Date: 2018-03-21
From: DickÃÂÃÂ¢ÃÂÃÂÃÂÃÂs Creek Gap

To: Muskrat 
Miles today: 11.8
Weather: few clouds

Staying in a hostel reminded me of the military. Several people to a room sleeping in bunks, strategically maneuvering to get showers and toilet time as quickly as possible, while also jockeying position to get phones charged at one of the scarce wall outlets. It is loud in the evening as the mostly younger sect plays board games and laughs hysterically at each joke cracked, funny or not.A chorus of snoring, and us older guys with aged bladders climbing up and down our bunks through the night, made sleeping an iffy affair.  Everybody is up before dawn packing up their gear focused intently on the mission ahead. Then it¢s all-you-can-eat cereal before the shuttles leaves for the trailhead.This day rudely welcomed me and the others with snow, wind, and ice, the tail end of a nor¢easter that was wracking the eastern seaboard.  At the last minute I opted out of taking the first shuttle and decided to quit my hike.As Dean and I were talking the night before, we both came to the conclusion that none of this was fun. The bad weather, the constant packing and unpacking, the crowded campsites, the endless rollercoaster of ascents and descents over rock and root strewn terrain with all your gear strapped to your back.  Up to this point it all pretty well sucked, at least for us.For me, it feels like a mad race to the next shelter in which you keep falling further and further behind.  Experienced, faster hikers get the prize of shelter and not having to set up tents and hammocks in the cold wet muck and snow; and the older, slower, or less experienced hikers get the shaft.  It's like a bad dream where no matter how hard you try, you can¢t keep up with the pack... and then leaving the ones you like behind because they hike slower.  In my brief and laughable experience as a biker, the dynamic was the opposite.  Inexperienced bikers in a group always led pack, while seasoned bikers took position in the rear keeping a watchful eye on newbies.However, I do understand that driven people have goals.  Hiking is an individual sport.  I too have left slower hikers behind because I wanted to make my goal for the day.   The mental challenge is every bit as real as the physical challenge when you hike alone. The cold is colder and dangers are more real.  It also feels as if I¢m not fitting in very well socially with our bubble. Very few, including me, are not taking time to smell the roses - roses of which seem few and far between, and take tremendous effort to reach.  Had the hike started in better weather conditions I'm sure my experience would be somewhat different. I asked a trail circuit chaplain at the hostel if she knew how I could get to a rental car outlet. She said she would take me (but clearly didn¢t want to, as the closest was thirty miles away). Then after chatting a while, and with staff encouragement, I decided to brave the cold and snow and tackle the next few days of four and five thousand foot elevations in the bad weather ahead.The chaplain's prayer was answered on this date as I had an excellent hiking day. I passed the Georgia/North Carolina border, and the famous twisted oak, albeit in high winds and snow.The suck began when I stumbled into Muskrat Shelter campsite. The shelter was, as usual, jammed with mostly younger faster, and irritatingly loud hikers. The temps were dropping rapidly and it was snowing very hard. So I found a spot to pitch my tent on a bed of cold white fluff, and with my fingers numb, my water frozen, and clothing drenched in the sweat of unventilated layers.  I forwent cooking and snacked on a protein bar for dinner.  It appears that I couldn¢t have cooked anyway because my new Jetboil stove was missing. I laid it out on my bunk the night before at the hostel and that¢s the last I saw of it.  After my frozen snack at Muskrat early that evening, I laid in my sleeping bag for the next 12 hours trying to stay warm enough to survive.  I layered with everything I had. T-shirt and undies, base layer long-johns and top, fleece jacket and hiking pants, puffy jacket, and rain suit. Socks on my hands because my gloves were wet.  And this was the first day of Spring.At one point during the night when my frozen fingers would allow it, with one spotty bar showing, I texted my wife to pray and set the phone outside my sleeping bag hoping the text would eventually catch an airwave. It did...and she prayed.