The things we do for love – Day 8

Chilly and I arrived at the trailhead around 1:30 pm, located along the southern ridge of the Appalachians near the Georgia access to the Blue Ridge section. Today would be a hard day. Chilly’s last day on the road.

The last 3 kilometers together.

We walked in silence for a while. I think we were both processing the last week of traveling together. We shared so many incredible memories together, every mile we traveled together. We had become a team here. The distance we walked, the setting up and breaking down of camp, how we spent our time in the city, it had all become a team effort. We both have our own journeys we need to follow, and this is part of it.

The climb toward the Georgia-North Carolina line is uneventful.

It really is.

We began a brief conversation, but nothing stuck or stayed, as if the weight had suppressed our voices.

We slowly moved towards the border ridge.

Three ATC ambassadors were there, stationed near the crossing into North Carolina. Everyone congratulated us for leaving the first state behind. I appreciated the support, but I really just wanted to have a space to thank Chilly for everything.

The border sign is truly spectacular. A small wooden rectangle that very clearly says «GA, NC.»

We took pictures next to the sign and then finished the conversation with the ambassadors. Finally pulling away and finding a small side trail that gave us some room off the main footprint of the Appalachian Trail corridor.

We sat and felt all the things that couldn’t seem to be expressed in words. It was never enough time, but eventually we would have ours.

Finally the time came.

The weight was heavy, the words few and the emotions intense.

With a final hug, a kiss and a “I love you”

He walked south.

And I walked north.

The miles to Standing Indian Mountain in North Carolina flew by. I was mentally struggling with the idea of ​​not having a walking partner, of having to walk in silence, of being alone.

With those thoughts heavy on my mind, I quickened my pace. It was late and I really didn’t want to settle in the dark. The climbs and descents through the ridges of the Nantahala National Forest became such a blur that I can’t remember.

The sun sank lower and lower, beginning to cast a golden glow on the world. I reached the base of Standing Indian Mountain in what seemed like record time. I practically ran up the mountain and arrived perfectly at sunset.

The sunset was incredible, the mountains were an ocean of golden light and their shadows cast large shapes in the valleys below them. In the distance, the distant ridges had a soft blue mist clinging to them. The view was a mix of deep blues, shimmering oranges, and bright browns.

While taking in the view, I saw a text from Chilly saying that she would be at Mooney Gap doing magic on the trails and that it would be great for me to hike to her. I called her immediately and let her know I would be there tonight or tomorrow.

I knew I was going to make it that night.

What is 23.1 miles anyway?

And so I walked.

And he walked…

And he walked…

The sun finally disappeared, the world was plunged into deep darkness, and the stars shone in layers above me.

My red light illuminated the way. Every step was careful and precise, getting hurt in the middle of the night while walking probably isn’t the smartest thing to do.

I passed reflective signs indicating I was in a “Bear Management Area.” It’s a really comforting thought to have in the back of your mind.

I walked all night and listened to music out loud once my headphones died. At one point I ran into a full camp while listening to Journey’s “Don’t Stop Believin.”

Sorry about that guys…

About 5 miles from the end of my trip, my feet started to hurt. Each step became an effort of will and determination to complete it.

I decided to stop on the side of the trail for a very late dinner. In honor of Chilly I had their special, tortilla, peanut butter and tuna.

It’s a horrible combination that she loves, I ate it without hesitation because at that moment I was starving. Fuel is fuel, I guess. It also gave me a chance to get up. After finishing my meal in prison, I went back down.

About 2 miles from Mooney Gap, my whole body was slowing down. Every step was an effort, my feet were burning and I was barely moving fast enough to keep the 30 degree cold from reaching my swelling.

Finally, FINALLY, my headlight reflected off the thermal visors of Chilly’s car.

I dropped my backpack and plopped down on the ground next to her.

37.1 kilometers from dusk to past midnight.

I finally forced myself to get everything ready and do my nightly routine. When he finished, I knocked on his window 5 times and a few moments later a light came on and the door opened.

If I remember correctly, his first words were “you’re crazy.”

You are probably right in that statement.

I went to sleep quickly that night…or morning, I should say.

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