alarm multiple times, I dozed into a fitful, fragmented sleep full of dreams including various hikers I’d met on trail, inches of snow in the Smokies, and bees with death wishes that set themselves on fire.
I couldn’t manage to actually get up until 9AM, possibly the latest I’d slept in on this trip. I felt groggy and disoriented, but it was warm, so I changed into my hiking clothes without preamble, hoping to get moving quickly now that I’d wasted so much time.
My legs were covered in red welts, itchy hives that had been following me the whole time I’d been going south. I was at a loss to what had been causing them, and Hunter exclaimed how uncomfortable they looked when I pointed them out to him.
He’d been up for a while, but had been sitting at the picnic table writing and drawing in his journal. I gave him half of my remaining 3 liters of water so he didn’t have to walk back down the blue blaze, and I certainly didn’t need it all.
He left just before 10AM, saying he was probably only going to the next shelter 10 miles south. His knee wasn’t doing well, and wanted to keep his days short for the moment. I originally had been hoping to hike 23 miles, but saw there was a likely option at 16 miles as well.
After finishing my breakfast and digging a cat hole (as I was now in privy free Tennessee), I was out a little after 10, up a small incline, then on a descent to McQueen Gap Road a couple miles in. The day was overcast and chilly, with possible rain starting in the afternoon. I had a sore throat, chills, swollen lymph nodes, and a headache and wondered if I was starting to come down with something.
I passed a black Tesla parked in the small gravel lot and climbed a very brief .3 gain of only 200 feet, but I was dragging. People call this the “Tennessee highway” portion of the trail, but I was not zooming in any way whatsoever.
At the top of the incline, I stopped at McQueens Knob Shelter, a closed emergency only structure. It was tiny, with a wooden platform that only one or two hikers at most could sleep on. I sat for a few minutes writing before heading back onto the trail around 11.
I had 3.3 miles on an overall downhill ridge walk that also included several small ascents to get to a paved road. I saw an older gentleman hiking north with an AT thru hiker hang tag, and he told me how he was finishing a wraparound hike to Elkton, VA. Vinchey was flip flopping but only going north, and seemed in excellent spirits, moving ever closer toward his goal. I urged him to check out Small Axe Farms in Elkton if he got a chance, before we both continued on.
I crossed the road with a small view, before beginning another ascent. It was very slow going on the uphills today, and I felt as if I was siphoning energy from an empty tank, running on fumes and not much else.
When I stopped on a log to take a short break 1.7 before the next shelter, I checked the weather report again and saw that my legs were still broken out heavily in angry red patches that were refusing to fade away as they normally did by mid morning.
It was 1:30 by then, and though I wanted to stop and eat lunch I decided to press onward in case it started raining around 2:00 as forecasted. I had a couple more climbs to go, so I decided at least a snack and some caffeine would help. I also took out my earbuds and queued up a variety of music to give me the energy to get up the next mountain and ascend to 4,000 feet.
It seemed to help, and I caught a couple more small views through trees, the uphill warming me against the cool breeze, though still feeling chills running through my body. I was feeling worse and worse, and wasn’t sure if I would even make it past the next shelter.
I turned a corner and descended to it, happy to see Hunter sitting at the picnic table there. He was speaking with a couple middle aged day hikers, who seemed very nice. They headed out a couple minutes after I arrived, and I sat down in the shelter, telling Hunter I felt awful.
He said he was staying at the shelter for the night, and I decided to eat lunch before figuring out my next move. A tall male arrived from the south and sat with us, introducing himself as Man Scout and telling us about his thru hike on the Appalachian Trail last year.
While we were chatting with him, a mother daughter duo joined us from the same direction. The daughter, Sketch, was a couple years younger than me, and she’d thru hiked the AT in 2018. Sketch and her mom, Rocket, were on day one of a six day excursion together, and were both very friendly.
Man Scout headed out after a bit, and when I checked my phone I was dismayed to realize the shelter I was at had only been 8 miles from the one I’d stayed at, and I would still have to do another 8 to get to the next one. It was almost 3PM, and though normally I could bang that out in less than three hours, the way I currently felt I would be arriving at camp well after sunset, which was now 6:49PM.
I decided it was in my best interest to stay, and got changed into warm layers, setting up my sleep things. I crawled into my quilt at 3:30, wearing Iroh’s borrowed wool hat which was thinner than mine and too big, but I appreciated it all the same.
I set an alarm for 5:00 to make dinner, but didn’t end up needing it. I drifted toward sleep a couple times, but was so cold and uncomfortable that I couldn’t manage to do anything but lay there miserable. I was the type of sick where my head hurts just moving my eyes, and my body felt foreign and hard to move.
I listened idly to the others talking at the picnic table near the fire Hunter had build. Both he and Sketch were artists, and the conversations between them were fascinating. They both were or had been working artists, and I loved hearing them speak about their crafts and following their passions in life. When Sketch wasn’t making art, she was a hiking guide for Jennifer Pharr Davis’ company. It sounded like the life to me.
I was in the woods, not in my warm bed or couch at home watching tv and drinking hot tea, so I reluctantly got myself up around 6:00 to handle business. I dug the best and fastest hole of my life away from camp with a shovel we’d found leaning against a shelter wall earlier.
That said and done, I sat at the table with the others, and they commiserated with me on my unfortunate situation. I’d never been sick on trail like this before, and now had a good idea of what Sunshine and Sydney had been through this year.
Hunter and Sketch rose to the occasion magnificently. Sketch traded my two packets of ramen I was going to eat for a whole homemade dehydrated meal she’d brought with her, insisting it would be trail magic. It had actual veggies in it, which I knew my body needed badly. Hunter poured a cup of warm bone broth into it from his dinner for me as well.
I perched on the sit pad Bard had gifted me in Damascus next to the fire eating, needing the warmth, my appetite not really there, but doing my best to take care of myself. Sketch further became my hero of the day by giving me her second sleeping bag to put on top of my quilt, and putting hot water in her Nalgene bottle so I could keep it as a warmer in my quilt and stay warm.
It wasn’t even a particularly cold night, but I was definitely running a fever, and Hunter looked at my throat, telling me it was red. I was hoping I didn’t have strep, maybe just a cold or something, but it was hard to tell.
When I laid down with the water bottle and second sleeping bag, I felt toasty and so grateful for the kindness I’d been given. Sketch then gave me Benadryl for my hives and breathing, when I wondered aloud if the hives had stayed all day because my immune system was busy fighting the sickness I had.
I didn’t have cell service, so couldn’t check to see if anyone else I’d been in contact with was sick. The day hikers from earlier had told Hunter and I that something was going around that wasn’t covid, and I wondered if I’d caught that in town.
Tomorrow it was supposed to be 22 degrees at night, so I would have a decision to make in the morning. Sketch, the wilderness guide, told me I probably shouldn’t sleep outside tomorrow night. There was a hostel at a road a few miles ahead, but I really didn’t want to pay for a bed, and thought it might make more sense to get a shuttle to Bojangles’ house and stay there to recover, if he was okay with me being there not feeling well. Of course, the shuttle might cost more than a bunk, so I’d have to see.
There also was a chance I’d sweat it out in the night and feel better in the morning, so I supposed I’d worry about that when the sun rose. In the meantime, between being toasty warm and listening to rain patter the roof of the shelter, having taken a CBD gummy and Benadryl, I hoped I’d sleep deeply and comfortably, unconcerned about the next day ahead of me.