Date: 2007-06-10
To: View Entry
Miles today: 0.0

I'm back on the trail after my much maligned week off for shin splints. The week has taken its toll on my body, especially my legs. Every step burns and sends shock waves up through the length of my leg and channeled directly to the pain center of my brain. It hurts. Oh, how it hurts.    I am approaching McAfee Knob, a well-photographed spot on the trail and one of the most scenic overlooks in VA. I find myself straddled with another opportunity, a conundrum. Sunset or sunrise? I can pull up short and catch the sun at daybreak or I can haul tail and make it there tonight. It's only a mile to the shelter after McAfee and surely I can make it there in the dark despite my throbbing ankle and legs.It's a done deal, sunset it is. I feel that I made the right choice as McAfee faces the west and the clouds tonight were in towering pillars of fire, emanating brilliant red and orange hues. It is as inspiring as sunsets always seem to be. If it weren't as my guidebook puts it, "verboten" to camp here, I would absolutely be setting up my tent for the night about 50 yards from this point. I'm sure I wouldn't be the first. Instead, I strapped on my headlamp and made for the shelter. Then the real trouble began.   This is my first night-hike and could be my last. I am halfway to the shelter and really enjoying the hike as the air is cooler and my body is strangely relaxed. Even my legs seem to have readjusted to the trail in a matter of hours. All my senses have become acutely aware of my surrounding environment. With the light from my headlamp, I am picking out every rock and root. I can feel the slightest of breezes blowing from the bottom of the hill. I smell something strange, almost foul, like dirty livestock. Dismissing the smell as nothing more than a stray odor from a nearby farm, I walk a little further. Then I hear it, a large crash to my right, maybe 15 yards. Probably just a deer darting off into the woods. I walk another 20 steps and I hear more crashing and breaking of sticks on the forest floor, getting closer. I turn and shine my light to see...absolutely nothing. I can't imagine anything more frightening than hearing something without being able to see it. I turn and walk a little faster. Behind me, I hear heavy breathing, panting, and a deep scoff. I walk a little faster and suddenly I'm fully aware that my heratbeat is higher, mush higher than normal. I can't breathe, what's behind me? I hear another sound; this time, it sounds like something swiping at a tree about 30 yards aways. What IS that? The next thing I know, a dog is growling and barking in front of me. Another hiker had set up camp and her dog gave me a sigh of relief because I immediately heard the crashing sound again trailing deep into the woods. Whatever it was had been run off by the barking. The shelter was only another 100-200 yards away and I was incredibly relieved to find two section hikers already in bed there.    I was awake for another hour contemplating the events of the evening and I came up with three conclusions. The first is that I have no idea what the large animal stalking me was and never will. The second is that I'm never night hiking alone again. The third, as silly as is sounds, is that I'm 100% afraid of the dark and things that go bump in the night. I'm a grade-A scaredy-cat, it's true. Really, I think my imagination is far too powerful and creative to remain at peace with things like darkness and odd noises. But, it boils down to me just being scared. Where's my nightlight to light up the shelter?