Cross Mountain/TN91 1745.2 to Boots Off Hostel & Campground 1765.9 (20.7 miles, 1765.9 total miles)
I woke up in the guest room at Bojangles’ house on Tuesday with a very sore throat and lungs that felt like they weren’t working to full capacity. I tend to get an upper respiratory infection that goes away on its own every fall, so figured that was what was happening.
I rested, showered, did laundry, and hung out with Bard and Bojangles. Bard kindly treated me to breakfast at the Damascus Diner, where we met Wildfire and Ducky, a couple SOBOs with tiny packs and base weights.
Later on, we heard from Iroh that he’d hiked to town and was at the Broken Fiddle. By then I’d committed to hiking 21 miles the following day to get to Boots Off Hostel to avoid another freezing cold night. I was feeling a lot better, not 100%, but confident I could hike.
We walked over to hang out with Iroh, and Mary arrived by car later on. There was a large bubble of SOBOs at the hostel, including a hiker I’d met at Chet’s back in New Hampshire. It seemed like a good group, and I enjoyed meeting them.
We put a movie on the projector in the open air barn hangout area at the hostel, when my breathing began to become very labored and shallow. Iroh asked around if anyone had an inhaler, but no one did. Swift, a female SOBO, had just sent hers home to shed weight, but gave me some tips to get my breathing back under control.
My chest was tight, I was wheezing and coughing, beginning to get alarmed but trying to play it off in order to not freak anyone else out or myself further. I’d been thinking my asthma was coming back after years lately, but this was the worst asthma attack I’ve ever had.
I went into the hostel with Iroh, as the 32 degree weather wasn’t helping. I used Swift’s tips and googled how to handle an asthma attack without an inhaler. Iroh was incredibly supportive throughout, making me hot coffee when I read that would help, sitting with me as I struggled to regain my breath, asking if there was anything he could do for me repeatedly.
After the coffee, and an hour or so of sitting upright on the hostel floor breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth, and trying to stay calm, my breathing was still troubled but stabilized. I asked Iroh to see if Mary could give me a ride back to Bojangles, completely unable to walk to the half mile back in the frigid air.
She came to find me after a bit, saying that I could take the car to drive back myself and her and Bard would walk back. It was really appreciated, as I knew I needed to get to the place I was staying to feel comfortable. When I got back to the house, I sat up in bed and took store brand DayQuil and Zyrtec. Bojangles checked on me to see if he could help in any way, but just giving me a place to stay had been huge for me while I was sick.
Eventually the medications kicked in as well, and my breathing returned to just about normal around 1 or 2AM. I wasn’t able to fall asleep until 3:30, though, having drank coffee at 10PM. I didn’t care, because I could breathe, and that was all that mattered. Shaken, I committed myself to figuring out a way to see a doctor the next day and get an inhaler if I could. I was extremely lucky that the attack had happened at a hostel. If I’d been in the woods exposed in freezing temperatures, I don’t know what would have happened.
We all got up around 9AM the following morning after our late night, and I began making several phone calls to urgent cares, pharmacies, and my health insurance company. My insurance was only good in Connecticut, unfortunately, but I found an urgent care with a strong out of pocket discount in Abingdon. I was still feeling a bit sick, but my breathing was good for the moment.
After settling on my plan, we made cappuccinos, and I ran a couple errands with Mary for a bit. After that, she generously gave me her car to get to the urgent care. I’d been so taken care of by my friends, and I could only imagine the expenses I’d rack up to pay for shuttles and lodging during this. I got to the urgent care, filled out paperwork, and was waiting in the lobby by 1:00.
The wait wasn’t too long, and I was diagnosed with bronchitis, and written three scripts. One was for an antibiotic for the respiratory infection, doxycycline, one was a steroid for lung inflammation , prednisone, and the last was an albuterol inhaler. Normally, that might have been overkill, but the doctor understood I was a thru hiker and needed to get hiking as soon as possible, and would also be exposed to the elements.
I went to CVS, where I spent $54 on the prescriptions with the discount card urgent care had given me. The visit itself had been $28, so altogether I’d gotten off very easy for what I have paid out of pocket previously for urgent care visits back home.
I returned to Damascus to join the others at Broken Fiddle around 4:30, and spent the rest of evening hanging out there, making dinner at Bojangles’, and prepping everything to get back on trail the next morning and hike a big day to make up for the all the time I’d taken off.
I went to bed around 11PM, and got up at 7:30 Thursday morning. I was feeling a lot better already after only a couple doses of medication and puffs off the inhaler. I took another puff to start the day, feeling a little nervous about the big day ahead and hiking on doxycycline, but also confident and more than ready to be back on trail and making miles.
Mary drove me back to the trailhead, but first we stopped at a small store in Shady Valley to see if they had any ball caps for sale. I was totally covered up because the doxycycline was going to make my skin highly sensitive to the sun, and I’d also found and packed out sunblock from a hiker box. I really wanted a hat, though, and nothing was open before we left Damascus.
