Date: 2004-05-30
From: Thomas Knob Shelter

To: Hurricane Mtn Shelter
Miles today: 15.3
Weather: overcast clouds

The morning of the 30th was gray. In fact the whole area was engulfed in a cloud. My birthday had been blessed in an oasis of gorgeous weather. We all went about our morning feeding and packing. We said our goodbyes as we each left.Walking along the trail the number of folks camping in the area was unbelievable. There were tents everywhere. There were easily fifty spread across the vast meadows. This was, after all, Memorial Day weekend. People were packing up or cooking breakfast everywhere. There were deer grazing on the grasses here and there too.The trail meandered through the rolling ridge top meadows among clumps of trees and rocks. The mists and clouds drifted by, clearing in time, and painting the sky with blues, whites and grays. This was not nearly as rugged but had the feel of walking above tree line in the Presidential Range of the White Mountains of New Hampshire. As in the Whites, the AT circumnavigates some of the summits. Coming down from Thomas Knob, revealed some folks breaking camp off in the meadow. These folks were familiar. We had met a couple of nights ago. We had shared a room at The Place in Damascus and they had stopped in at Lost Mountain Shelter and camped a bit beyond it. Now here the two of them were about to hit the trail. Belting out a nice foo from on high, I bounded down the trail and across the grasses to greet them. It was a fine reunion and we headed out on the trail together for a bit.This was Crazy Legs and Tall Tales. They were early to mid twenties. Crazy Legs was on the short side and from Maine. She was quite a little dynamo on the trail. Tall Tales was bearded, on the tall side and wore a kilt. Later his name would make more sense after hearing or reading a few of his stories or tall tales. They were in great spirits and seemed to both be fairly tough hikers. It was fun talking with them. They had a rough night of it with either horses or deer right outside their tent. Later today, Crazy Legs sister, Lurah, and boy friend, Evan, were to join them on the trail for a few days. There was a planned rendezvous at a little dirt road crossing further along somewhere in the Grayson Highlands.There was a sign for the Wilburn Ridge Trail that went over a nice rocky ridge and rejoined the parallel, flatter AT in a mile. This guy was not going to pass this more spectacular and more challenging route on the account of its having blue blazes. The purists would object, too bad for them.It was a fun little scramble up to the rock summit and the views were even better. The actual AT was in sight a stones throw away just about the whole time.The blossoming trees in the gentle meadows were such a contrast to the rugged rocky crags. It was perfect.Climbing over a rise among some large boulders there was a surprise. A bunch of ponies were just hanging out, grazing, sleeping, nursing and just having fun. Last night at the shelter there had been talk of wild ponies. The kids said they had carrots for them. Still, this was my first encounter and a bit surprising to be this close. They were right on the trail and seemed uninterested in moving.Soon Crazy Legs and Tall Tales showed up. They had met up with their friends and that had of course slowed them down. I was still being cautious not to frighten the ponies but if this crowd wasn't going to scare them off they must be pretty tame. In fact, they came right up to us. There was no fear of humans. They may have been wild in that no one kept them but they were plenty tame. They posed for pictures. They would take food out of our hands. Tall Tales had an apple he had sliced. He gave each of us a slice or two for the ponies.They liked to lick pack straps for the salt. They were quite emboldened from past encounters with food bearing hikers. It was a lot of fun and we took lots of pictures. A good deal of time passed hanging with the ponies.Sadly the trail began to descend back into the trees. The sky was now a gorgeous blue dotted with white clouds. There were still plenty of day hikers around doing various loops and such. Before too long it came to Wise Shelter just a hundred feet off to the right. A few folks left shortly after my arrival. A bit later Crazy Legs, Tall Tales, Lurah & Evan arrived. It was lunch time and this was a fine spot for it. We all talked. Crazy Legs sister Lurah and Evan got a heavy dose of trail lore. The Evan was a marathon runner and actually both of them were doing quite well though there had been some juggling of gear to lighten some loads.Lunch had been devoured and it was really time to move on when distant rumbles suddenly became local and the sky burst into rain almost out of the blue. About 30 seconds after the first drops hit the shelter roof the downpour arrived. Nobody wanted to leave in this rain and ironically we had just been discussing how a thru-hiker really can¢t be held back by the weather. Then again this seemed to be a fast moving storm and why