Date: 2003-07-18
From: Johns Hollow Shelter

To: Punchbowl Shelter
Miles today: 8.8
Weather: overcast clouds

(Craig says.) The bugs were ferocious last night. The no-seeums had somehow penetrated the tent leaving us slapping at our legs and periodically shining our lights at the top of the tent so they would gather at the light and we could smear the tiny nervous bugs one by one. And they all left cute little puddles of our semi-digested blood on the tent fabric, evidence of their rescent meal. And that's how last night went. By morning we were quite tired and decided we didn't want to sleep in any more Hollows.The morning's climb up Bluff Mountain was the usual. Steep, hot, buggy, and broken occasionally by a welcomed breeze. Before long I found myself, my shirt, and my sweat towel drenched.I caught up with Erin at Salt Log Gap at 2,573ft. Erin was really tired. Out the two of us, she slept the least last night. Despite the heat I felt unusually good, full of energy, and decided to go on ahead. I plopped my headphones on and headed up Bluff Mountain.Somewhere over the talk of NPR, (besides the 24hr daily sermons, it seems to be the only station that consitantly comes in) I thought I heard a long muffled rattle. I stopped, tore off my headphones, and looked frantically around at my feet and the thick leafy mulch and jumbled rocks on either side of the trail. Then I saw it slithering down the trail, going southbound, and I backed up to give it plenty of room. It was huge! Over 4ft. atleast and a bright green and yellow. Another Timber rattler. And it didn't stop when it saw me except to raise the last inch of tail to give me another warning. I backed up to give it more room and it took it. Erin soon caught up with me and we both left the trail and took wide archs around the snake which itself started to head off into the woods. Once we'd passed it we looked back and had trouble spotting it, a perfect example of how well its camoflauge works and how they could be very close to us and we'd never know.Just near the top we passed the Ottie Cline Powel monument, a small gravestone with dirty toys littered about, marking the site where Little Ottie's body was found. It was a sad eerie little spot, tucked into a tall reedy spot just under a stand of poplar trees. Apparently little Ottie Cline Powell wandered into the woods to gather firewood for his schoolhouse and never returned. His body was found 5 months later at the site, Seven miles from the schoolhouse. They never said how he died. Poor Ottie. During one of our stops Two Dogged passed us. (She was the woman we'd met at 4 Pines Hostel with the 'Two Dogs') But she only had one dog. The other, the doberman, was injured and she had to put her down. No, just kidding, she left it with a friend in DC. so she could continue her journey. She was 'slackpacking' (hiking without a pack) and enjoying every minute of it. I was busy tweezing off two deer ticks that had found their way under into the skin of the inside of my elbow and knee. These two were exceptionally tiny, no bigger than a period......Made it to Punchbowl Shelter in good time. A couple was there already, their tent already pitched and a fire going. They had a nervous dog that barked every time we passed within a hundred yards or so of their tent. We opted to throw the tent in the shelter. We gathered wood and made a fire ourselves and ate on the picinic table nearby. There's a swampy pond just to the left of the shelter and the residence frogs are giving us their evening serenade. The guidebook says that this shelter is haunted by little Ottie's ghost. The thought of a pale, half-decomposed four year old boy talking to me through the tent gives me the creeps. (Sorry if this is a little sloppy. We're under the gun for time. "One hour, once a day" is our limit.)