Days 20 – 23: April 23 – April 26, 2021
Brown Fork Shelter to Fontana Dam – 12 miles
Day 20: April 23, 2021
Brown Fork Shelter to Cable Gap Shelter – 6.7 miles
I loved waking up to the sound of the birds. They seemed to stir at the same time every day, and they quickly became my new alarm clock.
The day was shaping up to be a lazy one. When I woke up, Fresh was still fast asleep and Yogi was contentedly sitting in bed. The night wasn’t as cold as we had anticipated, so we got good sleep. I got dressed in my sleeping bag and got my food bag to make breakfast in bed. I leaned on the back of the shelter, snuggled back into my bed, and ate my breakfast while I finished my book.
None of us wanted to hike, and that was OK. I had only planned to do 6.7 miles. My dad was on his way to me, and we planned to meet at Fontana Dam which was only about 11 miles away from Brown Fork Shelter. I easily could have hiked all the way there, but I’d be there a day early. So, I decided to split the section up into two easy days.
The three of us stayed in the shelter all morning, finally leaving a little after noon. Aside from the lazy morning, I had another intention to stay at the shelter…I wanted to use the privy. (Trigger warning, hiker poop talk again). My entire hike so far, I had “bathroom” issues, and I always found myself unlucky and in the middle of nowhere needing to “go” immediately. Everyone else seemed to have some kind of internal clock or reliable schedule when it came to bathroom breaks—but not me. Most days, I’d get a couple of miles into my hike before my bowels suddenly kicked into gear. At that point, there was nothing to do but make a mad dash to dig a cathole. I kept hoping that if I lingered at the shelter a bit longer, I could take advantage of the perfectly functional (if slightly rancid) privy. But no such luck. About halfway through the hike, like clockwork—or more accurately, lack of clock—my body made its urgent demands known. I was starting to think I wasn’t operating on a schedule at all, but on some kind of cruel motion-activated system. Seeing as I was once again out of toilet paper, an issue that happened more than I would like to admit, I began picking large rhododendron leaves. I tried to stop to dig a cathole, but the ground was knitted together with roots that my titanium trowel couldn’t get through. I knew I’d have to just wait it out until I got to the next shelter. I was clenching my butt so tightly that I could feel it in my face. My jaw was locked, my brow furrowed, and every step felt like a new level of physical struggle. It was like my body was trying to make sure every muscle was involved in the effort to not soil myself in the woods. Naturally, I had to snap this pic so I could remember this feeling and share this story!
I shuffled my way into camp and made a b-line for the privy and finally got some relief. With that issue out of the way, I could focus on making camp and dinner.
I pitched my tent by a babbling brook and grabbed my food bag to join a group of guys cooking at the shelter. Dinner for the night was garlic and chive flavored instant mashed potatoes. I was so hungry and eager when my water started to boil that I rushed to pour it into the bag of powdered potatoes—and missed. Boiling water splashed directly onto my hand. I gasped and quickly adjusted the pour. After stirring and sealing the potatoes, I checked my hand for burns. No blisters, but my skin was bright red. While my powdered potatoes absorbed water, I snuck off to the stream and dunked my hand in it for a few minutes to ease the pain.
Later that night, as I was journaling, I had to stop writing because my hand felt like it was on fire. I had to dunk it a few more times before I was able to sleep comfortably.
Day 21: April 24, 2021
Cable Gap Shelter to Fontana Dam – 5.3 miles
It was raining when I woke up and it had been for some time. I layered up and ran through the rain to get my food bag from the tree it was hanging in. Once back in my tent, I started to boil water in the vestibule of my tent. I poured the water I needed for my coffee into my cup and the rest went into the oatmeal packet. I curled the edge of the packet closed and placed it in my now empty pot to rehydrate and stay warm.
Fun tip: A lot of the food commonly eaten on the AT can be cooked this way, by pouring your hot water into the packaging. I did this with oatmeal, grits, mashed potatoes, and Knorr pasta sides.
After eating, I tried to wait out the rain since I wasn’t in a huge hurry. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem to be going anywhere, so I began deconstructing my tent from the inside out, packing up the most important things first like my sleeping bag and clothes. Once most of my stuff was in my backpack, I started to unhook the tent body from the frame as I crawled out of it. As I packed up, and realized it was going horribly, I thought back to the day I practiced taking my tent down this way at home. I wish I’d had mom or dad spray the hose at my tent so I could practice packing up in the “rain”. This is terrible, I have no clue what I’m doing and everything is getting wet! I thought frustratedly, although my most valuable items were safe and dry.
I started the morning with a good attitude, frankly because I wasn’t that wet yet. The fog clinging to the landscape looked amazing and almost apocalyptic. The forest was always beautiful when it looked like this.
The trail grew slick, and I could no longer appreciate the beauty of the fog. My focus shifted entirely to the path beneath me, each step carefully placed to prevent a fall—though, of course, I still ended up slipping. Frustration built with every misstep, every rolled ankle, and every splash of cold water.
