“The most important reason for going from one place to another is to see what’s in between,
and they took great pleasure in doing just that.”
-Norton Juster (The Phantom Tollbooth)
Barrett and I made some great memories here the year before while completing the Standing Indian loop. This year, we picked up just a few miles North of where we left off, and just in time to admire the full display of Fall colors! We took great pleasure in see what was in between Winding Stair Gap and the Nantahala Outdoor Center. I hope you take great pleasure in watching our three-day trip through the Gold Tunnel play out.
Check out the itinerary I put together from this trip! Route details, resources I used to plan the trip, campsite and water source descriptions, elevation profiles, info for local shuttle providers, and MORE all in one neatly organized PDF. (While it isn’t a substitute for doing your own research and preparation, hopefully it will take the guess work out of planning your own trip.)
Music featured in this video: “Particular Pace” by Mild Wild, “Easton” by Hemlock, “Flowy” by Jacob Nicou, “Black Coffee” by All Good Folks, “Delicate Daisies” by Sky Toes, “The Way Back” by Luke Beling, “Rosy Cheeks” by Walz, “Passages” by Edoy, “This Cloud” by Luno, “Waves” by Holizna, and “Voxel” by Andy G. Cohen
Music from Uppbeat (free for Creators!):
Nantahala Mountains - WSG to NOC via the AT
Hike Overview
Type of hike: Point to Point / Shuttle
Trails hiked: Appalachian Trail
Time span: 3 days 2 nights
Total Est. Mileage: 28 miles
Trail Journal
Day One
I pulled up to the Outdoor Center with a few minutes to spare. It was swarming with people. Not a single parking spot to be found. After circling back to the Outfitter Store for a third time, another car finally pulled out of the lot. I swooped in to claim the spot. Our driver should be arriving at any moment, so I would need to get our overnight parking sorted out quickly. I walked into the store and up to the check-out counter. I told the girl manning the register I was a backpacker and needed an overnight parking pass. I also relayed all the directions I received over the phone from another employee the day before.
“He told me to drive across the bridge and park in the gravel lot behind the old restaurant?”
“Yeah.” She said “You could do that. Or just go down this gravel road here...”
She pointed across the highway.
“...and park anywhere you want in the lot at the end of it.”
That was much closer and easier than what I was previously told. She handed me a piece of paper with a departure date on it to place on the dash. Where you park depends on who’s answering the phones that day, the shuttle driver later confirmed. I parked my vehicle at the end of the gravel lot right as our driver, Bobby, pulled up. He assured me he was in no rush and I should take my time getting everything out of the car. I tossed Barrett’s pack and mine into the truck bed, then helped him into the backseat with me. I apologized in advance for my dog shedding. “No worries! I’m pretty sure my own dog’s hair is all over the place back there.” He said.
Bobby was so easy going and friendly. On the drive, he told me stories about his family back in Greece and what it was like going to visit them growing up. He also told me stories about people he’s met while shuttling. I loved hearing every bit of it! He took us on the scenic route along a forestry road. The view of the Fall leaves framing the river was incredible! As we neared Winding Stair Gap, I got the same spiel nearly every driver has given me before the end of the ride “If you get into any trouble out there, don’t hesitate to give me a call.” He continued “My schedule the rest of the week is pretty tight, but if I can’t help you I’ll call one of the other local drivers. So if I can’t help, I’ll get you in contact with someone who can.” He mentioned Sherpa Al and Patrice. Thankfully, I did not need to bail out on this adventure, but it gave me peace of mind throughout the trip knowing someone could help if need be.
He pulled over at the trail crossing on Hwy 64. This was our stop. I scrambled to get Barrett out of the truck and into his pack. “Take your time.” Bobby reminded me. “Don’t want you to leave anything behind or forget something important. Got your phone? Keys?” Yes and yes. I finished getting our packs on at a much slower pace. I thanked him for everything and handed him the agreed upon rate. As he pulled away, we descended the stairs into the woods. Our trek had officially begun.
