Baggs Creek Gap 2157.5 to Gooch Mountain Shelter 2177.4 (19.9 miles, 2177.4 total miles)
My Nalgene hot water bottle became a lukewarm bottle around 2AM, and I tossed and turned after that, trying to get warm again. A fierce wind had continued throughout the evening, rattling my tent up on the ridge. I hadn’t wanted to set up my tent, as it took quite a while in the bitter cold, but had to admit it was at least much warmer than sleeping in a shelter.
I got up at 6AM when it was still dark out, the cold motivating me to get moving where I could hopefully warm up by hiking. Shade Tree and Flamingo were both gone by the time I was out of my tent and packing up, but somehow it still took me till 8AM to be hiking out. I saw Milky Moo briefly before he left, and I heard him talk to a day hiker about our next stop ahead, Mountain Crossings.
The thought of hiking 4.3 miles to the outfitter, and having an opportunity to warm up indoors, had been what got me out of bed that morning. I didn’t have high hopes for hot food, but I’d heard there was a wood burning stove there, and I had a newfound fondness for those after encountering them in a few places on trail.
Taking down my tent was an exercise in grit, because everything was doing its best to fly away down the mountain in the cold wind that was quickly turning my fingers and toes into burning icicles, making shed tears in frustration. Leaving Happy, Lentil, and Looseleaf in their tents without saying goodbye, too miserable and cold to talk, I hiked down a flat half mile of trail, tucking my trekking poles under my arm and sticking my gloved hands into my puffy to warm back up.
I climbed the short ascent to Wolf Laurel Top, finally warming up my toes a bit so I could feel them again. I had a nice view to start the day, enjoying the sun that had come out after the overcast day prior. As I descended a mile and a half toward Swain Gap, I was flooded with the feeling of how close I was to the end. Only 30 miles of trail separated myself from Springer Mountain.
I also deeply was struck by how my ending was so many others’ beginning. Neels Gap, where Mountain Crossings is located, is well known for being a place where large amounts of NOBOs quit the trail, realizing quickly it isn’t for them. In fact, there is a famous tree just outside the outfitter where, legend has it, the boots and shoes of would be thru hikers hang on the branches as a symbol of how difficult the trail is.
I wasn’t sure if I was imagining it or not, but I thought I deeply felt the energy of beginnings around me. Maybe it was because I knew so many former NOBOs so well, or that my friend Pigpen (the one who’d inspired me to hike in 2015) had told me such detailed stories and I’d read so many other accounts of the trail, but I was struck by this feeling.
I’d recorded a few videos for myself while on trail, just to track my progress and growth. I made another one while I walked on a flat section, putting my phone away when I saw day hikers approaching. They congratulated me on my hike, something I was enjoying as I got closer to the end. It felt great to be recognized and acknowledged for this long journey I’d undertaken. My excitement was building each day, now that we’d finally gotten through the last of the rain, and it felt like the end was just within our reach.
When I was checking the map near Rock Top Spring, I saw Beer Girl hike up behind me. I greeted her enthusiastically, as each time we’d seen each other we’d said “goodbye forever”, since she’d been planning on finishing a day after us. We talked for a minute before I hiked on, beginning a mile of ascent up Levelland Mountain, finally warmed up enough to take off my puffy.
A couple miles later I started hearing the unmistakable sounds of a road, and picked up my pace as I scooted down the mountain, seeing picnic tables, signs, and light green plants rippling in the breeze. I rushed into the bathroom, not having been able to dig a hole in the frozen ground, so happy to have a flushing toilet and the warmth of being indoors.
I saw Painkles coming in as I was going back out, and worked my way around to the main entrance, passing under the shoe tree and leaving my pack with the others’ that were there already. I entered into an absolute oasis of warmth, where Flamingo excitedly told me there were breakfast sandwiches and coffee.
The outfitter seemed to have everything for thru hikers, and is a very popular place for NOBOs to swap out gear early on. All I wanted was food and coffee, and microwaved a Jimmy Dean croissant sandwich, poured a cup of hot coffee with a hot chocolate added, and grabbed a cosmic brownie. I also purchased a few more packages of hot hands at the register.
Making my way over to the wood stove, I basked in its warmth while sipping my coffee, so relieved to be inside and out of the cold wind that had followed me since camp. Pause and Manchego were there, Beer Girl arriving a bit after me. I sat with her and asked how the night at her friend’s place had gone, and told her about ours. After a bit, I bought a couple stickers for my bare Nalgene, saying hi to Lentil when I saw she’d arrived with Happy and Looseleaf.
By that point I’d been at the store for an hour, so I queued up a very long playlist full of songs I’d listened to throughout the hike to get me up and over Blood Mountain. I’d expected it to be a very difficult climb, based on stories I’d heard from NOBOs in the past, but when I looked at the map I saw it was only an ascent of 1,300 feet over 2.4 miles. For the experienced legs of flip floppers and SOBOs, that wasn’t much, and I told Happy we’d had plenty of bigger climbs with no names. It was our last noteworthy climb before Springer, however, and I was excited to finally summit this one I’d heard about for years.
