Date: 2010-05-10
From: US 501 James River

To: Punchbowl Shelter
Miles today: 10.5
Weather: clear sky

¢From ghoulies and ghosties and long-leggedy beasties and things that go bump in the night, Good Lord, deliver us!¢                                                                              - Scottish sayingSurprise, surprise. When I got up in the morning I felt much, much better than I had anticipated. Since Ken wasn¢t picking me up until later, I lounged about. My keyboard was working again so I worked on my journal while I ate breakfast. And second breakfast.I called the Dutch Haus B&B a little farther on up the trail. I had stayed there a few years ago and enjoyed myself mightily and was looking forward to seeing the proprietors, Earl and Lois, again. I was hoping to stay a few days and take advantage of the slackpacking options they offer. It looked like it would work out to well to get me to Rockfish Gap at the right time for Angus to pick me up to head up to Rochester for Ellen¢s graduation. Rockfish Gap would be a good place to break the hike. Lois, as cheerful and gracious as ever, assured me that I would be welcome and to just call if I needed a shuttle and it would all work out.Ken picked me up right on time, and we talked the whole way back to the Trail. It would have been nice to chat longer with Ken, but he had things to do, and I had miles to walk. I crossed Rte 501 and started the climb up to the ridge. Before long the side trail to John¢s Hollow Shelter appeared. I paused to consider. Stopping and taking a break sounded attractive, but even though the night had been cold, it was already hot and likely to get hotter. At least it was while I was laboring uphill. I passed the shelter by and continued my slow trudge.I tried to keep a steady pace, but I found that with the heat and humidity I needed to pause often. I¢m finding that I have a *lot* more trouble hiking when it¢s warm. I had known this would be something of an issue which is part of why I started this hike so early in the year. I found myself thinking back with nostalgia of the snow and freezing temperatures of February.As I got higher there was a bit of a breeze which helped a lot. There were limited views back to the river. I remembered many when I was here before, but that had been earlier in the season, before the trees had leafed out. Still, the views that were to be had were lovely.Once I reached the ridge the walking was much easier. I moved right along, enjoying the day. There were wildflowers and butterflies and a hazy sunshine. I knew a change in the weather was coming and hoped that it would hold off at least until I got to the shelter. There was no water available along the ridge, so I didn¢t feel like I could linger. I need so much water to drink that my hiking is often determined by water availability.I came to the memorial marker for Ottie Cline Powell, a little boy who got lost in 1891 and whose body was found at this spot. Hiker lore has it that little Ottie¢s ghost inhabits Punchbowl Shelter, my destination for the night. Would there be a visitation tonight?The sun disappeared behind the clouds, the wind picked up, and the temperature began to drop. Even though there was still plenty of daylight left, I felt I should get moving since it would be much better to have any rain start *after* I settle in at the shelter, rather than arriving dripping wet. So I hurried on.It was early evening when I arrived at the little glade where Punchbowl Shelter is situated. All was very quiet. My assumption that the shelter was empty proved to be wrong. There were two people at opposite sides of the shelter already cocooned in their sleeping bags and apparently asleep. Sleeping during the day so they could stay awake during the night in case the ghost of Little Ottie should visit? I began settling in as quietly as I could, planning to make dinner out at the picnic table. Then one of the ¢bodies¢ in the shelter stirred and started speaking. It was Gerda! We met again. It turned out that she was the other hiker that Ken had picked up earlier in the morning. If I had gotten moving earlier I could have hiked with her.We chatted while I made my dinner. I didn¢t feel particularly cold, but Gerda and the other hiker were cold enough that they had retreated into their sleeping bags to warm up. Evidently the other hiker, a young woman, had hiked all night because she only has a week to hike and wanted to take advantage of the time. I guess she overdid it and really exhausted herself. In the 14 hours I was at the shelter I never heard her speak or saw her get out of the sleeping bag. I was rather worried about that, but Gerda was confident that she was fine. Ah, to be young and able to sleep like that¢¦The shelter register had the usual comments about the weather and trail gossip and bits of whimsy, as well as a few entries about the ghost of Little Ottie. I read in my book, ¢Pocket Peace,¢ for a while in the fading light and then in the light of my headlamp. Eventually I turned off the light and settled down, hoping *not* to hear any bumps in the night.