Passing one white blaze after another, that quote from The Phantom Tollbooth came to mind… Seeing what’s in between. We were doing just that. Seeing what was beyond our last adventure and the beautiful places in between. The Fall colors could not have been any more vibrant. We were here just in time to enjoy the Gold Tunnel on full display. Looking over some of the footage I took on this trip, I was amazed all over again by the yellow and orange hues the canopy seemed to cast on everything.
Our hike was mostly uneventful up until the turn off to Siler Bald shelter, aside from the colorful scenery of course! So I’ll take a moment to share the evolution of plans that took place resulting in this trip. When Barrett and I reached the end of Standing Indian Loop the year before, I had no knowledge of or intention of hiking this route to NOC. So, what made me decide to do it?
Not long before the Standing Indian trip, I planned to thru-hike the Bartram Trail. My bag was (mostly) packed and shuttle was scheduled. Right before the trip, my husband was called out to Michigan for work. There was no one to watch our animals on such short notice, and the shuttle provider (who I won’t name) was unwilling to work with me on re-scheduling for a later date. All the other contacts listed in the guidebook were either unavailable or didn’t provide shuttles. And since I didn’t have either Bobby or Sherpa Al’s numbers at the time, all my options had been exhausted. The trip was off. In the months to follow, I discovered a 55-ish mile loop with the Bartram and AT. If I couldn’t hike the whole thing, I could at least hike a portion of it from Franklin to Cheoah Bald. Thanks to it intersecting twice with the AT I wouldn’t need to schedule a shuttle at all! A new plan was hatched.
To shorten this already too long tale, that plan had to be scrapped as well. With all my responsibilities at home, there was no way I could take a whole week on the trail this Fall. There was also no way I was getting Barrett on board for 20 mile days to try to complete it in a weekend. He’s a very active dog, but he has his limits. In the end I settled on completing just the AT section of the loop plus a little extra. I share all of this to say: plans change. A LOT! It’s funny to look back on what we thought we would do vs. what we actually end up doing. Given the chance I wouldn't do anything different. I firmly believe everything happens for a reason, and God orchestrates the circumstances that lead me to staying or going.
The goal for this first day was to make at least 5 miles and camp on or near Siler Bald. Because campsites would be dry there, we had to take a detour to Siler Bald Shelter for water. The shelter trail loops back around to the AT right near the path to Siler Bald’s summit. It seemed logical to follow the loop rather than backtracking. In hindsight, backtracking would have been far less strenuous. Just before reaching the shelter, we passed a series of shallow “streams” running across the trail and over the edge to whatever was lying in the gorges below. I’m sure in wetter months these little trickles would be a much more substantial water source. I searched for a good spot to collect water from along the rocks. My eye caught a makeshift spout another hiker had made by wedging a rigid leaf under a small rock. I crouched down by the leaf and began filling both water bladders in my pack. Barrett paced and grumbled impatiently. I couldn’t blame him. The flow was so slow and my were legs starting to fall asleep as I crouched there.
The shelter was located a short distance away. With a view between the trees of the sun sinking low in the sky, the three-sided structure looked inviting. But stopping here tonight would mean extra mileage tacked onto an already long day tomorrow. So we kept moving along the shelter trail. We missed the sharp left turn at the junction and continued straight mistaking the wider more prominent path for the trail. I glanced down at the GPS to find us off track. We returned to the junction and made the turn we should have originally taken. The GPS confirmed we were back on track. Had we continued on that wrong path, it would have eventually spit us out near the Wayah Crest trailhead; overshooting our intended destination by miles!
I realized after making the turn, it would have been easier to backtrack rather than continuing on the shelter trail. The path was steep and rocky. Loose pebbles and gravel slid under our feet with every step. The inclines continued to steepen. I could feel the sweat building up on my back. A cool evening breeze was settling in. Every time it flowed behind the ventilation gap on my pack I shivered. My body went back and forth between uncomfortably hot and cold like a light switch being frantically flipped on and off. I was relieved when we finally reached the main trail again.
