Jacob's Ladder

They lied. The 8 mile slog heading north out of the NOC is not the hardest section of trail south of the Whites. In my book, Jacob's Ladder wins. And in case you begin to think that all I write about is climbing hills, it's because that's what I do. Right now, hills are my life. If I'm not going up them, I'm headed down; if I'm not going down, I'm upward bound; and if I'm doing neither, I'm sleeping, most likely on some kind of slope, however slight.

From the name "Jacob's Ladder" you might immediately think of the activity found at a ropes course: a giant swinging ladder made out of 4x4s hung from ropes, spaced about 4 feet apart. I'm here to tell you that this section of trail is not like that. The mountain doesn't sway beneath you, and you don't have to awkwardly swing your legs up over you head. Other than that, you've got the right idea.

It's as if The Old Man of the Mountain woke up one day, drank too much bitter coffee, and then mashed a giant slinky into the side of the steepest mountain he could find, carving out a winding path. This, of course, was followed immediately by the brilliant idea to run a national scenic trail along the slinky scar.

Jacob's Ladder is much shorter than the NOC climb at only half a mile. But what it lacks in length it makes up in slope. Over that half mile you climb just shy of 600 feet. No big deal right? Well, if you think I'm making a mountain out of a mole hill, I challenge you to make a scale model in a neighborhood sandbox, complete with a Lego action figure of your choice. That visual should help you understand how this ladder is much more than a mole's hill. In fact, there was a near accident as a woman heading south almost didn't get stopped in time before running into me. Yikes! You can add another Lego figure for that if you like.

Standing at the top, thankful to have avoided a head-on collision (I would have lost), I was happy to have reached my goal: climb Jacob's Ladder without stopping. Only this time I had no sunset reward. Instead, I got a grasshopper round of applause, which is arguably even cooler. Past Jacob's Ladder there was a section where swarms of tiny grasshoppers lined the trail. As I walked they would hop out of my way, landing in the dried, brown leaves alongside the trail. Each grasshopper that bombarded a leaf made a clapping sound, multiplied by the dozens. Sure, it wasn't a standing ovation, but it worked for me.

During my stay at The Hike Inn the next day, my suspicions were confirmed by Jeff, who has been lodging and talking to hikers for the past nineteen years. According to him, the AT south of Fontana is some of the roughest of the whole trail. In fact, from Springer Mountain about half of the aspiring thru-hikers quit by Neels Gap. By Fontana, two-thirds have thrown in their packs. However, once you cross the Fontana dam, it's a new trail -- not easy, but not what it has been.

I'm thankful to find myself in the small group of thru-hikers who venture into the Smokies, and looking forward to gentler trails ahead. I hope to be among the quarter of those who start who also finish.