Date: 2006-03-06
From: Bull Gap

To: Low Gap Shelter
Miles today: 10.1
Weather: broken clouds

There is really no part of me that doesn't hurt. The worst is the knot between my shoulder blades. It just keeps getting tighter. I can't reach it to massage it. Second is my calves. Them I did deep hard tissue work while sitting by the fire. We covered miles today and just churned them out at a high pace, at some points almost running. Several very long and steep inclines. Very cloudy day so no real views to stop for even though we were on some high ridges.This hike is never the same for any person or for anyone who does it more than once. When I left work in January (was it only January?) I had an exit interview with the director of Human Resources. She understood why I was doing this and what it meant. She knew that there was no one way to experience it and the little moments made it special. The sunset from a peak that noone else may see. The thing that you experince and remember and can never be repeated. That includes the pain. I knew about it and I came. Every slope, every step, every blaze is why I'm here. I want to remember.So my shoulders and my calves and my scabbed knees, and the cold and the wet, the sweat are just part of being here. They are common for all of us and we really don't talk about them all that much. No bitching and moaning. About everything else under the sun though. And there are people to meet who also know about all this. It's a given. So we greet and talk and laugh about everything else. And so far, universally, we all love it and love being here.I'm sleeping in a shelter tonight, first time in 5 days. Another hiker here has to leave the trail. He's honest about it and giving and gracious to all of us but he's hurting. This was his one chance and circumstances are calling him home. We understand his disappointment. We've all read about the peoportion of people who leave the trail after Neels Gap. Either from injury or disappointment or daunted, or for responsibilities and calls from home. We've met our first.We put in our miles so fast today and generally stayed together as a group. You don't always see the people you're hiking with but they're around a bend or on top of a slope. You leapfrog with each other. You pass. You let others pass you. And you make it. Today was about endurance. IT wa also about the bonds who carry you through. At one point I was cold and wet to the skin and the wind rarely lets up here. I felt myself stumbling and disoriented and making stupid mistakes. I thought I might be hypothermic. I told people right away. Without saying anything, Milk Dud took up a pace behind me. He talked and kept me engaged and was watching out for me. I kept up my pace, burned faster and came back to myself. Scare over, we stepped into different paces again. Later I started to notice spots of blood every ten feet or so for over a mile. I could do nothing, but knew I could if called upon. I asked 2 southboundys what they had seen. A hiker ahead had a severe bloody nose. The word spread and we all arrived at campe to take care of things. Ajax was the man down. We all decided then and there that we were doing too many miles too fast and weren't ready for it yet. We altered plans for today and tomorrow. We stayed put. Tomorrow we have a 13 mile day; very doable but we'll do it much differently: Slower, less exhausting pace.While in camp the sky cleared. We ... every log, bush and bear cables with our wet gear from last night. I spread my foam pad on the ground and soaked in the warm sun. Topped it off with a lunch made from oatmeal, cocoa and peanut butter. Trail gourmet. And this is how we live and what we do and no one has any interest in doing anything else. We're hikers. We're going through.Tonight I sleep in a 3 sided shelter. I'm in my sleeping bag with my dry clothes, an extra sweater, hat, mittens and wool socks. I woke at 3:00 to pee and look at the stars. I'll read for a while and get up at 6:30.