I. Was. Miserable. I hadn't weighed my pack, but I was guessing it was close to 45 pounds as I hiked the four miles uphill out of Fontana Dam. The hill wasn't really all that steep, but with that much weight I could barely stand it. I drug myself into the shelter, where I dreadfully set up my bed. As part of the permit to hike through the Smokies, you have to sleep in the shelters. Only once the shelters are packed full can you set up a tent outside. I noticed how everyone was much more social because we were forced to share a space. Tents offer more privacy and people tend to keep to themselves a bit more. My previous shelter experience being a bad one, I was nervous about laying awake all night. Much to my delightful surprise, no one snored. Of all 12 of us (mostly men), it was silent.
I marched along, lost in thought as usual, when I heard a rustling from the rhododendron to my right. I frantically tried to locate the source of the sound. Suddenly a black furry thing shot out from behind a bush. I didn't get a good look, but I thought I saw a squished nose and tufted tail which led me to think it was a wild pig. But as I watched it lumber down the hill, I realized it looked very much like a bear! Firefly came up behind me and, having seen 12 of them last summer in New Hampshire, assured me it was. A bear! So many thruhikers complete their journey without ever seeing one, so I hadn't gotten my hopes up, but it was awesome!
The Smokies are so different than the rest of the trail. Being a few thousand feet higher in elevation than the test of the mountains, there are awesome fir and spruce forests with moss carpets, amazing rocky views framed by spring flowers, and grassy field to stride through.
Firefly and I ate lunch on a large slab of rock overlooking a field and mountains. A few day hikers joined us, and before leaving offered to take our trash. Firefly later commented that she was surprised how kind people were to us. That got me thinking. Why do people spend time and money to help us thruhikers?
I think its because it is easy to see a need. It is clear that a thruhiker just wants food, cleanliness, and shelter. Basic needs. Strangers see our packs and know who we are. They know what we need.
In every day life, however, it gets much more complicated. It is harder to see what people need, because many people already have the basics of food and shelter. Because the basic needs are covered, the new needs are much more complex. People need acceptance. People need love. People need happiness. It is much harder to see these needs, especially when people put up shields and hide behind a façade. Even if we were to recognize these needs, it is harder to meet them.
What if we were able to see needs as easily in everyday life as on the trail? What if we were able to meet those needs? What would the world be like?
With high hopes for another good shelter night I snuggled into my sleeping bag. This time I could not get comfortable. soon, it began. Somehow I had gotten next to the only person in the shelter that snored. Sigh. After a while I decided to kick her (more like a nudge) after all, I want people to wake me if I keep them up with snoring. Do unto other as you would have them do unto you right? Kicking didn't help. Put in headphones. Still heard her. Turned up the music. Still. Kick. Didn't help. The snores vibrated the floor, literally. Grr. Three hours pass. This is ridiculous. I'm going outside. I grabbed bed and headed out to find a good flat spot. I was planning on retrieving my tent but it was hanging in my pack on the bear cables, so I decided to sleep under the stars. There were so many of them!
I had heard stories of bears coming into the shelters and dragging people off in their sleeping bags, so I looked all around to see if there were any ready to attack. Nope. I was safe. I woke up a few times, always peering into the darkness. But other than that I slept soundly without incident.
The wind was horrible. Constant. Cold. Strong. After three miles in a dazed misery, low on water, I made it to a shelter to regain strength. After a pot of pudding soup and a bottle full of water, I continued on. The wind died down, and soon we were offered countless breathtaking views.
At 6,667 feet, Cling man's dome is the highest point on the Appalachian Trail. Fueled by jellybeans, we made our way up the steadily increasing elevation. As we approached the top, we met an increasing number of day hikers and tourists. Soon our feet met pavement as we arrived at an over-developed summit and climbed the spiral tower to a 360 view. It was neat, but I would take a mountain side view over that any day. It felt so fake with the concrete surrounding me. As I watched the crowds of people arrive who had panted up the paved walkway, many exhausted after the half mile jaunt, I thought about the 200 miles we had just covered to get there. A few tourists asked to take our picture, as they were excited to meet thruhikers. But we got a few looks of disgust along with looks of admiration, as we looked like wild animals emerging from the woods. The fast-paced life seemed overwhelming after being among the quiet trees, so I eagerly headed back to the trail.
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