Date: 2013-03-13
From: Gooch Mountain Shelter

To: Neels Gap
Miles today: 15.0

Wednesday, March 13, involved a quandary: Most of us had planned to stay at the Woods Hole Shelter, but bear canisters were now required in the 5-mile corridor from Jarrard to Neels Gap and WHS is right in the middle of it. Herb and the Maine guys decided to camp at Lance Creek, the last good camping area before Jarrard. I arose at 7:18, left at 8:43, and enjoyed a beautiful morning of walking: smooth, leaf-covered path, sunny blue sky. Gooch Gap arrived about 9:30 AM. I still wore the wind hat and rain jacket, with cool wind. After shooting a few photos, I finally removed the Arc¢Teryx rain jacket at 11:30 AM and arrived at Woody Gap about noon. Hiding from the wind in the men¢s room, I ate one of my pre-made tortilla-with-peanut-butter-and-Nutella ¢sandwiches¢ ¢ oily and not very appealing; now, that was an experiment that didn¢t work! The sun was bright but wind gusts were cold; I departed the pleasant picnic area at 12:15 PM.        It took nearly an hour to climb out of Woody Gap, but the trail was pleasant to Lance Creek, where I arrived at 2:06 PM... too early to stop ¢ besides, I¢d never make Low Gap, my planned fourth night, from there. I plugged on... aware that I was now committed to reach Neels Gap and uncertain of what I would find there.        Jarrard Gap came along at 3:40 PM: absolutely no bear-canister sign! I moved along, finding the walking pleasant, and took a 10-minute walk over to the Woods Hole Shelter where I found a small canister-requirement notice. I ate my second tortilla/PB-N greasy ¢sandwich¢ and was back on the AT by 5:02 PM. An hour later I was on the summit of Blood Mountain. It was a moderately tough climb. I¢d seen nobody since at least Jarrard, and the skies were overcast with gusts of cold wind. After a couple of photos on the windswept, bald summit (where a surprising two-story stone Blood Mountain Shelter is located), I began slowly to wend my way down the rock summit, following white blazes painted on the rock. Coming down the north side, the blazes were faded and few, and at one point I got off-trail by following others¢ boot prints. A backtrack to the last blaze suggested the proper descent. It was on angled boulders, not welcome to a tenuous tendon! But at 7:42 PM I could see the highway through the trees, and at 7:46 arrived at Neels Gap, where the trail literally passes through Mountain Crossings Outfitters (a stone archway connecting its buildings).        Everything was dark and closed, so after sending my wife a SPOT message I set the Petzl to flashing and prepared for a 0.3 mile walk along the two-lane highway to cabins. Just then a man arrived ¢ he had a key and papers, so I assumed he was the Mountain Crossings proprietor. He said the cabins were full, but that I could set up behind the shop. (I later learned that they were full, but the proprietor there was packing hikers in, on floors, to get them in out of the cold.)        Tired and relieved to have a place for the night, I ascended stone steps to a picnic area, finding an enclosed cabin tent with a child¢s happy voice, already there. I found a flat spot, in the dark, near a concrete picnic table, and extracted my 8x10 silicone tarp. Woah! I nearly lost it in the fierce, blustery wind. I got three foot stakes in, the main hiking pole and two front stakes in, and the center support cord, but had trouble tying one side lifting cord because of cold fingers. (The other side was against the table.) I didn¢t even consider changing into my camp clothes, but just donned my rain pants and Achilles night splint, then crawled into my bag, about 8:45 PM.        The night was frightening ¢ not only very cold (I learned, later, 14 degrees F) but with severely gusting winds (later, I heard estimates of 60 to 70 mph). They sounded like a tornado to me: a loud roar, a short distance away, followed by wild flapping (Whack! Whack!) of the tarp, inches from my face. Some time in the night, the right front stake was pulled out, allowing the right (windward) side of the tarp actually to blow against my nose.        Despite all this, my 15-mile, Blood Mountain day left me so tired that I checked my watch only at 1:30 AM, 4:30 AM, and 7:30 AM (when I arose). Perhaps the scariest incident was after a mid-night call of nature: I was unable to grip the zipper tab to close the sleeping bag. Finally I did, of course, but the fear of being unable to close the bag was real and recalled to me tales of mountaineers.        Mountain Crossings opened at 8:30 AM and kindly allowed me to fold my tarp and organize my pack inside. (I¢d just crammed everything in, up at the campsite.) The shop was busy. I was able to send my wife an email using the computer there, explaining that I had no cell phone coverage. After collecting my first mail-drop box and having a couple of cups of coffee and a banana, I bought some Platypus bottle caps and a new ¢space blanket¢ ¢ I¢d enjoyed some temporary warmth from the one I¢d carried, wrapping it over myself inside the sleeping bag, but it tore almost immediately and I discarded it at the shop. With a relatively short day to my planned fourth-night stop, Low Gap, I left Mountain Crossings at 10:05 AM. That Wednesday night was a topic of discussion ever since (¢Cold last night, but not like last Wednesday,¢ etc.). Spending it under my tarp was quite an experience.