Date: 2009-03-27
From: Dicks Creek Gap

To: Beech Gap tenting area
Miles today: 21.1
Weather: moderate rain

I prefer to get up on my own, rather than be woken by a loud knock on the door with only minutes to get ready, so I awoke from a deep sleep at 6:20 and made my way to the shower (which was nice and hot so early!). I had to get up extra early to try to make it to the post office in order to send Certain my first memory card, and mail some more things to Erik that I had missed yesterday. When I entered the kitchen for breakfast, Ron said, "Honey! There you are! What is this? A cloistered nunnery?!" They wondered why they hadn't seen me all day yesterday, and I explained that I was writing the entire day! They wanted to know if I would be ready to take the 8:30 shuttle to the trailhead as they had 20 hikers to transport that morning, and were disappointed to hear that I had to get to the post office before I could leave. ("Why didn't you do that yesterday?!, they wondered). Ron's nerves were about to become much more frazzled after he learned that the dogs of two hikers were sleeping on the beds while the hikers slept on the floor. "That's it! I'm not going to allow dogs here anymore... even for non-hikers. Now I'm going to have to wash the comforters!" Sam (the hiker who had let this fact out) asked, "Did I just get the dogs cancelled?" I nodded yes. After some coffee, a bagel, a banana, a couple of grapes, and someone's extra yogurt, I finished packing up, and ran to the post office (apparently, I feel like I'm not getting enough exercise!... no, I think I'm just happy. ) I was first in line, and the same man who helped me tape my box yesterday, did the same for me today. He asked me a couple of questions about my hike, and with a cheerful wave, I was off. I made it back just in time for the next shuttle. Sam apologized for Ron's nervousness and said he wished he could slip him some nicotine pills or valium to calm him down, as he worries about everything and doesn't even rest at night.   Just as we approached the trailhead, the skies opened up! Sam said we could always go back to the Hiawasee Inn... (in fact, he had one hiker who, for five days in a row, was driven to the trailhead, and every day asked to be returned, until Sam finally told him he had to go...). But we'll never make it to Maine if we hike only in weather that we choose! Kelly and another hiker started up the trail ahead of me, while I put my pack cover on and made some final adjustments. I made it to Plum Orchard Gap shelter (4.5 miles away) in an hour and a half and met up with a few other hikers who were taking a break. I ate a power bar, made a call to Erik (telling him I was 4 miles from the North Carolina border!), and checked my guestbook messages. (Thank you so much to everyone has who signed!). My rainjacket was soaking wet (they should market it as a wind jacket because it certainly isn't waterproof!)and I was freezing cold. I heard on the weather forecast that it might clear in the afternoon, so I took a longer break than I normally would in hopes that the rain would stop as I made it into NC, so I could have my picture taken by the sign. (When the weather report came on while we were eating breakfast in the morning, the first thing the forecaster said was what a nightmare it was going to be! "That's just what you want to hear..!, retorted a hiker). 'Laughing Owl' said that she heard the rain was not supposed to let up, so I pressed on in the rain and fog.    I eased into the GA/NC border with no fanfare and no one around to take my picture. I knew that I was approaching the anticipated sign, but was very surprised to find it facing longitudinally, along the direction of the trail. I had expected to come face to face with it! The wind was blowing and the rain was driving down, so I simply paused to look at the sign. Then I dusted off my hat, straightened my tie, and moved on...   Up a little slope, and around a bend, I suddenly saw "the tree" in front of me! It took my breath away. It was also in a place and a position that I had not expected, and I just stood in front of it, utterly happy. I had imagined coming to it in the bright sunshine, climbing in it with fellow hikers, and having several pictures taken with it, but the beauty of this unique and very special tree in the rain almost brought tears to my eyes. I looked at it, and then walked up into it with my pack still on. It was the happiest moment of my day.   I then climbed a series of steps that I remembered seeing from Persistent's pictures (actually, if I recall correctly, wasn't she giving the camera the finger as she climbed them?). It was a steep welcome to North Carolina and I moved slowly, breathed hard, and felt out of shape. I passed 'Truckin' (Amanda) in her blue rain suit, and stopped in at Muskrat Creek shelter for a very quick power bar break. It was 2:47 pm, and the shelter was crowded with cold, wet, and very sullen hikers (some huddled in their sleeping bags). I got out of there quickly and made my way to Standing Indian Shelter by 5pm, where I had a big decision to make: stay there for the night, or press on a little farther... I was cold, tired, and hungry and I had already hiked 16.7 miles. This shelter also had two hikers covered up in their sleeping bags (it's kind of eerie when you can't tell who is inside...). 'Turtle' said they could probably make room for me. I looked at the shelter floor space and imagined squeezing in, while the rain beat down on the tin roof. I knew the smarter decision was to stay there, where there were people to help me if I needed it, and try to rest my body. But another part of me wanted to press on and make it further down the trail, knowing that it was going to rain again tomorrow, and that I would not be missing out on anything if I hiked more tonight. As another hiker came in for the night, I said goodbye, and headed back out. My guidebook showed that I would have another good climb as soon as I set off, but luckily, it was not difficult. I could have camped on the summit of Standing Indian Mountain, but at 5498 feet, I thought it was smarter to spend the night at a lower elevation. So down I went, through the mud, and wet leaves (even falling a good ways in a steep mudslide that just swallowed me up!), until I arrived at the Beech Gap tenting area at 7 pm (4.4 miles from Standing Indian Shelter and 21.1 from Dick's Creek Gap! The college kids that I spoke with on my second day of my hike asked me how many miles I would hike daily. I told them I would start with 12 and get up to the twenties. "Really?" they asked. "Yes!" Little did any of us know that this would occur within the first week...) I was extremely tired, cold, and wet, and dark was falling. I had to find trees to tie my hammock to, and decided it would feel more comforting for me to stay in a grove of rhododendrons, where I could feel more enclosed. I tied my tarp up first, and then brought my pack under it on the wet ground. I set up my straps and clipped my hammock into the rings, and then I heard voices... Just like my previous camping site, I thought no one would be in the vicinity, and I think the other hikers were just as surprised to see me, as I was to see them! They were a group of five (with 2 dogs) and were out for the weekend. Two of the guys passed by my tarp and asked if I knew where there was water. I couldn't find any earlier... They then asked if I was alone and one responded, "Well, you are a trooper!" He said it was dangerous to be alone on the Appalachian Trail. ("It is?" I responded). I wasn't sure if I was being blindly dumb, brave, or just going about my routine... I just knew that I needed to set up my shelter, change into some dry clothes, and get something to eat.    I was invited to hang out with the weekend hikers under the tarp, so I joined them for a bit for some company and a little warmth, but I felt very out of place with them and excused myself after a little while. They stayed up for hours drinking and talking, but I wasn't bothered. That night, I did not cook anything on my stove, did not brush my teeth, and did not even take out my contacts (for the first time in my life). But I was safe and warm in my hammock, and had a chance to make it into Franklin by the following evening.