Walking With Springto Hot Springs
Footsteps from a 2000 mile hike on the Appalachian Trail.
Hot Springs was named for the hot spring formation in the town. Decades before, there was a resort spa at the location that was used as a prison camp during World War I. After a number of fires, all that remained was a run down building surrounding the "baths" where the hot spring water oozes forth. Mark and I never got to see them, but on a return expedition in '89 I got a chance to immerse myself in what was truly a pleasant experience. The property seemed to me to be a goldmine (especially since premium water was all the rage), but the real estate was mired so deep in litigation it was undevelopable. I liked everything about Hot Springs except the "seafood" I ordered at the local restaurant.
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Spring had come in a big way as we walked our way out of the Smokies. We were still buzzing from a most memorable hike through the park as we excitedly pressed on to Hot Springs. In the lower elevations, the explosion of green growth was enough to hide the sun and the wildflowers were in full bloom. The weather was near perfect for a while and we enjoyed some fine walking. We ambled up and over Snowbird Mountain, past a huge FAA thingy-mabob and into another bear santuary. The southern forests were delivering some gourmet backpacking and it seemed each day we hiked on the AT was better than the last. 
The plant life was diverse and interesting. Among the trout lilies, dogwoods, anemones and squaw root was one of my favorites, morel mushrooms. When I first saw the tasty little gems poking out of the dead oak leaves, I dropped to my knees and in archeologist-like fashion, extricated the precious fungus and looked about for more. We gathered about four pounds of the choice mushrooms and later that evening I made a tomato morel stew that I will never forget. That night, after a hefty haebar, we listened as an owl swooped and snagged a nearby mouse. The owl held the still living meal in its talons just above us, and we listened to the mouse scream for over five minutes until the bird finally took its life.
Hot Springs was within striking distance and we eagerly anticipated our maildrop and cold beer. We meandered through the emerging springtime to a great place known as Max Patch. This bald hill rises out of the woods as a golf course-like expanse of grass with an exceptional view. It was definitely a two haebar location. After an almost sleepless night at Walnut Mountain Shelter with its impossibly angled sleeping shelf and an easy 12 mile hike, we made Hot Springs in time for dinner. We stayed at a motel, hung out with Featherback and the Traveller, drank beers, ate snack food and enjoyed the civilized life as a tourist. 
