Date: 2004-09-17
From: Pickle Branch Shelter

To: Catawba
Miles today: 11.9
Weather: mist

And am I happy to be here!   At about 11.30PM last night the rain started. At first it was gentle, but soon its fervor increased until there was no more doubt, Ivan had arrived! The wind started to rise and soon it was a regular gale, made all the more frightening by the lashing rain and the darkness. It was the darkest and scariest night that I have spent on the trail so far. Literally, there was no alteration in the darkness whether my eyes were open or closed. All of my plans on making it into Catawba before Ivan hit were now dashed. Even worse I knew that I had a forecast of several days of even worse weather to follow, so any thought of just sitting it out was not practical. And if all of that were not enough I had the prospect of a tough climb on a mountain that had a reputation as being very difficult, even in good weather. It was a lonely and worrisome night and the reality of the following morning did nothing to reassure me.    I started as early as possible in the pouring rain and lashing wind and, with considerable difficulty made my way back to the trail. The trail to Dragons Tooth was littered with newly broken branches, making progress difficult. Leaves and small twigs were being hurled through the air by a vicious and howling wind. Every oak tree on the approach seemed to have lost its entire crop of acorns. The bent over windswept plants and twigs seemed to be grasping at my legs as if to stop me from going on.   Then both of my boots began to leak! Unheard of before this, but now both of them were squishing with water. I was in full rain gear needless to say, so there was nothing I could do except to struggle on. The trail then became even more steep and launched itself onto a series of exposed rocky ledges ¢ a difficult enough place on a plesent day, but a nightmare now with the wind howling and the rain pelting down. It took me a solid three hours of frightening and nerve racking climbing to reach the top. Then I discovered that the descent was even more difficult!   The trail down was over sheer rock ledges, so steep and vertical that there were metal rungs driven into the rock to give some kind of handhold, or foothold in my case. It was, far and away, the most difficult descent that I have ever attempted. This was real climbing ¢ facing the wet and slippery rock hanging on with my fingers, and blindly feeling for a toe hold on the unseen rock face below me, while the wind plucked on my pack cover, making it act like a giant sail, threatening to tear me off of my perch and plunge me to certain disaster on the rocks below. I was sure that I was going to die.      I thought how foolish and stupid I was to have placed myself in such a predicament. I should have stayed at the shelter this morning when I realized how bad the conditions were. Never mind the fact that I had almost no food left, I would not have starved to death in the few days it would have taken for the storm to pass over. Now I was trapped on these stony sheer ledges with no one to blame but myself, and my own pride that I could get over this mountain in these conditions. Nor was there anyway that I could stop and take shelter on these exposed ledges, there was nothing for it but to continue on, focusing on the next move, the next change in hand or foothold, trying to ignore the wet and the creeping cold that was spreading throughout my bones, and to suppress the primitive fear that I was going to die on this godforsaken mountain, and I didn¢t even know why I was doing this in the first place!   Then I became angry, and with the anger I became determined that I would survive this ordeal, I was not going to die on this mountain, I was going to continue to climb down, one move at a time. I was not going to think about anything except the next step, the next handhold, and the security of the placement of my boot on the rock. I was not going to subject my wife and family to a feared phone call, and to a frightening ordeal of body retrieval and funeral, I was going to get through this somehow, no matter what I had to do.    At that stage I became strangely calm and reassured that I could do this. I felt that there was an extra strength that I had somehow found, and I was not afraid anymore. The wind and the rain became elements of nature once again, not possessed demons that were specifically bent on killing me personally. They didn¢t care about me in the slightest, I just happened to be on this mountain in the middle of a hurricane and they didn¢t care about me at all. With this realization, not alone did all of my fear disappear, but I began to almost enjoy the fury of the elements. I opened my mouth and let out shouts of, not joy, but a yell that I was here too, letting the elements know that I was also entitled to my place. I found myself grinning like an imbecile and deliberately turning my face into the full fury of the storm. And gradually it was all over.   Not that the storm ended, but the sheer rocks became less steep, the trail less vertical, my posture more upright, my feet on the ground, my hands holding the hiking poles and not the rocks. It became just another wet, dismal, windy, cold descent, and I suddenly missed the fear and the terror, the certainty of immediate death was no more.   By the time that I got to the road junction with VA624 I was so confident that I decided that I could push on to Catawba and not use my bail out plan to stay at the hostel near the road there. Even though the rest of the hike was comparatively easy it was still rain, wind and more rain and wind. Then suddenly the rain stopped and the wind died down ¢ just like that. The sun came out, just for a few minutes, and then the rain and the wind started again, but no matter I knew it for what it was, an acknowledgement ¢ however brief ¢ that I had made it through, a nod from the elements that they had however briefly admitted my existence and that we were at harmony with each other once again, that they would continue to do their work and that I could continue to do mine.      The trail passed through sodden meadows with streams of rain running down the thread way, past ugly brown swollen and overflowing streams and after what seemed to be an eternity came to VA311. There I had a bit of luck. The owner of the hostel picked me up and drove me to the B+B ¢ Dave and Lucy Downs run the ¢Downhome¢ B+B ¢ nice people who agreed to let this ¢Wet ass hiker ¢ stay for two nights.      There have been numerous tornado alerts here, with extensive flooding and damage in Virginia. I truly count myself lucky to be alive. I did fall once on my left side with the handle of the pole sticking into my left chest. I didn¢t even notice the pain at the time but I do now and think that I may have bruised a rib [#5 left]   Am now showered and post prandial at the Hometown Diner, AYCE and I am stuffed.      The town is very spread out, but Dave drove me to the restaurant and back when I was done. My laundry is being done and my boots are stuffed with newspaper. My gear survived OK ¢ and although the inside of the backpack did get wet, the contents of all of the stuff sacks were OK. My map got wet, but it is unharmed. The pages of my Data Book and the TH Companion are wet but intact ¢ the Handbook pages however have disintegrated into mush.   After one of the most terrifying and adventurous days in my life. I am alive. And well. And safe, and warm, and grateful. Grateful that all of this happened, because it allowed me to realy see into myself, a rare occasion of self-realization.Thought ¢          Darkness amplifies fear and terror