Day 18 on the Pinhoti Trail: Tornado Watches and Unexpected Encounters

Day 18: Dalton, GA to Tent Site at 320.2

I never appreciate being inside on a rainy night as much as I do when I’m thru-hiking. I love waking up feeling well-rested with dry gear — especially when my phone is telling me that the Dalton area is under a tornado watch for a few more hours.

I quietly got ready and took advantage of the hotel’s continental breakfast, stacking my plate high with a big syrupy waffle, fruit, yogurt, and eggs. Sparks joined me a little later, then I zipped up my rain jacket and walked through the rain to resupply at Kroger. Bonus: this Kroger also had a Starbucks. A sweet friend of mine Venmo’d me for a coffee, so I ordered a chocolate cream cold brew with a splash of oat milk and thoroughly enjoyed each sip as I wandered through the grocery store aisles.

I only had to resupply for one more full day, plus a couple additional snacks on either side. But since I had extra food and electrolytes from my last resupply, some oatmeal from the hotel’s breakfast bar, and my Olive Garden leftovers, I only needed two dinners, fruit, and protein bars.

Yesterday, my friend Llama from the Appalachian Trail asked if he could join Sparks and me for the end of the Pinhoti. Outlaw will also be joining us back on trail today. While we waited for Llama to arrive at Days Inn and drive us past the last section of busy road walk, a hiker named Oats walked in!

Oats, Sparks, and me — ladies taking on the Pinhoti!

I only knew Oats from Instagram, so it was a lovely surprise to meet her in person. She was just one day behind us on trail. It’s been extra special to meet other hikers on the Pinhoti; if I wasn’t hiking with Sparks, I’d probably go days without seeing another soul. Oats, Sparks, and I talked for a while in the hotel lobby, exchanging stories until Llama walked in.

We wished Oats well, then Llama drove Sparks and me to Dennis Mill Trailhead where we met Outlaw to begin a rainy, switchback-y ascent. We ended up on what seemed like an old dirt road that eventually became an OHV park.

We also met some cats at Toadshade Hill. Sparks dropped her resupply for the Benton MacKaye Trail before we started back on the Pinhoti.

Cat intermission, cont.

Kitty

With all the rain we’ve had lately, what I assume are normally pretty mellow stream crossings reached our knees. And boy, were they cold. But honestly, it’s these experiences that make me feel giddy and alive.

Really asking a lot of my OR Helium rain jacket lately

But I think it’s time I return to the poncho life with Sparks.

Zoom zoom

I’ve struggled with identifying a sense of “home” in my life in the last few years. Home isn’t always a place. Ideally, I’d love to feel at home in my own body, but I don’t always. The water crossings today, though, reminded me of the Hundred Mile Wilderness in Maine. And though that’s not home either, this warm, powerful surge of love coursed through me as I thought of my friends, the trail, and the loons. Always the loons.

So I guess freezing, knee-deep water gets me all emotional now?

Sparks and I thought about Oats and the constant rain, and hoped the water wouldn’t be too powerful for her to hike through it tomorrow.

Outlaw, Llama, Sparks, and I ended up at a lovely creekside campsite. On this rainy night in the OHV park, we had it to ourselves.

The rain paused and I pitched my tent before bracing myself to take off my wet clothes. I was shivering and knew I needed to put on dry clothes and get a solid dinner in me ASAP. I wrung out my shorts and shirt in the tent’s vestibule, then hung them on the clothesline I’d set up inside. Though it’s been muggy the last few nights, I slipped into my Smartwool base layers and dry camp socks since it’d be colder tonight. Oh, how I love dry socks.

One day out of town and already stinky

It took literal hours for my fingers to un-prune. After dinner, I picked up where I left off in The Book of Joy as the sky lit up a rich, rusty orange-brown at dusk.

Before nighttime fell, a cool Jeep-looking thing drove by our site. I know very little about cars, so that’s the best you’re getting.

As I’m writing this, I’m still cold, but warming up steadily. And I’m feeling grateful: for the sound of a rushing creek, to feel part of the forest and the mountains, for the colors of dusk.