Date: 2017-05-01
From: Derrick Knob Shelter

To: Silers Bald Shelter
Miles today: 5.7
Weather: overcast clouds

I awoke to my 4 am alarm planning to get an early start in the hope of catching the group. However, the wind was howling and the rain was heavy. It didn't seem safe to hike in such high wind, with the possibility of blow down (trees and limbs blown down by heavy wind), so I dozed for awhile and contemplated what to do. Within an hour, even though the storm had not abated, I decided to get going and dressed, which in itself takes about 45 minutes when squirming around in the hammock and losing things among all the jumble, not to mention putting on all my foot and leg gear- a lengthy topic for another discussion. It took extra long to undress/redress this time because I went to bed the previous night wearing practically all of my clothing to protect against the cold at the higher elevation. When I took my first step out of the hammock, I could hardly bear weight on my right knee. I was very thirsty, having elected not to gather water the night before, but didn't have any water to swallow ibuprofen, so I hobbled over to the shelter and got some water from a generous hiker. I took the pills and waited in my hammock for the Magic to begin.  I have found that, for me, knee and foot pain diminishes after I've been hiking for awhile. I attribute it to endorphins, which according to Wikipedia, are a morphine-like compound produced by the body which "inhibit the transmission of pain signals and produce a feeling of euphoria very similar to that produced by other opioids." I have experienced the pain reduction but unfortunately not the euphoria. I suspect I would experience the euphoria only at the expense of permanent damage to my body. After I got underway, I realized the storm was pretty serious (gauged from my experience sailing), with winds reaching 50-60 miles per hour and throwing me off balance. Because of its force, I couldn't tell whether the heavy precipitation was rain or sleet. My Outdoor Research Helium 2 rainwear wasn't up to the task of effectively being shot at by a pressurized fire hose. I was soaked through and cold. To my amazement and horror, an older hiker passed me in the opposite direction wearing a John Deere cap, T-shirt, shorts, and backpack covered with a flimsy dry-cleaner bag. I warned him about hypothermia, which can occur below 60 degrees (here it was no more than 40 degrees), and wished him a safe journey, after advising him to pick up a backpack cover I had seen on the ground (obviously torn by the wind from another hiker's backpack). The troubling thing is that hapless people aren't even aware when they fall victim to hypothermia. I trudged on and was met by two determined women hiking in the opposite direction. I asked how far it was to my destination, Silers Bald Shelter, and was happily told that someone had a fire going in the shelter fireplace. I knew had to be Adam, since he has the knowledge to start and maintain a camp fire in any conditions. One of his tricks is to use Birch bark, which will burn even when wet. After I finally arrived at Silers Bald Shelter, Adam later explained that he also had some help from someone's Fat Wood and one of Rebekah's unused Tampons. When I arrived at the stone shelter, it felt like stepping into a frontier shelter from a Spaghetti Western. It was dark, save some light flickering in the fireplace, very damp, with the wind gusting in through the tarp strewn across the open front, and bodies filling all the voids-- since very few hikers were willing to be out in the elements. Some of the hikers on the upper sleeping level were passing the time against the storm playing dice while others took turns warming by the fire. Eventually I had my turn at the fire and felt some life return to my body. I then cooked up a double portion of my favorite meal-- polenta, scrambled eggs, red pepper salsa and cheddar cheese. I had claimed a space on the upper level of the shelter to sleep for the night, figuring the upper level would be warmer. However, the sky cleared and the wind abated around 3 pm, so I decided to sleep instead in my hammock below the ridge where it was more protected from the wind, still blowing about 25 miles per hour. Unfortunately it was too late by then to put in any more miles for the day so I filled my water bottles in preparation for the next day, put on all of my clothes in my possession, including my rain coat, and went to bed in my hammock. As I peered out of my hammock, I could see the night lights of Gatlinburg, TN, far below, beckoning me.