Summer in the Sound

The adventure continued on Lopez Island after the Appalachian Trail this summer as mentioned in the last post. Some of the pictures we took in Lopez were too good not to share in our adventure blog.


Flying to Seattle with Mount Rainier in the distance.

From the mainland, you can take a 45 minute ferry from Anacortes to Lopez Island. Mike painted some cool interior light studies on the ride and we taught baby Henry to fly just in case Peter Pan decides to borrow him for the evening.


Loading onto the ferry to Lopez Island.


Everyone was impressed when Steve Simmons managed to catch a young manta ray with his bare hands from the top-deck of the ferry. Here he is swimming.


Inside Lisa's grandfather's house - I mean inside the ferry.

Lopez is the most rural of all the San Juan Islands, covering over 35 square miles and it has a population of around 2,200 who are all closer to heaven. There are many gorgeous farms and a stellar farmers market but also plenty of artist, musicians and general bohemian types.

Lopez is also known as the friendliest of all the San Juan's. You can always tell a native by the classic two finger wave that I learned from my grandpa.

Lopez has plenty of public beaches. We visited Shark Reef and observed the land lubbing seals. Mike and his buddy Tom shimmied down some rock-sides and heard barnacles hissing ancient truths while the kelp forests swayed in the current breezes.

Stay tuned for the next posting which will be from Eagle River, Wisconsin, Mike's family retreat!
Ahoy maytees!


Our heroes, remaining mild-mannered under the guise of unemployment, enjoy the Northwestern weather.


At the base of Lisa's grandfather's property looking out over the sound.


Several amazing starfish were hanging out among the rocks at low tide, when one said to another,"Hey buddy, you ever think that maybe the tide won't come back this time?" to which the other starfish exclaimed, "AHHH! A talking starfish!?!?"


Moments later, we gaped, gasped and stared as Lisa's sister, Laura, was swallowed by an orca trying to retrieve some souvenir bull-kelp (see below).


Bull-Kelp.


Pictured: One-third of the official three-time state winning Maryland yelling champions. (Mike,Tom, and Waldo).


Our mystery lunch-guest is revealed! Mr. Mistoffelees emerges from a quiet life of retirement on Lopez Island to offer dining suggestions to Tom.


The Oregon Junco, aka the Ol' Northwest-Salty-Grizzled-Mariner Bird

The end is just the beginning

The fact that I'm writing this with a beagle's head in my lap, watching Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets in Harrisburg, PA will probably lend you the hint that I am no longer on the AT. Mike, now bereft of his ticket to Valhalla (beard) is sitting next to me so that will lead you to believe that he isn't hiking up steep inclines, wiping away spiderwebs in Nike running shorts while itching mosquito bites either. But, of course, we both wish we still were tickling the backbone of the Appalachians with our worn out hiking shoes... I shall now begin the tale of the end of our hike, starting where I left off last time.

After Bears Den, we trekked through the eroded vestiges of once awesomely tall mountains and were rewarded with views quite different from the sister mountains that we already visited further south.



The valley's of Virginia spread out before us and the farmlands divided up by fences, rivers and roads like a giant jigsaw puzzle of greens, yellows and browns depending on the growth season of the crop being planted.



Battlefields such as Antietam were visible from rocky outcrops that went by names such as Weverton Cliffs, Annapolis Rocks and Raven's Cliffs. During the evening hours the shelters were more crowded than the South, evidence of higher population densities in the area and easier, more gentle hiking terrain.







Please enjoy this interesting picture above of a beetle on a tree fungus. We were lucky to see some of the first lightning bugs - also reminding us that their namesake was threatening constantly from the skies. Indeed Mike and I had to run, sometimes miles, to get to a shelter in order to escape the earth shaking thunder and viscious lightning storms that were going to stick around for good. These storms were the reason we decided, after a few days into the Shenandoah, to retreat back to dry roofs in order to plan our future life-paths. In typical Appalachian style, during the last downpour-day we waded through in Shenandoah, we were rewarded with the sight of a brilliant-red Northern Red Salamander, a beautiful and elusive creature that was glowing like a jewel in our path. The guy had come out because of the rain and would likely not be seen in other weather conditions. If we hadn't sweated and cursed our way through the storm, we wouldn't have had the supreme pleasure of seeing the salamander.

