Date: 2003-02-28
From: Home

To: Springer Shelter
Miles today: 0.2

Folks thought I was tense about my hike, but no - it was the 19 million loose ends to tie up properly. My last day was a whirlwind of decisions, packing up, taking carloads to storage in a cold downpour. An incredible team of friends - Steve, Carolyn and Kevin - showed up to make it happen. You really know who your friends are on moving day. Thank you all. No one hikes this Trail alone.Somewhere around the last load, I said goodbye to my pets. Rocket the cat is very independent and self-sufficient, and pretended indifference.My little dog Pogo whined at the door in the cold rain and tore at my heart. She wanted in, but the carpets were newly shampooed. I showed her her little dog house, which was warm and snug, and finally she have up and went in. Heartbreak! My landlords had decided Pogo needed to stay with the rowdy dogpack on the farm, where she had lived for years. This was an enormous gift, and a tremendous relief to me. Trish, who now rented the barn below, was also keeping an eye on the pets. A soft-hearted animal lover, she was taking Pogo home on this wet, cold night.I didn't finish my packing up until 9 pm, and I was whipped. Totally sucked out. I walked over to my landlords' house to say good-bye to Bob and Dot before it got too late. It is sad leaving this farm that has been so good to me, as have they. I have lived like a millionaire on this gorgeous piece of green land in the middle of horse country.Nine-thirty, and I still hadn't packed my pack. All the items I thought I might want were strewn across the floor. In addition, I was going out with a pack I hadn't yet gear-tested but for short day walks with low weight. Because of the heft of my winter gear, I chose a ULA P-2 over my beloved and Trail-tested Moonbow. But now, as I made my selections of puffy winter gear, I was finding it all wasn't fitting in. You wanna talk stress? I had no more gas in the tank this night to deal with that. I just tossed it all in, stuck my foot in the bag and shoved. I had the pack's extension collar all the way up. I looked ridiculous wearing it. I looked like a blue marshmallow.I've never been so ill-prepared for a hike, and here I was going off on the longest one of my life.Let's see, I got my handbook late, no time to section off the pages, so I am carrying the whole damn book. I also had no time to learn my camera, so I am carrying the manual. The sale of my truck is still pending, so I am carrying the title to my truck. And so it goes...Finally, at 10:30 pm, I drove my Subaru to my friend Diane's house in Pinehurst. She was going to love it and shelter it while I was gone, driving it to get groceries so the tires stayed round, the oil circulated. She met me at the door sleepy-eyed, in her jammies.I bunked the night in her lush guest room, with its sumptuous featherbed. It would be awhile before I slept in such luxury. The hard ground and hip-bone-grinding shelter floors were my lot for the next half year.The next morning I awoke to more luxury: Diane cooked me an omelet with fresh spinach and feta cheese (mmmm, goat cheese, you listening Clyde?), french bread toast, high dollar strawberry jam and a pot of good, strong coffee. She also repeated her kind offer of a place to alight when I returned from the Trail. I got a huge hug and a warm good-bye from this dear friend. I felt my eyes sting at all the cumulative goodness out there, supporting me in this goofy endeavor.Before long another friend Cricket showed up in her four-wheel drive car. A horse buddy, Cricket was going to drive me to Springer, up the infamous Forest Service road 42, then hike up the mountain and spend the night with me. We had ourselves a real Thelma and Louise road trip, we did, often lost on our nine hour trip. Somehow we thought we would be there, hiking, by 4 PM, but that must have been fuzzy math. It was after 6PM when we pulled into the Springer lot.FS 42 had started well, but turned into a rutted, muddy, car-stopping mush near the top. Clearly, it had been raining here awhile. Good thing Cricket had four-wheel drive, and knew how to use it. We saw a skunk on the way up.As we unloaded gear, a car horn honked. Up drove friends Terry (trailname, Bumpkin) and her son Kevin, shuttled by Coosa with her canine companion Casey the Wonder Dog. We started up the .9 mile trail, dodging the puddles. I had hoped our first night would be a gentle one, to ease us in.The sun was setting, and we resigned ourselves to missing the sunset. Yet, on the hike up, we got the remnants, a smear of rose streaking across the sky. Darkness fell before we reached the summit, and we switched on our headlamps.Ahead, the light of a camp fire. I whooped, and got whoops in return. As I pulled up, I see someone. "Are you Jan?" asks the stranger. It is Subman, who I know only from his online posts. He gave me a big hug. He introduced his friend Pringles.Next, out of the mist came past hiking buddy Hotdog. He had sunglasses on. "Why do you have sunglasses on?" I asked. "Oh," he said. He had been griping that his headlight seemed dim. It wasn't the headlamp, Dog... Pack 3/1, as Subman had dubbed us, was assembling on Springer, but BearKat had gone on. Where is young A-Train? The Wench came up next and we hugged. Loving these hugs! She had pack towels made with Ted's smiling mug on them, and passed them out. So now Ted was hanging with us too. Wench also showed me Ted's flag, with she and Subman had carried up the Approach Trail. More on the flag later. There was much talk of Ted, which started turning into Ted jokes. He would have appreciated this. You had to know Ted.Dog and new friend Happy got a camp fire started after 2 hours, and the mist cleared off. The stars bright as diamond studs. I decided to hang my pack on the bear cables, as there were no mouse hangers. It was so cold, I slept with my electronics so I would have a camera in the morning. I was beat, and slept hard.