The four of us, Sam, Fireball, my sister, and I strolled into Blood Mountain Wilderness, where the bear population was numerous, where challenge and risk are experienced and expected. There was no hill we couldn’t quickly ascend, and much of the approach was winding and lovely. Again, we passed and repassed our hiker friends, mostly the sisters and sometimes Val.
Blood Mountain was tough, but our legs were strong now. The uphills sucked. Uphills always suck. Suck is suck. So long as you are empowered by the suck, you will be okay.
More switchbacks took us nearly to the top, a stone cabin on a hillside, the oldest shelter on the Appalachian Trail and the only shelter that sits directly on the trail without turning off. Hikers were discouraged from staying at the Blood Mountain Shelter due to increased bear activity. Even with a bear canister, we couldn’t stay there as the bears had become so acclimated to humans, they would come wandering through at night, anyway.
We stopped there to eat and write in the logbook. Walkie’s post, complete with stick figure drawing, also boasted the extra text “a yoga sister.”
I wrote my entry just below hers.
Beautiful day to hike Blood Mountain. Amazed at my strong sister. Thankful for this day in the woods.
–Mryt, a yoga sister
Later in the day, as we began hitting steep switchbacks, we found ourselves hiking at nearly the same pace as Cap, who kept appearing up ahead, dropping back behind us, and so on, for close an hour. Determined to leave him behind, we hiked faster, leaping over rocks and roots in our path, not pausing as often as we otherwise would have.
We had no fear left of any mountain, but we didn’t want to hike over them with Mr. “keep your powder dry,” Mr. “I might casually watch your tent at night.”
Hoisting ourselves up onto large boulders, and sometimes squeezing ourselves through narrow tunnels of rock, we seemed to have lost Cap, and we knew somewhere up ahead, we would be on top of this thing.
And so we were, huge bald faces, some slick and wet, awaited us. We crossed over the top of Blood Mountain’s naked rocks in a few minutes and began the descent back down the boulder field on the other side. We had promised ourselves that on the way down, we would go as slowly as we needed to, and not go sprawling down steep bald rocks with slick wet spots. We navigated the boulder field like dancers, both of us. Slow, slow, dancers. And did not fall.
We could hear Cap cursing loudly to himself from somewhere behind us, as if performing the act of hiking for others to observe. He had already fallen while taking some of the downhill too quickly. A little while later, he turned off the trail heading the wrong way, while we continued and finally, lost him again.
Soon, the path gave way to smaller rocks, and more roots, steep steps down, and finally a few restful straightaways. My sister was favoring her previously injured foot, and I was feeling a repeated pinching at the tendon outside of right knee, but we had to get down this mountain. At the bottom held the promise of an evening of rest and recovery at the Blood Mountain Cabins in Neel Gap.
“Look!” I cried out to my sister, a few minutes later, and she jumped. There, on a rock, lay a shining blue scorpion. My sister came wandering back up to me, only to find, when we looked down together, that it was only a slimy, twisting worm.
“Myrt,” she stared at me.
“I thought it was a scorpion, I wanted to show you,” I laughed.
“You scared me, I thought Cap was back or something,” she said.
“Next time I point something out to you, I’ll just pause, and breathe. And then, I’ll tell you calmly” I said laughing, “I’m so sorry.”
“Make sure it’s not a worm next time,” she said a few minutes later, laughing from up in front of me.
Finally, the trail took us off the mountain and into a valley.
My sister and I continued down the final hillside into Neels Gap.
We could see Mountain Crossings, a hiker haven which promised frozen pizzas, outdoor apparel of all kinds, a shower that hikers might use, and a mailbox from which to send letters home or alternatively, pick up packages from family. I paused outside to sweat and drink my water. Walkie went straight in to explore all the offerings of the store, and then, came back out to find me having nearly guzzled my whole bottle.
Together, we squatted on a bench and pondered the dozens of shoes hanging from a massive live oak tree that graced the entryway to the parking lot. Each pair told a story of a hiker who had come far enough in a pair of shoes that no longer fit their swollen feet or had given up altogether after Blood Mountain. Each dangling sneaker tossed up there by a weary traveler.
Setting my pack outside, we ventured back in to explore all of Mountain Crossings’ offerings, and Walkie was excited to take advantage of a free “shake-down” where an experience hiker turned staff member, emptied her pack onto the floor of the store offering guidance about what to pack and how to pack it so that it carried better. This patient and thorough shake-down included many compliments to my sister about her frugality and efficiency. If you pack your fears, my sister didn’t have any.
We also carefully selected postcards that we might send home to family members and carried them back outside with us where found Carl had already arrived and was waiting for us. He patiently stood nearby with Val, as Walkie and I wrote our letters to waiting loved ones back home, her husband, my son and his dad, and our parents.
“Myrt!, Your water!” Walkie suddenly cried out pointing and began to laugh. Lifting my bottle up and away, we appreciated the silty brown water, complete with an actual small stone clunking around—that I had been drinking, thankfully through a filter. “It was good,” I said smiling.
There was a storm system moving this way, supposedly, but the sky showed no hint of darkness or clouds. Regardless, we would sit out the potential thunderstorms at the Blood Mountain Cabins tonight. As Val was standing nearby, and we still had an extra spot in our cabin, Walkie and I offered it to her.
The four of us hiked another quarter mile into the woods to the cabin and waited for Sam and Fireball to arrive. We were eager for showers, soda, pizza, soft beds, and a place out of the coming storm that evening.
Rocks & Roots 