Date: 2003-03-14
From: Standing Indian Shelter

To: Mooney Gap
Miles today: 12.2

Day Fourteen'Ol Blue was up and out at 6:45 am this morning, without eating breakfast. He didn't eat supper last night, and being a lean man, we all hope he is snacking enough to have the energy to press onward. Oh well, he is an adult, but it is easy to get into trouble quickly in the backcountry, so everyone kind of watches out for each other.Sonic and Guana, Heather and Andy also stayed here last night. We eat breakfast in a chilly, wet mist. The trees drip condensation. Where was that cozy sun of my birthday?Andy offers to make us coffee this morning, and as none of us are exactly leaping out of our bags, we seize upon this fortuitous delay to stay prone. After several fits and starts, and the complete disassembling of two separate Whisperlite units, the coffee is ready. It is strong and good, and melts the chill from stiff, tight bones.I get out first, a late 8:50 am start. The climb to Standing Indian top was actually pretty sweet and easy, gently graded. Though our track topped out at 5498 feet, the actual summit is a little higher and this "grandstand of Southern Appalachians" is accessible by a small side trail. Sadly, the world is socked in fog, and I am unable to cast my gaze all the way back to Blood Mountain, as the guidebook promised. So, I do the next best thing - I walk two feet up the Trail, to say that I went up over 5500 feet. Walking in the mist is actually very intimate and pleasant. The terrain is rolling, and the hiking mostly takes care of itself. I walk in a contented mental fog all morning.At one point the Trail walks a slick, mossy log over a creek. I stop to take a picture of my foot on the log, and this change of perspective makes me teeter. Yikes, I get back to the business of staying upright.A while later, I take my first fall of the trip. Folks who don't backpack don't realize that it's not like a slip on the living room floor. First of all, the landing is usually rocky and uneven. Secondly, there is a large, uncooperative weight pressing you down towards the ground.It's a mossy rock that does me in. One misstep and - whoomp! my feet fly one way and I am on my right butt cheek in the water.Stunned, it is a few moments before I can move. I do a damage assessment - all my essential parts; check. Do they move; pretty much check.I must add, that my chic 15-cent Hefty Cinch sack rain skirt keeps the bulk of my posterior dry, and only my legs are wet and muddy. It is a pretty sweet piece of gear.Still no sign of spring, despite the warm days previously. There is a light green haze to the woods that is a fooler though, it's actually a lichen on all the trees, not new leaves. I do see some tender little perennials poking up through the stony ground that remind me of the plants in my garden - daisies, corepsis, echinacea. Late afternoon, the rain turns serious, and cold. I get to Betty Gap at 11.3 miles, and consider stopping. The other two couples do. But I still have gas in the tank and am cold, and it's only 4:00. So I press on alone to the next gap, Mooney Gap. Said to be the wettest place on the AT with 95 inches of annual rainfall.So guess where I camp? Yes, the Seattle of the AT. Another 12-mile day. I am in bed and asleep by 5 PM, bear bag hung, my second night alone in the backcountry.It is very, very wet out, and the rain plinks outside my tent all night, causing condensation inside to plink right down on my sleeping face. Did I say it was wet? When it's wet out, what they don't tell you is that it is wet everywhere. Everything gets clammy, chilly. The pocketmail gives up the ghost and shuts down, and I must yank the batteries quickly. I don't dare take the digital camera out.The condensation drips endlessly, the tent droops and slimes the sleeping bag. My hat (on my head) is soaked. Where IS my Teddi tent wipe when I need him?