An unexpected meeting – Day 13

I woke up early on Siler Bald, the mountain shrouded in a strange, shifting veil. Due to controlled burns and rain the night before, there was dense fog and smoke at low altitudes along the ridge. Dawn broke through everything as a soft, surreal diffuse orange glow, spreading across the Nantahala Mountains like a silent signal to start moving.

I went to make breakfast and when I reached into my lunch bag, I quickly remembered that I had the lovely task of cleaning up the peanut butter.

So, first of all, I broke down camp and then spent the next half hour, and way too many wet wipes, cleaning up the sticky mess. It was one of those annoying little trail tasks that somehow seem bigger when everything you have is in that one bag.

With that task finally completed, I began heading towards the trail.

Another hiker, Jungle, had climbed up to the bald and we spoke briefly, exchanging the usual early morning words. However, when he left, I noticed something that stuck with me more than the conversation. Trash. A lot. Tent poles, torn tent bags, food containers and more were scattered across the top of the bald.

So, I delayed my own departure.

I packed up everything I could, gathering what was left in piles for others to hopefully take.

My backpack was now five pounds heavier than normal…

Finally, I set off, walking the blue grassy path and reconnecting with the familiar white flames that were leading me north.

The plan was for a 17.3 mile day.

With the late start, combined with the constant elevation gain and descent through the Nantahala National Forest, the miles came slowly. Each one felt won.

The climb to Wayah Bald was tough. It was steep, with minimal curves, the kind of climb that forces you to follow a rhythm whether you like it or not. But at the top, the reward was delivered. The historic stone fire tower stood tall, a relic of another era, watching over the ridges.

I had lunch there with Jungle and we both took in the panoramic views. The sun finally came out and I took advantage of it, spreading my tent out to dry from the previous night’s humidity.

A few section hikers and day hikers were hanging around, and I found myself going through the usual list of questions. Where did you start, where are you going, how are you handling all of that? I responded, but I also tried to give them an idea of ​​what this is really like, something deeper than just miles walked.

From there, the next push of the day took me to Cold Spring Shelter, tucked away just off the trail in a quiet ravine. That’s where I met Zach and Puppy. Zach has been hitchhiking across the United States for the past 10 years, exploring wherever the road takes him. Somewhere along the way, he found Puppy, and now the two set off together.

By now, it was late afternoon and I was ready to make the last climb of the day.

I passed Rocky Bald and since I was going at a good pace, I decided to take the blue blaze to the top. The smooth surface of the gray stone allowed for quick and easy ascent, and at the top, I was greeted with a wide, open view of the mountains stretching out in front of me. Layer after layer, disappearing into the distance.

I headed back down Rocky Bald, grabbed my backpack, and flew the remaining miles.

I arrived at the Wesser Bald fire tower around 5, the day was almost over. Wooden and steel steps led to a large platform at the top, situated above the forest canopy. From there, looking north, I could see the faint, shadowy outline of the Great Smoky Mountains rising in the distance. They felt close now. Closer than ever.

They would be here before I knew it.

I ended up taking about half an hour to call home and talk to my dad. The honeymoon phase of the trail was still largely intact. I missed my connections at home, the familiar voices and faces, but at the same time I didn’t want to be anywhere else.

The journey has been incredible so far.

And he was ready for more.

I was pushing hard to catch up to Alex and Cody. I was ready to walk again with some familiar faces. Hiking alone has its advantages – the quiet, the independence, the space to think – but the community is one of the main reasons I’m here.

So, I made my final push toward Wesser Bald Shelter, located along the ridge above the Nantahala River valley. Tomorrow I would arrive at the Nantahala Outdoor Center, a well-known hub for hikers traversing this section of North Carolina, and hopefully reconnect with them.

But as he walked towards the shelter area, something unexpected happened.

I saw four familiar faces.

Jersey, Lost and Found, Energizer and Bird Detective were all there.

Thus, the kilometers of separation disappeared.

We had a small meeting and they made room to pack me into the shelter, packed like sardines, with equipment hidden everywhere, the kind of chaos that somehow makes me feel at home here.

We ended up staying up until about 9 pm, catching up and exchanging stories of the miles since we parted ways in Hiawassee. Each story contained a part of the journey, the ups and downs, the struggles, the randomness of it all.

I had met up with a group that I knew I would love to hike with.