Date: 2004-04-02
From: Silar Bald Shelter

To: Cold Spring Shelter
Miles today: 12.1
Weather: light rain

I got going at 7:30 am. The ground was only crunchy instead of being concrete-hard so my decision to sleep low was a good one. At first the mud under the surface ice was still soft and the trail was free of snow. But it was overcast and foreboding and as I climbed towards Wayah Bald powdery snow appeared, then snowy footprints, then the trail became just a track in the snow. It became colder in proportion to the snowyness of the trail and the icy wind poured with the roar of a river through the gaps between the peaks. I have one last view of the town of Franklin nestled far below, the sun shining warmly on it as if to mock me and the icy world I had climbed into.Soon the only way to keep warm was to keep moving. On the level spots I strode quickly, on steeper spots I shuffled up as fast as I could. As I got closer to the summit the wind became constant. The air got foggy and I realized I was way up inside the body of a cloud, like one of the ones that had been drifting high above the town of Franklin.It reminded me of the Jack London story "To Build a Fire" or Robert Scott's diary of his fatal trip to the South Pole. It was cold enough to die up here if one made the wrong mistake. I thought about the hiker who blithely set out at 2pm yesterday for the next shelter 12 miles away without even a flashlight. In the last leg a hiker missed a turn and got lost for days on a side-trail. Someone said there were over 200 search and rescue workers out looking for him before he got found. That was during warm weather, now that could be fatal. That leaves me a bit keyed on edge and I watch the tracks carefully. When an orange-blazed sidetrail joins the Appalachian Trail I watch nervously for the blazes to be sure there are still white blazes and I have not strayed onto the sidetrail after it split off. My feet start to get cold and I discover I must keep brushing the snow off the tops of my boots or it melts and the water soaks through the uppers and wets my socks and chills my feet.Suddenly I find myself at a parking spot with restrooms and trashcans. There must be a road to the top of Wayah Bald. The trails follow a paved blacktop sidewalk to a big display sign and then an old stone firetower converted to an observation platform. Nearby is a rail with a sign. It is titled "The Ever-Changing View" and has all the landmarks labeled. All I can actually see is the inside of the cloud; the irony of all those labels and no view is irresistable so I stop and get out my camera to take a picture.As I start descending the mountain the snow on the trail slowly fades to mud and the temperature eases somewhat. With relief I pass where the orange-blazed trail branches off. The reprieve lasts for a few miles, then I start climbing again. It is high enough that it SHOULD be the last mile to the shelter. But it seems to go on forever, the temperature is dropping and visibility is dropping fast. More than once I see what looks like the roof-line of the shelter through the murk, only to find it is just a leaning tree. I am starting to worry when suddenly the shelter emerges from the gloom. Thank goodness!It is 2pm and to my surprise I am the first here. I claim the most sheltered spot by the windward wall and set up my bed. Half an hour later Crash-Bang from last night arrives followed by Katy and Andrew from last night.A bit later an older man, Stretch, arrives making five for the night. We spend the evening telling about ourselves and kidding each other. I think we are all a bit on edge from the long cold walk and relieved to have gotten to a shelter. It looks to be another cold night and I put on nearly everything I have. We figure the bears have gone back to bed so rather than bear bagging our food from trees most of us hang our food from the mouse protectors on the ceiling of the shelter. Most shelters have these, consisting of a cord with a stick tied at the end as a crosspiece for hanging and a tuna can in the middle attached through a hole punched in the center of the can. In theory if a mouse tries to climb down the cord, it slips on the tuna can and falls to the floor.Because of the cold, someone half-jokingly says "Let's make a pact that none of us will die in the night. If anyone thinks they are about to freeze, they should say a codeword.""Cheeseburgers" someone else fills in. We all laugh, because we have been talking constantly about the cheeseburgers at the Nantahala Outdoor Center so hardly five minutes pass without someone saying "cheeseburgers". We should be there tomorrow.To my surprise it actually starts to warm up. I unzip my sleeping bag a couple feet to spill the excess heat. Then Andrew complains about mice from across the shelter and I hear a scratching sound nearby so I hastily zip my bag shut before I have company. It sounds like there could be a mouse between my bag and its cover but there is nothing I can do about it in the dark so after some effort I go back to sleep.