Date: 2010-02-01
From: A lovely first day

To: Hawk Mountain Shelter
Miles today: 7.8
Weather: clear sky

"Their farewells had been said in the great hall by the fire, and they were only waiting now for Gandalf, who had not yet come out of the house. A gleam of firelight came from the open doors, and soft lights were glowing in many windows. Bilbo huddled in a cloak stood silent on the doorstep beside Frodo. Aragorn sat with his head bowed to his knees; only Elrond knew fully what this hour meant to him. The others could be seen as gray shapes in the darkness."J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring My start from Springer Mountain wasn't quite what I had envisioned. I had thought to spend a little time contemplating the meaning of my hike. A little time to dedicate myself to the task, to draw some meaning from the struggles I knew lay ahead. A solemn moment. It didn't quite happen that way...Josh from Hiker Hostel drove me to the parking lot .9 miles from the summit. The drive up was beautiful. The ice storm had left the trees encased in ice. Since it was a beautiful, sunny morning everything was glistening with a cloudless blue sky beyond.After being dropped off I hurried up the Trail to reach the brass plaque which marks the southern terminus of the AT. Ice coated all the trees, bending them low.Once at the summit I did not take the time to think deep thoughts. Instead, I did a little happy dance and chortled and giggled and laughed like a mad thing. I did remember to sign the register. (To my fellow tenners: in the absence of guidance, I used the AT-enners symbol. Please let me know which design is actually used so I can use it in the future.) I took a few pictures. Two section hikers snapped my picture at the summit.I remembered to collect three stones for me to carry from Georgia to Maine. One to leave on Katahdin and two for me to keep. I had to look around for a while before finding suitable ones. I finally selected one roughly the size and shape of an egg, one about the size of my palm and flat, and finally one about the size of an orange. They should make nice mementos.I retraced my steps down to the parking lot, took a couple of pictures in there, and headed north, a bounce in my step and a song on my lips.After admiring the beauty of the ice and snow sparkling everywhere, I began to notice the sounds more than anything. In an earlier post I pondered how many words the National Weather Service has for precipitation. Well, Mother Nature has many more for the sounds that precipitation makes. I could hear tricklings under the snow and ice, and the gurgling of streams. The slender branches of some small trees hung down and made little plinking sounds, like wind chimes, as a breeze moved them. Crashing ice and branches provided percussion (and worry). Tinklings and crunchings. It was an incredible experience.As the day warmed, more and more ice began breaking free from the branches to come crashing down. In one sunny spot I could see ice crystals falling and then changing to water before they hit the ground. They shimmered and twinkled with the colors of the rainbow.Sometimes the walking was a bit difficult as the ice and slush built up. My new Yak-Trax worked very well and were a big help. Branches drooped in the path or had fallen from above to create obstacles in the trail. I came to one place, before Three Forks, where a line rhododendron trees on both sides were weighted down and blocking my way. Their branches were interleaved so that simply brushing them aside would not work. I tried to push my way through, but they barely moved. I lowered my head and pushed harder. Again, they pushed back. I held the ball tightly and dug my new cleats in. I shouldered my way forward, pumping with my legs. I felt the right side give slightly, so I pivoted and spun, trying to break through the defensive line while the branches tried to grab and tackle me. With a final effort I had made it. I was free! Still spun backwards, I laughed in triumph at the line which had already returned to its formation. Continuing my motion I backed up a few steps, then turned upfield - to receive a dope-slap upside the head from the ice-covered palm of a rhododendron branch I hadn't noticed"Don't get cocky, kid," it seemed to say. "Save the victory celebration for Katahdin."Meekly I resumed walking.After Three Forks the ice was falling from the trees more and more. At one point I pulled my broad-brimmed sun hat on from where I had pushed it back to my shoulder to be rewarded with a shower of ice that had accumulated in the upturned hat. The clumps of ice falling from towering tulip poplars was the worst. Some of them were the size of bananas. They were HARD. I picked up a couple of welts before I discovered the use of the hiker's duck-and-cover. I would listen for the ice letting go from the big branches above me and then protect myself. By bending forward at the waist I could bring my head down to where my oversized pack would deflect most of the ice. To make sure I would bring my arms up over my ears. This usually workedI arrived at Hawk Mountain Shelter in the late afternoon. I had to laugh at myself, though. As I unpacked my pack, I discovered that my Crocs and my side holster pockets had accumulated a full load of ice. I wonder how much it all weighed and how far I had carried it.After a while, David arrived along with Moose, his chocolate lab. He was out for a few days to decompress. A little while later another thru-hiker turned up. Kevin, who had started the approach trail that morning, arrived at the summit at 3PM and showed up at the shelter before dark. He was really moving!As it was a cold night I turned in early, snuggling down into my bag and reviewed the day. It was an experience I was very glad I had not missed. If most days on the trail are half this good, it will be a very satisfying hike.However, as I dozed off, I found myself wondering if Aragorn, in the opening quote, was bending over, head to his knees in solem thought, or was he just doing the hiker's duck and cover?(PS: To those of you banging your head on your keyboards over my selection of stones to carry for 2200 miles - you can stop now. The actual stones are more the size of rocks I pull from the treads of my boots.)