Date: 2005-03-15
From: Hawk Mountain

To: Gooch Mountain Shelter
Miles today: 7.3
Weather: light rain

3.15.05Day 24:45pm Waking up this morning at 6, warmly coccooned in my downy bag, I reached out a tentative hand to sample the temperature. It was moderately chilly. (And by 'moderately chilly', I mean 'bloody cold'.) But, as I snatched my hand back in to ward off the goose-bumps, I couldn't think of any place I'd rather be. I could be back at my parents' house, snuggled by the crackling wood stove, waking to a breakfast of gourmet coffee and pancakse. Or, I could be in my casket-shaped tent, rising to (another) meal of oatmeal. Yum. And, I wouldn't change my situation for anything. I've been taking it considerably slower than I did last year, and I must say -- single-digit mileage days are awesome. Take it nice and slow in the morning, chat around the picnic table over breakfast, leave the shelter around 9 (or so), take frequent breaks during the day, and still you roll into camp by 2 or 3. I'm lovin' it. It's unequivocal fun. Why oh why did I rush things last spring?7:15pm Here at Gooch Gap Shelter, my first return overnight stay from last year. Based on weather forecasts of raging thunderstorms and 1 1/2 inches of rain, I'm wimping out and sleeping in the shelter, despite my avowed abhorrence of them. I'm toting the earplugs for a reason, right? Let's just hope the mice remain at bay...In the see-sawing variation of the trail, today was a physical battle. Most of the day, the trail snaked through forests of naked trees, shades of brown dominating the landscape. A days of steep ups, followed by similarly steep downs. Sassafrass, once again, was a beast, although Mike set an excellent ascending pace, which made the climb considerably less forbidding. Last year, I viewed the long uphills as something to be conquered and scaled as soon as possible, like ripping off a band-aid. And so I would charge, full-steam ahead, up, up, and over. So, by the time I reached the summit (the real one, not one of the numerous false peaks), I would be gasping for breath, muscles crying out for mercy. I find that I much prefer the more sedate approach. And my body shares that opinion. Physically, by the end of the day I'm pleasantly tired, satisfyingly so, w/o feeling as if I'm drawing on reserves of energy. No major physical ailments or complaints. I'm still trudging along in my trail runners, although today I was sorely tempted to switch over to my Chaco sandals. They're just so dang comfortable. But, I want to let my ankles strengthen and my feet toughen up before I make the conversion. One hot spot persistently (and, I'm convinced, spitefully) flares up on my left heel, on the steep ascents (which is, expectedly, frequent). But, a little duct tape resolves that. Also have one callousy protrusion on my right pinky toe that grows increasingly sore, but other than cutting a hole in my boot, there isn't much I can do. It hasn't reached the point of earning a description of 'painful' yet, just annoyingly uncomfortable, so I'll soldier on. I also seem to have pulled a groin muscle, which makes climbing into and out of the shelters a painful proposition. (It's typically a 2-foot step up onto the platform.) But, w/ a little stretching I'm able to hike.Alright, enough w/ the itemized list of aches and pains. I don't want this to become a chronicle of my physical woes and ailments; they're certainly not interesting enough to warrant further discussion. Break, in an amazing display of ingenuity, just assembled a wind/rain screen for the lower level of the shelter, utilizing a tarp tent, a rainfly, and 50 feet of rope. Alee of the wind, headlamps bobbing in the darkness, there's the ghostly aura of childhood slumber parties and blanket forts draped across furniture.There are still moments, everyday, where I'm overwhelmed by the reality of it all. That I'm here, living my dream. (Reality descends swiftly, as my muscles creak in protest of the climbs.) I feel so liberated, so released from all other concerns and the typical baggage I carried around. My pack may be a literal monkey on my back, but I'll take it over the figurative, unseen one anyday. I've been wearing the same clothes for three straight days, I'm encrusted w/ sweat, I'm dirty, I smell (my clothes don't smell, they reek), I spend the day anticipating the ultimate luxury -- the moment I remove my boots until the following morning. Nothing can compare to that heavenly sensation. It's amazing how quickly you can reduce life to its simplicities, and how much appreciation and significance it renders everything else. I saw a turkey vulture this afternoon, in flight toward a perch on a barren tree. Its vibrant red beak was a beacon, a brilliant splash of color amidst the dun-colored hues of the forest; its flight unhurried and sedate. This morning, the rat-a-tat-tat of the piliated woodpecker serenaded me. (I apparently missed the baying of the coyotes, due to my installation of ear plugs overnight. The snorers sonorous orchestral tones invaded my tent around 10pm. I did, however, hear the rapid machine-gun fire emanating up the mountainside from the Army training camp.) But, it's amazing how fulfilling it is, to take the time to observe these little details, to truly notice and absorb them, and not just unconsciously process and discard the sensory input. There's beauty to be found, in the smallest and slightest of things; it's simply a matter of seeing in the right light.