It was with wet tent, shoes, and well, everything that we piled into a taxi-van that took us to a small town in Virginia from which we then took an AMTRAK train back to Maryland. After Maryland (Mikes abode), we drove to PA from which we left for Lopez Island, WA for the Simmons family reunion, plenty of bald eagle sightings, motor bike rides around San Juan (the largest of the San Juan islands), a salmon bake and hippy parade, lavender fields, and of course, a 12 mile walk around the island to remind us that we still had our hiking feet! This trip also included a dance contest involving the Simmons' family girls. My mom and aunt Marianna won with their rendition of 'The Jerk', a painful looking giration that was apparently popular in the 70s. Because of this, I have decided that given the opportunity of time travel, I will NOT visit the 70s. Now we're back and in Harrisburg watching Mike sister Ann's two adorable dogs Simon and Oliver for the weekend. On Monday I'll be headed out to Stroudsburg, PA to work as an apprentice on the Josie Porter Farm, a biodynamic farm that hosts the 80-member Cherry Valley CSA for the summer/autumn growing season and harvest. Interestingly, the AT runs through the farm's property! Mike will be working on a host of commissions for patrons across the US and completing grad school applications and possibly applying to some artist residencies. So, we'll be apart for a time now, but hopefully we'll be able to reunite and join forces once again, after I've got a season of farm work in me and Mike has a new body of work to unveil to the universe.



The Original Appalachian Gang


Lisa and Mike - signing off for now...more adventures to come!

454.5 and counting!

It is with a belly full of Ben and Jerry's Mint-Cookie icecream, half a large supreme pizza, some lemonade, Sprite and a few chunks of beef jerky that I write you this blog entry. This conglomeration of food may seem repulsive to some, but to the hiker it is a fat/calorie packed, uncomfortably delightful mixture that will fuel our drained energy reserves and prepare us for 16+ mile-days of hiking where we will burn an average of 4-5,000 calories - 2x a normal day. And, because I'm eating like this, it will also clue you in to the fact that Mike and I are back on the trail - 'SoBo' - or southbound in AT terminology. Mike's parents dropped us off in Blue Ridge Summit, PA five days ago (thanks again for the ride, delicious apples and even more delicious dinners Mary Ellen and Dick!). We can now check off Georgia, NC/TN, Maryland and West Virginia off our lists.

We're now in Virginia, Bear's Den Rocks Hostel to be exact. This place is very cool, built right out of the surrounding rocks and originally run as a summer home for wealthy folks who paid high dollar to stay here and take in the view of the Virginia countryside while hanging out in the petting zoo on site and listening to the wife of the owner sing Wagner operas (apparently she did this while hiking, too - probably would scare away all the wildlife - I wouldn't hike with the lady). Now it's run by a young couple (thru-hikers 2x) and their little girl (Hikling) who runs around laughing and playing while we talk, eat, shower and eat more.

Harpers Ferry was a great history lesson for us nerdy lore buffs. We learned all about John Brown and how the Civil War 'began' in this little town that sits above the intersection of the Shenandoah and Potomac rivers - it's a hell of a climb out of it though - especially in a hail storm (ouch).

