Date: 2003-04-17
To: View Entry
Miles today: 0.0

I did my first 17 mile day yesterday (this partially accounts for my lack of journaling yesterday) and actually got to suntan today - unmelted snow in some places! We got up before dawn - 6 or so - and were out by 8 a.m. Tang got well ahead of us at one point and we found her sitting on a grassy spot on top of a ridgeline, totally open. We took off our packs and sprawled out. I took my shirt off and laid out on it with my head resting on my pack, sunglasses on! What a great spot it was. Everthing just stopped for our 20 minute break. Those few moments are what the AT is all about. No one, except a thru-hiker, secton hiker or serious day hiker could have been there at that time of day. No crowded roads, no chairs, no radios, just people with a common goal with a common bond and respect for nature on top of that ridge. We went to a shelter and arrived about 4-4:30 p.m. and had dinner. I used almost the last of the precious dehydrated peas that Sprout had given me in the concoction I was making. As I cooked, sitting on my z-rest that I use to strech out on, I realized that my tang (the drink, not the girl) bag had spilled. Realize now that true resupply has been a major problem since leaving Fontana, and really that wasn't as good a resupply as Franklin. So I became frustrated and tried to clean up as much of that orange powder as possible. I was busying myself with that when the unthinkable happened. (I have heard of it happening, but never could it have happened to me because of how I am about food!) But it did. I turned over my coleman stove, complete with pot of boiling Ramen and peas. An absolute hush fell over the shelter. All that could be heard was the hiss of my little stove as it lay on its side. I sat in an unexploded fit of rage for a few seconds as all eyes watched me in horror. I regained my composure enough to upright and turn off my stove. My food, the sacred sustenance of the Trail, the never-refused, always desired, so special it is referred to as "Magic", substance, was in an unsalvageable pile on the ground! Even the most trail hardened hiker, one who would eat almost anything, in any condition, could not rescue that Ramen blackened with dirt, the tasty broth soaked into the earth, tiny precious peas rolling around in all directions. And me hovering over it unable to look at it. In a mood of murderous proportion. Someone offered me more water (another sacred item). Another offered to cook my meal for me. I could only thank them and say "I'm just going to sit here for a minute." The whole day changed. The whole mood changed all around. I got out my emergency meal and hurriedly prepared it. We had 2 hours of daylight left and 3 miles to go. We left camp and everyone looked on in wonder. Everyone else was in for the night and amazed that we were pressing one. But pressing on we did 3 more miles and just to the trail head (Blue Blaze) we were looking for. Straight uphill in silence except for the occasional grunt or moan. It was as if I not only spilled and lost a meal, but also the whole team's morale. My back hurt, where we were going had no water so I carried 3 liters on my back. Huge blisters formed for no apparent reason under each middle toe. My knees were hurting even on the uphills where they usually match, if not outperform, the best of them. Then the traihead. An offshoot of the AT, 0.5 miles left to go and we were all almost dead. Off we went. A rocky uphill well-worn trail full of jagged ankle-turning rocks, roots that grabbed at our lumbering heels, and huge stones that tore knees apart, as they were used as steps. It felt like the Japanese death march at Bataan. Then, finally, after a brutal rock scramble up the last 15 vertical feet, and right at sunset, the payoff: 5000 feet above sea level, Mt. Cameron stood. The Mt. Cameron fire observation post. It was build by the CCC who had to haul the material up for its construction. It was a beautiful octagonal shaped rotunda with 3 glass windows to a wall. It looked out over creation! The sun was setting in the west and the moon rising to the east. It was completely amazing, better than anything I imagined and worth another 5 miles of hiking! We sat in that sun-warmed space and shared food and drink with a man and his 2 sons out for the day. It was a great time. All was well. I could see I-40 and the Pigeon River and even cities down in the distance that were linked by I-81. The wind whipped and howled all night. The warmth of the room quickly dissipated during the night. At 2 a.m. the wind was so bad that I was compelled to brave the tempest and run out in my warm ups to retrieve my water bottle and stove for fear they would be blown off.