Date: 2010-02-24
From: Sassafrass Gap Shelter

To: Stecoah Gap
Miles today: 6.7
Weather: overcast clouds

"Don't follow me; I'm lost."                  - magnet on my parents' fridge The morning dawned cold and gray. At least I assume it dawned. But  t was so gloomy and visibility was so limited, perhaps I shouldn't make assumptions.My goal for the day was to make it the 6.7 miles from Sassafrass Gap Shelter to Stecoah Gap early enough to get a pickup from Jeff or Nancy Hoch of Hike Inn to be in for the the night. The trail conditions have been bad most of the days I've been hiking, and I was just getting worn out.Again I was following footprints, and I was glad to see them. Immediately after leaving the shelter I began a climb up a steep slope. Whoever had left the footprints must have had longer legs than I do as I often could not match the stride. The snow had softened and then refrozen creating a hard slick surface. Where I couldn't match the stride I was left trying to kick toeholds into the ice to get a grip. It was very tough going.After 20 minutes of going uphill I began to question if this could, in fact, be the trail, it seemed so difficult. I hauled out my map, and it didn't match the path I'd been following. I looked ahead to check out where the footprints led. I guess the other person had reached the same conclusion about the same time, for the prints took an abrupt left and headed DOWN to where the trail actually was.It turns out that perhaps the most difficult part of hiking in bad conditions is finding the trail. When there is no significant snow cover, following the trail is usually quite simple. People can, and do, hike without guidebook, map, or compass. The Trail is maintained by hiking clubs with hundreds of volunteers. Crews clear blowdowns, construct bog bridges and stone steps, etc, to limit erosion, paint white blazes on trees or rocks to mark the trail, as well as many other tasks I'm not listing.So many people hike the AT, some for just a day, that in most places a shallow rut has developed. The dried leaves that fill that depression are crushed and matted in a way that leaves to the side of the trail are not. Moss and lichens cover rocks near the trail, but those in the trail often have a clean, polished look to them.Following the trail mostly becomes second nature, picking up on subtle signs even if it doesn't take conscious thought. It sometimes feels like the feet know the way, but the way often just feels wrong if one strays from the path.However, with snow cover and blowdowns, finding the trail is much more of a problem. No worn depression is visible. No leaves or rocks give clues. Drifts form to mask even the slope of the land. Blowdowns break up the tunnel effect that can lead one on. Smaller downed branches poking up through the snow look like undergrowth, which wouldn't be growing in the trail. Blazes are often not close enough to be able to simply follow from tree to tree, and sometimes the blazed trees are the ones that have been toppled by the storms.Each step can require mental effort, whether because one is postholing in deep snow, pushing through deep drifts, probing the snow with hiking poles to find out what lies beneath (rocks, logs, nothing?), trying to determine the path of least resistance, or keeping one's balance on ice. In some places every step can require a conscious decision.This is not the "meditation on boots" that I enjoy and need - where the feet and legs find the rhythm, the subconscious follows the trail, and my mind spins free, sometimes following irrelevant thoughts and sometimes processing bigger issues.This is hard work - both mental and physical.   So I followed the footsteps, hoping whoever left them was better at picking out the disguised trail than I felt I was.Most of the time my predecessor was on the trail or very close to it. However, there were a few places where the footsteps would suddenly change direction and go where there was clearly no trail and rejoin the actual trail later.Eventually I gained the top of Cheoah Bald. I could tell I was feeling grim today as the scene that greeted me at the top got only a quick snort of amusement. Check out the picture of the lawn chair positioned for taking in the view...of a cloudbank.I was able to arrange for a pickup at Stecoah Gap, but I wasn't sure I'd be able to make the requested 4PM pickup. I hurried on, pushing hard. After Cheoah Bald I had to negotiate more blowdowns. This slowed me down even more, as I went over, under, around and through.By the time I was down I'd picked up a number of additional bruises and lost more equipment. Somewhere on the trail, probably snagged on a blowdown, or dropped while crawling Rambo-style under a rhododendron thicket, were my good, warm hat, my brand-new bite valve (purchased at NOC to replace the one I'd lost at the Jump-off), and a bottle of denatured alcohol. However, I did pickup someone else's Nalgene bottle, clearly lost the same way I'd lost my gear.I was more than ready to stop for the day when I was at the gap. Nancy showed up just minutes after I did. As I told her, I didn't think I was ready to quit hiking the trail, but not to drive by a Greyhound station to tempt me.After a stop for groceries and Mexican take-out, we went to Hike Inn where I got a shower, and Nancy washed my smelly, dirty clothes. Thanks!A very long, hard day. But at the end of it at least I knew where I was.