Roan Mountain

We're in Roan Mountain, Tennessee, which is a series of bald mountains, very high altitude 5000-6000 feet, very high altitude for the Appalachians. Views from everywhere span many mountain ranges until the most distant an highest are difficult to distinguish between cloud and earth. And to add to the spectacular beauty, the mountains are full of rhododendron and wild flame azalea, both in full and radiant bloom. It's much like a moor, with low, scrubby brush, shimmering grasses, lichen-covered massive outcropping of rock and 12 ft high rhodos dotted about randomly like grazing bison.

I came here as a child with my grandfather who was a tireless naturalist and tourguide for me. I was very young but it must have been the same time of year because the rhodos were in mad blossom and I reportedly ran about in wild delight to his great pleasure. I've never been back until now, and we drove 7 hours to get here. We're in our tent on the ridge beyond Jane Bald and the wind is madly whipping the tent fly. We barely found a campsite in time, off the trail, a flat area with some privacy. It was almost dark.

Joe lit the stove and I made hot tea for us as the mist closed in around us. We are tired and glad to have cozy sleeping bags and air mattresses. I think we'll sleep well. For dinner we had carrots and hard boiled eggs (double yolk, from a South Boston farmer). It's all about the weight when you backpack, so we'll eat the heavy carrots and oranges early on as well as the eggs, which won't last. Not like it's hot, though. I expect it's in the 40's with the damp wind making it even colder. In the night I took a bandanna out of my pack and tied with around my head because my ears were really cold.

We're still sort of clean and relatively uninjured and not yet sore. There's no way to really train for camping but we aim to take it slowly and enjoy the world, off the grid. I work so hard that this kind of spectacular isolation is soul feeding and restorative. I also love the complete sense of self sufficiency.

The fly is whipping on all sides of the tent with a wild crunching. It's almost like the surf. I hope I wake up to see the sunrise. Doubtful.