Date: 2003-05-30
From: Whitetop Mountain Road

To: Old Orchard Shelter
Miles today: 17.7
Weather: overcast clouds

(Craig Says) The fog burned off a bit this morning allowing us glimpses of the sprawling checkered farmlands below. It was still chilly and the clouds whipped through the thickets and stunted trees much like the night before but the sun came out for extended periods and giving us previews of what the rest of the day might be.Erin left before me while I scurried off in the ankle-deep brush to find a proper spot to conduct business. Just when I thought I'd found a pleasant place to ponder life, a fifteen inch snake slithered by my shoe before disappearing again into the undergrowth. I tiptoed to another spot and after a thorough check felt I was safe.I caught up with Erin, or shall I say, I found Erin waiting for me at Thomas Knob shelter, a wooden two-story shelter at the start of the 'Highlands' The sun was unobscured now and it had warmed up considerably since the morning but the strong winds kept it from getting too stuffy and uncomfortable. The 'Highlands' are often called a little piece of Montana and I'd have to agree. It was all sky country up there. Rocky, grassy, and most definitely open. From where we stood, we could see the ridgeline stretch out for almost six miles.The walk was beautiful, all be it a little tough on the feet. (It reminded us of NH) and we twice walked through a group of ragged free-range ponies intermingled with thick meloncholy dairy cows. The guide book warned us not to get too close to the ponies because they were wild and quite possibly agressive, especially this time of year when the wee ones are still suckling. But they stood directly in the trail, just like all the animals we've come across, and while we took great care not to alarm them we couldn't avoid getting close. And, well, they lended us about as much attention as the cows do. As we passed through them a little one walked up behind us and started scratching it's cheek against an AT marker. (The next morning I ran into a couple who told of how one of the ponies had actually walked right up to them and began fiercely scratching its face against across their shirt and had to be physically pushed away.) I think the guidebook exaggerates how aggressive these beasts truly are. Perhaps if you wielded a bag of carrots or something it'd be a different story. Who knows. As the sun went down and the wind continued undeterred across the grassy ridge it began to get quite chilly, quite fast. Erin and I donned our hats and matching windshirts (instantly forming Team Harbo and dynamic duo of dorks with matching outfits) We considered stopping to eat but decided we'd wait until we got back into the trees.When we finally got the shelter it was almost dark and giant fire was raging. Nothing is better than getting to a shelter late and their being a fire. Ponch, (was he mentioned earlier?) was there along with Greymatter, Ladybug, Boogey, Sarah, and someone else, who we'd only read about in the journals. By the way, one of the neatest trail experiences is finally meeting and putting a face to the entries you'd been reading for months.We settled down and Erin mixed together a Tuna salad kit we'd bought by the light of the fire. Sandwiched between cheddar cheese triscuits, garlic cheddar cheese, and a slice of pepperoni, we had a winner! And plus, there were no dishes! We talked with everyone for a while, then as usual, everyone went to bed while we were still eating. It took me about twelve times to hang the food bag and then we decided we didn't like where it was so we moved it down to another tree branch, but not before having to spend fifteen probing through the dark for another tree and an additional fifteen minutes untangling the rope which mysteriously tangled itself during our walk. The stars were out for the first time in what felt like weeks and Erin and I stood and stared up at them for a long time before going to bed.