Date: 2013-04-10
From: Birch Spring Gap, Campsite 113

To: Derrick's Knob Shelter
Miles today: 17.1

I didn't sleep terribly well last night. The odd sloping angle I had allotted for myself had me sliding and re-adjusting all night. I'd have my feet on one side of the poles and then move them to the other, diagonally across the tent. My feet were so much lower than my head that they felt puffy and thick when I woke up. At one point in the night, some late-comers showed up. I watched them through my tent walls moving up the hill beside me, the light from their headlamps creating a 'puppet show' of sorts with the twigs and leaves acting as the characters moving and bouncing across the screen. Though I didn't sleep well, I still felt rested when it was time to get up. I guess laying in a still position for 10hrs or will do the trick. I had my usual hearty breakfast of instant coffee, hot chocolate/granola mix, and then headed out. There was a 'warm/cool' layered feeling to the air. You could see little bits of green leafy vegetation start to poke its head through the dry brown crunch leaves on the forest floor. Thin blankets of white and purple flowers were scattered about. The morning was slightly cool with a light breeze, but as the day progressed the wind stilled and it heated up. Swarms of black flies encircled my head, and try as I may, not amount of swatting would deter them. I not sure if it was my sweat, sunscreen or general bad smell, but they were more loyal than a good dog. I stopped at Mollies Ridge Shelter for lunch. Lt Cookoo Bird, Radagasta, K2 Summit, Bitter Goat, Story time, Hammy, Jungle Juice and several others were sprawled in the grass, absorbing the sun. My bag still felt so heavy, and I had really hoped I would be feeling stronger by now. I did some stretches, and that felt fantastic. How have I been forgetting this simple solution? Three miles later I stopped at Russell Fields Shelter (for some reason all the shelters in the GSMNP seem to be at the top of really tall climbs) and did some more stretches. Again, I felt a surge of energy. Perhaps I would try to go the big distance. Three miles later as I was approaching the next shelter, I was walking through on of the first grassy balds. The grass was still dry and brown, but it maintained its fluffy loft. I looked like a large field covered in miniature David Bowie wigs. About 100 yards before the shelter turn-off I stepped on a little, glossy worn root. My right ankle twisted sharply inwards, and with the weight of my pack I went down hard. My left knee dug deep into the dirt path like a crashing spaceship in a Hollywood movie. The trail bed was sunken low into the ground from all the foot traffic, and I found myself wedged in the trail sideways. I floundered like an injured up-turned turtle. I looked quickly around; there were no spectators. I climbed out of the rut and rubbed my ankle. I looked at my dirty, skinned left knee. For a brief moment I considered calling it a day and heading to the nearby shelter. But then I thought, To hell with, I'm going for it! And so I did. For the next 6.3 Miles I hobbled along what felt like the steepest, rockiest and most exposed part of the GSMNP thus far. I also realized why thru-hikers tend not to like the Smokies. After 160 miles of virtually complete freedom, you suddenly feel extremely 'regulated.' They are very strict as to where you can stay (only at desginated shelters and campgrounds), how long you can stay (no more than 8 days to cover almost 70 miles), and you have to forgo shelter space if section-hikers show up with reservations (no matter the time of day or weather). Anyways, I huffed and puffed and sweated and bled and hobbled to the next shelter. The last hill up to Derricks Knob was a bitch. Much to my dismay the area was swarming with people. There were about 20-30 tents, hammocks, and the shelter was almost at capacity (12). By the grace of God there was ONE spot left in the shelter (though the shelter in the Park are quite big and could easily fit twice the alloted capacity). The shelter was mostly filled with day or section hikers, and they had their stuff(packs and gear) scattered across the shelter space, taking up space that could easily fit others.One family of four had reserved 4 spaces. Their gear was strewn all over the sleeping area and two of the sons decided to 'hold' their space but opted to sleep outside anyway (thus wasting two or more spots in the shelter for other hikers). This kind of ignorance and inconsideration causes a lot of hard feelings between day/section hikers and thru-hikers especially since thru-hikers have to forfeit shelter space to day/section hikers.Anywho, I got the last space, it took all the energy I had left to blow up my sleeping pad. I went down to the water to clean up my knee and collect water for dinner. The source was pretty small considering the number of people using it, so I opted NOT to soak my ankle, though it would have felt good. I headed back up the hill to the campsite to cook my meal. I sat down in the grass by a large oak tree, hoping it would help block the wind a little bit. Unfortunately, a spectualr sunset was happening just on the other side of the tree, but I was too tired to move. I set to cook up some dehydrated pintos and rice, but my lighter was too humid to work (I mistakenly kept the lighter stored inside my cook set). Chumy was standing nearby, and I asked to borrow his lighter. I got my meal cooked, but it was still crunchy when the fuel had run out. I added a bit more water and borrowed Chumy's lighter again. Two seconds later a big gust of wind came through and blew my cook set over. The grass caught on fire and my beans and rice spilled out all over the ground. I poured water on the fire and put it out. And I just sat there and stared defeatedly at my dinner. I looked over at Chumy who had seen the whole thing. He looked back at me with what was either pity or disgust (I found out later, it was pity). I sighed. I picked up the wind screen and scooped the spilled food back into my bowl. I picked out pieces of twigs and leaves and acorns, and I ate it. The parts of the meal that couldn't be salvaged I whiped up and put in my garbage bag to carry out. I didn't bother to clean myself or my pans up. I just hung my food bag on the bear cables and crawled into my sleeping bag exhausted.