Date: 2004-05-19
From: Little Laurel Shelter

To: Hogback Ridge Shelter
Miles today: 21.5
Weather: light rain

Another fairly gray day greeted me on the 19th. That¢s ok, it keeps things cool. There were short side trails to White Rock Cliffs and Blackstack Cliffs that had me dropping my pack and scrambling to their views. The views were obscured by haze but still fun. After a while the trail split. There was a fairly new sign indicating the white blazed ¢Exposed Ridgeline Trail¢ and the blue blazed ¢Bad Weather Trail¢. Well, there was no question. It had to be the exposed ridge line. This wasn¢t exactly above tree-line but the only vegetation was short bushes. The trail had lots of new rock step work and most of it was pretty good. There were a few steps that were not well seated though and this could spell trouble for the less agile. The ridge was actually just at the bottom edge of the clouds. It felt a little like home. What a nice hunk of trail this was.Jerry¢s Cabin was a nice shelter for lunch. There were some other folks there to talk with. This included a young female thru-hiker and an older shelter maintainer. We both had a good time talking to the local guy. A couple of miles past the shelter was a mountain called Big Butt, 4,750. What kind of a name was that.The trail passed through some nice grassy hilltops. Some times they looked like orchards. The trail also passes grave sites from time to time. Today it passed a cluster of three grave stones. They were dated in the 1860¢s. Two of them were from the North Carolina Infantry and the third was a 13 year old. These must have been from the War Between the States. Was this the site of the battle? There was plenty of time to think about such questions on a hike like this.Apparently, these folks lived in NC but had enlisted in the Union Army. While returning to visit home, Confederate troops ambushed the uncle and nephew near here. Such history in what today seems to be such a remote place.Lunch part 2 was at Flint Mountain Shelter. I wrote in the log here and remembered to take a picture. Often the writing would happen but not the photo. Sometimes the camera would be out and still no picture. Silly camera, it should know better. From Flint Mountain Shelter the trail descended to Devil Fork Gap and Rector Laurel Road at 2,960 feet. There was a little field on the other side of the road with a barbed wire fence. Now one might wonder how a hiker navigates such an obstacle. With a little help from our friends, that¢s how. Trail organizations have worked things out with land owners and built styles. Styles are little stairs or ladders that go up one side of a fence and down the other. This was a real nice one. Sometimes they get a bit shaky or tall. It can be tricky when carrying a pack.It was different hiking alone. That¢s not to say that Adam and I had hiked together very much but we generally knew which of us was ahead or behind. You were always kind of expecting to catch up to the other guy or for him to catch up to you. That was nice some how. Then you could compare notes on the day over dinner. Not now though. There would be new folks to meet just as there were before. The new Thru-hikers Handbook was working out just fine and making me happy. At Jerry¢s Cabin pages 15/16 got stowed in my pack to be replaced by pages 17/18 in my camera pouch. With the mileage listed from Springer instead of from Fontana Dam as in the Data Book, something strange starting rolling around in my head. The number 310 miles from Springer seemed special somehow. Let¢s see. Ah yes, gosintas. Three gosinta 21 seven times therefore 300 goes into 2,100 seven times and seven times ten is 70. That adds up to 2,170. Hey that¢s about the length of the whole trail, 2,174.1. Wow, Big Flat is 1/7th of the trail, 1/7th of the way to Katahdin. That seems pretty big. The next shelter is just 1.8 miles and the setting sun is shining that gorgeous golden light through the trees. It¢s been a while since it¢s been sunny. This is a very happy hiker.With one seventh of the trail behind me and having covered 21.5 miles today, this seemed like the perfect place to stop for the night. The side trail led right a couple of hundred yards to Hogback Ridge Shelter. The Valley Voyageur in me had me counting paces to the shelter to see if the yards listed in the book were correct. The trail approached the shelter from the back. That way you get to surprise folks by just suddenly appearing. Not sure I actually like that approach but there was no choice. It was a nice shelter with a picnic