Appalachian Trail 2025 Overview: North Carolina

Admittedly, I didn’t follow my posts as well as I thought I would. For me, I can’t help but compare my hiking experience to a common phrase people say about parenting: You think you’re going to be the best at it, and then it happens. I had great intentions of being the best and most consistent Trek author when I left for Georgia; but the reality is that I often found myself too engrossed in making memories to pause for a minute and make a coherent post.

Still, I kept a nightly log of where I was staying and took plenty of notes along the way that I’d love to share with you. There are nine weeks left in 2025 and I have nine more states to tell you about. Not 13, you ask? Well, you’ll have to keep an eye on that story. So, with your indulgence, I plan to bring you a few more stories.

Thoughts from North Carolina:

I woke up early to catch the first bus to Franklin, excited for a day in the city that wasn’t brought on by injury or dangerous weather. This was a city day in my terms.

While waiting to check into my motel room, I stopped at a coffee shop and had my first latte in what seemed like decades. One cake felt so delicate that I handled it like a crown jewel.

Next to me were two separate families, each with small children, timidly exchanging glances as they circled each other like puppies deciding on the appropriate greeting. One of them finally stepped forward.

«Hello. Do you want to hold hands?»

How easy it seemed to just ask to be friends. I resolved to be more like these two throughout my walk: I would let my interest in people (walking with them, becoming their friends) be known in a serious and authentic way.

The opportunity to put my revitalized interpersonal skills to the test came sooner than I imagined. When I walked into Outdoor 76, I met Jingles. Jingles had been hiking the previous year and was now working at Franklin’s iconic gear store and hiker hangout. It is a great comfort to recognize someone like you in the world where you least expect to find them. Asking for their pronouns felt like my own version of asking to hold hands. Spending my day zero with them and their partner would have been enough friendship points, but that was just the beginning.

In the basement of Outdoor 76 I met Jupiter, Crazy, Trash Dog and Johnny Condom. I immediately felt that these were my type of hikers. It might have had something to do with the fact that Crazy was carrying a full ham, a pound of cheese, and a full box of PBR in his backpack; But anyway, I asked them the simple question that is the foundation of trail friendships.

Crazy just restocked and ready to go!

“Where are you planning to camp tonight?”

The question behind the question is: «Would you like to camp together?»

When I heard they were split between two campsites, I felt even more proud of myself when I told them directly that they should camp where I was staying.

What followed was a night of gambling and community dinners, two things about society I had sorely missed.

That day in Franklin really sums up one of the most important lessons the North Carolina section of my hike taught me. Asking to hold hands, to camp together, to be friends requires a touch of vulnerability. I’m generally a people person, but as I strive to be more intentional with my connections, I return to these moments as examples of all the great things that are possible if you put in the effort.

The experience also encouraged me to accept the ways in which the Path was unknown to me. Yes, I was on my own turf in North Carolina, and the parts of the AT I called home were just a few days away, but there was still a lot to learn. In many ways, I was still getting to know the Appalachian Trail like my friend. And to know him better, we would have to open ourselves to each other.

With the Smokies on the horizon, I was eager to reach the park entrance at Fontana Dam. But early in the afternoon the day before I arrived, I started to get a little dizzy. I knew that stopping for lunch was the smartest decision, although I had planned to walk a few more miles before lunch. It wouldn’t cause any dramatic delays, but I still felt anxious whenever I had to take things slower than planned. As soon as I gave in to an early lunch and sat on a hill to eat lunch, the church bells rang in the valley. It was yet another sign that he was where he was supposed to be, when he was supposed to be there.

And I still made it to Fontana in time to hike through the Smokies with my new friends.

View from the lunch spot, with a church beneath the clouds serenading the afternoon.

Campsite registration:

Day 18: Winding Stair Gap to Franklin, North Carolina (NOBO Mile 110)

Day 19: Franklin, North Carolina to Moore Creek Camp Site (110.5)

Day 20: Moore Creek to Cold Spring Shelter (125.4)

Day 21: Cold Spring Shelter to the tent via the National Outdoor Center (139.6)

Day 22: Sassafras Gap Shelter (144)

Day 23: Cody Gap (156.1)

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