Loneliness in the Smokies – The Trek

All you have to do today is walkI say to myself as I wake up in some kind of warm tent on a cold morning. But that’s not true. I have to pack up camp, eat breakfast, stop to filter water, look at my map a thousand times a day, chat with strangers so I don’t go crazy, watch out for bears and rattlesnakes, check for ticks, and then walk ten hours a day. It’s quite a considerable list. Sometimes it’s hard to accept the fate of that routine for the next four months.

The honeymoon phase of trail life began to fade in slow layers. Walking alone can provide me with a peaceful meditation as I think carefully about which muscles to use and in what order and focus on breathing slowly through my nose. Walking alone can also bring curses when you stub your toes repeatedly while walking quickly to climb because sweat drips from your face and bugs swarm around your eyes. When you experience the latter more than the former, it’s hard not to complain: Do I have to do this every day?

When I arrived in Fontana, I had high hopes of breaking this spell by seeing my parents, who drove three hours along winding roads to visit me. They brought me more food than I could pack, rented a small cabin for us to stay in, and listened to my trail stories. I could feel my personality slowly returning as I saw familiar faces and loving support. The group of guys I left the hostel with were sucked into the Fontana vortex when they realized there was a free shuttle to the general store, which meant endless beer runs. I knew I had to keep moving, so the next morning my parents drove me back to the trailhead. In the back seat of my dad’s car, I felt like I was being taken home to South Carolina. If they were, would I be angry?

I entered the Smokies feeling terribly out of shape. When will those sections of trail magically appear? After the first big climb, the Smokies became a beautiful but lonely endeavor. I walked alone every day, creating silly songs to hopefully make my presence known to the bears.

This land belongs to the bears / So it’s only fair / That I do my part and try to share / Cause this land belongs to the bears

This land is not mine / I’m passing through on borrowed time / So if I see a bear, it’s okay! / Because this land is not mine

If there was a bear in my house / I bet your dollar, I’d scream and scream / But this territory is not mine / This is a bear’s house

I guess I thought that if the bears understood English, they would know I would come in peace. And it worked! I saw no bears in the Smokies, just a few deer, turkeys, and rabbits. I’m sure many bears saw me although.

I sometimes found myself taking breaks at the same time as a hiker named Dozer, whom I met at Neel Gap. Our brief encounter 130 miles ago turned into a five-day pilgrimage through the Smokies, staying together in the same shelters at night. He walked a lot, but he was cutting back on his mileage to take care of an injured knee like me, so we usually ended up in the same place. Even with an occasional companion, I couldn’t help but feel a little bored most days. I felt guilty for not enjoying every moment. I was tired of the small conversations about shelter, which revolved around the team or what I planned to do with my degree. If I knew, do you think I’d be in the woods right now? I hated feeling grumpy, but the monotony of my days was becoming painfully noticeable.

I had a little jolt of excitement when I arrived at Newfound Gap and was immediately spotted by a Ridge Runner that stayed with us the night before.

«Hello Dreamcatcher! Do you want me to take you?» He said from his truck, passing by at the exact moment I reached the intersection. The easiest hitchhiking you’ll ever do!

I shopped at the only grocery store in Gatlinburg and then felt a little panicked. How am I going to get back on track? This was a part of life on the trails that I had not yet encountered. Luckily, I discovered a free tram that could take me to the NOC, which was the closest I could get to the Sugarlands Visitor Center. I still had a very long road ahead of me. On the tram, tourists would ask me where I was walking and give me random advice that forced me to smile and nod. I felt like I was in a zoo exhibit and wanted more than ever to get back to the forest, which was a good sign.

I started walking along the side of Newfound Gap Road and stuck out my thumb every time a car passed. After about half a mile of this rather humiliating task, a truck pulled up and said, “Where do you want to go?” through a thick southern accent.

“As long as you are willing to take me down this path,” I responded.

«Get on.»

Jeremy and Denise happily drove me to the trailhead, sharing their own camping stories and marveling at how crazy they thought I was. In a hitchhiking scenario as a single woman, I was happy to be considered the crazy one in the car. They wished me good luck and I set off about three kilometers uphill to the next shelter. Day hikers passed me and gave me little nods or a «good luck!» when they sensed (or smelled) that I was a hiker. The contrast between hikers and those who have a car, a shower and a bed waiting for them was becoming more and more evident.

It reminded me that I was part of a community, even on the lonely days. Arguably, those days are the ones that earn you true hiker stripes. The balance between rain and sun came to mind. Solitude and friendship. Good days and bad days. Sure, my to-do list is different than most, but I was facing the same general problems. I’m not in control of the time, the climbs ahead of me, or the people I may or may not meet, but I have to keep going anyway.

My roommate and I used to talk about the privilege of doing dishes because the idea of ​​having our own kitchen was once a dream. As cheesy as it may sound, that’s the attitude I’ve been forcing into my walk through tough times. I spent two years planning and dreaming about these moments and here I was capturing them. I’m in no rush, I control my own schedule, and I’m living the reality of what was once a distant idea. I have to be my own best advocate and my own cheerleader. It is a privilege to be on vacation in the forest. It’s not always that easy, but it’s a start. I can walk every day!

Total AT miles traveled: 211.1

This website contains affiliate links, which means The Trek may receive a percentage of any products or services you purchase using links in articles or advertisements. The buyer pays the same price they would otherwise pay, and their purchase helps support The Trek’s ongoing goal of bringing you quality backpacking information and advice. Thank you for your support!

For more information, visit the About page of this site.