Just two days ago we were surrounded by cherry blossoms and daffodils in Gibbs Garden. Just a week further south azaleas as tall as me were clothed in red, flowering trees were in pink and white, and the red maple flowers flowed with nectar for the honeybees.
But here the trees are bare, even looking dead. A few small green hollies and pines break the feel. But the thick mat of oak leaves underfoot foreshadows what lies ahead, and a few tiny wildflowers poke through.
Near mountains look sharp and barren. Behind those the next soften and take a hint of blue. Row after row as far as I can see the mountains keep going, becoming smokier in the far haze. There are no signs of humans except the trail I walk on.
The mountains are not tall, but the trail is steep, more so than on the other long trails. Blisters form on my toes during the downhills. My appetite is in full swing now and I eat ravenously. Trail Angels at road crossings have food and I supplement with cookies and bananas but I still break into my extra food and have two lunches. The machine is working hard and I just keep stoking the fire for 21.2 miles.
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