Date: 2004-05-06
From: Iron Mountain Shelter

To: Four Miles North of Abingdon Gap Shelter
Miles today: 20.3
Weather: broken clouds

Today was a long and hot day. The original plan was to hike from Iron Mountain Shelter to Abingdon Gap Shelter, leaving exactly 10 miles into Damascus for Friday. I awoke at first light and did the normal routine to eat breakfast and get packed up. The hike was 16.3 miles. Soon into it, I passed the Nick Grindstaff Monument, which is a rock chimney-like monument to a hermit who lived alone in the area for decades. When he died they buried him there alone. His monument is inscribed with the words "He lived alone, suffered alone, and died alone." Hiking the terrain in this section is much more tame. There are no 2000 foot climbs or descents since the path keeps to the inter-connecting high ridge lines. But it is a never ending series of small ups and downs of a few hundred feet. This goes on all day and it tires you out. It was nice hiking this morning to Double Springs Gap Shelter - about 7 miles. After that the temperature rose quickly and the bright sunshine was punishing since in some places there is very little shade. But despite the difficulty posed by the heat, this section was beautiful almost beyond description and it put me in a comtemplative mood. As I passed long-abandoned fence lines through what at first appeared to be untamed back country, I couldn't help but think of what it had been like for young boys whose experience it was to grow up somewhere down in those hollows. What I struggled so hard to experience under somewhat artificial circumstances, they had thought of as their normal playground growing up. I felt a kinship with them as I knew at least some of them must have realized the special nature of this place, and maybe had their own familiar paths here, even before the AT was routed through. They might not have known the struggles of their parents during tough times, just making ends meet, but I suspected that they spent many hours roaming free along these ridges, picturesque valleys, and beautiful forested mountains, thinking everything was perfect and all was right in their world. I suspect they knew the route of every wandering creek's tumbling, rocky flow, and each quiet pool down below in the remote coves. They most likely knew the location of every natural spring whose tinkling trickle emerges from the mountain down off the crest of the ridge in these quiet, shaded clearings, providing a cool drink and a place to fall on the grass for a rest. I remembered my own growing up from earliest years, roaming the moderately wooded pasture land at the back of our small farm, and losing myself in the beauty of the early spring days as they asserted themselves and forced the long cold winter to recede into the background of our memories. Somewhere there are men my age whose memory of this place matches those I cherish of growing up in the countryside. It appears that this land is being given back to its natural state, as evidenced by the downed, rusty wire disappearing beneath the tangled vines and briars, and the few surviving fence posts still tracing the line of the original barrier across the former hillside clearings. That's good for men like me who can experience this wildness, but I feel a shared sense of brotherhood with those who knew it as their own, even if temporarily. I knew their sweat, enthusiasm, and hope for the future as they labored to make a living from this land. I don't begrudge them their livlihood, and feel that their part of the history of these places is as natural as the current transition back to the wild. These huge old oak trees and cozy little hide-aways below me in the hollows were noticed and appreciated by generations of local inhabitants, and I know my heart beat with the same appreciation as theirs did, so many years ago. I'm glad I slowed down long enough to notice this beautiful place, one so few of us will ever see, and maybe fewer will truly appreciate. My description is hopelessly inadequate, and there is a sense of loneliness as I ponder the thought that no one else will really be able to share the memory I had this morning of this almost idyllic land. Moving on, I had lunch at a picnic table where route 421 passes through the mountains. I rested, ate, and filtered water from the nearby spring. After that I hiked about two miles and called in my progress to Marlene, and to Teri and Charlotte at the office. I was unable to get cell phone service earlier as I tried several times. The hike this afternoon was the same with the small climbs and descents over and over. But the hardest part was the heat. I just kept slugging along and made it to Abingdon Gap Shelter about 4:00. I was thinking about loading up on water and having supper and then hiking about another hour and a half when in walks Flamingo Joe with the same idea. Joe had stayed an extra day at Laurel Creek Hostel so he could join a crew doing trail maintenance for a day. He hikes much faster than I do so he eventually caught up today. We had each gone about 1/4 mile down a steep mountainside to a spring, filtered water and climbed up again - a tough trek after a long hot day. Then we packed up, said goodbye to Tabasco, Poler and her dog Jack, and Pilot, and hiked in the cool evening from 5:45 to 7:30 and found a place to set up a makeshift camp along the trail. We probably went about 4 more miles so today is the longest I have ever hiked in a single day - 20.3 miles. It is a beautiful evening, almost dark now. Flamingo Joe and I had good conversation and I got to know him much better. He is 22 and a good guy. Tomorrow we plan to start early and head for Damascus, now a mere 6 miles away. That will be a milestone for me. I will pick up my mail drop and plan to take a zero day in town to rest before heading out for the final 5 days. It is going by fast. Today when I called home I did not get Marlene, but it was so good to hear her voice on the voice mail message. I did talk with Angela and caught up on her news. I miss Marlene but look forward to seeing her soon. Since the hike has to end, its nice to anticipate seeing her again. I think I'm tired enough to just go straight to sleep tonight - no reading. It will be a beautiful night with clear skies, stars, and a just-past-full moon. I need a good rest. Goodnight Sweetheart.