In the small, cozy store I found a rather cool hat with a snake on it, signifying the extremely windy road wending through the area. It wasn’t until later that I connected the dots of a vivid memory of pure happiness I had from 2016 of coasting down that road in Pockets’ car.
At the gravel parking lot, we saw Ducky with the tiny Jansport pack talking with an older local. The local told us all a story about the hermit of the south that was buried a few miles up trail. Apparently he’d had a black dog that was so dedicated to him that the dog wouldn’t let anyone near the body so he had to be shot dead to bury the hermit. Legends abound of people seeing the dog in the woods years later, and paw prints that mysteriously started and stopped in the snow that this man claims to have seen himself.
The tale was quite interesting, and played right into a short story I’ve been workshopping in my head, inspiring me further. After a bit, the local departed with well wishes, I said bye to Mary with a big hug, and hiked out at 9:17 while Ducky hung back in the parking lot for a bit.
The ground was frosted over as I began hiking, thoroughly relieved and excited to be back in the forest. The temperate was in the mid 30s, and I still had my fleece on and my hair down under the hat. I was already up on the ridge, so I had a bit of flat hiking to start the day, then a couple miles of easy ascent, where Ducky shot by me with his light pack load.
Three miles in, I stopped for my first scheduled sunscreen break at 10:30. I was stopping every two hours to reapply to my exposed skin, to be safe. The sun was fully out today, though still low in the sky. I removed my fleece while I was at it, had a snack, and messaged Bojangles to thank him for everything, as he’d been asleep when I left. He’d been a lifesaver when I’d been sick, and I appreciated all he’d done to help.
I was feeling excellent, the medication had done the trick, and I was feeling back to my old self. Just past the spot I’d stopped at was the hermit monument. I’d actually hiked right by it, and backtracked .1 because I’d been interested in seeing it. His name was Nick Grindstaff, and the inscription said he’d “Lived alone, suffered alone, and died alone”.
While I was standing there, a hiker walked up and introduced himself as Shaggy, the third one I’d met this year, though the other two were NOBOs. I chatted with him and few minutes, and called Boots Off when he told me the bunkhouse was closed, which Grumpy confirmed on the phone, but said their was tenting available.
I was disappointed, because I’d been hoping to spend one more night indoors to protect my lungs, but figured I’d be okay because it wasn’t going to be colder than 34 degrees, and I’d still have a warm place to go inside if I had trouble breathing again.
I let Shaggy go on ahead, and waited a minute before following. A mile and a half later I stopped very briefly at Iron Mountain Shelter, which seemed to have some sort of wind guard attached to it that I’d never seen before. I stopped to sign the logbook, marveling that I was still following the progress of White Walker’s 42 mile day and Slice’s 32 mile day a week later.
Mary had told me that White Walker had gotten off trail for the year recently, and was back at Woods Hole working for Neville. He was intending on finishing the remainder of his hike in the spring, and as long as he finished before May 14th, it would still count as an official thru hike according to the ATC because it had been done within a year. I didn’t want to consider that as an option for myself, but it was nice to know if worse came to worse it was a possibility.
I kept following the little ups and downs of the ridge, finally feeling that I was experiencing the Tennessee highway that everyone had been talking about. The sun had risen quite a bit higher when I stopped at 12:20 for my next sunblock application at a tent site 4.3 past my last breaking point. I dug a hole while I was at it, then took a nice 40 minute lunch break in the shadiest spot I could find.
I saw four hikers pass by where I was 20 feet off trail, though only one or two noticed me as they walked by. I continued on at 1:00, and after passing one SOBO hiker, a couple small climbs and another 4.3 miles arrived at Vandeventer Shelter, just in time for my next scheduled stop.
There were a few hikers at the shelter already, including Shaggy, who departed shortly after I got there. As I was chatting with the others, we realized we’d run across each other a couple times before. I’d finally found the Mob, the large SOBO trail family that I’d met back after Zealand Falls Hut in the Whites. Twigs, Purple Haze, and Workhorse were a little ahead of the others, and had also been at the Fiddle a couple nights back.
Dunk got there a couple minutes later, the older SOBO I’d passed on the climb to the shelter. I had a nice time chatting with everyone for a few minutes, reapplying my sunblock, and checking out the view of Watauga Lake from behind the shelter. After a bit, I kept going, leaving the others to their lunch and snacks, seeking a water source 1.3 further down the ridge.
I found the small puddle under a couple rocks, and collected a liter, while also drinking some caffeine. Dunk and Purple Haze passed by while I was doing that, and I kept going around 3:30, putting on a Halloween Party playlist I’d been listening to lately when my post lunch podcast ran out. Getting to hike through the woods during October and spooky season was a special kind of treat I hadn’t expected.