The sun was sinking faster than ever now. It casted a soft yellow glow on the hillside as we made our way up Siler Bald. We came to a break in the tall foliage lining the path to find a round flat campsite. We were only halfway to the summit, but this site had plenty of room for the tent and a solid treeline behind it for hanging the bear bag. It also offered an incredible view the rolling hills in the distance. It was perfect. As I took a moment to appreciate the new, yet familiar, scenery of Nantahala I felt a mix of nostalgia for our previous trip and nervous anticipation for this journey ahead. As I began setting up camp I thought “It sure is good to be back in the Land of the Noonday Sun.”
The task of getting the line securely over a limb proved to be easier said than done. It took up most of my remaining daylight. I couldn’t for the life of me get the rock sack to go where I wanted it to. With every throw it would either fall short or grab a nearby weaker branch. Eventually I did get hit my target. I had to rush to finish setting up the last of our gear before the sun set completely. Barrett, meanwhile, rested in the grass thinking about whatever it is dogs think about to pass the time. With no opportunity to gather any sticks, I had to forgo building a fire. Thankfully it was just chilly and not too windy.
After making and eating dinner in the dark, we retired to the tent. Tucked into my sleeping bag, I glanced over the route for the next day on my phone. Just under 13 miles to cover. This would be the longest mileage in a day Barrett has ever done with me. It wouldn’t be easy, but I knew we could handle it. It was my plan to go the rest of the way up to the summit the next morning before we hit the trail. Depending on how early we woke up, and if there was a sunrise to admire, I might even make breakfast up there.
Day Two
A heavy blanket of fog hung across the bald the next morning. There were no sunrise views to speak of. So, I prepared my coffee and breakfast seated halfway between the tent door and the open vestibule. Barrett remained curled up on his bed in the back of the tent most of the morning. In the past, I didn’t allow either dog in the tent without me. I guess my concern was they would puncture my sleeping pad or ruin my sleeping bag. But that really hasn’t been and issue with Barrett. He has his own pad with a cover to lay on, and he pretty much stays on it. (Nora is a whole different story.) After our Roan Mountain trip in August, I decided to just let Barrett hang out in the tent when he wants to do. It's actually been better for both of us this way. He can take a nap or contemplate dog things, while I handle camp chores without worrying which tree he needs me to untangled his leash from. I should preface, he can come and go from the tent as he pleases. He isn't zipped up in it against his will. For whatever reason, he just prefers to spend our time at camp there.
I eventually had to evict Barrett from the tent to finishing packing up. We had a long day ahead, but there was still enough time to make a short trip to the summit. At the top, we found a stone marker with elevation and cardinal directions carved into it. The scenery up there was similar to that of our campsite: fog in every direction. A breeze picked up and began pushing the fog North (according to the stone marker.) It passed through and around us like a ghost. Soon, the fog blanket began to stretch out wearing thin in some places. Patches of blue sky peaked through the holes. After another moment of watching the fog clear from the summit, it was time to make our own departure. We followed the vista trail back toward the AT as the sky continued to clear. The sunshine lit up all the red, orange, and yellow trees below. Under their canopy, everything took on a warm glow.
The climb up Wayah Bald made me angry downright angry! Much of the way ran parallel to a forestry road to the parking area at the top. Every so often, another truck or SUV would come barreling up the road leaving us in their dust. The trail was very steep with no shortage of rocks and roots to stub your toes on. My legs were on fire by the end! To add to the frustration, Barrett was being an absolute pain in the butt. Every time he heard a rustle in the trees, he would give a big tug on the leash. When the rustling stopped, he would slam on the brakes causing me to crash into his backside. He had spotted some squirrels, and rather than keeping pace with his hiking partner, he wanted to keep pace with them as they hopped from limb to limb. Surely, we were getting close to the end of this. I stopped to check the GPS: barely even halfway. Minorly irritated turned to seething. So at Wine Spring Camp, I took a long break to clear my head and refill our water.