get soaked if not necessary. We looked at one and other, tossed around some more rationalizations, and broke out more food. Evan had been bemoaning a heavy jar of peanut butter in his pack. I had some extra crackers and a bunch of Oreos the trail angles had left. The peanut butter provided an excellent dip for the Oreos. We all shared and foisted food on one and other. I ate entirely too much peanut butter. The feeding orgy became quite a joke.Other hikers arrived at the shelter soaked. We squished to the back to make room and invited them in. A bunch of girl scouts showed up just drenched to the bone. They were each posed with the question of whether to wear their wet clothes dry or to change to dry clothes and then back to wet ones after lunch. That question is always a tough one. Once the rain stopped we left the shelter to the wet ones. Back on the trail, other hiker¢s eyes would pop when they saw one of us. Why are you still dry, they would ask in an almost angry tone. It was kind of embarrassing but what could you say. Oh, yeah, I waited it out in the shelter. Quite a down pour, wasn¢t it. They would grumble as we passed picking our respective ways through the now swamped and puddled trail.The trail came upon a place called The Scales. This is where folks used to weigh their cattle after a summer of grazing the highlands before shipping them to market. There was a little parking area here serviced by a dirt road. There was also a nice privy. Tall Tales and some others were hanging out on a hillside and didn¢t seem to notice my passage through the area.Though it was plenty gray, the rain would not return until the next shelter, Old Orchard. There were a bunch of scouts and a few leaders there. They didn¢t exactly jump up to make room for me but there was no plan for me to stay here anyway. Unfortunately, this was not a Leave-No-Trace enlightened group. The kids were most concerned with building a fire with wet wood while the dads were taking a Whisperlite stove out for its maiden voyage. Near disaster erupted at the other end of the table but they wouldn¢t hear any advice from a twenty year Whisperlite veteran. These are the type of scout leaders who give scouting a bad name and scouts poor role models. Fortunately I know plenty of respectable leaders. As the rains came so did the scouts come running to the shelter. I pushed some of their stuff aside to make room for myself until the rain started to let up. Then it was back to the trail despite the lateness of the hour. Getting trapped here with this sad excuse for a scout troop would not be a happy time.The rain held off pretty well for the rest of the day. The Handbook mentioned a new shelter that was due to open about this time. Dan, the southbound section hiker at Thomas Knob Shelter last night, verified that in fact it was done but there was no sign as yet. He added that it was hard to miss. Just turn left at the yellow bulldozer and ascend the shallow log steps. Now granted it was a small bulldozer but what a strange thing to find on the trail.Hurricane Mountain Shelter was a beautiful and brand new log shelter. It was actually one of those log home kit type deals. This was its first week of operation. It was not visible from the trail because it was just around a little shoulder. The approach trail wasn¢t long or steep. Water was from a brook just the other side of the AT.It had only been a 15.3 mile day so it was still early. It wasn¢t long before others arrived. There were two girls and a guy. Then there was Dave the ridge runner. And a bit later, Slow Train showed up. Slow Train was a bit tired and unhappy. He had intended to stay at Old Orchard Shelter but felt unwelcome. The scouts had made no effort to make room for him. That was a missed opportunity to "Do a good turn". He pushed on and was really beat. He was climbing into his sleeping bag without eating dinner. We all admonished him and gave him some nice hot leftovers. He was much happier. It is too bad that some scout troops have poor leadership.The rain came and went throughout the evening and night. We had a good time talking and sleeping. I especially enjoyed talking with Dave the Ridge Runner. It¢s interesting learning about what a Ridge Runner actually does and listening to some of the stories of his experiences. This was not his first year at the job. He carries a radio. During his first year he went to call in a few times and discovered that no one was listening. Eventually he convinced the folks he works for that there should be a scheduled daily radio call. Things are better now. He would ask typical ¢Where are you heading?¢ questions but they were actually part of the job. He had to report on everyone he met on the trail. Dave got an earful from some of the thru-hikers because he had taken the registers from some of the shelters in the area because they were full. The tough thing for us is that this is how we keep track of one and other. Even if there is no room to write we like to read about our friends. Never the less, he was a good guy.