Most of the leaves had now fallen from the trees, making for very crunchy sounding steps as I shuffled through the trail. The upside was that I could now regularly see views through the trees to other ridges around me, and the lake below, realizing it was a lot bigger than I thought from first glance.
The next 4.8 miles from the shelter took me down off the ridge to Wilburn Dam Road and out of the Big Laurel Branch Wilderness after a half mile of switchbacking down a steep grade. After the road I had a small climb, and stopped once more for sunscreen, finally removing my gloves for the first time all day, now that the sun was sinking low in the sky again at 4:30.
I had 3.6 miles to go, and was sure I’d reach the hostel before 6PM, until I managed to get turned around at Lookout Road on the way down the rest of the ridge. I’d crossed the road and found another trail, hiking merrily along thinking about the end of my hike coming up, the myriad ways in which I’d changed and evolved, and the new adventures I’d be having once this trip was over. Once I reached the next trail sign, I realized my error and that I’d walked .4 down the wrong trail, turned around, and began backtracking to the road, which wasn’t steep but did include some uphill back.
I guessed one way I hadn’t changed along this hike after all was not losing the ability to go the wrong way from time to time. As I hiked back to the road, I could feel myself getting slightly upset, not as much as I might have in the past, but felt it coming over me nonetheless. I was annoyed at myself for getting worked up, until I decided to dig a little deeper. I’d read that anger is a mask for other emotions, so I tried to see what I was covering up in my mind.
As I considered it, walking down Lookout Road this time toward the lake, I realized first I was worried about getting to the hostel late. Well, that wasn’t a concern because I’d only wasted 18 minutes and it still wouldn’t be dark when I arrived around 6:30. Then I discovered my true concern was the shorter days in general, the cold, and my fear that it would be too much and I wouldn’t finish my hike. So I told myself an extra .8 would certainly not make or break this hike, and plus even if I got off trail I could still finish in the spring. Again, not something I’d do voluntarily, but just telling myself that was an option dispelled my fears.
That bit of self soothing accomplished, the anger and fear completely left my mind and body as I came in view of the lake, seeing Twigs sitting on one of the rocks on top of the dam we were walking across. I chatted with her for a few, then kept going, leaving her to consult the guide to plan her next water source.
I crossed over the dam, and saw the lake was much more beautiful than I’d expected. I hadn’t seen anything like it going south, and felt it would fit right in with any lake up north. The opposing ridge loomed mightily on the other side of the banks, with sun glowing off it and turquoise colored waters below.
After a couple tiny hills, I was zooming on a fully flat section of trail circling the lake. I passed Dunk again, telling him of my mishap, and admired the water from several angles. I walked along Join Road for a short time, then turned toward Boots Off.
I was surprised to see it was only a couple minutes after 6:00, and figured the evening shuttle would be making its way down any minute now. A van rolled by, stopping next to me, and the driver Mark asked if I was staying at the hostel and wanted to come on the shuttle. I wasn’t planning on going, but figured I might as well, and loaded in with the others already there, Dunks arriving just after me and joined, too.
I was happy to see Pleiadian for the first time since Daleville, and he introduced me to two other members of the Council of Chimps, Tang and Podcast. There was also a young woman named Beans and a section hiker named Naps. The Chimps and Beans had just finished a 24 hour challenge, and had hiked 60 miles in that time period. I admired them, but couldn’t picture myself doing something like that just yet. It was great to see and meet everyone, and I had a lovely time in the van talking with the group about various hikers we knew and met, and who was where on trail.
I thought I’d caught a lot of lucky breaks lately, and here was another one. When I’d first hiked out of Damascus, I’d felt a little alone because there were no other thru hikers around and I’d just fallen behind the group I was with, and Iroh was still a way back. Getting sick had sucked, but I’d run into some great groups of SOBOs and flip floppers that I really seemed to vibe with, and felt like I’d probably be hiking near here and there till Springer most likely.
We stopped at the grocery store, where I grabbed a few resupply items, then hit Subway in town. I wasn’t going to buy anything at first, but ended up getting a six inch sandwich meal, feeling that I’d earned it for hiking 21 miles two days after a severe asthma attack and having bronchitis still.
Back at the hostel, there was a nice common room to hang out in and finish eating. I checked in with Grumpy, and bought a few more resupply items that I may or may not have needed. I’d learned it was better to have too much food than not enough, and didn’t really feel my pack anymore, so it was worth it to me. I did, however, definitely need those new insoles that were waiting for me at the Station at 19E coming up in a couple days.
After setting up my my tent and repacking my food bag, I sat around a large fire for a while with the others, and a few more section hikers who were staying there as well. It was a nice atmosphere, and I stayed up after most of the others in the common area near the space heater, hanging with Dunk and Podcast. I was really happy to be around a good group of hikers again and feeling at home with everyone, very at peace after overcoming being sick on trail and making it through to the other side, believing in my strong, capable self again.