Date: 2003-05-15
From: Pond-south of Chestnut Knob Shelter

To: Laurel Creek
Miles today: 16.0
Weather: moderate rain

It is strange how misery loves company.Today I awoke in a field of Virginia Creeper. I took my tent down and loaded my gear in my pack as Romeo and Coyote rolled out of camp- last to leave again. I followed a dirt trail that sliced through the grass up to the 4,410 foot summit of Chestnut knob ¢the highest I would be until Mt. Moosilauke entering the White¢s of New Hampshire. An eerie mist had rolled in and the dark outline of the sheltered formed like the hull of a ghost ship as I approached. The shelter was fully enclosed and is said to be an old ranger¢s cabin. Romeo and Coyote were going through the shelter log. Coyote is tall and lanky with thick bushy red hair that blends seamlessly into his curly beard. As he sat there reading through the circular lenses of his glasses, in the rustic cabin, lit by the faint, foggy sunlight that the small window let in, it was as if I was in some Amish guys home. We took advantage of all this shelter afforded ¢meaning we did not have to dig a hole that morning, and headed out to see how close to Bland we could get. I was not the only one eager to get there. Coyote had a girlfriend coming to pick him up, and several others were hoping to get a ride into the hiker gathering of Trail Days back in Damascus. While I would have enjoyed reuniting with my hiker friends miles ahead and miles behind, I was more interested in having some time with Natasha that weekend. There was a series of brutal ascents and descents. I ran into some trail maintainers clearing out some fallen trees and branches. I stopped to thank them. They began (as most maintainers do) to try to convince me to join their ranks once my journey was concluded. I explained that I lived in Northern Virginia and would not be able to join them, but would sign up with PATC. One fellow was sort of peculiar- wielding a chainsaw and speaking with a slight Asian accent he exclaimed in a very goofy manner how they spent most of their time drinking. I grinned politely and looked around at the other members who stood there silently as he laughed his goofy laugh.   I have nothing at all against drinking, but I imagined that this was not the image that most of the members of the party wanted displayed to members of the trail community. Not knowing how much the chainsaw man had had that morning, I decided to make my exit. I was tired and needed lunch. Despite the promise my map made of easy terrain after the knob, the ups and downs had taken their toll. Once out of earshot of the chainsaw, I worked my way up to a blue blaze to a view atop the ridgeline and found Coyote and Romeo finishing their lunch. We chatted and admired the view. I enjoyed the break- until we started hearing thunder. Then the winds picked up. Coyote insisted that the rain was about to hit. I looked up and saw sunlight glowing between the clouds and insisted that we still had time. They did not believe me and bugged out. Within 5 minutes the wind had turned to gale and the thunder was upon me. I hurriedly scarfed down my meal, packed up, and worked my way down the ridgeline, cursing every step of the way. I hiked that afternoon chilled and drenched from the storm. Jenkins Shelter was one potential stopping place for the night, but Bland was close by. I knew that I would be best off if I cooked at the shelter and had dinner there, then pressed on to a campsite closer, but I vacillated about whether I had the will to hike out and set up my tent in the rain. Jenkins was a shelter that just did not show up where it was supposed to. I hiked on for what seemed like forever past the point where I thought I would find it. I finally got there and all was quiet. The trail leads up to the side of the shelter and I would have thought I was completely alone except for the assortment of hiking poles leaning up against the side. I rounded the corner to the shelter face and saw Coyote, Odyssey, Boat, and Romeo all drying out and fixing their dinners. We debated for a while about tenting or sheltering. Finally a majority of the group moved on. Coyote and I held back for a little while. Then finally decided to press on. Another storm rolled in. But this time with company, we laughed all the way through it. We splashed through stream crossings as thunder clapped overhead. We were soaked and there was nothing left to do but get wet. We finally got to the campsite at Laurel Creek and someone had left Trail Magic in a cooler there. A church group from Bland. We got some Orange juice and helped each other set up our tents in the rain. I checked in on Odyssey. She had recently switched over to a tarp and was using it in the rain for the first time. She said that she was dry. I told her that if she needed to she could bunk with me if things changed. Inside the tent, I was soaked and miserable. I dried everything off as best I could. The night was manageable, but I was glad that town was only 7 miles away.