This was where the Bartram departed from the AT (heading North) until they converged again at Cheoah Bald. I dropped my pack at the site, and out of curiosity, wandered a short way down the Bartram. Talk about a night and day difference! It was clear very FEW people had walked this path. Unlike the well-worn and beaten AT, this yellow blazed trail was significantly overgrown. There was barely a sign of travelers along it. After about a quarter mile, I turned back. Further down the part of the trail shared with the AT, was a well flowing piped source. “Thank you Lord!” I thought. Our water supply had just about run out. This was the pattern throughout the trip: right as we reached the next shelter, our water supply would run out. On this trip, the only reliable sources we encountered were at the shelters. With the exception of Wine Spring, of course. I don’t recall seeing many other independent sources along the way.
A long drink of water and short rest on a log helped me gather enough patience to make the last push to the top. We eventually reached a paved road leading us toward the massive rock tower on Wayah. I could hear a crowd of other visitors there as we approached. I looked over my shoulder. Off in the distance was the parking area packed with cars.
I excitedly rounded the side of the tower, anxious to see the view from the top. My excitement was halted when an aggravated dog jumping in front of Barrett, blocking us from reaching the stairs. I pulled Barrett away, but the other the dog continued toward him growling. The owner finally paused her conversation to grab the dog by the collar. “It’s okay! She’s friendly.” She said. If I could raise an eyebrow independent of the other, I would have. I asked as nicely as possible if she could move her dog so we could pass. “She won’t be a problem. She’s friendly.” The lady repeated. The dog continued growling and trying to approach Barrett.
We did finally get up the tower to see the view. I tried to eat a quick lunch on a grassy spot by the bushes, but it didn’t take long for that other dog to find Barrett again. She continued to follow us growling while the owner refused to put her on a leash because “She was friendly!” This charade was getting a little out of hand. So, we got the heck out of there and took a proper break at Wayah Bald shelter. The camping area around the shelter was so spacious, and the massive fire ring under the shelter's porch was pretty cool. Looking around I thought “This would be a great place to stay if ever I found myself hiking this part of the trail again.”
It was time to get moving again. We were a little over halfway to our destination: Cold Spring shelter. Unlike the night before, we would have easy access to water there and slightly shorter mileage the next day. We trekked on toward Cold Spring through more beautiful Fall scenery. The terrain was much easier, but I was starting to feel that climb up Wayah. As we reached the sign for Burningtown Gap I let out sigh of relief. Just one mile left to go!
Before the dogs came into my life, I used to do 15+ mile days. But after making them my official backpacking buddies, 10 is the most I’ve done. Doing a 13 mile day together was new for me and Barrett. At the start of the day, I mentally prepared myself that we might not make it to camp until after dark. After one more quad burning incline, we reached Cold Spring. I plopped down on the edge of the shelter floor and let out another sigh of relief. I glanced at my phone. To my surprise, we had made decent time. It was around 4:30. The sound of trickling water caught my attention. I looked up to see a piped spring running down the hillside right in front of the shelter.
Barrett drank from the running water for a solid two minutes while I refilled the water bladders upstream. There was no room for a tent in the area surrounding the shelter. So we followed the signs for camping further along the trail. It took us to a blue blazed side trail and eventually a large campsite. It had everything we needed and more: a fire ring, small picnic table, and plenty of space for the tent. On the other side of the site, was a path leading up a boulder before disappearing into the tree line. After setting up the tent, I took Barrett with me to investigate. The path led to a small rock outcrop with a partly obscured view of the mountains. I sat down on the rocks and said a quick prayer of thanks. I was thankful the journey was over for the day, thankful we met our mileage goal, and most of all thankful we found such a wonderful campsite.
