Laughing Heart Hostel 1919.7 to Max Patch 1939.2 (19.5 miles, 1939.2 total miles)
My roommate for the night was out and packed before I woke up, only barely rousing me once as she left. I got up a little after 8AM, wanting to pack and leave quickly because I was intending on hiking to a shelter 17.6 miles outside of town, which would involve mostly climbing for the day and 6,000 feet of elevation gain.
If I did that, I would only have 15.5 miles to get to the road where Standing Bear Hostel is, marking the end of this map section. A trail angel Miss J had put me in contact with was going to pick me up to resupply before the Smokies, so the shorter day I hiked tomorrow the better, as I could get chores done as early as possible.
I was back on trail by 9:23AM, roughly when I’d intended, and left Laughing Heart behind as I began the ascent out of town, 1.5 miles of a steep climb to start. I couldn’t have asked for a better day of weather, expecting a high in the low 70s with blue skies glowing overhead.
I could see Hot Springs receding in the distance over my shoulder as I climbed, and for such a tiny town I was very impressed with my experience there. I hiked up the mountain, deep in thought, processing things while I went along.
I felt really good mentally, the kindness and support I’d been showing yesterday still with me, but I had to unpack my feelings about Iroh. I noticed a few hundred miles before both the NOBOs and SOBOs ended their hikes, it almost seemed as if a lot of hikers checked out mentally, preparing to reenter their lives and leave trail behind.
My trail life holds just as much sway to me as life outside trail, and I don’t see that distinction so clearly. It feels like people change toward the end of their thru hikes and, while I can certainly understand that, it still hurts when it happens. That’s not something I experienced last time, but had now witnessed multiple times on this trip.
After the steep section, which went by quite quickly, I ended up on a few miles of easier uphills. After an hour of hiking, I’d reached the spur trail to Deer Park Mountain Shelter, which I continued past, wanting to keep up momentum.
I could feel my coffee had worn off, but I kept going, wanting to be efficient. On one of the uphills, I met a thru hiker named Sticky Fingers and his friend, Greg, who was out for a couple days. They were both very nice, and I spent several minutes talking with them.
I descended a mile and a half to Garenflo Gap, where the trail made an unexpected hairpin turn away from the dirt road. It was a little before noon and I was ready to take a lunch break before tackling my biggest climb of the day.
I ate a PB&J I’d made this morning, a bag of Lays, and a bag of mini Oreos while I queued up some music for the 3.9 mile climb of 2,300 feet. Painkles and Milky Moo, who I’d met a couple times now, passed by as I was eating, saying they were going to the same shelter for camp.
There was a good group around, mainly the flip floppers that’d been hiking with Pineapples, who’d had to get off trail for a wedding recently. I really liked everyone in the area, and felt really comfortable with them. I hoped I would be seeing these faces often as we finished our hikes.
The climb wasn’t too bad, and I ran into Milky Moo, Painkles, and another hiker breaking partway up. I told them to go on ahead, not wanting the pressure of being first and trying to go faster than I wanted. I’d left my competitive spirit when it came to pace behind a long time ago.
The hardest part of the climb was leading up to the last mile. It wasn’t a particularly steep climb, rather it was just very drawn out and was making me tired. I rallied, though, and made it to the view less summit of Bluff Mountain just before 2PM, as planned.
Just as I began descending, I saw Woodchuck hiking up toward me. I’d been hoping I hadn’t missed them, but was pleased to see the whole trio was out today. Griller handed over four bananas he’d packed out for me, and I found room to stuff them into the outside pocket of my pack in a ziplock bag Pyro II provided.
After more kind words from them and wishes of good luck, I continued down the mountain, extending my trekking poles for the downhill. I stopped after .8 to collect and filter water, cameling up there to lighten my load, as I was carrying quite a bit of food in my bag and my shoulders had been hurting as a result.
A mile more downhill brought me to Kale Gap, where I had my last significant climb of the day. about a mile up and 500 feet gain. The first .8 got me to Walnut Mountain Shelter, where I stopped to sign the logbook before finishing the ascent. On the way to the top, I saw a couple women I’d met at the Tavern the day before, and said hi to them, and they told me they were both very impressed with my hike.
I cruised downhill for a mile and a half to Lemon Gap, where my section hiking friends had started today. I’d been considering hiking a bit farther than the shelter to the tree line before Max Patch so I could catch sunrise in the morning, and not have to wake up as early as I would if I stayed at the shelter.
Max Patch is extremely well known and popular as one of the most beautiful in southern Appalachia. People used to camp up there regularly, but restrictions had been put in place for two years preventing that till June 2023.
Sketch, the local hiking guide and artist I’d met when I was sick, had mentioned there are spots to camp just before, and Far Out had confirmed as well. I thought if I hiked diligently I could maybe even catch sunset there as an added bonus.