I didn’t feel like it was fair that I had to deal with this much rain since I’d never experienced it before. Colorado is a high desert where any sort of precipitation is quick and short lived, even the snow. My rain jacket funneled the water down my legs, and it pooled in my shoes. My pack cover would collect puddles, and small movements would cause a cascade of cold water to pour down my legs. Mud and leaves clung to my legs like they were made of glue.
As the rain increased, the trail turned into a river, but that didn’t matter anymore because my shoes were soaked. I fumed and cursed in my head; Mother Nature sure can be a b****. She does not give a f*** about you or your hike. She will put mountains, rivers, rocks, mud, and trees in your way and laugh at you. Although of course there was no censorship in my head at the time.
I listened to a downloaded movie for the remainder of my hike to calm down. Hiking filled with rage wasn’t going to get me to Fontana Dam sooner. I liked to listen to long movies that I knew well like Avengers Infinity War, Avengers Endgame, or Avatar. I always felt like it acted as a fast forward button - I knew I could hike about five or six miles before the movie ended. Sometimes, I would even race myself to try to bag seven miles!
Fontana Dam was quite underwhelming. There was a small store on a dock that was expensive and minimally stocked. Luckily, I didn’t have to wait there for too long, Fresh’s family gave us a ride to Fontana Village where my dad picked me up. He had rented a Camero with a convertible top. We hoped it would be nice enough to put the top down at some point during his visit.
Once at the hotel, I tried to wash my tent off in the shower and much to my surprise the copious amounts of leaves and mud clogged the drain almost instantly. The tub soon began to fill up and the water turned gray-brown in color as it churned in the tub. While I scooped the forest out of the drain, my dad took my wet tent outside and shook it off. When he came inside, he had bits of dirt and leaves all over him and dirty water freckling his face and glasses.
“I started to shake it and realized that was a mistake,” he said with a slight huff. We laid my gear out throughout the room so it could dry overnight.
Day 22: April 25, 2021
Zero
Dad and I just hung around Robbinsville. We strolled through the town resupplying, stopping at the laundromat, and grabbing dinner. What I remember most, is laying in my bed in our hotel room with my feet kicked up eating a pimento cheese sandwich and enjoying multiple fried pies; the lemon and peach flavored ones were the best.
Day 23: April 26, 2021
Zero
I had clean laundry, a dry tent, a belly full of delicious fried pies, and a great night’s sleep. I was ready to enjoy my second zero with my dad.
We started our day off by driving back to Fontana Village to give Sweet Water a ride back to Fontana Dam. We picked him up with the convertible top down and wound our way through the curvy mountain roads leading back to the Dam. My dad was driving pretty fast, and I was worried Sweet Water was feeling nervous. I couldn’t hear anything from the back seat, so I just enjoyed the scenery and the fresh air.
Once we dropped Sweet Water off, my dad turned to me and said, “Alright, let’s see what this car can do!”
“You’re going to go faster?” I asked with a laugh.
“Well yeah,” he said, “I was holding back because I didn’t want to scare Sweet Water.”
He did, in fact, not hold back as we drove to Bryson City through the hairpin turns. I wasn’t nervous; I trust my dad’s driving more than anyone on Earth. When I was growing up, he raced sprint cars. I remember spending nights at the tracks watching him race, smelling the methanol fuel, and scraping thick layers of mud off his car.
Once in Bryson City, we ate at the Everett Street Diner. It had been a few hours since I ate breakfast, and my body demanded food. We ordered as soon as we could. I got the brunch burger - a hefty beef patty decorated with hashbrowns, eggs, bacon, lettuce, and tomato. I never once set the burger down. I ate like a feral dog afraid someone was going to take my food.
Our young waiter strolled up to us early into the meal. “How’s everything tasting for you guys…er. Um,” he turned to me. “Sorry, are you a boy or a girl?”
Keep in mind, I had shaved all my hair off before embarking on my trek, and I looked far from ladylike as I horked down my burger. “Girl,” I said to him mid-bite without looking up. He turned away sheepishly and left us in peace.
Once I finished my burger, I licked the dripping egg yolk off my hands and wiped them before digging into the fries.
“You’re going to eat the fries too?” My dad said shocked. He had never seen me eat this much at one time in my entire life. I laughed and ate most, if not all, the fries.
My dad placed an order for coconut cream pie, and we shared that too.
Once back at the hotel, I packed up my gear and checked that I had everything I needed. Dad was going to be taking me back to Fontana Dam in the morning. This was my first double zero and I was feeling anxious about being off trail for so long. I didn’t want to get behind my friends. I knew the goodbye in the morning wasn’t going to be anywhere near as hard as it was on Day 1; this time I was eager to get out there.
Next time on Packing It In: I enter The Great Smoky Mountain National Park and continue my hike North!
Did you see a word you didn’t know? Check out my Appalachian Trail Thru Hiker Dictionary for a list of hiker terminology. If you don’t see the word on this list, comment below and I’ll add it!