Date: 2005-03-17
From: Woods Hole Shelter

To: Neel's Gap (Hiker Hostel)
Miles today: 3.8

3.17.05Day 42:30pm Well, swing-and-a-miss on the views from Blood Mountain. Stee-rike two. Maybe when I come back out again next year, I won't strike out. (Just kidding, Mom.) If possible, I think the views were even more restricted today -- basically, a solid wall of fog. The cold didn't help either. The morning dew had frozen into pendant droplets, suspended in stasis on the mountain laurel leaves. Ice coated the twigs in windswept sheens, which made tinkling sounds as I swept through. The trail coming down from Blood Mountain was treacherous, at best. Wet rocks, on occasion icy due to the cold, steep slopes. And then, apparently some trail deity, in a particularly mischevious mood, decided those conditions weren't challenge enough -- it began to sleep, before morphing in to full-blown snow. Ah, the lovely, falling white stuff. Fortunately, it was just a short, less-than-4-mile hike, so I had a sturdy mental buffer against the weather. I was positively speedy this morning, breaking camp before 7:30. It was a largely sleepless night, sneaking in maybe 2 hours of shut-eye. Last night was a stentorian chorus, w/ 2 constant sonorous snorers, along w/ one intermittent noise-maker. I checked my watch every hour, in the hopes that time would somehow progress faster. No such luck. I kept an eye on the horizon, waiting for the first glimpse of dawn. Finally, at 5:30, I heard rustling from the picnic table (where Eric had bedded down for the night). Break sat up, and I followed suit. Cuppa Joe was up in a flash as well. The three snoring slumberers slumbered on. But, after packing up and a quick breakfast of a frozen granola bar (which I had to gnaw on, rather than 'eat', a cracking a tooth was not outside the realm of possibility), I was ready to get moving, get the blood a-pumpin' to fend off the cold. I hiked solo today, and the difference was noticeable. I positively charged up Blood, b/c I lost my pace-setting hiking companions. I startled my first grouse on the trail. Or, I should say, it startled me, a literal display of masculine chest-thumping. The first time I ever heard that 'thump, thump, ta-ta-ta-ta-thump' bass drumming beat, I thought I was suffering from heart palpatations. That, or someone was firing up a lawn mower in the forest. But, wildlife sighting have been pretty scarce the past two days. For that matter, seeing more than 20 feet in any direction hasn't exactly been a common occurrence. One advantage of the limited visibility is that you can't see exactly how much further you have to go up. You know, rationally, that the summit is there, somewhere, but as long as it remains an invisible, solely theoretical entity, it's somehow not as domineering. Of course, the fog also makes it more difficult to locate the white blazes, especially when they're blazoned on the face of the rocks, as they are on the descent of Blood Mtn. I managed to not get myself lost or off-trail, tho' Cuppa Joe nearly stepped off a cliff overhang, and Break rescued Eric from his unplanned side trip. But, no mis-adventures for me. I reached Walasi-Yi at 9am, emerging from the increasingly swiftly falling snow, to seek haven in the warmth of the indoors. Many reunions and introductions. I met Mike and Diana Duhl, and saw I Can, Turtle, and Chuck again, on their way north. And, finally, the long-awaited, much-anticipated meeting of Longhaul! Finally uniting the disembodied e-mail comrade w/ the living, breathing, flesh-and-blood. Great to actually catch up to him, and then he takes off again. Somewhere up the trail, we'll meet once more. Neel's was certainly the border crossing for hikers -- coming, going, resting, resuming after zeroing. James, Mike, and Amanda pushed on last night, the temptation of town a magnetic pull drawing them in. Last year, the mileage monster would have bested me, and I would have joined them. Not so, now. Now, I'm lovin' taking it slow. And Cuppa Joe just offered to let Break and I share his Pocketmail, so I think he just became the new daily pace setter. B/c, as I add to this journal every night, as the pages fill w/ words, I sit and think -- 'How on earth am I going to get this typed up?' I mean, I can't rip the pages out and send them to someone to transcribe. I physically can't; it would be sacreligious to me. But, I also don't exactly cherish the thought of spending 3 hours, huddled over a town library computer. (And what am I doing now?...) Town time is too precious a commodity. So, just as I'd resigned myself to purchasing my own Pocketmail unit, CJ offered to share his. Well, now, an offer like that, how can I refuse?8:20pm I'm back, once again, at the Hiker Hostel. I'm showered, my clothes are freshly laundered, my water filter has been scrubbed clean, my cooking pot cleaned of leftover food residue, my gear de-dampened, my tummy satisfyingly full of a wonderful St. Patty's day meal of cabbage, carrots, potatoes, green Kool-Aid (and corned beef for the carnivorous appetites), cooked by Ole Man and Navigator. Quenched my thirst w/ a Heineken (or two). And am now ready for bed. Ready to face whatever tomorrow thrusts at me. (Which, according to the forecast, sounds like a lot of wet stuff, in varying forms of precipitation, will be falling upon us from the heavens above.) It's amazing what being clean, warm, well-fed, and dry will do for you psyche and outlook.