I began an easy ascent to the shelter, listening to my audiobook now, admiring views through the trees and trying to be careful where I was stepping. After a couple miles, I realized the bottoms of my feet were quite sore, and I was getting tired again.
Just before the shelter, I stopped to have a snack and drink water. I’d been snacking quite a bit today, my body wanting the calories for all the climbing I was doing. A bit further, I stopped briefly at a very nicely flowing water source where Milky Moo and Painkles were collecting water for camp.
We chatted, and I learned Milky Moo is from Holyoke, MA and Painkles is from East Lyme, CT, both very close to places I’d lived in the past. It seemed such a small world in that moment, meeting them so far south. I told them of my plan for the evening, and invited them along if they wanted.
I passed the shelter, renewed by switching out my book for music and talking with friendly people. I stopped to collect my own camp water a few tenths of a mile further, adding almost five pounds of weight to my back. I made a goal to reach Max Patch by 5:55, and set off, hiking strong as the trail continued to incline upward.
I’d reached the endorphin portion of my day, pushing past the tiredness into a renewed sense of vigor and excitement to hit my goal. I passed near a beautiful field, thinking how I’d been waiting to hike Max Patch for years now, and how I’d be getting to have a totally unplanned sunset and sunrise there.
I was glad to be hiking solo again, able to make these snap decisions on my own and follow my own energy levels and desires. I felt fantastic as I made my way ever upward, through beautiful tunnels of rhododendron and mountain laurel trees, singing aloud to my music here and there, the trail quite deserted.
I began seeing tent sites on my right as I approached what appeared to be tree line, .4 before the summit of Max Patch. A middle aged woman was walking nearby with no pack, leading me to believe there must be a parking lot nearby.
She approached me at the tent site, asking me questions about my journey, seeming very interested and inspired by me. It was 5:45 when I arrived, and was about to follow the woman up to the mountain with my dinner when I realized I had enough time to set up camp first, before I came back down and it would be starting to get dark.
I set up quickly, then slackpacked myself the .4 with one of my trekking poles to the summit. After I cleared tree line, I saw the moon had already risen over the ridge, and the mountains had begun glowing with orange light.
I kept climbing up, the sun hidden behind a small cloud ahead, shielding my eyes for the moment. At the top, I saw several other people gathered to watch the sunset, including a couple having their engagement photos taken and a large group of their friends.
I found a grassy spot to sit and watch the show, eating my remaining PB&J and the bananas I’d been given for dinner. The view was expansive, as the sun dropped below the clouds into a fiery orange flame that illuminated rows upon rows of hazy blue mountains in the distance.
I blinked, and the sun had sunk behind the ridge ahead, leaving a gorgeous show of pinks and oranges, light reflecting on the cloud above, so the edges glowed brilliantly. A pink tinge ringed the horizon as I sat listening to The Bard’s song on my phone. Platinum texted the Cult group chat telling us she was going to apply for a PCT permit and was hoping to leave next April. My heart was full.
The other thru hikers hadn’t shown up, but I realized it didn’t matter to me. I felt perfectly content watching this sunset solo, so proud that I’d hiked so much elevation today, and done even more than I’d planned to have this special moment with my hiking partner for life, myself.
I’d become much more resilient than I’d given myself credit for till now. A woman had asked me today how a six month hike changes a person. I told her I had been much more high strung when I started, and the trail had chilled me out.
I no longer freaked out when I went the wrong way by accident, I didn’t have a meltdown when I stopped hiking with certain people, I even was becoming more comfortable with the idea of camping alone. I was no longer terrified to leave the trail, understanding I was going to continue following my dreams, unlike the last time I left trail.
I was becoming more confident, more flexible and adaptable, and had grown my network of friends and trail family in a huge way. I felt more like myself than I had in years, and no longer was contemplating going back on antidepressants, as I had been very close to doing this winter.
The sunset on Max Patch had been one of the most beautiful things I’d seen in my life. I asked the woman I’d met earlier if she wouldn’t mind throwing away the banana peels for me, and she was more than happy to, which I really appreciated because they were heavy and smelled strongly, which could attract bears.
On my way down the mountain, my knees stiff from the cold, I ran into a young woman named Brenda from Chicago, taking a road trip with her dog. She was super sweet, and wanted to know about my hike, since she’d taken up backpacking the year prior and had thought about hiking the AT.
I urged her to go for it, amazed that I was suddenly receiving so much admiration from people lately. As I hiked back to camp, I reflected how it really was uncanny that when I decided to stop being down on myself, how the people around me had begun lifting me up even higher.
It had been a very special day, one that would live on in my memory for years to come. I felt at peace, my energy and equilibrium restored, excited for a beautiful sunrise tomorrow, and the Smokies just one more day away.