table and five folks though 2 or 3 of them were tenting. There were 2 couples and a solo guy. It was late and hungry so I asked about the water and headed down hill counting paces all the way and double checking on the way back up. It wasn¢t as far as the Handbook said but then there was a sign in the shelter stating that the trail to the water had been changed. Shelter Paranoia:Approaching a shelter of people to spend the night is frequently a bit troubling at least for me. All sorts of questions come to mind. Are they thru-hikers, section hikers, weekend hikers? Are they all together or couples and solos? Are they all friends? Are they going to smoke, drink, drug? Is the shelter near full? Will they be happy to see a new face? Sometimes folks aren¢t real happy that another hiker has arrived. Maybe more so if it is late, which is typical of my arrivals. It¢s natural I suppose. Everyone has already settled in and now everything needs to be shifted to make room. Folks have already started to get to know one and other but now it¢s time to start over. Or sometimes it¢s a group that is already tight and doesn¢t really need to connect to a new person. Don¢t get me wrong, most of the time everything is great and everyone is happy. Folks are generally happy to meet some one new and don¢t hesitate to make room. The trail community is great. Every once in a while, things just don¢t quite click. Hence there can be a bit of paranoia on the approach to an occupied shelter.Well, the gang at Hogback Ridge Shelter was plenty friendly. They had sucked up all the space on the table but freed up a corner for me to cook. (I can suck up a whole table by my self. This is surely no surprise to anyone who has ever seen the inside of my house.) It started to rain just after my dinner. This was surprising since it was sunny just an hour ago. The quick move to take cover in the shelter was not a problem since it was only about 5 feet from the table. Having squelched the inner beast with plenty of good hot food, thoughts of being sociable were surfacing. Maybe one of them noticed that we passed the 1/7th mark today. Don¢t be ridiculous. Nobody thinks about sevenths. People think about quarters, sixths and eights, sure. After all there¢s money in quarters and pizza and pies in sixths and eights. Yeah, don¢t bring sevenths up. They¢ll think you¢re a weirdo. Just about then, Whoa, who was sitting at the back of the shelter with the Thru-Hikers Handbook in hand says, ¢Hey, we just passed the one seventh mark today.¢ I almost spit out my food and jumped up and down. I jumped right in with glee and explained how I wasn¢t going to say anything because a seventh seemed too bizarre to comment on, referring to pizzas and such. There was a longish pause and a blank expression on his face. Then Whoa said, ¢There are seven days in a week. It¢s like we just finished Sunday.¢ That was brilliant. I felt so vindicated. This was great. We were on the same wavelength after all.Pack Dirt:My backpack¢s situation was a bit disconcerting though. It was sitting on the ground leaning on the end of the shelter wall. The dirt there was real powdery and stuck to the pack so that when I moved it into the shelter it got all over me and everything else. This degree of concern may sound a bit silly for a guy who wears the same clothes everyday and only showers and launders once every other week or so. But that¢s the point exactly. When it¢s not easy to clean up, you really don¢t want to get dirty. The worst of it was that the hip belt had been wallowing in the dirt powder. If that isn¢t clean there can be all kinds of nasty abrasions.Whoa, a he, was there with Moxie, a she. It seemed like they had met on the trail but a while ago. Moxie was one of those with virtually no hiking experience prior to Springer. When asked if she was named for the soft drink, (how about that Keith & Alli and you crazy Carbonneaus) she said no but she had been told about it. Instead she had the name Moxie for her shear determination, her gumption. (Has anyone read ¢Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance¢?) They seemed to be getting along just fine. The other couple was Swedish & Shannon. They shared a tent and got in it just before the rain. The four of them were probably in their twenties. Wildthing was a solo older guy who was also tenting. He was gone in the morning before any of us woke. My impression was that they had all met several times on the trail. It was nice to have finally met them all after having read their writings in so many shelter registers.