Thomas Jefferson said of the view from his favorite rock adjacent to Harpers Ferry that, "The passage of the Patowmac through the Blue Ridge is perhaps one of the most stupendous scenes in Nature. You stand on a very high point of land. On your right comes up the Shenandoah, having ranged along the foot of the mountain a hundred miles to seek a vent. On your left approaches the Patowmac in quest of a passage also. In the moment of their junction they rush together against the mountain, rend it asunder and pass off to the sea. The first glance of this scene hurries our senses into the opinion that this earth has been created in time, that the mountains were formed first, that the rivers began to flow afterwards, that in this place particularly they have been so dammed up by the Blue Ridge of mountains as to have formed an ocean which filled the whole valley; that, continuing to rise, they have at last broken over at this spot and have torn the mountain down from its summit to its base. The piles of rock on each hand, but particularly on the Shenandoah, the evident marks of their disruptions and avulsions from their beds by the most powerful agents in nature, corroborate the impression."

I think the view of the pizza for dinner was better, but... Mike and I also got our pictures taken at the Appalachian Trail Conference Headquarters (the mothership of the AT) as 'eventual thru-hikers' and Mike talked with the folks working there about the artwork he's been creating of the wonders we've seen along 'the trail' - good networking :)

So, now Mike has more paintings and drawings in his sketchbook and I have more pictures of wildflowers (all of which I will be reading about tonight - medicinal uses and biology) and handstands on rocks. We have all that and the incredible gift of being able to put our feet on the sublime (and soggy) gardens of the earth for three more weeks.

Special shout-out to my dad. Can't wait to hang out with you on Lopez and thanks for driving up to see Mike and I after work - it meant alot and it was so good to see you. Thanks also for the support (on the trail and in 'real life'). Soak up some sun for me in Puerto Rico. Laura - so glad you're coming to Lopez!

Mary Ellen and Anne - Buon viaggio and enjoy your awesome trip to Italia!

Shenandoah here we come!!!

Lisa signing out

AT Fire Towers

Here are some views from fire towers along the AT, once used for (you guessed it) look outs for forest fires and beat poets. Because Kerouac and Ginsberg no longer walk the earth and because of airplanes, the fire towers are no longer used, but lucky hikers can still climb up their rickety metal stairs and gaze out at the heart stopping views.

Flip Flop, Sort Of

Like many explorers and adventurers, Mike and I have decided to alter our course in order to accommodate an illness, the Appalachian God of Rain (*I shall not name him for fear of his wrath), and a dwindling monetary situation. I will first let Mike, the unhappy receiver of a happy colony of bacteria, describe the situation from his own skinny perspective:

"Twenty pounds lighter and later, my curse lifted, and finally some sunshine - my body had to leave the trail and now will return. Of the former, I somehow managed to consume contaminated water, likely in town where we weren't purifying our sources, and became ill in the mountains after walking up Unaka Mountain in hypothermic conditions. We managed to conclude the night in a warm tent, but I became afflicted with violent fevers. We walked eight miles the following morning with my fever worsening and vertigo setting in. We boarded in at the Mountain Harbor Hostel in Tennessee where for three days I sweated out the fever. Then, the bug unexpectedly shifted to my gut, and I became preoccupied with getting to know my insides for days. Test results are still awaiting a name for this beast (or possibly THE BEAST?), but after a week without appetite or sleep (from my busy meetings), and not knowing whether or not a relapse of the bug would occur, we had to leave the trail, having walked 400 miles of the Southern Appalachians to Virginia's back door.

BUT.......Now - having eaten lots of food, regaining my sleep and strength, we are heading back out, though not where we left our journey. The new goal is to meet our departure point, beginning by walking Maryland, West Virginia, and on south through Virginia's Shenandoah National Forest. Yes, dear friends, we will be a-walking, walking with a ferocity that can only be found in the hearts of scalywags, thieves, storytelling murder-creeping pirates, and..... hikers. Because now, and I will enjoy writing this with a smirk, it is personal."