I gathered some firewood and made dinner while Barrett napped in the tent. Later that evening, I went down to the shelter to refill our water. There I met a couple of SOBO thru-hikers “The Wiz” and “Alright Alright.” I told them the story behind my trail name: “Wideload.” They busted out laughing. I’ve never been a fan of that name (I can thank Jordan for it) Over time it’s grown on me though. Not because it’s a good or fitting name. I don't even use the pack that earned me the title anymore. The reason I’ve warmed up to it is I can make people laugh with the story of how it came about.
Speaking of good stories... I came across a great story just a week before this trip called "The Legend of Wayah Bald." From what I understand, it's not traditional folklore and it's not very well known either. It's a tale that had been woven together decades ago by a resident of these mountains. Originally composed by a man named Gilmer Jones (and later published by Felix Alley) the story illustrates the importance of a man's character and legacy. I won't retell the whole story here, but you can find and read it in one of two places: First is the online archives of The State magazine. The story appeared in a January 1942 issue on Digital pages 8 and 18. Second is in Felix Alley's book "Random thoughts and the musings of a mountaineer" I have a paperback copy of it in my home library, and it's a very random book indeed. It's also quite long. You can read it (and the Legend of Wayah Bald) for free on Archive.org
The rest of the evening was uneventful. Barrett and I ate dinner and sat by the fire. Not much else happened. Before going to bed, I checked the forecast for the next day. All but one of the four sites I checked predicted rain late in the afternoon. “We should be off trail just as it rolls in” I thought. The one other site had a different opinion. It predicted rain starting in the early hours of the morning and continuing until 8 a.m. The rain began splattering the rain fly at about midnight and kept on well into the morning.
Day Three
The exterior of the fly was soaking wet and plastered with soggy leaves. Water poured on my sleeve as I reached across the sagging vestibule to unzip it. The entire campsite was covered in mud and mist. The rain had paused momentarily, but drops caught by the trees continued to fall. Every breeze brought a short downpour. I packed up our gear and made coffee in between the delayed showers and accepted the fact that it was going to be a wet and dreary day. With this in mind, I decided to prepare a package of soup I brought along as an extra meal. I slid the insulated meal cozy into the front pocket of my pack for later.
While going about my morning routine, I was scared half to death by Barrett yowling inside the tent. I ran over to see what was wrong. He sat half upright shrieking as whining. My initial fear was a snake or small critter had found its way in the tent and bit him. I quickly realized the true source of pain was himself. While trying to scratch his ear with his back leg, Barrett got one of his toes caught on his collar. And it was hurting him something fierce! Without hesitation, I grabbed a hold of Barrett’s leg and worked to free his toe. To my relief, he didn't bite me in his distress, but instead burrowed his head into my chest. Once untangled from the collar, I showered him with sympathy. Those poor guys down in the shelter probably overheard the ordeal and thought someone was being murdered.
The misty air gave the forest an ethereal feeling as we continued along the AT. It was nice getting to see a side of the trail that most folks don’t. Still, I was looking forward to the views at Wesser Tower. “Maybe there will be a short break in the clouds today.” I hoped against hope.
As we made the climb up Wesser Bald, the dense cloud cover did indeed start to burn off. The sun came out bringing a whole lot of heat and humidity with it. I wore a light pair of wool leggings under my skirt that morning, assuming it would be rainy and chilly into the afternoon. Now the air was warm and sticky, and my extra layer felt like a silly decision. If there was a good place to stop and change along the way to Wesser I would have. I intended to take them off when we reached the tower, but between other folks on the trail striking up a conversation and trying to keep a good pace going…I never got around to it. I ended up wearing them the remaining 8 miles.
The trail up Wesser Bald winded up and up and up with no end in sight! Every time we reached another set of stairs or series of switchbacks I thought “Okay, surely we must be close to the top NOW.” To my disappointment, there was always more around the next corner. I looked at the GPS hoping to get an idea of how much further we had to go. It showed us practicality at the tower already, but the steep inclines up ahead said otherwise.
