it's all about timing...

I woke up the next morning groggy and grumpy. My phone and tracker weren’t connecting and I had been out of contact with home for too long. I was stiff and sore and I was about to put my still soaked socks and shoes back on. The morning was dry but the skies threatened (promised?) rain and I knew from other hikers that the forecast called for rain for the next 4 days. Muddy water seeped from my shoelaces as I tied them. I tried to feel hopeful but it was clear that, soon enough, it wouldn’t even matter. It was going to be another soggy day on the trail. I thought about Bluebird and her family, still sound asleep in their blankets (yes, blankets) and some sick part of me was momentarily comforted by knowing that no matter how bad it got for me…it was worse for them.

The Smoky Mountains are a lesson in timing. Most people probably think they will learn all about perseverance…but that isn’t what I learned. In the Smokies, you can give up all day long. I quit a dozen times a day – once an hour. It didn’t matter, because there is only one way out and for someone like Bluebird and her family, that ‘way’ could take four days to reach. Even for someone who is moving pretty quickly, it’s at least a day or two – so you can quit all you like as long as the timing is right. As long as things look brighter as you pass over Interstate 441…the single road you cross in the eighty miles of this mountain range.

And whether strategic or coincidence…the place where 441 cuts through the mountains is the kindest and gentlest and most beautiful of all the trail. Along this section, the birds sing, the sun shines and the clouds settle into the creases between the peaks in a way that resembles the ocean surf hugging the rocks. Along this section, the sun is always rising…or setting…and tranquility washes over you. The sounds of the cars and trucks, the people and their hectic, rushing lives, seems harsh and aggressive set against this backdrop.

So, this is how the Smokies really mind fuck you (sorry Grandma)…mark my words. You will stroll across 441 thinking all is well in the world, your luck is looking up, your legs, back and shoulders are acclimating, you’re more attractive, thinner and more financially stable. Seriously, I need to research whether opiates grow in the area. But I promise you, you will cruise right on through despite having just been weeping openly and praying that a bear would just come along and eat you and end your misery. You will CHOOSE to continue…of your own free will…and once 441 is in the distance and you can no longer hear the tractor trailers huffing and puffing their way through the pass, the Smokies will pull off their mask and reveal their true power. They will unleash their furry and you will have to suffer every single step knowing it’s your own damn fault.

I realize this was a dark post...it's not all doom and gloom, I promise. Here are some scenes from the Smoky Mountains. Hope you don't mind a zillion selfies…