Date: 2013-04-27
From: Apple Orchard Campsite

To: Roan High Knob Shelter
Miles today: 12.4
Weather: overcast clouds

Oh boy, did I sleep well last night! I heard the rain. I smiled and slept some more. I heard people moving and packing. I smiled again and snuggled deeper into my sleeping bag. I was warm, dry and in good spirits. I was in no rush to get anywhere. I ate my breakfast while everyone broke camp and set off. I felt a strong temptation to stay where I was, but there was a stronger pull to get moving. Luckily, my tent wasn't too wet, and with a few shakes my rain fly was more or less dry. I decked out in rain gear and put the pack cover one. It was quite cool out, so the extra layers felt good. It was even cold enough to call for gloves. Honestly, I didn't pay too much attention to the terrain or the guidebooks. I just stared hard at my feet and scrutinized every step, every rock, every root, every stick. It suddenly struck me. There would be millions of rocks and roots and sticks between here and Maine, and any desire to have them all removed was illogical and irrational. I moved slowly, but all my parts felt okay. It was quite on the trail. I only passed four people and a few people coming in the opposite direction. Before I realized it, I was at Greasy Creek Gap. There was a tiny word "Hostel ->" written on the white blaze. I don't think I would have realized where I was otherwise. I took a few breaks to give my feet a rest. They felt good. Why don't I do this more often? I could see a tall mountain with its top suffocated in colds and mist. That must be Roan Mountain, my destination du jour. Turns out, I was right. I stopped and had much lunch under spruce tree. It had started to mist and drizzle. It was so light with a light wind that trees left a "dry shadow". You could hear the sound of a light tinkling of drizzle on wet leaves.   Kokopelli and his dog, Deedee, passed by. They would be at the same shelter as me tonight. The trail got cruel after that. The climb started as I headed up towards Little Rock Knob; hand over hand, rock scaling, straight up. The fog and clouds had rolled in, and the visibility was limited. One second it would be clear, the next you could see no farther than 10-15 yards. A wet-smoke smell hung in the air, as if someone had dumped water on a campfire. You could also smell the fog. I passed a guy coming down the hill. He wished me luck on the next climb. It was a tough one, he said. He was right. Luckily, there was a vista when I got to the top. I could see a Christmas tree farm and a field full of white dots (I'm guessing they were sheep) miles across the way. As I crossed Hughes Gap, I saw a maroon truck parked. When I got closer, the driver's side door opened up, and a gentleman stuck his head out of the door. He and his wife owned a campground down the hill. He was handing out apples, bananas and snacks, and he asked if I would like one. Before I could stop the words from escaping my mouth, I asked for one of each. I was so ashamed; I sounded greedy. I tried to back peddle, but he just chuckled and gave me what I asked for. Oh, thank you!I started my long climb up Roan Mountain. I knew it would be touch. It was rainy enough to merit rain gear, but it's also too cold to be without it. You also build up so much sweat and heat that you have to keep moving or risk getting cold. Up the rainy, cold, foggy mountain I went. I passed through more balsam and spruce forests. The closer I got to the top, the steeper it seemed to get. There was one moment when I was so caught up in the huffing and puffing that I realized I wasn't really noticing the trail. The trail was eroded and the step in front of me was literally waist high. Geeze louise! Soon I arrived at a new section of trail, one that was recently built. There were lots of wood chips and plenty of mud. Sticky mud that suctioned to the bottom of your boots like hot tar. The trail was also laid with stone steps. It zigged and zagged, criss-crossing over the old trail that barreled straight up the mountain. There were trees and branches littering the old trail, deterring people. This new trail was longer, but I enjoyed it thoroughly!Once I got the top, the rain really let loose. I pulled the rain-hood over my head. I had been wearing my beanie all day, but I could feel the cold wet drip down the back of my neck. I came to a place where there was supposed to be a view, but all I could see was wet fog. Thick fog. I didn't stop. The rain started coming down even harder. I passed a hilltop meadow and a random old free-standing chimney, remnants of a time long before my presence. The trail turned back into the woods and widen. There were patches of snow. SNOW! What the heck? Seriously? Still? I noticed a couple of plate-size pock holes in the ground filled with water. At first I thought someone's foot had sunk into the mud. I tested the ground. It was firm. I realized that they were holes where rocks once stood. But who would have taken rocks from way up here? I looked in front of me. There was a 3X3 post with the words "Shelter .1 ->" carved into it. At the bottom, a pile of rocks. It was the trail telling me to call it a day. I crawled (again, waist-high steps) up the trail to the log-cabin style of shelter.   Kokopelli and his dog, Deedee, were there along with two other hikers. Orion, Little SAS and Davy Crockett came in soon after. I climbed up into the attic loft and literally crawled on my hands and knees across the floor. I set up my stuff next to the window and stripped off all my wet clothes. I was so thankful to have a dry set of long-johns, warm socks, a down jacket, gloves and a hat to put on. I made an early dinner and retreated into my warm sleeping bag. I wonder what tomorrow will hold. It's supposed to be a day of rain. Cold rain. We shall see.....