Date: 2013-05-03
From: Stealth Camp about Watauga Lake

To: Double Springs Gap, campsite
Miles today: 18.4

I could feel something moving in the ground under me. The ground was vibrating. There must have been a little animal's den under the ground. It kept me awake. The wind howled all night long. The rain fly kept the wind out of the tent, but because of where I set up the tent, I couldn't pull the vestibule front taut. So it popped and cracked like a flag on a flagpole all night. It was too windy to try to set up the stove and make a warm breakfast, so I had cold cereal. I managed to get the back packed and the tent taken down without losing it to the wind. It was gusting up a storm! And it was cold. I started out wearing rain pants over my hiking skirt, a fleece over a t-shirt, a beanie and gloves.   My fingers were still numb. I'm guess with the wind chill, it was probably in the low 40s. There was a long arduous climb up. I was still head-tired and body-tired from the lack of sleep. Every step was a conscience decision to move forward. There was simply no pep in my engine. My energy level was the lowest its probably been yet. I kept looking for places that I could stop to take a quick nap, but there were none. We were following along a ridge-line with the lake on one side and a steep downhill on the other. In the flat areas, poison ivy, stinging nettles and blackberry briers covered the ground. It did nothing to boost my morale. After trudging for two hours, I finally reached Venderventer Shelter. It was a 1960s cinder block 3-sided structure, covered in hiker graffiti and artwork. I set my pack down and went to admire the view. There was a big rocky outcrop overlooking the edge of the lack and the valley below. The wind was too strong to stay for very long. I went back in the shelter and pulled out some trailmix. I laid down with my head propped on my pack and read the graffiti. Most of it was peoples' names and odes to Bob Peoples, a locale hostel owner and trail maintenance legend. I tried to close my eyes for a quick nap. My neck was uncomfortable so I rolled to my side. The wind was so loud it sounded like I was standing at the top of Niagara Falls. It was unrelenting. I decided to nibble on the trail mix. I tried to guess what I was eating without looking. M&Ms were always a dead give away. Suddenly, a hiker emerged from the trail. It took a second to recognize him. It was Rob (Robert, the Warrior Hiker). I thought he was at least a week behind me. I was wrong. He had been averaging 23 miles a day. Damn. He stopped and chatted, and then energetically, he was off again. Unfortunately, none of his energy had rubbed off on me. I set off a few minutes later, shivering and stumbling along on the rocks and roots. There was still no protection from the wind. I passed Tumbleweed and Foolhardy. They were huddled underneath a spruce tree, trying to find a bit of protection while they had lunch. I stopped a little farther down at a campsite. I found a big oak that I hoped would act as a sort of wind block. It did nothing of the sort. I squatted down with my knees tucked to my chest. I wrapped my heavy rain jacket around my legs, but it would only reach to my shins. I felt like a little troll. I looked at the dirt under my nails and the dirt on my legs. I don't think I've ever felt less glamorous. Brownie and Trenchfoot stopped for lunch and a water top-off. We were all covered in goose bumps. After lunch, my energy levels and spirits spiked. I felt a lot stronger and no longer tired. I made a conscience decision not to look at my watch, just to walk. The trees were still pretty barren, but occasionally I'd see one tree in the distance with ghostly white flowers. When I would start to get close, the trail would be sprinkled with white tear-shaped petals. But each time I looked up to see which tree they came from, the glaring white sky would blend with the flowering tree and would give nothing away. It's as if the flowers vanished like a phantom. The wind also caused the trees to creak and squeak like a rusty hinge. As I passed one tree, it squeaked so loud it made me jump. I looked to see where the noise had come from and saw that the tree directly next to me was cracking in two. It looked like a piece of string cheese being torn apart. The canopy was swaying wildly in the wind. It was going to come down at any second. I ran up the hill and out of the tree's range as fast as I could. The afternoon went a lot quicker. The terrain evened out, and the trail turned out of the wind's range. I stopped at Iron Mountain Shelter just long enough to sign the register and kept going. I saw what looked like an old chimney, but when I got closer I realized it was a grave. Nick Grindstaff. He was an old hermit who had lived up on the mountain close to a century ago. The epitaph read: He lived alone, suffered alone, and died alone. The trail meandered around the hills for awhile, and finally it crossed a series of bogs using a series of low footbridges. Right before US 91 there was a iron box with crosses cut into it. A local Baptist church offered trail magic and prayers for hikers. It had been all eaten and drinken up. Bummer. I came out to the road and saw a minivan with the hackpack raised. I raised my chin to get a better look. I saw Trenchfoot and Brownie with their packs off standing behind it. Oh yes! Tim, Sheila and their three kids were there to replinish the hiker box. They were also making ham and cheese sandwichs and passing out sodas and chips. The white wonderbread felt so soft and clean in my hands. It wasn't mangled or smushed like all the other food in my food bag. I looked at the impression my thumb made in the bread. I smiled. I stayed and chatted with a bit, thanked them and headed on.The trail crossed the road and through a horse & cat proof gate and wandered out into an emerald green cow pasture. There were thousands of dandelions. The trail was flat and wide and handicap accessible. I felt like I was in the Wizard of Oz heading down the yellow brick road. I climbed over a few barbwire fences and passed by a herd of cows with their young calves. I hoped one of the mommas wouldn't get protective and chase me through the field. The trail climbed over another fence and headed back into the woods. There wear barages of violets and forget-me-nots, as if they'd come out to see us hikers off. I got to Double Spring Shelter and found a flat spot at the top of the hill to set up my tent. After dinner, I went back down to the shelter. Tumbleweed and Foolhardy had made a fantastic campfire, and there was Little SAS! She had put in a 20+ mile day. She's my hero! We sat around the campfire and talked until it was past dark and the fire had burned down. The wind is still howling. But what a great day it turned out to be!