Day 20: We crash at a wedding on the trail

After sleeping through the night without rain hitting my tent, Narwhale, Dread Pirate, and I were feeling pretty good about the day ahead.

Our destiny?

Fontana Dam.

More importantly…

The Fontana Hilton

For those unfamiliar, the Fontana Hilton is one of the most legendary retreats on the Appalachian Trail. It has showers. It has bathrooms. It has transportation service to the town.

And perhaps most importantly:

You can order pizza there.

Needless to say, morale was high.

Before we left, the owner of the Graham Motel served us a great breakfast and was kind enough to drive us back to the trail.

Good…

Almost Back to the trail.

Instead of dropping us off at Stecoah Gap, where we had finished the day before, we started at Yellow Creek Gap.

Now, before anyone starts clutching their pearls over the miles skipped, hear me out.

The weather was still extremely humid and leaving Stecoah would have meant climbing something called Jacob’s ladderwhich is somehow exactly and somehow worse than it seems.

No one in our group was particularly interested in risking injury just to prove a point.

So we made the call.

Do your own hike.

And honestly, I think it was the right decision.

The hike itself was pretty easy, at least compared to some of the chaos the trail had recently thrown at us.

As we approached Fontana, I headed down toward the marina.

And honestly?

It made me feel a little nostalgic.

Not in a bad way.

I hadn’t really been near boats or water since leaving Key West, and although a mountain lake isn’t exactly the ocean, seeing docks and boats again felt familiar.

For a few minutes, I felt like I reconnected with a small piece of home.

I was even able to get enough service to call some friends and family and check in before heading back to the shelter.

As I passed the marina store, I decided to make what I thought was a very reasonable decision.

I bought drinks for the crew waiting in Fontana.

Now, was it completely unnecessary to carry a six pack for about a mile and a half?

Yeah.

Did I do it anyway?

Also yes.

And honestly, it wasn’t as bad as I expected.

The reward was worth it when I finally walked into the Fontana Hilton and could see everyone’s faces light up.

Nothing says friendship better than showing up carrying cold drinks through the woods.

The shelter lived up to expectations.

Showers.

Bathrooms.

Real space to relax.

Luxury.

Now, technically I had already showered twice the day before.

But trail logic dictates that if a shower is available, you should shower.

No questions were asked.

After getting cleaned up, we decided to take the shuttle to Fontana Village for dinner.

Because apparently surviving in the woods makes every meal feel like a five-star dining experience.

While waiting on the ferry, something very interesting began to happen.

A group of people began arriving at the shelter area carrying decorations and supplies.

Turns out there was a pre-wedding gathering nearby.

Bride and groom?

Former hikers who had met on the Appalachian Trail.

Honestly, if there was ever a place to find your soulmate, apparently it’s by being sweaty, hungry, and carrying all your worldly possessions on your back.

The best part was that they were incredibly friendly to all of the hikers hanging around the shelter.

I imagine most people wouldn’t necessarily imagine that dozens of dirty hikers would become part of their wedding festivities, but they totally embraced it.

Trail people really are a different breed.

Unfortunately, the weather had other plans for the night.

It started raining, and between dinner, bus rides, and general exhaustion, I missed most of the festivities.

When we got back to the shelter, it was absolutely cooked.

The kind of tiredness where your sleeping bag starts to feel like the greatest invention in human history.

All I had to do was hang up my bear bag and get into bed.

Simple.

Or so I thought.

While I was hanging my food, disaster struck.

I took a wrong step.

My camping flip flop caught awkwardly underneath me.

And with a sad little snap…

died.

The toe strap was completely torn off.

Not the repairable kind either.

The kind where you stare at it for a few seconds hoping it will magically repair itself before you accept reality.

It turns out that I am many things.

A hiker.

A nutrition educator.

Occasional trail comedian.

But unfortunately…

I’m not a shoemaker.

My beloved camping shoe was gone.

Thus ended another day on the Appalachian Trail.

I arrived at Fontana.

I took a shower.

I ate good food.

I saw a future AT wedding.

And I lost a flip flop.

Honestly?

Seems like a pretty accurate summary of life on the trails.

One moment you are celebrating having arrived at a famous refuge.

The next minute you’re holding a broken sandal and wondering if this is your villain’s origin story.

Tomorrow: the Smokies.

Tonight: mourning my fallen shoes. 🩴💔

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