Burningtown Gap 2069.1 to Long Branch Shelter 2091 (21.9 miles, 2091 total miles)
It was our last zero day, and we enjoyed it to the fullest. Watching movies, playing card games, sorting our resupplies, taking naps, and, of course, eating plenty of food were just some of the activities that we enjoyed while rain fell steadily throughout the day from Hurricane Nicole.
Spidy and his wife, Shawn, had made us delicious spreads for breakfast both days, and Spidy even offered to drive us back to the trailhead, an hour plus journey. They were both so incredibly kind to us, and made our last zero and last hostel stay absolutely perfect.
We arrived at the small gravel lot at Burningtown Gap just before 9AM, all hiking out a few minutes after. I had my pack cover on, though the day had started partly sunny, there was a 30% chance of showers between 9AM-3PM, and I had a feeling the rain would be coming for us.
For most of the season, it had seemed rain would only come when atweather.org said 70% chance or higher, but that was certainly no longer the case. We were off to a late start, but fortunately the terrain was much easier than it had been lately. I was guessing an arrival time of 7PM to hike 22 miles, which would involve, what else, some night hiking.
The first little climb of the day brought me to a spot with a few viewpoints looking back toward where we’d recently hiked. There were layers of clouds between peaks rising toward blue skies, and I stopped at each one to admire the views.
I looked toward where we were heading, and saw a very different story. Gray clouds and fog ahead, and I set off toward them, resigned to my fate. It didn’t take too long for sprinkles to start falling on me, and I stopped at Wayah Shelter 3.6 miles into the day for the privy, passing Flamingo on his way back to the trail.
A few weekend hikers were there with a fire, and I envied them as I continued on, glimpsing Happy disappear into the trees ahead. I was the caboose today, and found myself a little worried about pace because of my last experience trying to hike 22 miles in the rain and ending my day after 9PM.
I reminded myself the circumstances of that were different, plus I was fresh off a zero. I was already making good time, and I climbed up to Wayah Bald in increasing rain and fog, feeling my spirits sink with the weather, but knowing it was only temporary and the sun would be out tomorrow.
I hiked without listening to anything, as saving it for later did make the day go by faster I’d been finding. On the bald, there was a nice stone observation tower, where I observed a similar view to the one I’d seen on Clingmans; absolutely nothing.
Flamingo was there on the phone, and I found a covered spot under the tower to put on my rain coat. It was raining more insistently now and chilly, so the jacket definitely helped. I followed a paved walkway that seemed to be a wind tunnel pointing directly at me, before gratefully ducking back into the woods.
It was a very gloomy day, though I found myself passing a surprising amount of weekend and section hikers as I went. A couple ups and downs later, Flamingo caught up to me and gave me half a liter of water when I was looking for the source at a campsite, then he continued on.
I was carrying far too much food and, combined with my cold weather gear and book, my shoulders were aching throughout the day. For some reason, no matter what I did I couldn’t get the shoulder and chest straps right to relieve some of the pain. At least the long epsom salt soak and leg and feet massages I’d done to myself during my zero had really helped with the swelling and pain in those areas.
I realized I’d gotten used to traveling with the others when I began to feel a tad lonely not seeing them all throughout the day. I wasn’t going slow by any means, so I knew they weren’t too far ahead, and was glad when I saw Lentil and Looseleaf stopped for lunch rather late in the day at a campsite just off trail.
I’d had my lunch in the rain under a rhododendron tree, which didn’t offer much cover, but was the only option when every other tree was bare and leafless, making hiking in the rain a bit more unpleasant than in the summer months when the foliage had offered a natural umbrella.
By now, the steady rain had stopped for the most part, though sprinkles still were happening here and there. It was about 3:00, and the fog had lifted a bit, the forest in clearer focus than before. As I stopped to sit with Lentil and Looseleaf, Flamingo arrived as well. I headed out after a few, wanting to retain momentum, 13.7 miles into the day.
By now I’d listened to a couple albums and some audiobook, and made my way down to Winding Stair Gap, crossing Route 64, glimpsing blue skies momentarily at one end of the highway. I climbed up and over the next hill, stopping where Rock Gap Shelter used to be.
I hadn’t read the comments saying it had just been torn down a few days back to be rebuilt, and was surprised when I saw it lying in a heap, yellow caution tape ringing the materials that had once made a shelter. For a moment, I wondered if a tornado had come through during the hurricane before consulting the guide and finding out what had happened.
I left to finish the last 3.4 miles of my day. The last few had been tough, the gloom of the day affecting my mood dramatically, as usual. I knew to expect it, though, and was just riding it out. My shoulders ached so bad, though, that when I accidentally hit my knee with a tekking pole, the combined pain made me cry.
I listened to podcasts for the rest of the day, as fortunately the terrain had been so easy today I didn’t need much music. By 5:55, I conceded defeat in the growing darkness, and turned on my red light to hike with. Normally I night hiked with my white light, but it was so foggy I thought the red might reflect less light back into my eyes.
Also, I didn’t want to lose my night vision, which the red light would prevent me from doing. I unplugged my earbuds and continued playing my podcast at maximum phone volume, knowing no one else would be around to bother, wanting to keep animals away with the noise of humans.
Hiking with red light required extra concentration, which I was grateful for. I had to focus so much on where I was going that I had little energy to spare for getting myself worked up over potential scary things in the night. I hiked 1.8 in the dark before reaching the shelter spur trail, stopping for water on the way.
Shady Tree, Happy, Painkles, and Milky Moo were already there. I also met Enigma, a SOBO, and Peggy, a section hiker in her 60s. The other three arrived a bit after and, since it was another double decker shelter, there was room for everyone to sleep inside.
I boiled water to fill my Nalgene, as we were looking at a low of 24 degrees for the night. I also slept with my phone, external battery, and water filter to protect them from cold damage. It was a cheerful sort of evening in camp, all of us glad to be out of the rain and in good company again. Tomorrow we’d pass the 100 miles remaining mark, with exactly one week left before we could all officially call ourselves thru hikers.