At the tower, I tied Barrett’s leash to a nearby log. I learned last year at Albert Mountain tower, that Barrett has difficulty climbing the steps on some of the higher towers. It was best for everyone if he sit this one out. I watched as some folks slowly came down from the top. It seemed a little wobbly. My suspicions were confirmed as I made my way up. The tower squeaked and groaned with each step, and the side rails shook and shimmied. The experience was unnerving bordering on terrifying. However, the Forestry Service hadn’t condemned the tower yet, and I knew I would regret it later if I didn’t take this opportunity to climb it! Barrett whined down below. “You’re okay Bud!” I called to him.
The view at the top presented the best of both worlds. On one side of the platform a sheet of bluish grey mist obscured everything beyond the railing. On the other side Fall painted peaks rose in the distance with fluffy white clouds hanging low around them. I slowly and carefully descended the rickety tower. Every few steps I reassured Barrett that I was in fact coming back and not leaving him alone in the woods forever like he believed. We took a short water break before getting back on the trail. Once again, our water supply was nearly depleted. We would have to stop at Wesser shelter to fill up.
Just as we were about to leave, another couple came from the nearby parking area. Remember my catchphrase from Roan Mountain? “Nope, I’m just a backpacker.” I explained when they asked if I was thru-hiking. That wouldn't be the last time. I'd say it at least a dozen more times when we reached the Outdoor Center. I get it. I’m on the AT and carrying a pack. It's a logical assumption to make. I think it’s kind of interesting though, now that thru-hiking has become trendy and has a huge presence on social media the first assumption most folks make is you’re a thru-hiker. A couple decades ago the question would be “What the heck are you doing?” rather than "Are you a thru-hiker?"
I feel a little bad every time I tell people I’m not a thru-hiker. An instant disappointment comes over their face, and they’re no longer interested in continuing a conversation. At least that’s been my experience. The couple at Wesser Bald was very encouraging though saying “Whether you’re out for the whole thing or just a few days, you’re still getting out there. And that’s great!”
The conditions at Wesser Bald shelter were gag-inducing. Human excrement and toilet paper littered the entire camping area. No attempts were made to bury any of it. I didn’t dare go near the privy downhill. The shelter itself seemed clean enough, aside from a few used up broken gear items left on the shelves. This was the last decent place to stop for a lunch break and filter water for the next few miles. Our next opportunity wouldn’t be until Rufus Morgan shelter about a mile from NOC. Regardless of the disgusting surroundings, this was our stop.
I made the mistake of following a sign for “Wesser Creek trail” directly across the AT from the shelter thinking it was the way to the water source. There was no trace of it on the GPS. The path was also very thin and overgrown. We started down it anyway with Barrett in the lead. The ground crumbled under his back foot, and he began to slide. He pulled himself back onto the path with his front legs. I looked down at the brush covered drop off. All along the edge were white spots. More toilet paper! I stopped. Clearly, this was not the right way. I looked back at the path ahead to see a gigantic orange spider hanging inches from my nose. You better believe we hightailed it out of there and back to the trail! Now what? Just then I remembered: right before we reached the shelter, there was sign for water along the switchbacks. It was maybe a 0.10 mile away.
We backtracked to the sign and followed the path to a piped source. The water spilled from the pipe into a concrete basin with a thick layer of leaf litter floating on top. That didn’t stop Barrett from shoving his face in. I collected enough water to get us to the end of the trip while he took a long drink from his newfound water bowl.
Next came a roller coaster of ups and downs along the ridgeline. Views of far-off peaks played peek-a-boo with the trees on either side. The trail made a steep decline before disappearing over a sheer cliff face. I commanded Barrett to stay. There in front of us was a 270° view of Nantahala’s incredible landscape. I stood at the top of the slope taking it all in. It was breathtaking, but there was a slight problem… Where do we go now?! I scanned the cliff for a blaze, marking, any sign of where the trail continued. After taking a few steps down toward the edge, the way was revealed. The trail made a sharp right turn down a stack of jagged boulders. At the bottom, a clear footpath resumed. My stomach did a cartwheel. “Well, this should be interesting!” I thought.
