I don’t know if it was the sadness of leaving Georgia or what, but North Carolina wasted no time in skipping a warm welcome.
The morning felt gloomy from the moment I woke up.
Up until this point, the trail had been mostly sunny and bright, so waking up to a gray sky and cold fog made the whole world feel different somehow. And yes, I know it sounds ridiculous that crossing an imaginary state border can change the vibe so much…
…but I swear I felt it immediately.
I packed up camp and immediately started my day following the Appalachian Trail:
With a vertical climb directly out of the camp!!
As if the uphill wasn’t enough, my brain had also decided that today would be the perfect day to circle the bears.
Specifically:
- Muskrat shelter
- Permanent Indian shelter
- recent bearish activity
- and the broken bear wires that people kept talking about
I really started to feel like a huge bear was stalking me in the woods and had seen my coral shirt and decided I looked like a colorful little snack.
Fortunately, I never saw a bear.
At least…not one that sought me to see it.
When I came to Muskrat Shelter (or SHEETER), I wanted absolutely nothing to do with it.
The place had horrible vibes.
I don’t know how else to explain it.
Maybe it was the stories.
Maybe it was the broken cables.
Maybe it was my rapidly deteriorating mental state.
Either way, I grabbed water and got out of there as quickly as possible.
At some point in the morning, I began to seriously reminisce about Georgia.
Which was surprising because about three days earlier I had been actively cursing the Georgia mountains.
But Georgia suddenly felt safe. Familiar. Comfortable.
Meanwhile, North Carolina seemed huge, intimidating, and full of mysterious bears.
By the time I arrived other Deep Gap, because apparently the trail only knows six names total and keeps recycling them, I was struggling mentally.
I didn’t necessarily want to quit smoking…
…but I did I want to cry a little and maybe get a zero in the city.
Instead, I spread out my Green Dragon holiday blanket, took off my shoes, and aggressively ate chips while trying to diagnose my emotional state.
It turns out:
I was hungry.
And honestly? This solved at least 40% of the problem immediately.
The sun also started to come out, which helped a lot.
As I sat there recovering mentally and spiritually, a section hiker stopped to chat with me.
Another man passed by and almost missed the trail completely before the section hiker pointed him in the right direction.
That’s when the boy casually mentioned:
«Oh yeah, I went on a hike last year.»
Instant credibility.
He asked me if we were going hiking too and when I said yes, he smiled and said:
«I have something in my car. I’ll be right back.»
Now at this point I was a little worried.
But instead of something scary, he came back with:
- a bag of M&M’s
- a Tastykake Boston honey and cream bun
- and a beer from Lazy Hiker Brewing in Franklin
Real behavior of angels.
His trail name was Cardinal and he had hiked north in 2025.
This was my first real experience on a magical trail and honestly, I could have cried right there in the parking lot.
The timing couldn’t have been more perfect.
Not long after, Dan showed up and I immediately told him about the magical path.
I informed him that once we reached the top of Standing Indian Mountain, we would share that beer to celebrate.
Actually, the climb itself wasn’t terrible.
And listen: I’m not saying that walking uphill is suddenly fun.
That would be a lie.
But compared to Georgia’s “straight down the side of a cliff” approach, North Carolina’s climbs seemed more gradual and manageable.
For once, my cardiovascular improvement was finally starting to pay off.
Once I reached the top of Standing Indian Mountain, all the bad mood I had had before completely disappeared.
The view was unreal.
Mountains could be seen stretching infinitely in all directions.
That was the moment it really hit me:
We weren’t in Georgia anymore.
I ran the beer under cold water to cool it while I waited for Dan to catch up.
And when it finally arrived, we opened it together on the top of the mountain.
To survive.
To pass the shelters.
To not be eaten by wildlife.
Honestly, that beer tasted like pure victory.
The camp at the top of Standing Indian was so beautiful that we decided to stay there for the night and watch the sunset.
And wow.
Absolutely worth it.
This was also the first night I really got nervous about my 30 degree quilt.
Until now, Georgia had left me sweaty and hot at night.
But what about the permanent Indians?
I was freezing.
I snuggled into my quilt almost immediately after sunset and prayed for warmth.
Fortunately, fatigue finally won, and after one of the biggest emotional rollercoasters of the ride so far…
…I finally fell asleep.
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