Springer to Fontana

Author’s note: This post describes a section of trail completed in October 2023 and is written from the perspective of that timeframe. Translation: Use trusted sources for current trail updates 🙂

It’s 3am and I’m lounging at the Asheville Airport. I’m not supposed to be here – not on this day, certainly not at this time. What went wrong? Nothing, in fact. Just the first of what may be many adjustments to right-size my section hike trail experience as a dad with a full-time job and a wife and kids at home. So how exactly did I get here? Let’s be kind and rewind to my Day 1 on trail.

Onward from Springer

I set off from Springer on a warm, hazy day in late September planning to get as far as I could in 14 days. I was fortunate to be joined for the first few miles by Karma, a childhood friend from New Jersey helping me (quite literally) set off on the right foot. “Thru-hiking was no picnic,” said Karma, a 2016 AT alum and former Trek blogger, “but getting off-trail and returning for another section year after year? That’s going to take a real commitment.” Of course I knew this coming in, but the thought could not escape me that first day. All through my first afternoon – a relatively gentle section meandering through northern Georgia’s rhododendrons – I thought about the logistics it took for this first trip. The challenge of booking flights, hitching rides, mapping out contingencies, and carving out a time that wasn’t overly burdening my family or my colleagues was one thing. But doing it over and over again, with an aging body and a trail leg “reset” each time? I looked forward to the adventure ahead, but wanted to finish in as few sections as possible. For better or worse, this drove me to push myself that first day, a full 15.7 miles after lunch, to Gooch shelter. Pro tip: don’t do this. Not on day 1. While I was beyond exhausted, I basked in the stories of a couple SOBOs as they soaked in their last night on trail.

Starting off on the right (er, left) foot on Springer

Exhausted from a too-fast start, I dialed back my ambition for day 2. My target was the Blood Mountain shelter, about 13 miles ahead. I don’t recall much from the trail that day – some partial views here and there through the haze – but I do recall the finish. Blood Mountain had some nice views from the summit, but the stone shelter I planned to stay at that night was old, dark, damp, and cold. Once the couple dozen Florida State students descended on the mountaintop with several 30-racks of beer in hand, that sealed my decision to call an audible and continue down the trail to the hostel at Neel Gap. The extra couple downhill miles were worth it – I still finished the day reasonably early, and appreciated running into Misery and hearing tales of his flip-flop.

With the weather finally cooling the next day and the miles being relatively gentle, I was able to make good mileage. While not my original plan for the night, pushing up to the campsite on Rocky Mountain not only afforded me a summit campsite all to myself with stellar sunset views steps down trail, it gave me a chance to get down to Hostel Around the Bend earlier on the following day for a near-o*. Boy, was I glad I did.

I know I was only four days into my hike, but it was clear why Hostel Around the Bend (HATB) regularly ranks among the top on The Trek’s thru-hiker survey. The bunks are clean and well-built, with privacy curtains, gear space and outlets in each bunk, a quality shower, and a stellar common area. That you are sent back on trail with an included full breakfast is just the icing on the cake. Do not pass this spot up!

GA/NC Border. First state crossing!

Standing Indian and my first marathon day

I surprised myself the next day. Staring down 18.2 miles with several climbs to Standing Indian, I expected it would be a long, slow day. Surprisingly though I made great time, arriving at the summit campsite by 3. With being such a clear, dry day, the views from the summit were absolutely stellar. If the weather is favorable and the site works for your itinerary, I highly recommend this spot.

Sunset from Standing Indian. Simply breathtaking.

Finding I can make decent mileage, I started getting wide eyes looking at each successive day. So I awoke before sunrise, through on my headlamp, and started down trail in a beautifully eerie fog to try for my first marathon day on trail. I definitely pushed myself a bit much, but hitting the 100-mile mark on trail (woohoo!) gave me the emotional boost to make it to Siler Bald Shelter that night.

Eerily beautiful sunrise from the campsite atop Standing Indian

Now something I should note is that I gave my wife three separate lists of target shelters, hostels, and campsites I set out for myself based on how well I was doing on trail. Siler Bald was now a full day ahead of my most aggressive plans! So when I called my wife from the shelter that night, she had no problem telling me what I needed to hear: “Don’t break yourself!”

I certainly understood the sentiment, so I set out the next day trying not to over-do it, certainly not this early on. Nonetheless, I found myself the next afternoon at the juncture for Wesser Bald shelter, eyeing all downhill miles to the NOC and all the junk food I could consume that comes along with it. Reasoning that pushing it to NOC would allow for a late start the following day, I trudged along. But my knees and ankles certainly weren’t happy about it. It took me one day longer than it needed to, but I finally internalized my wife’s sage advice 🙂

The heart grows fonder

I took it somewhat easier on trail day eight as I worked my way to Brown Fork Gap shelter, making it just in time before a downpour. What’s hard to believe is that this was actually the first rain I experienced since Springer – something that proved challenging in a few spots earlier on the trail, when there were long stretches between dependable water sources. Something else that struck me at this point was the lack of people I had encountered to this point on trail. Sure, I wasn’t hiking during the peak season for this section of trail, and of course I’d expect some lulls mid-week. But save for my first night on trail and my night at HATB, I had been alone at each shelter and campsite, and shared two hostels with only one other hiker each night. That in and of itself didn’t necessarily bother me. In many ways, it was actually quite nice to have that peace and really connect with the trail itself. But on top of the rain and the accruing solitude that greeted me at Brown Fork Gap, my wife’s voice, muted with exhaustion as she told me of the colds both of our girls just came down with, really dragged me down. I longed for my family that night.

All the feels <3

That thought stuck with me all the following day as I descended on Fontana Dam. I knew I was about to enter a multi-day stretch through the Smokys with limited cell service and even more limited options to get off trail. Once I crossed the Dam, Newfound Gap and Davenport Gap were the easiest off-ramps to get back to the airport and head home in a few days’ time. But after hitching a ride from a nice retired couple to pick up my resupply box from the Resort, the sense of longing only grew stronger. The box – packed by myself but shipped by my wife – was flooded with surprise goodies my family packed in. Nothing hit me more than the messages of love covering the box. Yes, I wanted to keep going. Hell, I was making such great time to this point that even Hot Springs seemed within reach over the next several days. But after returning to the Fontana Hilton – a beautiful and large shelter that must be filled with energy in the spring but is a lonely cavern when all to yourself in the fall – the next few days on trail felt too long. I was missing my family too much, and my guilt of gallivanting in the woods while things were tough at home was too strong. Besides, I’d hate to expend all my family’s support on my very first section.

So with a couple bars of cell service, I rebooked my flight for the morning and hitched a long and overly expensive midnight ride to the Asheville Airport. “I’ll be back,” I told myself. The trail isn’t going anywhere.