Date: 2017-09-29
To: Bryant Ridge shelter
Miles today: 13.4
Weather: clear sky

9/29Bryant Ridge Shelter13.4 milesSomething raised a mild ruckus around 3 AM, thrashing through the undergrowth and breaking twigs. I finally made some noise to scare it off so I could sleep. I didn't begrudge it any of the greenery, but did it have to be so loud?I woke up for good at 6, ready to get on with my day. But it was still dark out and my headlamp is on its last legs, so I waited a few minutes for a bit more ambient light. I watched a tinge of red creep over the horizon. When I looked down I could see leaves on the ground. Probably good enough. I started changing into my hiking clothes, mostly by feel. I didn't discover until much later that one sock was on inside out - not that it mattered much. Given the level of animal activity, I packed everything else prior to fetching down my food bag. But the early morning seemed peaceful, and my breakfast was uninterrupted. It was chilly enough to want a hot drink, so I boiled water and made myself a mocha. I watched the treetops light up as the first rays of sun shone over the ridge. By the time I finished breakfast and left, the rays had nearly reached the ground. When I picked up my hiking pole from the rock where it leaned overnight, I found that some mouse or squirrel had nibbled all the way around the hand grip at the top and the bottom. It's annoying but there's nothing to be done for it. At least it doesn't impede my grip. My first stop at Thunder Hill Shelter proved that the spring was indeed bone dry. I headed on to Cornelius Creek, where I found a small dam holding water deep enough to dip my cup into so I could fill my water bag. I noticed that the platypatch had not worked particularly well. It's good enough for getting water in camp but my pack will get wet inside if I need to carry water very far. Perhaps in Daleville I can find something to replace it. Unfortunately the threads on the necks of newer Platypus bags don't match the threads of the Sawyer filters, so another Platypus bag isn't an option. I ate lunch at the picnic table of the Cornelius Creek Shelter. It was peaceful and the weather was beautiful, that particular kind of blue sky and barely crisp air that has always been my favorite fall weather. The terrain was quietly spectacular on my afternoon walk to Bryant Ridge. The trail wound around steep side hills, with picturesque views down into pine hollows. I felt like I ought to be doing something more to appreciate it, but I don't know what. I tried, but I'm not a good enough photographer to do it justice. I tried to soak it up as well as I could. I was pleased to find a puddle of fresh water to dip from at the shelter. It was a little silty, but I can't afford to have high standards at the moment. It tasted fine after I filtered it. I boiled water to make more mashed potato and bacon. The meal that delighted me last night was unappealing tonight. I ate it slowly, unenthusiastically spooning it into my mouth until it was mostly gone. Finally there was just a little left - little enough that I don't mind carrying the remains. With relief I stowed it in my trash bag. I brushed my teeth and put food and toothpaste up on one of the grappling hooks hanging in the shelter. There are few low branches here and the hooks look official. If they're not where you're supposed to hang your food, somebody has at least done a good job of making them look as if they are. Nevertheless it makes me a little uncomfortable. I don't usually hang food in a shelter unless there is another person in it with me. This shelter is huge. It sleeps twenty. As usual I'm creeped out by being here alone. I hope I'm able to sleep well despite that. Weird that my subconscious is fine with my tent alone in the woods, but not an empty shelter. At any rate it's nice to have a roof over my head and water and a privy handy.