Date: 2006-03-13
From: Justus Creek

To: Wood's Hole Shelter
Miles today: 13.2
Weather: overcast clouds

Began the day hiking through tunnels of Rhododendrons. Teri informed me that I¢d be hiking through a lot of them along the trail, and that they¢re beautiful when they¢re blooming. I liked them already. Long and green, winding tunnels of shade formed beneath intertwining branches.         The next hikers we would meet were Longhorn, Ribbet, and Triscuit. Longhorn was from Texas; Triscuit ate triscuits all three meals of the day with a different accompanying substance at each meal (cheese for breakfast, peanut butter for lunch, jerky for dinner; and I guess Ribbet liked frogs. All three of them were wearing rain gear in the light drizzle coming down.        At Gooch Gap, Teri and I ran into Geek, who seemed to be in the middle of setting up a large tented extravaganza of sorts. He informed us he was going to be cooking up hot dogs for dinner and handing out beer. All for thru-hikers. This sort of behavior is known along the trail as ¢Trail Magic,¢ which basically means getting something for free (food, beer, water, a dry place to stay, etc). Geek invited us to stay for dinner, but needing to get much further down the trail, we politely refused.         ¢You guys want a beer then?¢        ¢Ummm¢¦¢ I was leaning towards yes.        ¢You want to split one?¢ Teri asked me.        ¢Sure.¢ Enough to relax the mind but hopefully not the body.         Geek had thru-hiked twice. The first time had been in 1980 with his cat, Ziggy. Ziggy was a little runt of a kitten, only weighing four pounds when they started. Ziggy had hiked behind Geek for 33 miles. Then on a rainy afternoon, seeing that Ziggy was ducking under branches and logs trying to stay dry, Geek put the kitten up on top of his pack and covered him with a rain jacket, hiking with him up there the rest of the day. The following morning Ziggy was sitting on top of the pack waiting for Geek to carry him. And so Geek did, all the way to Maine. Ziggy was quite popular along the trail due to his mice control. He was much heavier when he and Geek finished.                   After Teri and I had killed ¢The Beast,¢ Geek offered us another beer, which we accepted, but decided to drink it after our hike that day. After thanking Geek, we pushed on, getting back on the trail and entering a foggy mist that would stay with us the rest of the day. The rain had ceased but the mist was cool and wet enough to keep on our raingear. And although the weather limited any possible vistas, the lack of visibility was quite beautiful in its own way, the trunks and branches of trees gradually fading away into nothingness.         After ignoring trash for the entire first day, I finally came to the realization that the cleanliness of the trail wasn¢t going to get any better and that I could at least do my own share, which was better than nothing. Thus I began collecting little scraps of plastic, plastic corners from granola bars, cigarette butts, random bits of plastic, and putting them inside my shorts¢ pocket. I set myself a goal to collect one piece of trash for every mile that I hiked.                  At Woody Gap, after crossing Road 60, Teri and I were pleasantly surprised to encounter our second example of trail magic. Beneath the sheltered picnic area sat two 2.5 gallon jugs of water, along with a box of moonpies. We each helped ourselves to a moonpie and refilled our water bottles/ ate lunch. Another pleasant surprise was the garbage can at Woody Gap, allowing us to throw away all the trash we had accumulated thus far.          Our perfect day took a dive upon arriving at Wood¢s Hole Shelter and finding it completely jam-packed with hikers. There were probably ten guys squeezed onto the sleeping platform which was normally only meant for seven. The sidewalls went no further than the platform. The roof covered another dozen feet or so, but with the exception of a large piece of plywood propped up between one wall of the shelter and a picnic table, the sides were all open to the elements. One guy was lying atop the picnic table. Another two were on the graveled ground.          ¢Not any room in here¢unless you can squeeze in on the floor,¢ one of them told us. ¢Or under the picnic table.¢          ¢Bad storm¢s coming in at midnight,¢ another added.          ¢What kind of storm are we talking about?¢ I asked.         ¢Lots of wind, freezing rain, maybe some lightning.¢          Great.         ¢You want to just set up the tent?¢ I asked Teri.         ¢A bad storm can take collapse a tent,¢ another guy informed us. ¢It can¢t collapse a shelter. Better to stay under here¢you can probably both squeeze in on the floor there.¢                 Teri and I opted for the floor, throwing down our sleeping pads and bags. Then we ate Vigo black bean burritos and¢thanks to Geek, washed them down with our second Milwaukee¢s Best of the day. Afterwards I hung up our food, listening to at least two great horned owls, probably watching me from only a few meters away. The wind began to pick up.        Teri and I set up another piece of plywood on the opposite side, put our packs behind it, and called it a night. I tossed and turned for what seemed like forever, being too hot at first, feeling rocks beneath my Ridge Rest digging into uncomfortable places, and the oncoming dread of what might be a terrible storm. The wind continued to moan and howl and warn us all that we were doomed, and just like clockwork, the storm came at midnight.         Within minutes, I felt rain spitting on my face, coming in sideways over the plywood. My sleeping bag started getting wet and I wondered if we shouldn¢t have set up the tent. Certainly it would have been better. Too late now.        Thunder and lightning visited briefly but mostly it was resurgences of wind and rain¢¦and then it got cold.         As the top of my sleeping bag continued to get wet, I started shifting my body back towards the opposite wall, hoping to escape the rain. Meanwhile Teri, who was lying against the sleeping platform, was protected from the rain but had mice scurrying over her hands. I didn¢t see or feel any mice that evening, but I certainly heard them, scampering about, whispering with their wimpy squeaks, and trying to get into anything they could to help them survive.Q: What's the difference between a homeless person and a thru-hiker? Gore Tex--Geek