The weather had finally given us a break as we walked. Although the water had stopped falling from the sky, it certainly had not gone off the path.
A flooded stream crossing.
The half-mile stretches of trail could best be described as small streams, busy rushing after last night’s storm. Every step was a soft, muddy mess that threatened to take you down if you weren’t careful. It was a day of walking whose beginning I didn’t particularly like.
Jessie crossing the stream.
This day also featured our first stream crossing. Honestly, there’s not much to highlight. It might have been a little more noticeable on a dry day, but with everything wet, what’s a ride in a little more water?
A meadow that we crossed on the way to Chestnut Knob.
What followed was a pretty big climb up Chestnut Knob. The shelter at the top is supposedly an old fire cabin with an incredible view of Burke’s garden. The climb was quite pleasant, but the storms that were brewing made the walks through the meadow feel like reading a fantasy novel. Just big puffy clumps accentuating the flowing grass.
A view of the garden from the shelter.
The view from the shelter really delivered. I had arrived first and I didn’t dare leave my things. I was simply too enamored of the view to remember to dry my socks or fix my backpack.
It’s one of those views that unfortunately doesn’t photograph well (or at least in a format you can capture). I must have stood there for at least 30 minutes, taking it all in, before finally taking off my shoes and going inside to drop off my stuff.
The southern edge of the garden at dusk. Clouds would gather against the mountains and roll over the peaks.
Person by person, our small group began to arrive. Every member who arrived was as stunned by the sight as I was. It seemed as if we were watching a painting in motion as the clouds moved in and out over the natural valley.
Image of tragedy. (From left to right: Jingles, Sassafras, Big Dripper, Sal, Jessie, Russell and Suds). We had been traveling with Jingles and Sassafras the previous two days.
I guess it would be a good idea to describe what we were seeing. From what I read, the valley was formed from a limestone anticline that eroded faster than the surrounding bowl. What remains is beautiful flat farmland surrounded by Garden Mountain Ridge with only one natural drainage. The unique formation causes the area to develop its own weather systems, and not to mention it is just nice to look at. It’s especially interesting when you look at a satellite image of it.
Suds, Jessie and Jingles standing in front of the shelter.
Anyway, the place is really cool and unique, and I enjoyed sitting there for ages chatting with people and looking at it. The real magic began when some storms rolled in and the sun began to set.
I absolutely love the afternoon light. Photo credit to Big Dripper.
A photo of me ranting passionately about how cool clouds are. Photo credit to Sal.
A closer image of all the divine rays passing through the tree.
All the moisture in the air created an incredible lighting that I was passionately talking to everyone about. God’s rays passed through the trees. Storm cells passed over the valley. It all combined to form a chaotic beauty that I was glued to until the sun finally set.
The interior of the shelter, full of bags and people.
The inside of the shelter had been filled with night stragglers trying to escape the storm. In the hustle and bustle of everyone getting ready for bed and people heading to their bags, there was an unfortunate incident.
A pair of dirty alligators had been left to dry on one of the rungs of the ladder leading to the top bunk. As Sal was climbing up to get into bed, one of the alligators escaped and she took a pretty nasty fall to the cement floor. He landed directly on his tailbone. A portion of the shelter was stunned into silence for fear that some serious injury had occurred. Those dirty alligators made that girl dirty.
She seemed in a very good mood (maybe just a little embarrassed), but she climbed back into bed like a warrior. After a mediocre night sleeping with snoring at the shelter, we checked in the next day and found that the adrenaline had worn off and the pain had settled.
We had planned a 17 mile day ahead, but with Sal’s pain, we thought we would cut it short. The steep descent to start the day ended pretty quickly. Jessie and I had arrived at a space and were chatting with an incredibly friendly local called Ellis when Sal and Big Dripper appeared.
They didn’t look so good. Well, they both looked great, they’re beautiful people, but morale was clearly very low. They made the decision to walk a little further to a road and drive into town in search of a motel. Jessie and I initially planned to go ahead and drive into town for a quick stop at Dollar General the next day. Bland was never on the itinerary as an end point. But after taking into account that we were wet, muddy, unshowered, stinky, tired, and a little beat up, I requested that Jessie and I go to the motel with them.
The Big Walker Motel.
The road is hard. It has its wonderful and beautiful moments, but it can wear you down over time to the point where you just need a break. Sometimes you just need a motel and a Circle K.
The gang walking towards Circle K.
We arrived at the motel and took a shower immediately. Watching days of slushy dirt disappear down the drain was more than satisfying. Next point of order, Circle K. The gas station was situated in the valley, radiating a heavenly afternoon glow. It called to us like a beacon guiding a storm-tossed ship toward port.
My Circle K tour.
Modesty and dignity usually lead to the purchase of some snacks, perhaps a hot plate. All of that went out the window when we walked in. We were reaching for the biggest glasses of soda from the drink machine, drinking Arizona teas, redbulls, 9 hour chicken sandwiches, taquitos (or a tornado as they called it), chips, boiled peanuts, etc. Gluttony was undoubtedly our sin of the night.
We probably looked like absolute bums sitting on the sidewalk of the gas station and devouring our feast. It was pretty hard to care about appearances when a stale, spicy, breaded chicken sandwich that’s almost guaranteed to destroy your stomach tastes like Michelin-starred food.
Evidence of the crime.
For the last chore of the night we decided to disinfect our clothes with a little vinegar and baking soda. We were past the point of washing machines. It was time to bring out the big guns, or rather, the tubs.
This was my first bathtub washing experience. I was shocked, dismayed, and almost even proud (?) of the rapid color change in the water. So much dirt, grease, and grime had built up on our clothes over the last month and a half. We all choked a little as we watched the dead colonies of bacteria rise to the surface of the water. No wonder we have always complained of being itchy and developing some skin problems.
I want to make it clear that we have been washing our clothes weekly. It just seems like a washing machine can’t handle the level of dirt we pick up on our travels. If you are also a hiker and plan to do this, for the love of God, clean the tub afterwards. There is no cleaning staff that should have to deal with this. We also made sure to tip the housekeeping staff just for the hiker smell.
Our now odorless clothes hanging in the front yard of the motel.
The motel was kind enough to let us hang our clothes in the morning. When we put our hiking clothes back on, we were pleasantly surprised to find that they smelled absolutely neutral. Maybe the first time they didn’t smell horrible since our first day on the trail. It was probably our most encouraging stop yet.
