The Smokies Strike Back – The Trek

May 6, 2026

You may remember my post from two days ago where I take on nature and declare victory. Today I learn that we should not provoke nature. Enjoy today’s blog.

The shelter experience

METROMy first night in a shelter was pretty much what I expected. I slept well, but there’s not much to do about loud snoring in the early hours of the morning. I also woke up to brief showers during the night. The rain had stopped when I got up from the quilt at 6:30 am I remember taking my bear bag down from the cables and it was dry. Maybe camping would have been the best option after all. I quickly completed my morning tasks and hit the trail at 7:30am, one of my first starts.

Downpour

I was almost done with the SOBO race for my season in the northern Smokies. I only needed to go 4.7 miles to the Miry Ridge Trail, my stopping point since May 1st. It started raining steadily when I left the shelter. The rain intensified as he walked, turning into a full-blown storm. There was plenty of wind to stir things up at this point. But all my problems were at my feet.

This section of the trail emerged from the pine forest that covered the northern half of the park. I was back in typical Appalachian territory. The forest was not dense enough to make a dent in the rain. It pooled on the trail where it was flat and flowed down the trail where it was sloped. The path was narrow, barely the width of a shoe. On either side were pods of tall grass. If I stepped off the trail to avoid the water, my shoes would get wet with water clinging to the blades of grass. The breathable mesh on the top and sides of my shoes is great for ventilation, but they become floodgates when it rains.

One of the driest sections of the trail.

My motivation to keep splashing

The inside of my shoes was soaked. I thought about all the times I crossed a stream or collected water. I would be very careful not to let my shoes fall off. Too much for that. The trail was literally a stream and there was never room on the side to walk out of the water. Sometimes I could walk astride the edges of the path, but it was uncomfortable and the ground was unstable. I struggled to keep my balance. My trekking poles often sank into the wet dirt and hit rocks that I couldn’t see through the muddy water. My pants were soaked and the moisture was constantly rising into the pockets of my pants. Maybe I’ll invest in rain pants soon.

When tested on a trail, I can always draw inspiration from 3 hikers: The Unhinged Hiker, Sparkle Summits, and Peg Leg. What I’m doing (or in the case of Peg Leg, I’ve done it) always makes my problems seem weak in comparison. This would hardly be a roadblock for them with their unwavering desire to cover 30 miles every day. I know you are somewhere facing these conditions. That knowledge motivates me to accept the challenge and travel my twenty-odd kilometers.

Return to Kuwohi

After reaching the Miry Ridge trail marker, I had the pleasure of doing the exact same awful 4.7 miles in the pouring rain. There was real anger from the hikers. But I was optimistic that once I got back into the forest and started getting closer to Kuwohi, the trail would be better. For the most part, he was right. Less rain was coming to the trail. The water had not accumulated as much. But the rain also took a break. The forecast had shown a 40 to 45% chance of rain every hour today. Basically, the chance of rain was 50/50 as of Thursday morning. There was nothing to do besides walk. I really wanted to get back to my van tomorrow and today’s miles would be critical.

The break in the rain lasted until my second summit of Kuwohi. The view from the observation tower was surprisingly clear, with some low clouds hanging between the mountains below. I regretted not getting my National Park passport stamped at another time, but it was now or never. The Kuwohi Visitor Center is a grueling 400-foot descent down a half-mile of pavement. I thought the visitor center was small given that this is the most popular national park in the country. The passport stamping station was right next to the door, the tampon was new and the stamp looked great, which isn’t always a guarantee. The 400 foot climb back to Kuwohi was exhausting. The “extra” miles and climbs are rarely fun for long-distance hikers. Back in Kuwohi, I took one last look at the observation tower and began walking along the trail.

The characteristic “smoke” of the Smoky Mountains.

Surprisingly clear views from Kuwohi.

Surprisingly clear views from Kuwohi.

Fascinating cloud development around Kuwohi.

View from the path towards the visitor center.

View from the visitor center parking lot.

A beauty of a National Park passport stamp for my collection.

