Sunday, May 24, 2020 8:00 pm 13.6 miles
AT 238.0 Davenport Gap Shelter → AT 251.6 Stealth Campsite
Weather: Clear night, beautiful warm sunny morning into humid afternoon with approaching thunderstorm, then thunderstorm right on top of me with cold rain, then breezy kind of sunny evening to dry out
Trail Condition: Rocky and rooty out of the Smokies. Pretty smooth sailing after crossing under I-40 and getting back on trail until the storm – then walking through a waterfall up the trail
My Condition: Physically feeling great – feel like I could’ve done more miles today. Emotionally tough day
I did it – I’m out of the Smokies! What a beautiful section of trail. It’s typically the most crowded section of the trail, so to have had shelters with 0, 5, 1, and 2 other people in them I certainly can’t complain! The section between Davenport Gap and Charlie’s Bunion, and to a lesser extent around the approach to Mt. Cammerer, were the only parts where I’d say I saw crowds. The diverse landscapes were incredible. I’m really looking forward to the freedom of choice now – no permits locking me in to a certain destination or timeline. I was hoping to make it to Max Patch today, but I’ll hit it tomorrow and close in on Hot Springs. I passed up Groundhog Creek shelter a few miles back, thinking my luck would hold out a little longer and the distant rumbling and threat of nasty weather was just that – a threat. It had dogged me most of the afternoon to absolutely no effect. But I was wrong. Midway through the climb, it started POURING – cold rain and booming thunder seemingly right over me. I put on my rain gear and kept walking until I found a thick patch of rhododendrons with some good overhanging tree cover. I sat under my makeshift (and surprisingly effective) cover and my mind wandered to my family. I’m so incredibly lucky to have such a wonderful, loving support system behind me, and at times I feel incredibly undeserving of it. While I’m blessed to have spent so much quality time with my family since moving to Georgia, I found myself sitting in the pouring rain feeling as though I’d somewhat squandered it. I wish I’d spent more time playing games with dad. I wish I’d spent more time helping mom clean out the attic, or going through old pictures and documents together. I wish I’d been able to connect more with Andy. Maybe it was just a burst of homesickness, but I found myself in tears under this rhododendron wishing I’d been able to appreciate my family, this great blessing, more fully during the time I had with them. I was able to dry out and enjoy a shorter day relative to the last few.
Post Trail Analysis
After finishing the trail, I have found myself to be quite rain averse. If, for example, I was looking to walk the dogs and it was raining, if it’s more than a sprinkle I’d rather wait for a more clear window or skip it completely. Moments like this day’s probably have something to do with that. Putting on your rain gear as it’s beginning to let loose, knowing full well that you’re going to be soaked to the bone in minutes anyways, isn’t a fun feeling. You put that rain gear on to keep your core temperature up, though. Thunder BOOMING all around you, you just hunker down in as safe a spot as you can find and hope it’s not your time to go. I found comfort underneath those rhododendrons – knowing how my mom loves those, in an otherworldly way it really felt like she was right there sheltering me with a big bear hug. I don’t get homesick often, never have, but definitely felt strong pangs of it in this strange moment. The trail catches us at our rawest. Long buried emotions get stirred up, your mind wanders to the places it never has time to seek out in the hustle and bustle of everyday life, and you find yourself completely at the mercy of the winds of fate. You also find otherworldly strength in moments like this. Your resolve becomes steely. You accept what is, and make the best of it. You smile as you make it to the other side of the storm, feeling the rain lighten up, the pitter patter of rain on the leaves slow, the birds start to chirp again, and finally see the sun poke out from behind that impenetrable wall of dark clouds. You realize you made it through the darkness, and that you are ok.
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