Date: 2004-05-29
From: Watauga Lake Shelter

To: The Gauntlet
Miles today: 13.7

I slept well in the hammock last night. The new insulation pad kept me warm and comfortable. The only distraction was a period of extremely loud snoring coming from within the shelter. The snoring person was Bear Killer.Swedish, who was sleeping in the shelter, later told me that the snoring was so loud that the floor was vibrating. To stop the snoring, Swedish pounded his fist on the floor, hoping to disturb Bear Killer's sleep, but the tactic failed. His next step was to wake Bear Killer up, but that became unnecessary when Bear Killer stirred in his sleep and the snoring ceased.These last few days, there have not been any out houses, or privies, located near the shelters. At this shelter, there was an unusual option. Near the picnic table was a plastic lawn chair with a large hole cut in the seat. On the back rest of this chair was written the words, Port a Privy. At first, I thought the chair with the hole represented a joke, but then realized that it was there to be used. The procedure is to carry the chair, or portable privy, into the woods beyond the shelter, then heed the call of Mother Nature.It seemed like a good idea. There would be no disgusting out house to deal with. There would be the convenience of a chair. And around this particular site were spacious openings within the dense rhododendron shrubs; these openings could offer privacy and natural beauty. There were even birds chirping among the shrubs. The only thing missing within the shrubs was some reading material, perhaps an issue of Backpacker Magazine.I carried the chair down a path behind the shelter, looking for a gap--my own natural bathroom--among the rhododendrons. The prospect of performing this bodily function in the woods, with or without an outhouse, is always unpleasant. This time at least, the surroundings were beautiful and I had a chair. Not to shabby.The reality I encountered was gross. As I walked down the path, it turned into a gauntlet of filth. On either side were piles of human excrement and toilet paper in various states of decay. I chose a gap in the shrubs that was tolerable, positioned the chair, and heeded the call.Hikers are urged to leave no trace of their human waste, which is what I did. It is too bad that so many hikers were willing to leave visible their messes near this shelter. I can imagine an unsuspecting hiker arriving at night to this shelter when it is crowded. He will seek a place to pitch his tent, possibly venturing down that path. I am glad to be camping in a hammock!I hiked thirteen miles today and the spring remained in my step. I attribute this renewed vigor to the steps that I have been taking regarding my diet, and to my improved quality of sleep in the hammock. Still, there were a couple of long and steep ascents during the early part of the hike that tested my stamina.Since leaving the Great Smoky Mountains, I have seen fewer day hikers or weekend hikers. Today, on this Memorial Day weekend, I passed several of them. I chatted with one of them during my lunch stop.At the higher elevations during today's hike, lots of trees were fallen across the trail. The wood of the splintered trunks appeared fresh, suggesting that the trees had fallen during that violent thunderstorm a few days ago which had required me to seek shelter under my tarp.I am composing this entry inside a darkened shelter on Iron Mountain at 4,125 feet in elevation. My headlamp is illuminating one end of the picnic table. Hikers Zip Off and Kato are snoozing on the wooden floor behind me. Above me, some mice have been moving among the beams near the ceiling. My backpack is hanging on a rope with a mouse barrier¢a tin can¢affixed to the rope above the pack. Outside the shelter, my food sack, or bear bag, is hanging on a line below a high tree limb. In the vicinity, several tents are pitched. The last light has just gone out in one of the tents. The time has come to leave the shelter, climb into my hammock, and put out my light.