Peck’s Corner Shelter to Newfound Gap

Up early this morning, struggling outa cosy sleeping bags at 7 to try and make it onto the trail by 8:30. We'd arranged to meet Tom at Newfound Gap at 4 pm so wanted to get in a little early if possible. Anthony was up up and away early, cold brekkie of pop tarts, didn't sound so pleasant.

It was hot coffee, biscotti, and hot oatmeal for us, trying out the "re-usable" backpackers pantry foil pouch to cook our oatmeal, an experiment for the first time and it worked well.

Temps musta been just on the wrong side of freezing, matildas bladder had some ice in it and we had a lotta fun trying to get some water out of it, ended up having to tip out some ice because the water wouldn't run through the pipe. Then once we got hot water, we saw mouse droppings in Matildas cup, yuuuk, rinse rinse with hot water to clean. And then we noticed that they decide to use our totally unique ultra-light pot holder for nesting material, it was just all tore up.

The colder night meant another drawback for the am, frozen socks and shoes. The night before, the fire kept us a little warmer and dried out socks and shoes, these babies were solid and getting shoes on over blistered heals was as painful as it sounds, or worse. I decided to keep on dry overnight socks since they wouldn't be needed for the next night, wise decision.

A long way on the trail with no markings or bearings to tell you how far you've gone, we made the best time we could but hard to tell, around 11:30 we came to an intersection with the Dry Sluice Gap trail, 6 miles from the shelter and only 4.4 from Newfound Gap, well ahead of schedule. It's only .4 to Charlies Bunion,

so great place for lunch and we're starving, 2 hours on the trail is a lot on some oatmeal. Plus Charlies Bunion is rumored to have one of the best views in the park.

It does indeed! It's a rough rocky outcrop at the end of a short side trail, right in the sun, no wind at all, so lovely and warm under that strong southern sun, this ain't no wimpy New England sun here, this baby shines and warms things up quite nicely in the cold weather, thank you very much.

Charlies Bunion was supposedly created when the North American and African plates came together for an orgy around 400 million years, I kid you not, that's how wikipedia described it.

The etymology of the Bunion is rather sad and tied up with the general destruction of the great woodlands of the east coast of the US. The lower elevations were heavily logged during the 19th century, leaving large piles of dry timber scattered around. In 1925 a massive fire started in the dry dead timber and raced up towards the higher elevations. The heat was so intense it burnt everything in it's path, and also destroyed the soil, making it infertile. As luck would have it, a massive downpour 2 years later washed away all the dry, dead soil, leaving the Bunion exposed. The soil and trees have gradually recovered, but still for sure don't have their original majesty, thanks to the greed of the timber companies and indifference of the authorities.

The Bunion was named after Charlie Connor, who climbed up the formation a few days after the downpour with some explorers. Apparently Charlie had a bunion on his foot that was so large it could have had a place on a map. Instead the place on the map got it's name from the lump on Charlies foot when one of the explorers who saw it remarked "Well that sticks out like Charlie's bunion". Southern explorers apparently hadn't yet discovered the reference to male canine anatomy.

We lingered for a while here, plenty of time, and plenty to stop and chat with some day hikers, one of whom had just completed the AT after 17 years of trying. We go up and up for a bit, icy and hard to walk without slipping, a stop at icewater spring to refill a bit, it's easy because right on the trail.

The icy trail prompts a decision to try out new micro-spikes, it hasn't been that icy so far, a lotta snow on the trail, but here we're on a very popular day hike part of the AT and the treadway is packed down from the ceaseless tramp of feet and has frozen overnight into ice, so walking is difficult.

It's a revelation, and freedom for walking, the spikes dig in and you don't have to worry about footing, I was worried how they would be on rocks, the spikes dig in pretty well in fact. We blow past normally shod day hikers on the way down like they were standing still, they just get outa our way, and we're trying to take it easy so we don't have to stand around in the cold waiting for Tom at Newfound Gap.

We're so far ahead of schedule that we take a short excursion on a side trail with an old bench and nice view, right in the sun. It's so warm here that the snow has almost all melted and the ground is muddy instead of icy.

We get to Newfound Gap an hour early, some folks stop to chat and ask questions, it reminds a little of Carvers Gap where there was a small mob scene. There's a lotta traffic coming and going, parking, driving around etc. It looks very touristy, people just get out and walk around a bit, snap some pictures at the TN-NC State line sign, and then leave. Only a few take off up the AT to burn off some of the Thanksgiving pounds.

There's a plaque at the gap titled "For the Permanent Enjoyment of the People" which briefly describes the dedication of the park by Franklin D. Roosevelt in 1940. Formation of the park was a struggle, since the land was occupied both by small farmers and huge lumber companies.

Activists in Knoxville, Tennessee, and Asheville, North Carolina, worked to create the park. Oddly enough the activists were mostly motorists who wanted a nice road through the park that would accommodate their shiny new cars.

The federal government was not allowed to buy land for the park, so the states provided some of the money, and local fundraising provided the rest. Unfortunately by the time the money was raised, the price of the land had doubled, and the effort looked like it would founder.

