Date: 2004-06-18
From: Laurel Creek Shelter, VA

To: Tigger
Miles today: 6.4

This morning, for a change, the skies were clear and the air was dry. I opened up my sack of hiking clothes and almost gagged. My shirt reeked from the odor of ammonia. The socks smelled worse then ever. Last night, I had assumed that these articles of clothing were somewhat dry after hanging them on a line. Before going to bed, I had placed them into a waterproof stuff sack. Usually, I place them in a soft fleece container. Inside that waterproof sack, the moisture and smells from my sweat¢lots of sweat¢had combined to form a noxious stench. I hung the shirt back up, hoping the odor would dissipate. Then I reluctantly put on the socks. While eating breakfast at the picnic table, London (a resident of Great Britain) remarked at how generous and friendly the Americans have been to him. He cited the acts of generosity from so called trail angels, and stated how impressed he was with the behavior of the teenagers from the church group. When I was ready to hit the trail, I walked up to my shirt that was hanging on the clothesline. I placed my hands on its wet and sweaty fabric, and gave it the sniff test. The ammonia smell was still present. I removed it from the line, waved it about, then grimaced and put it on. It was worse than putting on wet socks. I hoped that as the day progressed, the stench would subside.In spite of the odorous shirt, I enjoyed the hike during the morning and made several stops to enjoy the surroundings. I climbed over a stile along an agricultural fence. This fence was different than most. Instead of barbed wire, there were four metal cables running between the posts. The cables were taught. I pulled on one of the cables like a guitar string and let it go. A musical twang resulted. Intrigued, I pulled on the other three cables and heard twangs in different keys. At this point, I decided to stop hiking and perform a jam session with the fence. I chose the song, ¢Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star.¢ Within a few minutes, I was playing the song in tune except for the last note. I passed through a rolling pasture and observed the rusting cab of an old pickup truck; lush grass and wildflowers surrounded it. Two birds were sitting on it.I passed under a gigantic oak tree that was over eighteen feet around. I stopped to study a spider web.And then it started to thunder and rain. Fortunately, it happened in the vicinity of a shelter. I descended a steep side trail and reached the structure just before the deluge began.The Sarver Hollow Shelter is superb. It is clean and spacious. If front of it is a porch with a roof; that is where the picnic table is located. I ran a line between some beams and hung out my ammonia shirt. During a break in the rain, I paid a visit to the outhouse. It was relatively clean as far as outhouses go. A mailbox was affixed to the wall. I opened it up and found rolls of toilet paper inside; this was something I have never found in an outhouse while on this trip. Upon closer inspection, I discovered some two ply sheets of paper. Amazing. Back at the shelter, I made a final discovery. A cat appeared under the picnic table. It was a small to medium sized tiger cat with a light brown and a white coat. I had no clue as to how this animal ended up in this wild place. It appeared hungry, so I gave it a piece of my granola bar, which it sniffed and consumed. Then I began cutting open a packet of tuna fish. Smelling the aroma, the cat went berserk with desire and lunged toward my hands and the packet. I had to fend it off until the packet was open. The animal devoured the food.When the rain did not ease, I decided to stop hiking and spend the night here.A man carrying a daypack showed up. His clothes were soaked. He was a local person who had heard about the cat and was carrying in some food for it. I took the cat food and assured him that I would make a note in the register urging other hikers to keep the cat fed. In the meantime, the man would attempt to find a home for the cat. As it turns out, this cat has been living here for a several weeks. In the register, other hikers have been writing about their experiences with the animal. The cat¢s name, presumably given to it by hikers, is ¢Tigger.¢Later in the day, other hikers drifted into the shelter to spend the night. There was Dave Underfoot, Little Engine, Saffron, Smokestack, and Shivers. Dave¢s sore knee has gotten worse since I last saw him two days ago. Last night at Laurel Creek Shelter, I had placed some breakfast bars on top of a metallic dish that hangs from the ceiling of the shelter. The dish prevents mice from descending a cable upon which backpacks and stuff sacks are hung. I penned a note in the register informing Dave Underfoot of the presence of these breakfast bars; they were being left for him to augment his dwindling food supply. Smokestack, a man in his sixties, told me that when he arrived at that shelter, he somehow caused the dish to move and the breakfast bars tumbled on to his head. Later, he read the entry in the register and made sure that Dave got the food. I will be sleeping in the shelter tonight because the surrounding area is not appealing for setting up a hammock. The woods are cluttered with brush. It is hot and sticky out. The no see-um bugs are going to be a problem.