How much easier it is to produce writing on a warm day, when my fingers function and electronic devices can come outside. It was a sweet and breezy day, a tour of Roan Highlands, a crew of six hiking together. Though I camped on the Tennessee side of the border since Hot Springs (perhaps I subconsciously aimed to spend more nights in Tennessee than North Carolina – current talley 14-11 favoring North Carolina), the trail straddled the North Carolina-Tennessee border for some 218 miles. The end of today was farewell to Carolina – it’s all Tennessee until Virginia.
It was the sort of day that felt like a memory. Like running through grassy fields, feeling carefree, an optimism born of springtime and rebirth. With Typical‘s carefree teasing and One Gear’s jokes, the blue-tinged views of North Carolina’s Black Mountains (tallest range east of the Mississippi), spongy brown earth underfoot, feeling carefree rarely felt easier. There’s a time to write about heavier subjects, which I had planned for today, but that can wait for later. Some days, I will just remember that life can be simple and sweet. It won’t always be this way, but I’ll take advantage when I can.
In a way, it felt like home, like Idaho. Big round hills swelling with bending brown grass – strangely reminiscent of the Boise foothills. These paired with a stiff wind that could blow you off trail or push you up a steep hill felt familiar. The scene was wide-open, expansive in a Western sort of way.
I arrived at the Mountain Harbour hostel and talked with Camo and Scapegoat by the fire, two Westerners also braving the wet on an AT thru-hike out East. We talked about their previous thru-hike on the Pacific Crest Trail, only receiving a few days of rain over the entire 2600 miles. One of them now lives in Boise, another connection to the big brown hills in southern Idaho.
But as much as I was reminded of memories and of landscapes of the West, in the end, I could tell I was in the South. It was too humid, too hazy from rhododendron aerosols, too much drifting in the atmosphere that felt like porch swings and iced tea. I walked with a crew from Ohio, South Carolina, North Carolina, and Michigan, hearing stories about Eastern adventures. What a grand way to finish a 4-week stretch in North Carolina.