Sums it up nicely I think - thank you Mr. Marks. Now we gain the perspective of the "south-bounder" and we can check off two of the most beautiful National Parks the south eastern US has to offer. This flip-flop was unexpected but necessary and we will be back on the trail tomorrow morning. I'm excited to learn more from the earth and to emphasize this point I will leave you with a quote from the Tao of Pooh by Benjamin Hoff, a book I read while Mike was languishing in the hostel watching shoot em' up movies between bathroom breaks:

"Lots of people talk to animals," said Pooh.
"Maybe, but..."
"Not very many LISTEN, though," he said.
"That's the problem," he added."

Now, back to listening and it's time for you guys to do some looking - HERE YA GO!


Sunset after the rain on the Nolichucky River.


The tree of knowledge.


Mike passed out and sick as a dog at Iron Mountain Gap before a shuttle picked us up.


Big Bald - aka gateway to Scotland.


Soft and beautiful evening light after the rain.


Mountain Laurel gracing the trail before the descent into Erwin, TN.

PICTS UP!

We've got pictures up now. I've updated past entries with pictures (see the Smokies and the 'Things that crawl...' entries) and added some new ones. The new title image is from Max Patch.

Max Patch: Bald and Beautiful

Some pictures from Max Patch, a bald that spans the NC/TN border along the AT and gives the lucky traveller a 360 degree view of all the mountains in the universe (at least it seems like it). The pictures pretty much say it all. The mountain is a naturally occurring bald, scientifically unexplainable for the absence of trees - today it is kept clear of trees by mechanical mowing, however. We heard Bob White Quail and Banjo Music up here. During sunset and sunrise no one spoke because the experience took the words out of our mouths. We spent the night up here, enduring 40 mph winds and temperatures in the mid-30's. OF COURSE it was worth it!

An ode to William Bartram

William Bartram (1739-1823) is considered by many to be America's first naturalist. His illustrious portrait, painted by Charles Wilson Peale, hangs in the portrait gallery in Philadelphia down the street from the Liberty Bell. Interestigly, his father was a good friend of Benjamin Franklin and Bartram even named a plant species after him that is now extinct in the wild.

Bartram travelled along a similar path that Mike and I are following, collecting plant specimines. We noticed a side trail with a yellow blaze along Wayah Bald in NC and promised ourselves that we would look into the meaning of it (any blaze other than white catches our attention b/c that's all we've seen for over 300 miles). Turns out we saw part of the Bartram Trail that extends 90 miles of the total 2000 Bartram travelled through the southern US in search of botanical specimines and Seminoles and Cherokee, many of whom he befriended. The Alachua Seminole Chief, Cowkeeper, named Bartram Puc Puggy "Flower Hunter" - sounds like Bartram and I have something in common. Bartram's poetic writings sum up the landscape better than I could. Here is an excerpt from his Travels that describes the view from Wayah Bald that Mike and I also beheld. Wayah means "the place of the wolf" in CHerokee:

"It was now after noon; I approached a charming vale, amidst sublimely high forests, awful shades! Darkness gathers around, far distant thunder rolls over the trembling hills; the black clouds with august majesty and power, moves slowly forwards, shading regions of towering hills, and threatening all the destructions of a thunderstorm; all around is now still as death, not a whisper is heard, but a total inactivity and silence seems to pervade the earth; the birds afraid to utter a chirrup, and in low tremulous voices take leave of each other, seeking covert and safety; every insect is silenced, and nothing heard but the roaring of the approaching hurricane; the mighty cloud now expands its sable wings, extending from North to South, and is driven irresistibly on by the tumultuous winds, spreading his livid wings around the gloomy concave, armed with terrors of thunder and fiery shafts of lightning; now the lofty forests bend low beneath its fury, their limbs and wavy boughs are tossed about and catch hold of each other; the mountains tremble and seem to reel about, and the ancient hills to be shaken to their foundations: the furious storm sweeps along, smoaking through the vale and over the resounding hills; the face of the earth is obscured by the deluge descending from the firmament, and I am deafened by the din of thunder; the tempestuous scene damps my spirits, and my horse sinks under me at the tremendous peals, as I hasten for the plain.

