Date: 2004-06-02
From: Compton Gap

To: Manassas Gap Shelter
Miles today: 14.6
Weather: scattered clouds

One of the nice things about sleeping inside a building, whether it be a hostel or hotel, is the assurance that your equipment will be safe from the elements. Sleeping out-of-doors, you never know what you'll wake up to. In the rodent-ridden shelters of the Appalachian Trail, it would not be much of a surprise to find a small, suspicious hole gnawed into the fabric of your backpack, and in a tent with barely enough room for your lethargic body, your pack is likely to get at least a little wet even when stored within the vestibule. At least in a building, such as the hostel I arrived at last night, you'll wake up with your equipment in the same condition you had left it the night before.   When I awaken this morning, my backpack is soaked.    What the crap.   The refrigerator had leaked during the night. The consequent puddle reaches from underneath the faulty appliance to an area three feet away. Luckily, this area is exactly where I had set down my pack. Wait. Did I say "luckily?" I meant, "suckily."   My pack is sitting on the concrete floor exactly where I had placed it the night before: leaning against the leg of a wooden bench. The seat of the bench is dry. Not a surprise.   For the rest of the morning until I start hiking, my pack will sit in front of a dehumidifier in an effort to remove at least some of the moisture. The thought is nicer than the result.   Nine miles into my day, I come to Jim & Molly Denton Shelter, a spacious two-story wooden shelter with a front porch and benches, and even a back-country shower hidden at the end of another short trail. A few other hikers have stopped here sharing the same sentiment as myself: This is a good place to stop. In my case, however, it won't be for the night. There is still plenty of daylight left and another shelter lies within reach.   Flora & Fauna, along with Patrick, have signed the register dating their entries "05-31." At the end of the day, they will be only 112 days ahead of me. Ever since being sick and falling behing most of my friends, I've made a habit of checking each shelter register for familiar names and recording who had been there, what date, and whether they stayed or kept going. Laying out my sleeping pad for a short nap, I smile as I think about how good it will be to see them again. Knowing approximately how long it will be is nice. Being surprised when one catches up from behind is even better.   The last time I saw Tailwind's name was five days ago, May 28th, during a short break at Hightop Hut in Shenandoah. I opened the register and discovered Dances with Wolfcookie, Flora & Fauna, Camel, Tinder, and Patrick (re-joined temporarily with Michael) had all signed in on the 26th. Tailwind signed in on the 27th--one day before me--so I am surprised when I, stuck in between the stages of Fully-Awake and Sound-Asleep, open my eyes to investigate the new male voice I hear on the porch and see that it belongs to him.   He had gotten off the trail for a day to spend time with his girlfriend, who is with him now. She will be hiking with him for the week, during which their pace will be relatively slow. Jim & Molly Denton Shelter marks the end of their day.    After catching up with an old friend and taking a refreshing nap, my break totals 212 hours. Hiking 5.5 more miles, I arrive at Manassas Gap Shelter, my home for the night.   For only the second time since starting in Georgia over two months ago, I arrive at a shelter alone with the expectation that I will be sleeping in the middle of the woods all by myself. Though not as nervous as the first time--maybe because the first time was in Tennessee and within earshot of a road--I still feel uneasy. The feeling won't last, however, as I am about to meet Ludachris.   After dinner, Ludachris goes to our food bags, dangling in a tree away from the shelter, to add something he had forgotten about. He's not gone long when I hear him shout to me.   "Leki-Less!"   Yeah!?   "You afraid of spiders?"   No!   "You're about to be!"   My curiousity caught, I exit the shelter and follow the blue-blaze trail a short distance to where Ludachris is standing, hunched over, looking at the trunk of a nearby tree. I join him and crouch with my hands on my knees. Trapped within the illumination of my headlamp, and about the size of my fist, is the biggest, uglist spider I have ever seen.   We return to the shelter and head to sleep. The guidebook warns of this shelter area being notorious for copperheads. I think about stories I have heard of hikers waking up to find snakes, attracted to the warm setting, on the inside of their sleepbags. On the bright side, at least we won't have to worry about mice.