Davenport Gap, North Carolina to Hot Springs, North Carolina
You know you are in a trail town when... There is a tent pitched next to the historic train monument and the pub's been drunk dry.
We emerged from the smokies eager for food that was something other than gravy, rice and tuna. We had heard from other hikers about a little place called 'standing bear farm' that was rumoured to sell pizza. Needless to say when we got to the road crossing we took the 0.3mile detour to the store and spent the next 3 hours gorging ourselves on pizza, milk, soft drinks and ice-cream. We made the hard decision not to stay the night and trudged our way back to the trail nursing our full stomach until the next shelter.
As we approached Hot Springs a few days later we decided to set up camp 6 miles out of town. We spent the evening swapping stories with Windtalker and Mom. Just as we were settling down for bed we heard a strange, tortured, inhuman howling coming towards us from up the mountain. As we froze, Windtalker had already pulled out his knife ready to attack whatever was coming towards our campsite. A human figure emerged from the trail looking disoriented, exhausted and frantic. Looking out the window in our tent, we saw the figure slowly look around and then sit down facing our tent and pull something from his pack. We were petrified. We spoke in whispered voices, "what's he doing??" "I think he's eating a snickers bar." With that, he set up a tent and went to bed. We slowly zipped up the tent, careful not to make too much noise and went to sleep ourselves.
It was raining in the morning when we woke and the tent was still there. Just as we were about to sneak away quietly, a bleary-eyed figure emerged. It was Cash, another hiker we'd met at standing bear farm a few days earlier. "What the heck happened last night? We heard you being chased down the hill by something." Laughingly, Cash explained that he'd been doing some night hiking when his torch had failed. Remembering stories about hikers being harassed by bears, hillbillies and other creatures at night, he began to hear them around every corner. He'd started howling to scare off anything that may be watching from the woods. It certainly worked on hikers anyway.
In Hot Springs the trail goes right down Main St. There are two things by which a hiker rates a town. A good town has an outfitter and a great town also has a pub. This town had both. We were promised a selection of beers from around the world and after perusing the menu for several minutes we were ready to order. "I'll have..." We were cut off mid sentence. "Just so you know, the pub's almost out of beer, but I might still be able to dig out a few Bud's from out the back." We looked dismayed and glared at Fish, who was sitting in a corner of the room drinking the last Newcastle Larger with a knowing smile.
We emerged from the smokies eager for food that was something other than gravy, rice and tuna. We had heard from other hikers about a little place called 'standing bear farm' that was rumoured to sell pizza. Needless to say when we got to the road crossing we took the 0.3mile detour to the store and spent the next 3 hours gorging ourselves on pizza, milk, soft drinks and ice-cream. We made the hard decision not to stay the night and trudged our way back to the trail nursing our full stomach until the next shelter.
As we approached Hot Springs a few days later we decided to set up camp 6 miles out of town. We spent the evening swapping stories with Windtalker and Mom. Just as we were settling down for bed we heard a strange, tortured, inhuman howling coming towards us from up the mountain. As we froze, Windtalker had already pulled out his knife ready to attack whatever was coming towards our campsite. A human figure emerged from the trail looking disoriented, exhausted and frantic. Looking out the window in our tent, we saw the figure slowly look around and then sit down facing our tent and pull something from his pack. We were petrified. We spoke in whispered voices, "what's he doing??" "I think he's eating a snickers bar." With that, he set up a tent and went to bed. We slowly zipped up the tent, careful not to make too much noise and went to sleep ourselves.
It was raining in the morning when we woke and the tent was still there. Just as we were about to sneak away quietly, a bleary-eyed figure emerged. It was Cash, another hiker we'd met at standing bear farm a few days earlier. "What the heck happened last night? We heard you being chased down the hill by something." Laughingly, Cash explained that he'd been doing some night hiking when his torch had failed. Remembering stories about hikers being harassed by bears, hillbillies and other creatures at night, he began to hear them around every corner. He'd started howling to scare off anything that may be watching from the woods. It certainly worked on hikers anyway.
In Hot Springs the trail goes right down Main St. There are two things by which a hiker rates a town. A good town has an outfitter and a great town also has a pub. This town had both. We were promised a selection of beers from around the world and after perusing the menu for several minutes we were ready to order. "I'll have..." We were cut off mid sentence. "Just so you know, the pub's almost out of beer, but I might still be able to dig out a few Bud's from out the back." We looked dismayed and glared at Fish, who was sitting in a corner of the room drinking the last Newcastle Larger with a knowing smile.
posted by Mike & Zan :-) | 5:09 am
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