I began to ascend the Jore Joara (Nantahala now) Mountains, which I at length accomplished, and rested on the most elevated peak; from whence I beheld with rapture and astonishment, a sublimely awful scene of power and magnificence, a world of mountains piled upon mountains. Having contemplated this amazing prospect of grandeur, I descended the pinnacles..."

Unfortunately, Mike and I didn't get to see exactly that view because (according to the Park Service) 70% is obscured by a haze caused by air pollution, Bartram would have been able to see the Smokies but we couldn't even see to the Cheoahs, ten miles away. The great and massive tree giants that Bartram saw will also never be seen by Mike and I - the size of the trees (mostly re-growth from clear cutting) pale in comparison to the old growth forests of Bartrams day. This is an incredible thing to contemplate judging from the size of some of the tulip poplars we've seen.

Lewis and Clark brought along Bartram's Travels to consult during their explorations and I think that I'll buy a copy when I get back into the civilized world I have had the pleasure of escaping for a few months.

Thanks to the folks!

Just a quick note to thank Mike's mom and dad, Mary Ellen and Dick for all they have done for Mike and I this past month. They've shipped us a new mansion tent - unfortunately, Mike's one person tent (although fabulous in it's own right) didn't do the trick. Oh my lands the new mansion tent is fabulous - I go to sleep with a smile every night and Mike can even play his dulcimer in it and draw in his sketchbook as the sun goes down... Also kindly mailed was my old backpack because the new super duper 8000 mega-flex-tron that was supposed to be better busted at the seams and gave me back spasms. Needless to say, the new pack and tent are doing wonders for moral and overal wellness :)

And my own mamma - the new shoes have enabled my toenail blisters to heal and dry incredibly quickly, which is good because this part of the country has gotten more rain in the past month than the past three years combined. I love them!! The bone spur and inflamed bursa (no, it's not a parasitic attachment that sprouted from a tree stump and attached itself to my leg, but it kinda looks like it) have started healing (albeit very slowly - 15 miles a day doesn't do wonders for my stick legs and feet).

Thanks to both of these wonderful women for the delicous and healthy foods they've been shipping to us in our important mail drops. They keep us going every day and we love you for it!!!!!!!!!! Keep them cookies comin'!

Love you guys,
Lisa and Mike

Things that stalk in the night and things that flit in the light

And now, dear readers, now that we've finally arrived at Uncle Johnny's Nolichucky Hostel in Erwin, TN after hiking 338 miles (wahhhoie!), it is time for an accounting of the slimy, hairy and feathered things, beloved of Banjo (formerly known as Cougar) and I. Salamanders are an indicator species, meaning, when ecosystems are deteriorating they are the first to suffer, giving you an idea of the overall health of a forest. The amount of salamanders we've seen has boggled my mind and I wouldn't have noticed half of them if it hadn't been for Mike who has eyes specially engineered for glimpsing the little wigglers in forest streams and springs that flow liberally out of the mountainsides. The slimers even stalk around our tent at night slurping up delicious worms and bugs. They come in the most amazing array of spots, stripes and colors and they have huge bulging eyes and long dragging tails. We take pictures of the creatures we see, if possible, and later ID them with a pocker-guide of reptiles and amphibians of the southern Appalachians. Mike is well versed in the bird-business, but also carries a small field guide to help him with identification.

