Date: 2005-03-24
From: Bly Gap

To: Standing Indian
Miles today: 7.7
Weather: scattered clouds

3.24.05Day 1110:20am One incident that I forgot to relate yesterday was that Itook my first tumble of the hike. Not really a 'tumble' even; morelike a slide into home plate. The epitome of grace. Theexemplification of cat-like agility. Really. I was following Break,as we descended into one of the myriad of 'B' gaps that we passedthrough yesterday. Blue. Beech. Bottomless. Something like that.Anyway, she was going to read the sign, to see where we were, and Ihad my head up, watching her. Well, due to the previous day's rain,the trail was slightly soggy. It was actually in better conditionthan I had anticipated, but there were still some squishy, slipperyspots. Naturally, my foot sought one out the moment I shifted myfocus. My left foot, mimicking the cartoon banana peel skit, shot outin front of me, sliding about 2 feet downhill. My right foot shortlyfollowed. And so my body began to follow. Except, in an amazingdisplay of my lightning-quick reflexes, I immediately thrust mytrekking poles into the bank of the hill, just as Spiderman ejects hissilky web from his wrists. And so I managed to catch myself, before Ilanded flat on my derriere. Oh, I was still completely prone, but mybackside was hovering a good 4 inches aboue the muddy trail. Theproblem was, I couldn't get up. My legs were fully extended in frontof me, braced against a log; my arms stretched to the sides, polesimpaled in the dirt. I felt like a beached crab, struggling to rightitself. And, since I'd gone to all the trouble to keep myself fromlanding in the mud, I didn't really want to sit down, just in order tostand up. You try standing up sometime, starting from thatposition. And don't forget to add the 40# monkey on your back. It'stough, ain't it? But somehow, through some interesting contortions, Imanaged to regain my bipedal status, providing, I'm certain, someentertainment for Break. But, I escaped unscathed, except for onemuddy toe on my left foot.Another unparalleled day of divine weather. Woke up this morning to asea of mist, the condensing fog dripping intermittently on my tent. Ideparted Bly Gap around 8, and began that steeply angled ascent Iremembered oh-so-very-fondly from last spring. Yep. It's stillthere. Hasn't eroded away yet. Still trying to knock you back intoGeorgia. But, as I climbed, I could feel the presence of the sungrowing nearer and stronger. At first, I only detected a slightlessening of the density of the fog. Then, a little bit of yellowbegan peeking through. And then, suddenly, it was gone, and I wasstanding under skies of impossibly violet-blue, the sun beaminggloriously down upon me, dewdrops glistening on the rhododendrons. Itwas phenomenal. I saw some bluets on the side of the trail thismorning, the earliest and hardiest of the season's flowers. The firsttentative tendrils of spring are erupting all around us, tiny buds ofgreen thrusting through the crusty soil. I think right now, though,the rhododendron thickets are the most amazing, and most mystical, ofall. Each time I enter into one, it's like walking into thisisolated, secluded little enclave, a miniature Secret Garden.Sunlight (assuming there is sunlight) filters through theleaves, casting fluid, speckled shadows across the trail. The canopyoverhead encloses you in this private embrace. You can't see fardistances, but the very nature inherent in the grove seems to draw youinward, into yourself. And then, when you emerge into the barren,leafless winter forest, w/ its unobstructed views, the contrast is sostark and immediate. The landscape really influences you, and yourperceptions and your thoughts, out here. B/c you aren't just abystander passing through. You become a dynamic participant, you'reincorporated into it, and you incorporate it into you. I've beensitting here, on a random log, at a random spot on the trail, for thepast half-hour. The birds, accepting me as just another element ofthe scenery, are encroaching ever closer -- a pair of junkos areforaging less than 5 feet away. The insects are merrily buzzingaround. A sweat bee flew over to investigate me -- I may have beentoo potent for even his palate. (It never ceases to amaze mehow rapidly I become disgusting out here.) And there's an amazinglyiridescent blue fly that circles about. The leaves on the forestfloor rustle mutedly in the breeze. The last vestiges of the morningfog drip haphazardly from branches. A woodpecker taps a rhythmicthrum against a tree trunk. The sun shines beneficently. Everythingis tranquil, and yet unequivocally alive.