Mile 311. Gentle spring thunderstorm.

The scent of a gentle spring thunderstorm in an alpine, magnolia, maple forest is one that I never want to forget.  It’s a unique blend of musty earth and spicy tobacco, with a subtle sweet fir.   I breathe in the scent through my nose as much as I possibly can, and then I exhale to make room for more.   Innnnnnn and out.     Innnnnn and out.   I just can’t get enough.   How can I bottle this?

I welcome the light rain on my salty skin. The cool moisture washes away the stench of over 5000 feet of climbing over 21 miles - my longest day yet.   The long, slow rumble in the sky combined with the light percussion of drops on the leaves put me into a deep, comfortable trance.  Pulling out my rain gear would only shield me from absorbing this moment.

This symphony to the senses juxtaposes what otherwise was a largely uninteresting first ten miles.   Large sections of the Cherokee National Forest are littered with lifeless trees baked in the sun.    At any moment, they will suffer the same fate as their Pisgah National Forest neighbor five years ago.   Yes, forest fires do occur on the east coast - and today was a reminder of how vulnerable we are.

Treasures within -  like Big Firescald Knob - are worth protecting.   This ridge line is an arid labyrinth of twisty magnolia roots and granite boulders.   It’s an oversized game of Hopscotch.  Right foot.  Left foot.  Right pole.  Left pole.  An on-the-spot choreography demanding undivided attention.  Mastering a section results in a congratulatory cheer.  And mastering the entire course marks the great 300-mile mark.   We’re on a roll!

My feet are elevated and I’m inhaling food - gearing up for another big day of my next chapter.    I can hardly wait to see what adventures lie in store.