Date: 2003-05-08
From: Johns Creek Valley, USFS Rd 156

To: Niday Shelter
Miles today: 17.4
Weather: scattered clouds

Dave heard me bragging on Tillie Wood's biscuits, and he took up the challenge. For breakfast, he produced some tall, fluffy, flaky biscuits that would have done any Southerner proud. I slathered them with mountain butter, because I could.My father's condition has stabilized, he is on antibiotics and yes, he cracked a rib. But things seem under control now, with no need to return to North Carolina.As a parting gift, Dave offered to meet me part-way up a 2.5 mile climb. He knew the roads. I had had so many town chores to do that morning, I had gotten a very late start, so this was very welcome help. I flew uphill on my new feet, using my strong lungs, no millstone, ... uh, pack around my neck, ... uh, back.Can you see how I feel about carrying heavy weights about my body, especially up hills? Hiking, I love. Backpacking, hmmm - it's a means to an end for me, but that's often the only way to see these fantastic places.I traveled faster than 2 mph straight uphill. What a gift that was! In this humidity, with a full pack, 2 quarts of water and full foodbag, and that steep climb, the bloom would certainly have come off this rose.Near the top, trail magic! A cooler full of ice-cold sodas, water and candy bars from SuperDave of Blacksburg. Wow, did the citrus pop hit the spot! There was a disposable camera and a log, so Dave could see the grins of delight on those he was feeding. Some section hikers going south took my picture, and I theirs.Chainsaw and I sat on the tailgate as I drank my pop. He has been a true thru-hiker's friend to me through his "section." My feet feel almost human, and my belly is full. I am not sure I could have kept walking on my raw, sore feet. We say goodbye, and he drives off down the mountain.The first time you put on a full pack after carrying 15 or 16 pounds is always a shock to the body. I become convinced that Chainsaw is playing a prank on me; surely, he has slipped a few garden bricks in my pack. Yes, I even check. It is that heavy.There is a Kurt Vonnegutt story about a world in which people are weighed down by weights and chains, their natural grace and freedom kept locked up. Even the dancers wear chains. Humping a full foodbag up a mountain feels like that.It's now after noon, entirely my fault, and I have 14 or 15 miles to do, according to my quick math. No worries, I'll be there by seven. The day is quite windy, and makes me uneasy. Later, I will learn that tornadoes have lashed the midwest.There are the usual mountains, and a dicey stream crossing or two. The AT drops down off one mountainous ridge and goes across the hot valley to the next line of mountains. That walk through the rural area is gorgeous. And lush - I clamber over numerous stiles covered in poison ivy. One super-stile challenge has both poison ivy and wild rose.Later, coming down a stile, I back into a patch of poison ivy. Oh, lovely. I've backed into The Enemy. I've watched those cute little red leaves turn green and grow rapidly. I am highly sensitive to the oil. Well, I've been carrying a tube of Zanfel since Hot Springs. Maybe it will get good use.The emerald fields sport fat cattle and 1940s pickups rusting in the fields. I run into a young hiker tagged "Prince William." He does look like him. He soon pulls away from me on the hard, hot climb out of the rural valley.Before I leave the fields behind, though, I cross a stile attached to the famous Keffer oak, the largest old growth oak on the Southern AT. She is a beauty, monstrous and broad of beam. I can only put my arms around a quarter of the trunk. Age is estimated to be 300 years, and the girth is well over 18 feet. Imagine a continent covered with these ancients, but the AT has been logged several times over.I find myself ridge walking as the sun is setting. Around 7 pm, I'm at the turnoff to Sarver shelter. Only problem: I had expected to be at Niday shelter by now, five miles further along. Stay or go?I could hear voices floating up from down below, lots of laughter. Usually thru-hikers are dead this time of night, but this was a lively bunch. I hesitated at the trailhead. It was a whole .3 miles down the trailhead, and that down was STEEP. Plus I'd only done 12-miles-and-change if I stopped here that would make tomorrow another 20-plus mile day. More laughter.Sigh.Reluctantly, I trudged on.So I'd be to Niday at 9:30. Only five more miles. A little ridge-walking. How hard could that be?Heh. Heh.As the sun is setting I find myself negotiating big slabs tilted sideways! By now I am quite tired, and not enjoying this as I might otherwise. My feet are weary too, and object to the slant. I must really stick to avoid sliding down off the slab and bounce down the slopes below. After a while of this, I am fatigued to the point of swaying. My heavy pack makes it hard to keep my balance. Traction is not a given.Finally, the rocks peter out. It's dark now, and my headlamp was in my jacket, so I hike by the tiny photon. A weak half-moon tries to break through the haze.It was alright, cool even. Until I heard a noise. I figured it was wise to let large game see me. I didn't want to come up on mama bear taking the cubs for their first nocturnal stroll. The soft moon breaks through, and lights up the woods in luminous shafts and patches. Though I am fatigued and miserable, the beauty of this spectacle takes my breath away. It is magical. It's like a stage setting for "A Midsummer's Night Dream."It's after 9:30 pm now, where is that shelter, have I passed it? There is no place to camp on the steep trail. Around 10 pm, I see a light below, and call out softly. Puff-Puff answers.Thank goodness!Most of the hikers are down to sleep, but room is made for me. So I quickly lay down my z-rest. Unwilling to disturb my shelter mates, I don't pad it under the hips or feet, as is my habit. This means I will toss and turn all night, hips aching.My legs and feet are purely fried, just done in by the rough terrain. It feels like electric shocks going up my limbs, and I jerk and twitch. To the good side, I have that wretched, heavy pack off my back. I am lying flat. A particularly aromatic log burns on the fire, wafting its incense across the shelter. An electrical storm sends dramatic flashes across the sky.In the night, it rains. I am glad to be under cover.