I take back everything I said about the AT being wet yesterday. I was young and naive when I wrote that. I didn’t know any better. But now, as a mature man of wisdom, I can say I’ve seen the wettest trail in the US. 

The thunder and lightning last night was crazy but when I woke up, at least, it wasn’t raining. The campsite was wet, my rain fly was wet but both my hammock and I were dry. I ate a very quick breakfast and packed up. Thinking that I could beat some of the rain. 

But the second I left camp, I knew it didn’t matter if it was raining or not. The trail was a river. The status quo was walking through ankle deep water. I tried for a few steps to jump from rock to rock but within a minute or two gave up and began wading. 

All morning, the trail was the same. A river that had well overflown its banks rushing next to me while I walked through a much smaller but still rushing river. Occasionally the river ran deeper, often up past my shins. Sometimes there were bridges that crossed areas that were used to being under water.

Sometimes those bridges were above the water line, but other times they were below. But whether the bridge was above or below didn’t matter, there was always a lake on one or both sides that was unavoidable. 

At one point I caught up to rocket (who has now switched his name to Woodsman) as he was trying to find the driest line back to the trail. He asked if I saw anything good. I told him I did and, yelled “cannon ball” and jumped.

It was deeper than I expected and I soon found myself submerged well over my waist. But it honestly didn’t make a difference. By this point the rain was coming down so hard that everything was soaked anyway. 

We made a plan to make camp at the top of the mountain and both took off at our own paces – woodsman (the hiker formerly known as rocket) walking well ahead of me. 

When I got to the trail leading to the top of the mountain, the storm had peaked. It was raining cats and dogs and I could barely see in front of me. I planned to tell woodsman that I was going down the mountain. To see if it would be any better there. But when I got to the mountain top, he was no where to be seen. Figuring he made the same call I did, I headed down. 

I had decided to skip lunch today. It was too wet and cold to stop. I barely even drank water all day. So by the time I was coming down the mountain, I had just about hit the wall. I moved so slowly. Each step was an effort. I slipped a few times but never fell. 

Suddenly the rain stopped and the ground flattened. I came to a road and heard Woodsman’s voice. “Whatdya think of her” as he pointed to a campground. It was muddy. But it was flat and it had trees for me. “She’s beautiful,” I replied as I drank sunflower seeds straight from the jar. 

The campsite was better than the top of the mountain. But, it turns out, it had been raining so hard that woodsman didn’t even see the turn off for the top. He just kept walking until he got here.

We tried to get a fire going but it was too wet. So we ate our cold meals (chili ramen, peanut butter and spam was a delicious want to be pad Thai) and chatted for a bit before retiring to bed. Tomorrow is only 0.4 miles to a hostel that was built in the 1800s and still operates as a farm. Not a bad place to take an off day. 

Key stats: 

Miles: 13

Elevation gained: 2,500 ft

Mile marker: 626

When I expect my shoes to dry: maybe never