Day 3, part 2

I have burned all the hair off my hand. It smells edible.

That was going to be the beginning of my evening post. Now, a bowl of crispy lentil-rice-tomato-oil and a freshen up later, I have opted for a different tack.

This is going to be a short one. I am sitting at the base of the Blue Ridge mountains, the sun now behind them, and the glow of the Blackberry is cheapening the experience. The fireflies are especially annoyed.

Well, slight mistakes again. I skipped my planned spot in White Hall without noticing. At that stage, all I could see were my kneecaps pumping up and down, just beneath my eyelids. Instead, I am at Misty Mountain campground by a babbling brook that the folks at the Sharper Image would kill to record. Neat note: when I checked in, a 12 year old girl came bursting through the doors screaming. Her Daddy was going to get her a cellphone! Then, as quickly as she came, she pulled out in a golf cart.

The sun is nearly gone from behind the mountains. Tomorrow, I will have to climb unless they get moved in the evening. Still, at the top of one of them lies The Cookie Lady and that, I promise, will be a tale.

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