Date: 2003-04-12
From: Fontana Dam

To: Asheville, N.C.
Miles today: 34.2

Here we are in Asheville, completely off course and behind schedule. What happened? Well, winter returned with a vengeance. It was enough effort just surviving in the conditions without keeping a detailed journal as well, so I shall cover here the first three days since my last entry, and hopefully tomorrow the dramas of Friday and Saturday.   Tuesday, 8th April - Thursday, 10th April:We spent much of Tuesday morning in the Fontana Post Office, arranging maildrops and sending stuff home. Verity sent home her heavy-duty rain jacket, having bought a lightweight replacement at the Outdoor store. We met "Sheepstuff" who had arrived in the village the evening before. She was doing her laundry, and limping even more heavily than when we had first met her. I'll say more about this quite remarkable lady a bit later. We didn't get to the trailhead till noon, which meant a very demanding afternoon's hiking. Our target was Mollies Ridge Shelter, 12.4 miles ahead, and most of it uphill. In the first mile we crossed Fontana Dam, a great experience, and then were met by a ranger at the entrance to the Great Smoky Mountains National Park. He made sure we had our permit and gave us the lowdown on bears, shelters and toilet arrangements. He said we would get a great view of the dam and lake when we reached the top of Shuckstack Mountain about 3 miles on. About half way up, the rain started, and the mist closed in for the next 4 days! Walking in our shorts, we thought it might only be a shower, and didn't put on our rain trousers. This was a bad mistake. The rain got heavier and heavier, the trail gradually turned into a quagmire, and then into running streams of muddy water by the end of our day. In the last hour of our slog, we realised our boots were full of water (rain trousers would have prevented that) and we arrived at the shelter very cold and miserable. The shelter was full. We both had the shakes, but put up our tent as fast as we could in the pounding rain, used T-shirts to dry out the inside, got some dry clothes on and struggled into our sleeping bags straight away. We had a cold supper (a poptart each and a shared cinnamon bun), I dived out to hoist the food bag, and that was us for the night. It rained all night, but we stayed warm and dry in the tent. Unfortunately, our packs didn't. Sitting in the vestibule area they were in contact with the outer cover of the tent at several points, and they had taken in a lot of water. Half our clothing was wet. The weather didn't let up all day (Wednesday) and we cut back our plans somewhat, heading for Spence Field Shelter, only 5.4 miles away. We were keen to get into the shelter since we knew the tent wouldn't keep out the weather a second night. We were there early afternoon, got spaces on the upper deck, cooked lunch and climbed into our sleeping bags. The thermometer was dropping fast and it was perishing! In effect, I'd retired for bed at 2.45pm! The rain battered off the tin roof all night, but seemed finally to let up before daybreak. At daybreak Thursday we saw why. A snowstorm had dumped about 4-5 inches of snow and there was a blizzard outside. What a joy it was getting up that morning, putting on our soaking wet boots, and getting on the road. Also, my "Hiawassee cough" was back.  Plans were changed again, and we battled our way through the blizzard for another low mileage day (6.3 miles) to reach Derrick Knob Shelter. Verity was in the bottom deck, I was on the upper which was going to be a joy that night. A gale was blowing through it and there was a fine film of snow on half the deck. I should say that the shelters in GSMNP are built and designed differently from others on the AT. They have three rough stone walls, a two-level wooden sleeping platform, and, across the open front, a heavy chain-link fence to keep out the 400-600 bears that roam the park. As you look in the open front, the right hand wall incorporates a stone fireplace and flue. Sitting on top of it all is a single slope tin roof at an angle of about 25 degrees. Between the roof and the tops of the walls there are lots of gaps, and the upper deck residents spend a lot of time sealing these as best they can with bin bag liners, compression sacks, wet socks or anything else to hand. There isn't much headroom on the upper deck and it's easy to hit your head on one of the roof beams stretching across the shelter, especially when you are heaving yourself up from the ground below. The biggest shortcoming is that, between the sleeping platform and the fenced front, there are no tables, benches or wooden surfaces of any kind on which to cook or do anything else. Just an earth floor which, at times like this, is very muddy.   It was a cruel day and night, and eventually the shelter was packed. Officially holding 12, we squeezed in 18. Three late arrivals were "Apple Chillin" (about my age), "Snack Attack" and "Cuss" (two young men), none of whom we had met before. "Apple Chillin" wasn't looking too great, but got a space in the shelter when "Scuba Man" amazingly decided to make a late charge for the next shelter. "Snack Attack" and "Cuss" pitched their tent just outside and, while most of us cowered miserably in our sleeping bags, they kept a tremendous flow of upbeat banter going that had us all well entertained. Until he got his shelter space, they had offered to sqeeze "Apple Chillin" into their two-man tent. They have big hearts indeed.