The rain returns

I can’t say I was defeated, but nature reminded me that it can dish out punishments as it sees fit. As I descended from Kuwohi towards Mount Collins, I noticed that the conditions were changing again towards rain. Just what I didn’t need. He had spent the morning trying to survive a difficult road. The entire time I had been looking forward to the afternoon on a better section of trail in better condition. I didn’t need any extra motivation to keep moving, but I was going to get it.

In theory, walking in my rain poncho doesn’t slow me down. It doesn’t rub against my arms or restrict my movement. But the sleeve openings are large enough to let some water in. The bottom opening is wide and, after all, it fits my backpack. But that also means that some water collects in my pants down to the pockets. Walking in wet pants is simply inferior to walking in dry pants. I can deal with wet hands and wet trekking pole handles. However, the ends of the poles sometimes get caught in a soft spot in the mud. Every time your club lands in a non-ideal spot, extracting it and placing it accurately in the next step becomes more complicated. In short, it wasn’t necessarily the rain that made the hike difficult, but rather the side effects.

Last push towards the Icewater Spring shelter

I kept moving despite the conditions and finally reached Newfound Gap. Yesterday there was barely a free parking space. Today, the lot was more than half empty. Some brave visitors were greeted with a view of clouds and little else. So far I had walked just under 20 miles, and I had 3.5 more to go. Unfortunately, those last few miles were mostly uphill. A light, steady rain was falling, enough to make the walk uncomfortable. I decided to use up the energy I had left and widened my steps.

I thought I would arrive at the shelter and basically not speak, such was the outpouring of energy I had been subjected to today. I was hoping to spend a quiet night at the shelter. Since this was the first shelter after Newfound Gap, I thought there might be a chance for that to happen. Many of the NOBO hikers would have attempted to travel to Gatlinburg to avoid the rain. The Icewater Spring Shelter doesn’t exactly scream «cozy night in the woods,» does it? You’d have to be crazy to look for a place with that name in these conditions. About a mile from the shelter, three hikers from the section passed me. I assumed they must be heading to the same shelter and I was right. When I arrived, they were there talking to another hiker. I thought the chances of a quiet night were decent.

Install

The rain was pouring down with a brief pause every 5-10 minutes. Staying in a shelter has the advantage of having a shorter turnaround time to get to dinner. First I hung my backpack from one of the ropes at the front of the shelter. I then scooped up 2 liters of water and let gravity fill my bottle. In the shelter, I laid out my Tyvek flooring, which I folded to roughly fit under my sleeping pad. I took out my sleeping mat and inflated it along with my pillow. I took the lining out of my mummy with my quilt. I attached the quilt straps and then checked my water bottle. We will save the remaining liter of unfiltered water for the morning. I can finally take out my bagged mashed potatoes and have the dinner I’ve been waiting for since I finished breakfast.

I talked a little with the hikers from all 3 sections, Zach, Noah, Eric. They had brought sausages and were frying them in a pan over a camp stove. They smelled infinitely better than the cold potatoes I was devouring.

Icewater Spring Shelter is one of the highest shelters on the AT. At 5,920 feet it is more than a mile above sea level. Every once in a while the clouds would part enough to give us a view of the nearby mountains. It was nice to have a bit of a view during dinner. Lodges with views have been quite rare; apparently in this you can see a good view of Cherokee, North Carolina, on a clear day. We could only see a few hundred feet at most.

My refuge to sleep in all its splendor.

Thinking about the future

The weather forecast called for rain throughout the night, which would stop around 6:00 am. I had chosen a spot on the lower level of the shelter. I found that the top row was too short for my mat. I ran the risk of my pillow falling to the bottom level if it slipped off the padding. The lower level was a foot longer. He also put a barrier between my ears and the roof of the shelter, which would receive rain.

I decided to put on the dry boxers and socks I had brought with me. I thought I could save time in the morning by applying Gold Bond to my feet, then putting on the dry, low-cut socks I prefer for hiking, and then putting on the wool socks I prefer for sleeping. In the morning I would simply take off my wool socks and could put my feet directly into my walking shoes.

-See you tomorrow

Total: 23.0 miles, 53,801 steps

• Hike type: Backpacking
• Camp: shelter, ice water spring shelter

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