Here is a species list from Mike:

Birds: The southern highlands hold and receive a diverse array of bird species, sometimes familiar and sometimes unique to the higher elevations of the east. One such group, as I've been finding out, are the Warblers - a family of small song birds who migrate from Central and South America to the United States and Canada, and are found only in the New World. Warblers that we have sighted:

Yellow Rumped Warbler, Hooded Warbler, Yellow Breasted Chat, Chestnut-Sided Warbler, Black and White Warbler, Black-Throated Blue Warbler, Black-Throated Green Warbler

Other bird sightings, from Northern Georgia to Erwin, Tennessee:
Pileated Woodpecker, Red-Bellied Woodpecker, Red-Tailed Hawk, Sharp-Shinned Hawk, Turkey Vulture, Wild Turkey, Ruffed Grouse, Dark-Eyed Junco (known as Snowbirds down here), Blue Jay, Eastern Peewee, Rufuous-Sided Towhee (also known as the Eastern Towhee), White-Breasted Nuthatch, Solitary Vireo, Carolina and Black-Capped Chickadee, Golden-Crowned Kinglet, Scarlet Tanager, Barred Owl, Great Horned Owl (heard only), Eastern Bluebird (only one), Brown Thrasher, Ruby-Throated Hummingbird, Gray Catbird, Northern Mockingbird, Blue Gray Gnatcatcher, Common Bobwhite (heard only), Mourning Dove, American Robin, Northern Cardinal, Belted Kingfisher, Barn Swallow, Bank Swallow, Tree Swallow, American Crow, Common Raven, Common Grackle, Rose-Breasted Grosbeak, Indigo Bunting, American Goldfinch

Salamanders sighted:

Southern Appalachian Salamander


Red-Spotted Newt (immature or Eft phase - an incredibly bright and beautiful guy who the field guide describes as "incredibly bold" - they aren't afraid of nothin!)


Shovel-Nosed Salamander


Santeetlah Dusky Salamander


Blue Ridge Two-Lined Salamander, Spotted Dusky Salamander, Seepage Salamander, Northern Slimy Salamander, Southern Gray-Cheeked Salamander (maybe - not positive on the ID), Blue Ridge Spring Salamander

Snakes sighted (and caught! - by Mike) :

Northern Watersnake


Eastern Garter Snake, Northern Ringneck Snake

Frogs/Toads:

Eastern American Toad (one so huge the earth shook as it hopped)


Fowler's Toad, Eastern Cricket Frog (heard only), Cope's Gray Treefrog (heard only)

Others: Common Five Lined Skink, Eastern Fence Lizard, Broad Headed Skink

Giant Millipede



Furry Beasts: Bears, feral hog, squirrels galore, smelly hikers, chipmunks, deer, fox (heard only -an inhuman wailing). And, of course the mice. We've seen the deer and harvest mouse (both native species). The house mouse (an Asian import) has flourished in the region and has more than flourished in the AT shelters, this is the species that visits our food bags and chews holes in our socks.

One day, a fellow hiker who we shared a shelter with woke up to find his backpack stuffed about 1/4 full of acorns - a squirrel had apparently decided his bag was a fine place to do some food accessioning for the winter. The dude woke up in the morning and yelled at all his buddies "Hey guys - who the hell stuffed all this crap in my bag?!!" All of his friends and us started laughing because no one had done it - it was the squirrel. Finally, the acorn laden hiker accepted his new food as a gift from the forest.

The Smokies gave us EVERYTHING

The awesome power of the Smoky Mountains was unleashed upon Mike and I day after day during our five night, six day trek across the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. Apparently, Old Man Smoky decided he would give two skinny, bedraggled hikers ALL the best and worst his mountains had to give - probably chose us becuase he was impressed with Mike's beard which has reached epic and lustrous proportions. Even the old timers in the small Appalachian towns we stop in give him nods of appreciation.

It must first be mentioned, however, before embarking on the tale of the Smokies that Warbler has been given a new name to befit the incredible strength and prowess he has shown upon this trek. His new name is COUGAR, given to him by our fellowship of Padre, Jeff (the most hilarious man on earth) and Melski. Unfortunately, I am now referred to as "Tater", short for small potato (instead of Ramps) more befitting of my small size in comparison to the mountain men I travel with. I'm sure our trail names will morph with the terrain, but as of now we're Cougar and Tater.

