Date: 2004-05-11
From: Shelter at Walnut Mountain, NC

To: Night of the Rodents
Miles today: 13.1

It was a bad omen, having chased that squirrel around the shelter. The resulting night was the pits.The scurrying noises of mice began just before dark. I positioned my sleeping bag in the center of the floor, as far away from the walls as possible. I was the only person in the shelter.The mice were moving all over the place, among the nooks and crannies in the walls and on the beams above me. When I beamed some light around with my headlamp, I noticed a mice scurrying across the floor near my sleeping bag. I employed countermeasures. First off, I have been keeping some rocks in the shelters when I camp alone, just in case a bear wanders over. In this circumstance, I would reach out of my sleeping bag, grab a rock, and slam it down on to the floor of the shelter, hoping to scare the mice and keep them away from me. I noticed a bow saw hanging on a wall. I took it and kept it beside it. From time to time, I would grab the saw and slam it upwards against the metal roof. The idea was to scare away the mice that were moving above my sleeping bag, and my exposed face. I tried a new and creative countermeasure: I hissed loudly, trying to fool the mice into thinking I was a snake.Unfortunately, nothing seemed to work. The countermeasures provided only temporary relief. The mice would soon resume their moving around and above me. I was worried that they would gnaw into my backpack or fall on to my sleeping bag or face (something that has happened to several hikers).At one point of maximum frustration, I climbed out of my sleeping bag in my underwear, put on some sandals, put on my headlamp, and stalked out of the shelter. I beamed the light around the soaking ground in search of a flat spot where I could spread out my pad and sleeping bag. But the ground was not flat and I was not sure if the rain would resume. So I went back to the shelter, or better said, the chamber of horrors.Late at night, I mulled upon the meaning of the word, infestation." Was this shelter really infested, or was it merely the home of a few mice? Was I being a wimp about this situation? After all, hikers have been dealing with shelter mice for years. I concluded that this shelter was worse than most, and was indeed infested with the rodents.My countermeasures probably did help a little, because the mice never made physical contact with me. Still, if they could talk, they were probably looking down at me from the rafters and saying to each other, "Hee! Hee! The guy's trying the old 'whack the ceiling with the saw' method. Oh my, he's hissing like a snake; that's something new!"I recalled the way my alcohol fuel burned the picnic table on the previous night. Hmmm? The ultimate countermeasure? Sprinkle the fuel around the shelter and flick my Bic. That'll freak out the mice, just like the way Hal the computer was freaked out when the astronauts took control during the movie, 2001 A Space Odyssey. Just kidding.Late at night, a godsend! An owl landed in a tree in front of the shelter and began hooting loudly. After that, the mice curtailed their movements and I caught some z's.I woke up and walked toward my food bag which was hanging on a limb. I was mulling over the siege warfare from the previous night and walked under the bag and into the trees. After a few steps further into the woods, I snapped out of my daze and approached the bag. While hiking on the trail, I performed a typical function¢lifting my backpack and tightening up my hip straps. I noticed that the bottom left corner of the bag was wet. Was my water bottle leaking? I gave it a cursory inspection and it seemed okay. Later, I noticed that the bottom was getting even wetter. An alarming thought occurred to me. I had not checked the interior of the backpack when I woke up. I had stuffed my sleeping bag and other sacks down into it. Was a mouse jammed in the bottom of my pack? Worse still, was the mouse urinating in my pack!I grabbed my bandana and wiped the wet hand. Then I gave the hand the sniff test; it smelled okay. I double checked the water bottle and discovered that it did indeed have a leak. Wow, I was still being affected by the events of the previous night. I walked by a red squirrel that was looking at me and making an unfriendly sound."Shut up!" I muttered. That was my final expression of frustration with the rodents in that forest. Along the trail today, here are some of the things I saw and heard. I large black snake slithered across the trail. I heard a loud humming sound from what was a swarm of insects, maybe bees that were moving among the trees. While drawing water at a stream, I watched a snake slither up and down in the grooves of mud created by the boots of hikers. It flicked its tongue as it moved along.I entered the town of Hot Springs, North Carolina, where I intended to re-supply and rest for a day. There, I ran into hikers Wipeout (her real name is Olivia, from the first night) and Nitro, who I had became friendly with in Georgia. They had taken a day off and were resuming their hikes on the next day. I got a room in a motel beside a laundromat. While my clothes were drying, I chatted with a man who did not look like a hiker. He was not wearing any hiker attire. Still, he seemed to have some insights into the Appalachian Trail, so I asked him if he had hiked on it. He replied that he had. Minutes later, someone strolled by and identified the man by his name. Turns out his name is Baltimore Jack, a legend among AT hikers. He has thru hiked the trail eight times. He was generous with his time and offered me some tips about locations where I should send food supplies in advance. He also offered me encouragement, telling me that since I had made it this far, I stood a good chance of making it to Maine.Tonight a real bed! And no mice