Just before drifting off to sleep last night, it began to rain. The distant thunder inching ever closer. I fell asleep thinking it was going to be a wet night. I was right. 

At some point, in the early morning hours, I woke up and the sound of the precipitation hitting the tent had changed. The noise was lighter and softer. Ice?  Snow?  I managed a few more hours of sleep. But knew I was in for a long day. 

When daybreak came, I sat up and bumped my head on the top of the tent. That normally doesn’t happen. When my head hit, it dislodged a pile of snow that went sliding down. I peered out under the door flap to see several inches of White Death. 

It was a difficult day to get started. It was so cold and the wind was blowing. My hands were freezing. A large group of Section Hikers decided to turn back and seek the shelter of a warm motel.  Only one way for me. Onward and upward. 

The trail was a slippery mess. It snowed all day. The windchill was numbing. My feet were soaked and cold. Many hikers were sheltering in place. I pressed on at a snails pace. It was the longest 8.9 miles. I was exhausted when I reached the shelter.  Thankfully there was room. I’d have a roof over my head. 

First thing. Dry clothes. All the wet gear was hung knowing it would never dry overnight. A quick dinner and into my sleeping bag.  The weather wasn’t getting any better. I laid there thinking about tomorrow. 

Family is coming…I have to get to Gatlinburg.