Before we got to GSMNP, we had to walk over Fontana Dam, the highest dam in the eastern US.





Now on to the Smokies... The great adventure is best begun with an eloquent excerpt from Mike's journal:

"Like silent brushes of a drum, the mists, the fog, the tumultuous waves of mountain wind - they are like apparitions that filter through the laurel, somewhere between the past and what lies ahead out of view. And as ghosts of man or beast, the obscured shapes that flutter behind and in the fog cry and whisper out, immeasurably, the mournful and sublime soul of the mountains."

This fog that Mike speaks of follows us, sometimes for days. It's a marker of the beginning and end of the harsh, torrential, freezing spring rains that we have endured at all times of day and at all elevations. One particular storm two days ago gave me a nasty head cold that makes hiking from sun up to sun down thousands of vertical feet most unpleasant. When the fog breaks, however, the views are so gorgeous and breataking, we stare for minutes, not talking, to take the view into our minds and souls.

The fog is most dream-like when the bleached bones of the conifers peer out against the gray, thick fog that is sometimes so dense, you can't see but a few feet in front of you. A sad, but very evident death of large swaths of conifers in the Appalachians is due to the hemlock wooly adelgid, a North American intruder that rode in on timber shipped across the sea from Asia. The small insect devours the sap and fluids of the hemlock trees and leaves behind little cotton-swab looking deposits on the trees it attacks - all of the once magestic and ancient hemlock trees that we see are either dead or have the tell-tale signs of the adelgid all over them. Park rangers say it was probably introduced into the eastern US in the 1950's and the damage it's done since then is incredible; whole mountain sides lay bear of hemlocks due to this infestation. The drought that has plagued this region for the past couple years (trust me - it's not troubling anyone this year) has caused fungus to grow on the trees which makes them even more susceptible to the adelgid.

Despite the wars that this great forest must fight on all fronts every day, it is still one of the most beautiful places I have ever seen. Mike and I saw a vast array of all things green, furry, scaley, slithery and feathered. We also saw (dad - close mom's eyes for this) five black bears. Three up close and personal from the confines of Russel Field Shelter that was gated in order to protect the inhabitants from the bears. When dinner was being made by the six or so people who were staying there a large mother bear and her two older cubs came ambling out of the woods to sit down and share our meal. They slowly circled the group and all the humans immediately put down their food. Did we run? OH NOOOooo. We immediately picked up our cameras and snapped as many photos as possible which didn't discourage the bears in the least. They kept approaching and one even bluff-charged Mike, who bravely stood his ground and was the only member of the group to do what is supposed to be done in such circumstances - he yelled and threw rocks to shoo the bears away. Unfortunately, this group of bears had been doing this for quite some time - this would be their last. A ranger and an intern (a 21 year old girl who was about 4 feet tall and weighed about 80 pounds - not the type you'd expect to handle bears) spent the night in the shelter with us. Their goal was to tranquilize the bear from the shelter while the bear was wandering around the perimiter so that she would associate the negative experience with the shelter in-particular. The bear would then be re-located in an attempt to stop her from coming to parties she wasn't invited to. The cubs would be caught and re-located with their mother. Although the bears did pace the shelter, about 5 feet in front of us for a couple hours that evening, we didn't get to see the ranger tranquilize the bear. We did hear down the AT grapevine that he did it a few hours after we left in the morning and it was a success. Another younger male also made a visit, but wasn't considered a 'problem bear' and so was ignored by the ranger. Upon descending from Cosby Nob Shelter, the day before we left the Smokies, we saw another bear drinking from a mountain stream just off the trail - this one skeedadled up the mountain side faster than you could blink. I also think I saw the rump of a feral hog that day - actually, I'm sure of it.











