Day 18, Narrows Picnic Area to Johns Mountain

As soon as we started walking on West Armuchee Road, we anticipated trouble with the dogs. I was ready with some Milk Bone biscuits and a small canister of self-defense pepper spray within easy reach.

We only had to walk three-tenths of a mile on the road, and there was no traffic.

Several cows eyed us suspiciously as we walked by. We weren't threatened by them, and thankfully, we were never threatened by dogs, either. The dogs were contained behind a fence. Other than loud barking, they didn't bother us.

Although the sun was hidden by a thin layer of clouds, the temperature heated quickly. We were grateful to leave the asphalt road when the trail turned to follow a dirt footpath.

Near the bottom of the descent, just before the trail crossed West Armuchee Creek, we met the first hiker we had seen in six days. He said his trail name was Firefly. To his and Tengo's surprise, they both grew up in the same hometown.

Firefly told us he started hiking the Pinhoti from Flagg Mountain eight days before us. He had to get off the trail in his first week after being bitten by a dog. Fortunately for him, his mother lived in a town near the northern terminus. He was able to recover there, though he needed rabies shots to prevent infection.

He completed some northern sections of the Pinhoti with day hikes during his recovery time, and only recently returned to overnight backpacking. He was now hiking south.

After a long chat with Firefly, which included the usual exchange of trail information, Tengo and I continued down a gravel road to the creek. The creek was shallow enough for vehicles to cross, so it wasn't difficult for us to get to the other side.

We then stopped to eat lunch and filter some water.

The trail continued to follow the gravel road after the creek crossing. That went eight-tenths of a mile before turning to follow a short section of East Armuchee Road. We then returned to a single-track trail.

Some tread marks from a motorbike were on the trail, but we didn't see anything motorized. The trail was smooth, and it didn't seem like dirtbikes or ATVs used the trail regularly. The damage they cause is usually obvious.

We walked through a forest on this section that had been thinned. It wasn't clear-cut, and there was no logging in the area today. I was glad we didn't need to dodge lumber trucks like we did yesterday.

Three hours after we crossed West Armuchee Creek, I crossed East Armuchee Creek. It was also shallow, but this time there wasn't a road.

Tengo had fallen behind me and still hadn't arrived by the time I finished filtering another liter of water. The trail was a little difficult to see on the other side of the creek, so I made an arrow out of sticks on the creek bank to help him find the right direction.

When Tengo caught up to me about 45 minutes later, he said he never saw the arrow. I thought maybe he had slowed down and was starting to lose energy, but he never fell far behind again and sometimes walked ahead of me.

We had already walked up and down a couple of hills. Now starting from the creek, we were on a long climb. This 5.2-mile section to the top of Johns Mountain climbed 1,100 feet.

The route wasn't difficult, and except for where we had to cross a couple of fallen trees, we kept moving without stops.

With less than a mile before reaching the top of Johns Mountain, the trail joined a gravel road, which we followed the rest of the way. A small spring flowed near the junction with the road, and we knew this was our last water source until we started down the mountain tomorrow.

I scooped enough water from a small pool to collect and filter two liters. That would be enough for dinner and breakfast, plus the distance we had to go tomorrow morning before getting to the next water source.

The gravel road to the top wasn't steep. We made it to the mountain's summit shortly after 6 p.m.

The road was closed in 2019 because of severe vandalism (sound familiar?), but it was open today, and we didn't see much graffiti.

Johns Mountain stood 1,683 feet above sea level. It was named to honor John Fields, another Cherokee Indian who was deported to Oklahoma on the Trail of Tears. I was struck by the shameful absurdity of this. Native Americans were brutally forced from homes on land that bears their names.

The road ended at a large parking lot. A fire lookout tower used to stand nearby. It was replaced by a wooden viewing platform. Although only one car was parked in the lot when we arrived, we wondered if more people would show up soon to watch the sunset. And because this was a Friday night, we had concerns about drunken parties.

A hiker commented in FarOut that they were harassed by someone who drove up here at 9 p.m. We didn't see any signs posted about no camping in the area, but it seemed smart for us to find a spot out of sight.

The Johns Mountain Trail was a 3.2-mile trail that looped from the top of the mountain. Combined with the Pinhoti, it made a five-mile loop.

We followed the Johns Mountain Trail a couple hundred yards to a spot that looked like it had been previously used for camping. Two people walking back to the car in the parking lot passed us while we were setting up our tents. No one else arrived after they left.

After an awful day on the trail yesterday, today was completely opposite. The walk was enjoyable, we found plenty of water, and we weren't even bothered by the mean dogs we were expecting to find.

To end this pleasant day, Tengo and I returned to the viewing platform after dinner to catch the sunset. We stood quietly as the sinking sun scattered brilliant colors across the sky.

I don't ask for a lot when I hike. I don't need breathtaking scenery and beautiful weather every day. Every moment doesn't need to be perfect and memorable. And today wasn't. I only want each day I'm on a trail to be, on balance, a positive experience. Ordinary days can be special.

Thankfully, today returned to that.