Date: 2003-03-13
From: GA/NC line to Bly Gap

To: Standing Indian Shelter
Miles today: 7.7
Weather: overcast clouds

Day ThirteenAbout 5:30, a rumble of thunder woke me. I considered packing up my dry tent right then but...naaaaah. Instead, I rose to scratch the litter box and retrieve our food bags before they got rained on. A hand reached out from Heather and Andy's tent, and the bag disappeared. A mumbled "thanks."The thunder grumbled closer. I wondered about lightning in my tent. After all, the center pole is my metal hiking stick. But I fell asleep before I could work myself up too much. I awoke to the pleasant sound of rain pattering on silnylon.By the time we got up and packed up, it had stopped. At the gnarly oak, we shot the traditional Bly Gap tree photos. Then came the long, butt-busting, quad-jellying, Achilles-tendon-ripping three-mile pull up from Bly Gap to Muskrat Creek shelter.Is it just me or was there a change in Trail maintenance clubs somewhere this side of Dick's Creek Gap? All of a sudden, the trails go straight up the mountains - and I mean straight, unrelentingly UP. Like No Mercy UP. Like VERMONT up. My heels scream.We've been gaining in elevation. Since Bly Gap, we've been above 4,000 feet all day. Even Deep Gap, a low spot, is high at 4,300 feet. Well, we make it. I am noticing a tiny change in my fitness. The ups are still as hard as they were on Day One, but the edge of desperation to the climb is softening into resignation. Climbing is still harder than descending. I have heard experienced long-distance hikers say how much they prefer the climbs. Well, that enlightened state of bliss has yet to hit me, even after the Long Trail. I still sigh with relief at the tops.Heather, Andy and I hit Muskrat Creek shelter about the time Carol and Yvonne (I mean, Sonic and Guana) are leaving it. We three eat, then they head out while I jot a note to Pilgrim, this shelter's overseer. Andy packs out a load of trash previous hikers have left. He is a good AT citizen. We leave 2 pairs of shoes, a wrist brace, some old socks and a Tweety Bird Beenie Baby behind.The afternoon's hike is flatter but rocky, and I catch Heather moving her injured knee carefully down the Trail. Andy swings out a little ahead and spies a wild turkey. We hit Deep Gap and snack again. Andy dumps the shelter trash in the handy bear-proof can there and I snap a picture of his AT citizenship.As we hoist our packs for the last mile to the shelter, the skies start dumping cold rain. Out comes my tres chic 15-cent Hefty cinch sack rain skirt. Yes, a trash bag. What can I say? At the moment, I do not look like a trendy ad for Columbia Sportswear. But the bag is cooler to hike in than rainpants, and there is tremendous heat generated on uphill climbs, even in winter.I had set out full of ambition to be several miles beyond the shelter, but Sonic and Guana are dug in at Standing Indian, and their weather radio predicts evening thunderstorms. Heather and Andy convince me to stay too. I eat, and after a grueling, unambitious 7.7 mile day, I promptly crawl in my bag and fall asleep at 5 pm.Ol' Blue joins us an hour later. He has walked the 12 miles from Plum Orchard shelter. He must be shot! That was a hard 12.3 miles. In fact, he gets his water and goes to bed without eating, not a good thing for a tired hiker to be doing, especially a lean one like Blue.Blue is 70 and a novice backpacker, and we all keep an eye on him without it seeming so - he is very independent and doesn't want help. He also only has the use of one arm, and doesn't seem very strong. But he is the most polite gentleman, always apologizing in advance for normal things like turning over in the night. It is hard not to feel warm and protective towards this gentle soul.He tells us Mickey One Sock never got back on the Trail at Dick's Creek. He must have gone back to the Blueberry Patch with Gary. I hope he is just waiting for warmer weather, and is going home for a visit.Well, back to sleep for some serious rest. The shelter is crammed now, with six of us. I am tucked between Heather and the mousey wall.Tomorrow, we climb over 5,000 feet for the first time, the 5498 foot Standing Indian Mountain. I remember it as a glorious place with views aplenty, but so far it promises to be foggy.