Mike and I made a small detour into Gatlinburg to get sleep that we hadn't had in 3 days (as you can imagine, lack of sleep is as dangerous as lack of gear and food). This sleeplessness was due to a symphony of snores and air exchanges, passed through every human orifice possessed by old male hikers who shared the shelters with us (yes, we have since purchased ear plugs). Gatlinburg had more fast food and Ripley's Believe it or Not venues than we imagined possible. We got there by hitch-hiking from Newfound Gap, first with a nice couple who spoke only of their love of panda bears and the Biltmore Estate - they couldn't decide which they loved more, and back to the gap with a large family packed into the front of a big pick-up that was so much fun to sit in the back of and ride to the top of the mountain, wind in our hair and waterfalls around every turn. Mike sums up the Gatlinburg experience well in his journal:

"Gatlinburg represented the greasiest, most excessively novel and fried vulgarities of rural America's tourism industry, and as such, found its way into the most guilty pleasures of every southerner's artery-clogged heart. For us, there was a sense of shock and awe, but we found ourselves playing along to at least one of Gatlinsburg's offerings, the sought after treasure of travelers entering civilization - beer."

I wanted to get an apple in Gatlinburg so I asked a woman working at Subway. This is how the conversation went:

"Excuse me ma'am, where can I buy an apple in this town?"
"Darlin, you c'aint buy no apple in Gatlinburg. The nearest place is a grocery stoare 'bout seven maaailes by trolley."
"Um, there's no place in this whole town I can buy a piece of fruit?"
"Well, dang...um - LEEEROY, you know whare this here lady can buy an apple?"
Leroy - "No."
"Ok, thanks anyway ma'am."
"Well, darlin, ya mightn' try the candy store. I know they sell them candy apples, you mightn' get one not candied?"
"Oh, yeah, I'll check - thanks."

So, I was able to procure an apple at the candy store for $0.54 that had not yet been fried, candied, or goobered in any way. We decided to leave the all-you can eat buffet and country shows for our next visit. We were AT hikers and the trail was a'callin, despite our swollen feet, tired eyes and weary bones. Come to find out it was a good thing we rested the night in Gatlinburg - upon meeting up with our friends here in Hot Springs, NC (After 271 miles and our first 20-mile day - yeeeaaahh!!) they had to run full speed over a mountain summit the day we left them because of an intense lighting storm that they did NOT even laugh about for an instant - they said they all feared for their lives, threw down their poles and cowered for some time until the storm let up...

Mike and I are staying in an old Victorian home that holds many tales of Appalachian lore, myth and music (and magic). Technically, what we are staying in is a farmhouse built in 1840 that was combined with another house on the property built just a few years after the Civil War. It has gone in and out as a retreat location, eventially going in and out of ownership but eventually maintaining itself as an inn for travelers - many visiting the healthful natural hot springs in town. Once it was owned by Jane Gentry, a noted musician and folklorist from the end of the 19th century. One of the travellers that came through was the infamous British folklorist Cecil Sharpe. He was coming through the region to compile songs for a book entitled, English Ballads of the Southern Mountains. He stayed at the inn and Ms. Gentry contributed 64 songs to Sharpe's collection and was later herself recorded for the Library of Congress folk archives. The inn nods back to its musical history with a music room well equipped for travelers - Mike has taken full advantage of a banjo he's fallen in love with that sits on a velvet cushioned chair in the room. He plans on recording himself on it tonight after the vegetarian feast that will be prepared for us and our hiking friends at the inn, now known as Elmer's Sunny Bank Inn - not bad for $20 a night! Mike and I also spent some of the day helping Elmer himself re-paint the finials of the house that had been built in the 1840's while we talked about Appalachian music...we're thinking about staying and working for him for a day to get a free night's stay and learn about the history of the town - haven't decided about this yet.

Miss everyone and we're thinking about all of you all the time! Grandma - I'll be calling you in Erwin, TN, the next town we come to about 5 days from now- I've been thinking about you, especially since the sky is so often your favorite color of soft bluish grey.

LOVE
COUGAR AND TATER