Date: 2010-02-21
From: Cold Spring Shelter

To: Nantahala River NC
Miles today: 11.0

Winter came down to our home one nightQuietly pirouetting in on silvery-toed slippers of snow,And we, we were children once again.~Bill Morgan, Jr.I awoke at Cold Spring Shelter to the musical burble of the water flowing just feet from the shelter. What a pleasant way to start the day.I had the Nantahala Outdoor Center (and a shower!) on my mind. So I packed up as quickly as I could and set off. I followed the trail as it wound up and over Copper Ridge Bald and down to Tellico Gap. The trail had some blowdowns and snow, but it wasn't as physically demanding as the previous day had been. When I got to the gap I noticed the dramatic difference between the north-facing slope I had descended and the south-facing slope I was about to ascend. The one was still covered in snow and ice, and the other was free of the nasty white stuff. Yippee.I hiked up the trail a bit until I found a friendly rock. There I had a pack-off break, basking in the sunshine. What a treat! What a change! It did my spirits good. That was more like it.I didn't relax too long but continued up to Wesser Bald. Without climbing the tower there, I started on down the other side. Suddenly I was facing icy snow again with a fairly steep descent. I tried to babystep my way down, bracing myself with my hiking poles. It was obvious that there had been plenty of people that had climbed up here as there was a slick depression where footsteps had packed the snow down. It was very slow going, and then the idea hit me.I sat down in the track, tucked my hiking poles into my armpits like a downhill skier. Gravity and the slickness of my rainpants did the rest.Soon I was speeding down the slope. I was able to make turns and continue on. When the slope lessened to the point that I slowed too much, I would lean forward, tip the poles down, and then lean back. That would give me enough push forward that I continued sledding down the slope.Although - I didn't think of it as sledding. I considered it to be a new AT Winter Olympic event - the "luge-ski."I went on quite a way in this fashion. Soon I was whooping and laughing like a maniac. All too soon it was over and I lay back on my pack and giggled. I wiped the tears from my eyes and tried to get up. With the pack on, my first attempts did not work. So I rolled over to the edge of the trail. I pushed down with my hands to push myself up - only to sink to my elbows in the unpacked snow at the edge. This made me laugh all the more. Finally I managed to get to my feet and sedately walked down the trail - but with a huge grin on my face.Hurrying on, I was aware of the miles left to reach the NOC. Up and down, up and down a series of small bumps in the ridge.Everything was fine until I reached "The Jump-off."I don't like ice and snow. I don't like narrow places. I don't like heights, I don't like drop-offs in the trail. This place had them all.I managed the first turn ok. But then it got slicker. I tried to walk down, but couldn't find a way that felt anything like safe. Eventually I sat down and tried to inch my way down. Unfortunately, the same slickness of the rain paints that had contributed to the fun on Wesser, threatened to send me headlong off the narrow ledges there. No matter what I did I seemed to slip closer and closer to the edge. I couldn't control it. Before long I was wimpering, "No, no, no." This was an "I want my mommy," or "Call the fire department to get the kitty out of the tree" kind of wimpering. If there had been a button to beam me home, I would have used it, even if it had meant never seeing the AT again.Eventually I took off my pack and tried to lower it to the trail where it switchbacked below me. I lowered it as far as I could then let go. It dropped the last few feet and rolled. And rolled. Up over the curb of snow at the edge. It started to topple over the crest, about to drop off into the seemingly bottomless abyss below, when it was snagged by a rhododendron and balanced just on the edge.I manoeuvred myself down to the pack. But the trail was still too narrow for me to be happy. The ice and snow was too slick to stand up and put my pack on, at least for me, as terrified as I was. I sat in the snow for a long time, too scared to go on. Finally I put the pack in front of me, held onto a strap (that I could let go of if it threatened to pull me off a ledge, and did the butt-scoot all the way down until the trail widened out enough to where I felt confident enough to stand up, put my pack on and continue like a real hiker.For those who have not seen this section, know that countless hikers do this stretch and probably give very little thought to it. My fears made it much worse that it really was, I'm sure. Nevertheless, it was completely unnerving for me.I was shaking, and scared and ashamed. I found that in the slipping, sliding, unorthodox descent I had lost the bite valve and bite valve cover from my water bladder as well as my confidence and sense of humor.Now all I was focussed on was to get DOWN out of these mountains and in somewhere to get a shower.Fortunately, I had no trouble down to the NOC - just a long slog as evening fell. But when I got down to the river, I found that the entire collection of buildings that make up the NOC campus was locked up tight. Eventually I found my way to "Base Camp," a collection of basic bunkhouses and a community building. There were some men taking a Wilderness First Responders class who were staying at the bunkroom, but they had no idea of how I could check in. In the end, I found an unlocked bunkroom and let myself in. I showered and then heated some dinner in the community kitchen. I had some pleasant conversation with the students and then retreated to my bunkroom.With the Jump-off incident on my mind, I felt subdued and disheartened.I gave Trail Angels Sherpa Dave and Robin a call to let them know I was in safely.   Soon Robin had me laughing and I felt much better. Maybe I'll be able to make it after all.