I guided Barrett down slowly and carefully. All the while fighting my knees from buckling. Even more (but less precarious) downward scrambles and switchbacks continued around the corner. And the next one. And the one after that. For about a mile, I went ahead of Barrett helping him maneuver down the steep declines.
With all that behind us, I was more anxious than ever to reach the finish line. That overly eager attitude lead to my literal downfall. In the last mile and a half on flat trail, I misplaced one of my steps and rolled an ankle. The next thing I knew I was on all fours staring at my hands in the dirt. Barrett whirled around with his ears down and tail wagging. I stood up before just before he could lick my face. I brushed the dirt off my hands and knees and surveyed the damage. One of my arms had a few superficial cuts. Apparently, I had caught a bramble on the way down. The wind guard for my camera had popped off and landed in some thorns nearby. There were holes in both knees of my leggings, and underneath I had a few scrapes. While I was sad the leggings got ruined, I was also glad they took most of the abuse from the fall. I started moving again relieved to find my ankle a little sore but uninjured.
I considered leaving this part out of the journal and video altogether. You know how some people feel the need to chime in about how they would never be so careless to make the same mistake when someone else has an embarrassing blunder? I’ve never understood that. At first, I thought it might be best to omit this part and avoid opening the door to that kind of stuff. But the reality is, getting clumsy on the trail happens to ALL of us. No one is immune. Even the most seasoned and experienced backpackers have goof ups and accidents now and then. As long as you’re not seriously hurt, the best thing to do is laugh it off and keep walking. You might remember last year on the Black Mountain Crest? I slipped on a patch of dry grass just 4 miles into the trip! I flew backwards onto my butt, and you know what? It was a little embarrassing, but it was also hilarious!
While not as dramatic as my incident, Barrett tripped a few times as well. We were both tired, hungry, and ready for the journey to end. At Rufus Morgan shelter, we sat down for a break. We were so close to NOC. But rather than speeding up to reach our destination quicker, we took the last mile slow to avoid any more rolled ankles. The commotion of cars and crowds rang loud and clear through the woods the nearer we got to the Outdoor Center. Through a break in the trees, I could finally see it! We crossed the highway and approached the big blue sign “Welcome, Hikers!” All the obstacles and struggles we faced over the last 28 miles made this moment so worth it.
On our way to and from Rivers End Restaurant, I was asked at least a dozen times if I was a thru-hiker and how many miles of trail I've covered. “Nope, I’m just a backpacker.” repeated like a broken record. We made our way back to the car at the end of the gravel parking lot. I placed a box of pizza to the side and opened the hatch. Barrett jumped up and plopped down inside. I tossed our packs and the pizza in and sat down beside him. We scarfed down the pizza in celebration of a trip well done. We walked a long way from Winding Stair Gap to Nantahala Outdoor Center. While it was one of the toughest trips we’ve ever taken together, I’m so grateful I got to spend another exciting adventure with Barrett in the Land of the Noonday Sun.
Know Before You Go!
Unless you plan to hike this section with a partner and leave a vehicle at either end, you'll need to schedule a shuttle. For my trip, I got a ride from Bobby with Western Carolina Shuttle. I highly recommend giving him a call! For a longer adventure, you might want to consider the 55+ mile loop this section of the Appalachian Trail makes with the Bartram. You can begin and end your journey at NOC with no need for a shuttle. You can find more information about the Bartram - AT loop from Mark's post on Uphillhikes.com. There are also a few helpful trip reports in the reviews section for this route on AllTrails. For more details about WSG to NOC, be sure to check out the downloadable itinerary I put together!