Roan Mountain, Tennessee was one of my tramily’s favorite places on the AT. I wrote the following entry while in my tent during our first night in town. The next morning, we met Birgit, a local who befriended us and graciously welcomed us into her home. We felt so lucky, and so at home. I’ll eventually write an essay about Birgit. But for now, here is my first-night Roan Mountain entry.
3 May: The Station at 19E and Roan Mountain, TN
Yet again the trail has shown me that often the best things that happen are ones I have failed to plan or foresee. We weren’t planning to go to Roan Mountain; I didn’t even know Roan Mountain was a town until a couple of days ago. But I made it to Overmountain Shelter yesterday and heard Krazy Glue and Camel and Lone Wolf talking about some festival at the Station at 19E this weekend and then, suddenly, the gears were put in motion to come to town.
My mood oscillated wildly today. Knowing myself, I know that this is because I did not sleep well last night. I was tired from a long and mentally exhausting day and I didn’t get enough rest in that converted barn, between the dog barking and the uncomfortable floor and my apparent inability to sleep in any shelter with half a z-lite. So I was acutely aware of the instability of my emotions this morning. At first I was peaceful, drinking my smooth morning coffee and looking down towards the gorgeous valley. Then I was sleepy and lazy, wanting to stay and sip for a while. Then I was irritated when I had to get going, and irritated that Krazy Glue was already miles ahead, and irritated that I’m still so slow despite all these hikes I’ve done, and irritated that I was irritated because it’s hiking and hiking doesn’t fucking matter. Then I walked over the top of a bald and just stopped, and thought for the millionth time about all of the Native people who used to live here and tend for the land and actually understand the earth from something other than a colonial, conquest-based perspective, and I thought, wow, we need that perspective now more than ever and what a shame it was to have killed them ravaged their land pushed them off, I hate my white ancestors and the colonialism that still lives within me. I wish I could do something substantial, why do people suck, but I’m so lucky. So lucky. I did nothing to deserve the opportunity to be on this mountain, looking at these highlands, cruising up this hill, bathing in this sunlight. Breathe.
Beauty washed over me, I was grateful, I was in awe, then I was going down down down and annoyed again, annoyed at the rocks and my slowness and my weak ankles and my inability to stay satiated and my selfishness. Took a snack break, drank water, I was me again. Rounded a final curve and the trail became mercifully smooth and easy and well cared-for. Close to a road, I thought, so close. The creek was flowing down with gravity, following me to 19E and there I was, on the road, refreshed, revived, ready to face my friends.
Odie picked me up in the Hiker Yearbook bus. I admit I was a little put off by him at first. I was thinking, we aren’t royalty for hiking this trail, and Benton Mackaye was no hero because paths and people were here so long before the AT was anything other than an idea. But now I see that Odie is kind and giving and would go out of his way not just for another hiker but for another human being. I like him. I’m grateful for him.
At lunch, eating with Camel and Krazy Glue and Lone Wolf, I feel my hunger becoming satiated and my desire to know these people around me increasing. Lone Wolf tells us about the rough time he’s had on this trail, dealing with family and relationship issues while trying to walk towards Maine. Something about him, about the way he talks and the way he tells his story, makes me lean in. Most men on this trail rub me the wrong way and make me want to avoid them like the plague. Lone Wolf is different. I want him to find what he’s looking for. I want him to be at peace.
Station 19E is a blessing. Roan Mountain is a blessing. Cold beer, Game of Thrones in the back room, charging our devices, gardens and parks and rivers. Everyone is friendly and kind, and it strikes me how this is the first place we’ve been to that is meant for and run for hikers but also for the community. And later, camping in the town park, we meet local volunteer One Mile and are welcomed and told that there’s free food in the kitchen. Free food, hospitality, welcomed with no questions and open arms. Would that everyone everywhere in this country could welcome anyone regardless of their background, their language, their skin color. What a privilege, what a relief, to feel welcome when we need rest.
I feel normal and free and in the right place. I feel like I would trust any person in this place with my life. I feel my desire for control and plans and perfection slipping away. The world needs to be different, yes, but sit and sip for a while. Look at this little place the Trail has given you. Thank you. Thank you.