Date: 2014-05-16
From: Daleville

To: Cornelius Shelter
Miles today: 15.0
Weather: scattered clouds

It started about 80% up the mountain to Corneilious shelter. That was about 4000 ft of climbing for the day. But it wasn't the climb itself; that was easy and painless. In fact, the trail legs are still here and working well. It was a slight descent between summits where the knee started hurting. It was weird. Any descent caused my right knee to spasm; level ground warned me it was coming. Even the slightest climb masked the problem. I yearned for the next uphill segment to get here. I could have climbed all day. After all, it was only about 1pm and the third shelter of the day (15 miles) was only a few miles away. But masking the pain was not fixing it. I was being attentive to my recovering ankle, watching closely for tightness or stretching. There was very little. It was working well, with one notable anomaly. Two decades ago I had sprained the ankle playing soccer; running over a hidden sprinkler head. The foot had healed with a slight outward rotation and I had gotten used to it over the years. I noticed today though that the foot had straightened itself out. Why I don't know. But it appeared to be causing grief with my knee. Come on! I do not need this. The pain became worse at the summit, which was less than one half mile from the shelter. All hope of reaching Thunder Hill evaporated. I'd be lucky to hobble down to Cornelius. It took me am hour to do that and to manage the short blue blaze trail to the shelter itself. I knew I was in significant trouble if the knee didn't respond to rest. It didn't. For the second time in three weeks I found myself unable to walk while isolated in the woods away from civilization. With no service I couldn't call my backup shuttle guy Ken. I was screwed and left with no concrete options. I crawled into my sleeping bag around 4pm, about the time many other hikers were arriving and making camp for the night. All I could hope for was a miracle and some time to think up an exit plan. I was getting scared. And so it all came apart that afternoon and night. Being afraid of getting hurt took the fun out of walking alone. Without the fun of hiking to make this worthwhile the camping seemed onerous and distasteful. Contemplating 3-4 more months of it came to seem ridiculous, all in the course of several hours of escalating panic. Eventually all my thought went to how to get off the mountain in one piece. The fact that no solution presented itself simply accentuated my depression. The hike was over. How do I get home from here?It was a fitful 12 hours in the bag. Around dusk someone very loud arrived acting like gods gift to the hikers already there. Some of the accomplishments he was spouting seemed impossible and I waited for the others to start calling his bluff. I will not repeat his boasts for reasons I'll disclose in the next blog. To his credit, when he noticed me in my bag, tucked away in the corner of the shelter, he quieted down. No one ever questioned his rantings. In fact they egged him on learning more and more of his super human feats. The guy was unreal. The next morning I had a hard time getting up. The knee still hurt; I had no good plan for the day. I knew the other hikers would slowly gather their stuff and head out, leaving me alone to contemplate my navel. I also knew the Blue Ridge Parkway was close but didn't know the trail to it and had little hope my phone would work anywhere near where I was. Things were bad and on the verge of getting desperate. Then a miracle, an absolute miracle occurred. I mentioned to our resident superman that I was injured and wanting to find the trail to the road. He astounded me by offering me a ride off the mountain using a trail that lead straight to the BRP less than 800 yards away. It was the end of the trek for me but the start of one of the most amazing personal encounters I have ever had. This man spent most of a beautiful Saturday trucking me to Roaoke, helping me get a bus ticket ( which involved having to go to the library), having lunch, and making sure my ticket was valid before saying goodbye in the early afternoon. I came to understand how genuine he was but still can hardly believe someone can have done what he has. He is literally a one in a million hiker; the likes of which I'll never come close to meeting again. Why the mystery? He made me promise not reveal his name. So I won't. But I am truly grateful that fate put him at that shelter on the night my body and my trek fell apart.