I stepped back out into the sunshine around 11AM, crossed Route 19, and began the climb with music pumping in my ears. I was very pleased to find out I had reached a calm, warm section of trail finally, and at Flatrock Gap I stopped after a mile to delayer again, this time removing my puffy, hat, gloves, and rain pants. Feeling unencumbered once more, I made my way up a plethora of rock steps, carefully stepping around the beautiful, but treacherous, ice that covered certain areas.
It was a very lovely climb, with foliage and rocky sections that I traversed while thinking about my hike and all it had meant to me. I was fully present and aware of these last days, reminiscing on the variety of experiences I’d had out here, and how rich and fulfilling the journey had been.
When I stopped at a small side view to take it in, Flamingo caught up to me and I paused my music to chat with him. We passed by Beer Girl and her friends, then approached a few sections of sheer rock faces that I could have sworn made me feel just like I was in Maine again.
I left the others behind to talk, while I carried my trekking poles in one hand, loving the feeling of exertion that came from powering my way up a sheet of rock, thinking back to the strength I’d found climbing Old Speck. Faster than I’d expected, I reached a large stone structure that served as the Blood Mountain Shelter. It was quite a monument, though I’d read it wasn’t very pleasant to sleep in.
Taking out my PB&J of the day and a can of root beer I’d packed out from Mountain Crossings, I climbed up a few rocks to a view of near and far ridges, meeting a father-son duo day hiking up. I saw the others come and go, while Flamingo hung out up top with me and several day hikers who came through.
A little gray and white bird kept hopping up near me, wanting to eat the seeds from my sandwich bread. The bird’s colors made me think of Frankie, who’d been on my mind a lot, of course, as his memorial hike came to a close. The wound of his loss had healed dramatically while I’d been on trail, and I’d felt his presence clearer out here. I’d moved right after his passing, and to be hiking in a place where I had so many happy memories with him had been as beneficial as I’d hoped it would be.
After a comfortable lunch in the warm sun, I was ready to descend. The next few miles would have me dropping back down the 1,300 feet I’d climbed up, and I zoomed down the mountain, still listening to music while Flamingo followed. There were a couple little ups, and we said hi to Beer Girl & co when we passed them having their lunch in a sunny spot.
I noticed several places where leaves were cleared for drain dips that crossed the trail, and I wondered what method trail maintainers used to clear those spots because they were so clean. I also wondered how long it would take me to follow one by accident instead of the trail, and sure enough, it finally happened when rounding a corner as I came face to face with a wall of trees. I backpedaled and righted myself again, stopping at a water source for a break about 5 miles past the summit of Blood.
I had a couple snacks, and told Flamingo to go back in the lead as I drank some caffeine. He was naturally faster than me, and I was starting to feel a bit tired. I’d kept us at a good pace, though, and was hoping he could do the same as we had a bit of climbing ahead. I was still determined not to night hike again on this trip, so speed was essential to me.
We climbed a couple miles, stopping at Big Cedar Ledges to admire the view, the sun low in the sky. The hostel just a mile ahead still called to me, but it was the most expensive bunk I’ve heard of on trail, and I wasn’t about to pay $75 for one night. I’m sure they did quite well being so close to one end of the trail, but I’d be sleeping indoors every night soon enough. Plus The Barn in Franklin had been such a great final hostel, I didn’t want to mess with that energy.
On the descent to Woody Gap, we ran into a familiar looking woman, who I found out was Sticky Fingers wife, Sherpa. I’d waved to her from their conversation van near Fontana Dam, and was glad to formally make her acquaintance. She was a sweet woman, heavily bundled up in a parka and cozy hat, walking their dog on her way to meet Sticky Fingers, who we found out was hiking not far behind us. When he caught up, we all walked together to the parking lot, where I found a privy I’d only imagined might be there.
We made our way up two small climbs, greeted with a nice view to the south, while I switched over to a podcast when my playlist ran out. We reached Gooch Gap in the middle of the forest near a gravel road, continuing on for one more mile, arriving at the shelter at 5:30, right at sunset. I smelled campfire, and saw Shade Tree had unexpectedly made a fire for us, which was a nice treat.
The shelter was large and empty, but I went down to the campsites nearby, where the others had set up their tents already. It took extra time to set up and take down, but the additional warmth made it more than worth it. I savored the remaining half hour of leftover daylight, the first time I’d been able to set up camp without using my headlamp in what felt like weeks.
I gathered my dinner things as dark was falling, and walked back up to the shelter and fire to rehydrate my chicken risotto Backpacker’s Pantry meal. I’d eaten the same meal on my one overnight shakedown hike I’d done before trail, and wanted to close the circle with that being my last, as I’d be treated to two cookouts for the last two evenings of my hike. Sticky Fingers would be having one on Springer tomorrow night, and Lentil and Looseleaf’s families had been planning our end of hike party for weeks now.
I gathered water down a side trail, careful to keep my new water filter out of the cold as much as possible, boiled water for my Nalgene, and sat with the others around the fire for a while. I hung out with Lentil, Looseleaf, and Happy when they night hiked in, before getting cozy in my tent for a night that would at least be a few degrees warmer than the last, with no wind chill to speak of thankfully.