Date: 2017-10-20
From: Winding Stair Gap, then Franklin

To: Standing Indian Shelter
Miles today: 23.5
Weather: clear sky

It is 7:25 am, 46 degrees, long enough before sunrise that the sky is still suffused with grays only, no pink or orange. We are deep into October and I¢m in Dot¢s car, warm motel bed a memory, one more in an impossibly long string, as many seemingly as the roots and rocks of the Appalachian Trail. Once more to the trailhead, this time at Winding Stairs Gap.While I¢m still in the car, I better get something off my chest. It took me till the third phone call of the day to tell Frodo. This was a sentence I¢ve never said to her in 40 years. Without any segue or preamble, I paused and then just said it. ¢I am sleeping in bed with another woman tonight.¢ Did I just hear a pin drop out there in the silence of you reading this? What did Frodo do? She sensed my embarrassment, first chuckled and then we both laughed.The two-bed motel room with four hikers of both sexes is a trail phenomenon common enough. ¢Don¢t sleep on the floor, Scout, we¢ll share the bed.¢ In truth, we sleep closer together when we're sardined into most shelters. Yet at age 66, this was a first for me and I was often self-conscious. I turned over less frequently and I was aware of when she did. I¢¦miss¢¦Frodo.Somewhere about ten miles into the trail today, about 11:30 am because I was booking, I became a two-digit midget. I was looking hard on the trail for any sign. I should know by now that there would be nada. Where were the letters in stones saying, ¢100 MILES LEFT!¢? Nada, nothing. I celebrated by myself ¢ Aloha, Funky Duck, Mona, and Franky must be ahead. I wanted to be at the shelter 23 miles along well before dark. This time I wouldn¢t construct a monument. But I felt imprinted deep inside, ¢I have less than 100 miles left!¢I¢d planned to push to 16 miles for lunch at the Carter Gap Shelter, around 2:00 pm. But at 1:00, at an unmarked overlook with a glorious view, there were Aloha, Mona, and Funky Duck having lunch. There was only one thing to do. And I did.The trail tread was great today except for 200 yards of downhill that was trying to channel Maine. For the first time in months I grabbed a strong sapling to swing myself down a 5-foot drop. Funky Duck said, ¢I actually used a hand to grab a rock to lower myself.¢With two miles left to the shelter, there was a small bald atop Standing Indian Mountain. Dot was jogging up the trail toward me. ¢What¢s wrong with this picture?¢ She parked a mile beyond the shelter and hiked in with her sleeping gear and !! sodas, wine, raw materials for s¢mores. But then ¢I got antsy, Scout.¢ So she jogged two more miles up the trail.Here¢s Aloha, Funky Duck, and me on the Standing Indian Bald the moment an alien tractor beam struck us and lifted us to the heavens. [Frodo, insert a snarky comment here.] (Frodo: What?? I haven¢t even seen the photo!  Maybe it actually happened! And besides, when do I ever make snarky comments??!!)  http://www.trailjournals.com/j...This evening I sat at a perfect campfire that Dot and Mona lit, roasting the perfect marshmallow. See the photo above.At the campfire we were joined by a most convivial quintet: Lucas, his dad Terry, Nathan, and Terry. (Frodo: Okay, I can¢t help myself. I think you mean a quartet, since there are 4 of them. And are two of them named Terry, or did you goof?)(Ah, in your tiny handwritten notes about the photos, I think it says the second Terry is really William.) We reveled in answering questions about our hikes. http://www.trailjournals.com/j... It¢s been a most wonderful day. Nite.