Along came the Laura Spelman Rockefeller Memorial Fund, founded by her husband, John D. Rockefeller. If you know the history of the Standard Oil Company, this might seem rather odd, since it was and still is a major destroyer of the planet and contributor to global warming, under its current incarnation, Exxon Mobil.

However Standard Oil had become so despised by the early 20th Century that Rockefeller turned to Philanthropy to buy himself and his company some goodwill, hence the formation of the fund and the contribution to the park.

Tom arrives early and we chat and take some more pix, he gets us by the AT sign and the state line, with me on the NC side and Matilda on the TN side. There's a line of people waiting to do the same thing, but they're all clean and well dressed.

It's quite a ways back to our parking area, the Newport Walmart. Tom knows the area well and misses the Gatlinburg madness, thank goodness. The car is safe and sound, always a little worry when using public parking areas for a length of time.

Now where off to the American-Russian diner (Grill 73) for apres hike meal one, it's warm and cozy inside with a real fire going, but empty, can't help wondering if these guys will make it, maybe just the post-thanksgiving eating out blues have struck and everyone stays home.

It's run by Valentina and Alex Ryzhkov, they have both Russian and American dishes, but of course we wanted Russian food so got Borsch, Cabbage Rolls and a variety of pirozhki, small pastries that are stuffed and then fried. The cabbage rolls are amazing, they melt in your mouth.

We'd love to linger by the fire, but they have no alcohol licence, and we have an appointment. Alex sheepishly explains that it's because of the Church next door, hard to imagine Russians being puritanical about alcohol where, until recently, beer was considered and regulated like food.

Down the road to Hot Springs, we have plenty of time to get there, so we think, we have an appointment to luxuriate in a hot tub at 7 and its just past 6. But wait, there's a catch, a bridge is down and there's a detour. It was down last year too, but local knowledge got us around it.

Now we haven't a clue where to go except to follow the detour and hope it's not too long. The GPS is now useless, it keeps giving us the tired old "make a U-Turn in 300 yards" message. We drive and drive, up into the mountains and miles from Hot Springs, the GPS arrival time goes from 6:45 to 7 to 7:10 and 7:20, and finally the GPS gives up trying to U-turn us and it looks like 25 minutes late, Matilda gets very frustrated and starts beating up the steering wheel.

I try to call the spa but the signal is very weak and the phone is almost dead, the call drops out and I put the phone on the charger and finally get through, but we're almost there now. The only thing they can do is give us a 50% refund, and shorten the time, they're totally booked so we can't get another time.

We're not sure what the set up is, I had imagined a big building with baths like Berkely Springs in West Virginia. In fact they have little shelter like structures which are fairly open, and a regular hot tub underneath. I start wondering what it's gonna be like to get out, it might feel very cold before you dry off and get some clothes on, and in fact it does. It does really feel good in the hot water for weary muscles and bones, alas it's all too short.

We're kinda wired after all the stress of getting there, so it's time for copious pints of beer all other imbibes to help us sleep, no more driving needed. First stop is the Iron Horse Inn for dinner #2, a black bean burger with sweet potato fries and a local IPA.

There's a cupla young folksy musicians playing up front and they strike up "The House of the Rising Sun" as we get set to leave, so we sit right in front at a vacated table to hear it through, and start wondering how old it is and who wrote it, I know if from the 70's in Oz.

It turns out to be a bit older than that, the origins are obscure and seem to date back to an 18th century English folk ballad called "The Unfortunate Rake", about a young man dying of syphilis, writers and folk musicians have evolved it into a large number of variants, including the "Streets of Laredo". The common theme is young people cut their down in their prime and contemplating an untimely death. I'm pretty sure the version I know is the one by Eric Burdon and the Animals.

Dave Von Ronk, a 60's folk musician, made a creative arrangement of the rising sun version using some jazz influences. He taught it to Bob Dylan, who promptly recorded it for his debut album, to the chagrin of Von Ronk, who was intending to record it.

We ain't had enough to drink yet, round 2 coming up across the street, it's much more lively and local, we chat with a guy who's working on $600,000 cabin out in the woods somewhere, apparently they camp out in the place during the week, and come back to town on the weekends, sounds like outback Australia to me. It's a bit hard to talk because the Blue Grass is thumping away, all 6 of 'em playin up a storm.

There's another guy who looks like he be a thru-hiker, thin as a rake and scruffy, turns out he's the Master Carpenter for the project, almost cut his finger off with a power saw. The pix of the place look amazing and we wonder if we can get him to come to Flagstaff and build us a cabin in the woods.

The place only has beer and wine, no hard liquor, I'm about done with IPA so switch to Guinness for a change while the band plays on. They end too soon though and we yell for an encore, we get one more song and that's it. Meanwhile the cabin dudes have bought a pitcher of Guinness and keep filling my glass up, so now I'm good and toasted and will get a lovely sleep. Luckily our room is in the same building, we can stagger out the door and walk 3 feet.