The Old Mule on the AT (Part 3 of 7)

The AT began an almost immediate ascent. We were, after all, starting in Newfound Gap, a gap being a low spot in a ridge. This uphill stretch would take us from 5,000’ to about 6,000’ at a rate of about 500 feet per mile, typical for a Smokies trail. The trees were mostly spruce and firs. Normally, this would create heavy shade even in the daylight. However, over the last couple of decades, most of the mature fir trees have been killed by the balsam wooly adelgid, a tiny insect imported from Europe that gradually poisons these trees. This has been a terribly sad event in the life of the Smokies, losing some of their most beautiful, distinctive trees. However, if there’s an upside to this tragedy, it’s that it has opened up the leafy canopy along the AT. The spruce will continue to grow and fill in the canopy, creating that dark, green forest with a Christmas tree smell that we all associate with a northern, balsam forest. In the meantime, walking through a sparse balsam forest under a bright moon is a magical, other-worldly experience.

Because the temperature was hovering right around freezing, we started out with jackets, but within 10 minutes we were beginning to shed clothing. The secret to cold weather hiking is to stay one step ahead of the sweat. Wear layers of clothing and begin taking them off as soon as you sense that warm, fuzzy feeling that precedes sweat. I actually spent most of the hike in jeans and a T shirt. It was a bit nippy, but it was the good, invigorating kind of cold that wakes you up and keeps you attentive. It may seem like a cliché to say that it “makes you feel alive,” but that really is the best way to say it because that’s exactly what it does.

One thing that had concerned me was the potential for ice on the trail. We all knew from past experience that these first 3 or 4 miles of the AT east of Newfound Gap were a very wet part of the trail. There are numerous springs that seep along the edge of the trail and trickle down the rut of the trail. After an extended cold spell, the trail in several spots becomes a 4 foot wide and 50 foot long patch of ice. With a steep slope to your right and to your left, there’s just no way to avoid these slippery spots. So crampons – small spikes strapped to the bottom of your boots – become necessary. For fast easy hiking, the best scenario is no ice – so you don’t have to bother with crampons. The second best scenario is lots of ice – so you can put your crampons on and keep them on. The worst scenario is occasional patches of ice – so you have to keep putting the crampons on and taking them off. Generally, in these patchy situations, if you keep your crampons on, you’ll break them to pieces in the ice-free, rocky sections. Luckily for us, the weather had been cold but not yet deeply frigid and wet. There were only a few, small, scattered patches of ice, and we were able to side step most of them. I never took my crampons out of my day pack.

The hiking order for the day quickly established itself. Greg in the front with Keith right behind him. I fell in behind them, sometimes just a few yards behind, sometimes a hundred yards or more. Mark was close behind me.

Mark was taking his time because he was only going as far as Charlies Bunion, so he was in no rush. He was the tortoise. Greg and Keith were the hare. I don’t know what I was, some sort of old, slow, plodding mammal, I guess. Actually, that’s a perfect description of a middle aged man, which is what I am, and I proved it all day long. In fact, by noon Greg and Keith were calling me “the old mule,” and I suppose that’s a fair appraisal, the main difference being the number of legs and the size of the ears. Other than that, the resemblance is uncanny. However, in my defense, I’m also the one most likely to stop and look at scenic panoramas, trees, and other small details along the trail. So, I prefer to describe myself not as slow, just easily distracted.

[To be continued.]