Date: 2011-04-16
From: Grand Prix Motel

To: Tri-Corners Knob Shelter
Miles today: 15.6
Weather: scattered clouds

(In which I walk in the wrong direction and get my feet wet)For breakfast Curmudgeon and I join Hopeful, Mrs. Hopeful and Mom-Spelled-Backwards for pancakes at what turns out to be the fifth pancake restaurant we pass in Hopeful's truck. Hopeful has a charming southern drawl and is a born storyteller. He entertains us throughout the meal with tales from his 2003 thru-hike and tales of growing up a long time ago in the south.At one point, in reference to my pack weight, Hopeful declares that the three words that best describe ultralighters are "cold, wet and hungry". I consider making a rebuttal, but hold myself to pointing out that I am carrying a 10 degree sleeping bag (the warmest I've seen on the trail) and 8 pounds of food. I am surprised that Hopeful, having thru-hiked before, is one of the few anti-ultralighters I've met on the trail.Winton Porter and Pirate at Neel's Gap are notorious anti-lighters, and while I avoided taking to them for that reason, I did overhear some derogatory remarks. Their financial livelihood depends on selling medium-weight gear to hikers carrying too much heavy gear. Ultralighters, carrying gear lighter than that currently mass-produced, not only avoid spending money but reduce business from other hikers when they realize that the best gear is only available online. So I understand why it is in Winton and Pirate's personal best interests to put-down ultralighters, especially in the presence of other customers.Resentment from other hikers, on the other hand, is a little more difficult to understand. It comes down to, I eventually decide, rationalization. By believing that hikers carrying less weight are cold, hungry and miserable, other hikers are able to feel better about their own pack weight. To believe otherwise, to accept that the tiring work of carrying a 30-40 pound pack all day is for no good reason and buys no additional comfort, would be too depressing to contemplate. I keep these observations to myself, however, and the conversation soon turns to other matters.Hopeful and Mrs. Hopeful drive us back to the trail, and Curmudgeon and I hike the first few miles together. Though we only exchange a few words, it is pleasant to have the companionship of another hiker after having hiked alone for most of the past week.After stopping for lunch in the first shelter, which seems to be 0.2 miles off the trail, I see a sign for a shortcut back to the AT, but decide to walk the long way back to make sure I don't miss any of the trail. Curmudgeon starts out with me, but soon HQ comes the other way and says that we're going the wrong way. I explain that I don't want to take a cutoff trail and he shrugs and Curmudgeon decides to hike the other way with him. When I reach the turn off the shelter, I realize that HQ was right, and what I had thought was a side trail to the shelter was actually the AT, and what I had thought was the continuation of the AT was really a different trail. Cursing my previous lack of attention to the signs, I turn around and hike the same section a third time. When I finally catch up with Curmudgeon, he asks about the section of trail I went back to see. I tell him that it was amazing, with a waterfall, tourists taking pictures, and a bear. I have him up until the part about the bear, which he has been waiting to see all trip, at which point I admit to walking in the wrong direction.Having avoided the rain the night before, I am now walking in its result, a river of water that flows over the entire trail. Soon I stop bothering to look for rocks to step on and simply slosh through it. The temperature begins to drop, and hiking above 5000 feet with soaked shoes and socks is not one of the trail's more pleasurable sensations.Having passed up sneakers in Gatlinburg, I am stuck for the next couple of days at least with a failing left shoe. The shoe is well on its way to an existence as multiple separate entities, the rift between sole and body now irreconcilable, if not yet complete. Still, at least it will dry faster now, I tell myself.Spurred on by an impatience from wasting 0.4 miles walking the wrong way, I make good time and pass the next shelter. Sometime before reaching the final shelter, I have mentally had enough hiking. I retain enough awareness of the trail to lookout for obstacles and stay on trail, but the bulk of my consciousness recedes from the trail to think instead about computers and the software I would like to create. I haven't often detached myself like this, but the break feels good, and takes my mind off of my soaked feet.Shortly after I reach the shelter it begins to hail, and I am glad that I have a roof over my head and a warm sleeping bag to get me through the night.