Date: 2012-04-19
From: Nantahala Outdoor Center

To: Brown Fork Gap Shelter
Miles today: 15.8
Weather: overcast clouds

We cleaned up the rooms and headed down to breakfast.  The weather had improved substantially and the warm morning air welcomed us on our way down the hill and over the bridge.  We ate with New Hampshire and Miss Bliss' friends plus Gene and Bigfoot Jim.  Breakfast is devoured in minutes.  I broke out the avocado I had carried in from Franklin and shared with the table.  It went quite well with the breakfast burritos.  I bought a new inline filter so I can fill and sip rather than pumping every couple of hours.  We headed up the hill around noon.  Noon is sort of a late start.  It's a steep six mile climb and I have a schedule to keep.  I need to make it to Brown Fork Shelter to have a chance of making it to Fontana in time to collect my packages and ship out the extras.  We are cruising but come across Mange's pack in the middle of the trail.  His poles were strewn haphazardly about and the scene just didn't look right.  Wild Bill, Cheetah, and I stopped and listened.  This was a pretty bad spot to drop a deuce.  The hill was steep, there was a river below, and there was zero privacy for a long way.  Yet we didn't see Mange anywhere.  We called out.  No response.  We couldn't just leave.  We called out several more times.  No response.  It had been ten minutes.  Then we heard a muffled scream.  Something was wrong.  Wild Bill and Cheetah decided to descend the hillside.  I stayed put to stand guard up top and looked through my bag for some pants I was missing.  Another hiker came up the trail and I explained the situation.  As I moved for him to go by, my clothes bag rolled over the lip of the hill and just took off rolling.  It was treacherous getting down the thirty or so feet to the log where it stopped.  Turns out, the same thing happened to Mange only his kept going to the point where he lost sight of it.  It was eventually recovered and we continued hiking upward.  I had to book it so I set the pace and Wild Bill kept up.  We had a fabulous conversation about music and found out we both knew Big Mike from Apache Relay.  Turns out Wild Bill lived with him in Nashville.  We talked about a lot of other stuff too including soccer and had similar circumstances but made very different decisions.  I shared the last of a bottle of our mutually favorite drink and bid him farewell at an overlook.  I hiked like a madman for the rest of the day and eventually came across Gerber and Blackbeard at the last road crossing.  There was also trail magic in the form of a 12-pack of coke and I could not pass it up.  This was my last chance to catch a ride to the dam and guarantee the post office trip or risk it and hike the whole way.  I chose to hike.  My feet hurt in ways unimaginable but I knew I could make it.  And I arrived at camp by 7:30PM to setup for an early departure.  I set up my hammock low to block the wind one last time and went to hang my bear bag.  It was dark and pretty difficult finding a good tree.  I was tripping all over rocks and bushes to the amusement of the section hikers taking over the shelter but I finally located one and proceeded to stuff a rock into a small pouch and fling it over the tree branch.  The first two throws got caught up on branches but my third sailed clear through.  The only issue was that it was a little  too close to the trunk.  I gave the line a tug and that bagged rock came flying right at my face.  The daylight had all but faded out and my headlamp illuminated this thing flying right at my face.  I turned but it hit me square on the right cheek bone.  It immediately swelled up and I thanked my lucky stars that it didn't hit me in the eye.  My next throw was clean and I hung that bag with haste and a few four-letter words.  I retired to my hammock to inspect the damage.  My face hurt less than my feet so I decided it wasn't critical and I went to bed.