Date: 2003-05-13
From: Chatfield Shelter

To: Crawfish Valley
Miles today: 10.8

I write this as I lay by a fire in Crawfish Valley. Odyssey, Fire Angel, and myself are challenging the dew point not to drench us. Boat, Coyote, and Romeo are safely tented nearby. On 5/12 I had an easy ¢mostly railroad grade- hike to Partnership shelter. The shelter is located at a road crossing and is right by a ranger¢s station/visitor¢s center. The shelter has a shower in it with hot and cold running water and the ranger station has a payphone. Runaway, Casey, Axel Rose, Odyssey, Fire Angel, and Granite showed up. We all ordered lunch from a Pizza delivery place and all took showers. Others followed (romeo, Coyote) and several wanted to stay behind and order pizza and beer for the evening. But again, that internal engine insisted that I keep running to get a little closer to Bland. Besides, the next day I wanted to re-supply at Atkins, then go to the Settlers Museum and I needed to re-supply at Atkins. I hiked on to the Chatfield shelter where I stayed with Boat, Strap Pack, Tanglefoot (a section hiker, not to be confused with the thru-hiker I met my first night out), and Fire Angel. Strap Pack, Fire Angel and I sat around the fire until 11 PM or so just hanging out and talking. It was a lot of fun, just relaxing and joking. I had been cold all that day and the night was no better. I slept in a t-shirt and shorts and my wool cap and sleeping bag with liner and full zips. But no good. I was cold. But I always slept best cold. I slept until 8:30 and felt so refreshed. I was happy to have met Fire Angel. As I left camp she was still busying herself in camp- Finally a hiker who left camp later than Last Minute!I got to the Settlers Museum and saw the School House. I had seen the homestead and farm from a ridge above the Museum, but the schoolhouse was right on the trail. The Museum usually charges a fee, but it is free for Thru-Hikers. The schoolhouse looked just like something from Little House on the Prairie. A sign pointed up a small path to the Visitor¢s Center so I went there. There were two volunteers there, both ladies who had passed me in years. They were about to leave, but they showed me some of the exhibits- tools that were used in the homestead and maps showing the early settlements and shared some legends of the time. When they left, I was left in the House/Museum alone. Tapes had been made to give a walking tour of the house and the farm. They were in portable tape recorders- about the size of a shoe box cut in half from end to end, like my grandmother had back in the late 70¢s. The tour started in the old farmhouse so I hiked up a sunny path through a field until I reached the two story antebellum dwelling. I walked in and started my tour in the parlor. It had an organ and a courting bench (meaning that it was a love seat made of two chairs that faced the opposite direction). I pushed play and a voice began to tell me the history of the items in the room. The tape instructed me to go to another room across the hall. I walked out of the parlor and passed into a hallway that led to other rooms in the downstairs. This is also the base of the straight stairway. As I passed this I felt as though I was being watched. I looked up expecting to see some other tourist or hiker. But found only sunlight coming down on me from an upstairs window. I listened for a moment, then discounted the feeling for my imagination. I walked from room to room, investigating the kitchen and stove, bedrooms, clothing, toys and even felt a little jealous of the pot/chair system used to eliminate human waste. But as I explored and imagined the life of the settler, the feeling of being watched increased in intensity. Finally I decided that I was burning too much good hiking daylight and decided it was time to move on. I abruptly stopped the tape and made my way to the nearest exit. I went outside and saw the Barn and said hello to the livestock. I examined the root cellar. It reminded me of the Owen, Saddler, and Macadory houses from Roupes Valley, near my home in Alabama. Even in the safety of the fields and sunlight the feeling of being watched still tickled my imagination. Finally I returned to the Visitor¢s center. Back at the Visitor¢s Center I found the Director of the Museum there having coffee with Fire Angel. I decided to join them (though I opted against the coffee). Again I got to sit back and relax and just talk. I asked about the history of the place and found out all about the fiscal workings of the Museum. It seems that his (the director¢s) dream was to live in this place where his grandparents lived and to run it as a museum. I envied his vision and realization of it. I also asked if anyone ever claimed to have seen or heard any ghosts of the past on the place. He chuckled and told me that one of the children of the owners of the farm had married a woman. And for some reason there was some type of falling out between the mother-in-law and the new wife. And so a new home was built for the newly weds. When the director came to see the place and was trying to establish it as a Museum. The daughter-in-law was the only living relative who had lived on the farm. So he inviter her to get her feedback about the history and eventually, she came to actually live on the farm. Periodically she would complain of noises or something going wrong with the physical property and it was a running joke that it was the ghost of her mother-in-law insulted by her living there.I could have easily stayed there all afternoon, but the trail called so off I went. Shortly after returning to the trail I found Romeo and Coyote sunbathing in a field. They did not partake in the Settler experience and therefore had caught and passed me. We all hiked to the crest of the grassy hill that led down to Atkins. A particularly mentally cruel section of trail that makes it seem as though Dairy Queen is a scant 100 yards away, but by the time the trail twists and turns, putting that icy sweetness within arms reach then turning you so you feel you are walking away from it- you have actually covered .4 miles that feel like 10. Finally after a few moments of deliberation between the mom and pop home style restaurant on the right and the Exxon/Dairy Queen on the left, the fast, fatty food won out and we dined like kings on Chili flavored grease over a slightly browned dog on a bun soaked in all forms of calories and fat. Even at the cheaper of two choices, I managed to spend over $10.00 without even noticing it.The Dairy Queen rests between two major Highways. US-11 which runs right into my hometown of Bessemer, Alabama and .3 miles from the house where I was raised, and Interstate 81, which is the road that I took from DC home. I called Natasha. It is a difficult prospect to try to maintain a relationship from the trail. In the stillness of the camp or on a rugged climb to some remote point, the mind wanders off the trail into the thoughts of a loved one. The emotions of the loved one ¢the trail widow- peak and valley. Sometimes when I call it is a rejuvenation of that part of us that was never separated by the trail. And sometimes, like today, I find her in that valley and hike out of town with extra weight on my pack. I hiked out of Atkins to the first shelter- There I met two southbounders. One was a lady from Springfield, Virginia. The other was a fellow from Friendship Heights in DC. This is significant because I purchased a home in Springfield and lived near the woman for over two years. When I moved out of that house I moved in with a friend and lived within one mile of the man from friendship heights. So of course we meet for the first time at Davis Path Shelter. And now I am back at that camp sight in Crawfish Valley where this entry started. I got in at around dark as usual. We sat around and quietly talked around the fire until 10 pm. Now I am the last one up, poking at a fire for warmth and light as I write this.