July 1, 2024

Johnvick Creek to Springdale Creek

18 miles

As has become usual, we are slower getting ready than we planned to. I don’t know how I expected anything less, knowing how I am as a person. But when we do get moving, the trail is really lovely for a while. There’s slop, of course; there is always slop. But the day is nice and the path is manageable. In the morning, at least.

There’s a climb early on that reminds me so much of the AT that I have to remind myself I’m not in Virginia. At the top there is a clearing with benches arranged like a church. This is the “outdoor church” that Feather and Slapshot told us about. It overlooks a lake down in the valley and it’s a very nice spot. Collectively we give the many benches a 6: good location, nice placement after a climb, decent view, construction could be better.

We descend, and the slop starts again, but there are also nice bog boards. And lupine growing next to the road! Then we are walking with a lake on our left behind the trees. All of a sudden there is a call of some sort. I don’t register what it is at first, and then it sounds again and it clicks: it’s a loon!

“Wow, it really is like Maine today!” Machine says.

There’s a view out to the pond soon after this, and I go right up to it for a better view of the loon. It has a baby with it! I just about die. Hearing loons on ponds in Maine was one of my favorite parts of the AT. I hate to always be comparing this to other trails, but I can’t help it. It just reminds me so much of the Maine section of the Appalachian Trail and I am losing my mind with joy as I take photos of the loon and baby loon.

The lake is Lake Agnes, which Feather told us is her favorite part of the SHT. I can see why. In this weather, it positively sparkles in the morning light. It’s also huge, going on for miles’ worth of trail. As we walk the loons keep sounding and we hear, and then see, a few people jumping in the lake and screaming at the cold. We take a break at Hunters Rock, which has a beautiful view of the lake, and then a snack (and latrine) (not in that order) break at the West Lake Agnes Campsite.

After the break is over we descend again. Soon we are near the Poplar River and it’s obvious—because of the four day hikers we pass and the wider, nicer trail—that this is a popular spot. We get water from a little creek and then follow the river until the trail turns up and left, and it’s a largeish switchbacking climb, the second in six miles. This sets off alarm bells somewhere in the back of my brain. Is today going to be this hard all the way through? I thought this trail was supposed to be easy?

At Glove Overlook we stop for an early lunch. It’s a gorgeous view out towards the forested valley below and the hills beyond. There are so many nice views on this trail. It has me chuckling to myself thinking of all the PCT hikers who said they would never want to hike in the east because there are no views. Ok, so yeah, a lot of the day here is spent in the trees in sloppy mud pits, but this rocky overlook? Absolutely choice. Don’t let anyone tell you there are no views on trails towards the east of the country. (Technically the Midwest here, I suppose.)

We jolt awake from post-lunch naps in the sun (deep down we are all just lizards) and realize that we have only gone a third of the way for the day. So we get packed up and spring into action. I listen to the rest of my audiobook. I would recommend it. It wasn’t that long, and it gave me a lot of interesting history and perspective on Palestine. I switch over to One Hundred Years of Solitude after that, since it’s the summer reading book I assign to my AP Lit students and I like to have it fresh in my mind before I teach it. It’s one of my favorite books of all time. I’ve never listened to the audiobook so this is a fun new way to experience it. The narrator is English and he has slightly funky Spanish name pronunciations, but other than that it’s good.

Coming down from another vista, we pass two day hikers who appear to be a retired couple. The woman has curly hair and circular blue glasses, and she is very excited to talk to us about our hike. “Isn’t it just great to be out here?” she exclaims excitedly. Before they continue up, she asks if we’re members of the SHTA, and when we respond that we’re not, she tells us to do it. “I’m cheap, and I still think the $25 is worth it,” she explains. I love this lady’s whole vibe. I want to be her when I grow up.

“Did you see her shirt?” Machine asks after they pass. I shake my head no. “It had a picture of a rooster and it said ‘This cock is for you.’”

Hiking wise, the rest of the afternoon is brutal. It continues to remind me of the AT in that there are relentless, nearly vertical climbs, the terrain is rocky and rooty when it’s not slop, and sometimes it’s those things in addition to slop, and it’s largely a green tunnel. There is a really nice vista of the lake at one point, though, and Machine and I stop here and barely manage a conversation through our exhaustion.

We had planned to stop for dinner at one of the Leveaux Pond campsites before continuing to Springdale Creek, but without saying it out loud, I think we both realize that if we stopped, we wouldn’t get going again. So we decide to just send it all the way to our planned campsite.

When we get there we trudge to the water, collect and filter it, and walk back up to the campsite. There’s another thru hiker there already, the guy we saw a few days ago who’s also going SOBO. We exchange a few pleasantries and then pick a spot down below the actual campsite next to the creek. We set up, cook dinner in our tents, and hunker down. It’s supposed to rain tonight so I fuss over my pitch one last time before crawling into my sleeping bag with my feet singing with relief that I am not walking anymore today.

This might just be today’s exhaustion talking, but at this moment I don’t honestly know if I am enjoying this trail as much as I thought I would. It’s harder than I expected and the mud is so taxing. I’ve weirdly gotten used to the mosquitoes; I basically never hike without my head net on, take a DEET shower every morning (please do not lecture me if you are anti-DEET; I know it’s poison but it’s the only thing that works for me) and and don’t really notice the bites I do still manage to get anymore. But it’s so damp, and there aren’t that many other hikers out here, and it kind of just makes me miss the culture, sunlight, dryness, and overall experience of the PCT. I also feel somewhat old, sore, and out of shape. It’s like I thought I could bounce right back into my hiker self, but it’s proving to be more challenging than just getting on a trail and hiking.

Overall, I’m still happy to be out here. I like the challenge and it’s fun to be hikertrash again. There are beautiful things here and I’m grateful for the opportunity to see them. I just need to give myself a little more grace, I think, and not expect to magically be able to do difficult things without warming back up to them. I have to not catastrophize: just because this trail is hard and I am struggling, it does not mean that my thru hiking days are behind me. This shit is hard. It takes time to get strong.