Date: 2010-04-24
From: Fontana Dam

To: Mollie's Ridge Shelter
Miles today: 11.0
Weather: light rain

I get up at 6:45a in anticipation of my 7:45 shuttle back to the trail. I flip on the Weather Channel (WC) as I'm getting my things together and the news is nothing but storms ¢ big, big storms. These are the kind of storms the WC get positively giddy about as they deliver their world-ending sermons in 10 minute rotations. They roll footage of the blackest storms with semi-tossing tornadoes that apparently could only be spawned by Satan himself. They even have an 'index' to monitor how near is our doom, the Tor-Con Index, a very clever and crafty abbreviation of Tornado Condition, and apparently this index is at a white knuckle high of 7 or even 8 in some places. It also seems that all of this mess is heading my way as soon as it finishes ravaging the Mississippi valley and Alabama. As best I can tell things could start to get messy around noonish, and so the race is on.Jeff, the proprietor of The Hike Inn, shuttles us (Miles, Ugly Tuna, Lady Slipper, and Myself) back to the dam and during the ride gives us 'the speech'. The speech is for our benefit but the sum is covering just about everything that could go wrong in The Smokies including snakes on the trail looking for a bit of sunshine, backpack stealing bears that might test well on the S.A.T., lightning with an uncanny sense for seeking out hikers, wild European boars that won't hesitate to incise you if you stumble on or startle them, ticks (though not the lyme variety), and a final mention to not be known as the hiker who burned down The Smokies with a reckless campfire. I appreciate that he's trying to help us and just nod as I imagine myself darting like a ninja through The Smokies to avoid all of these pitfalls. Soon we're back at the dam and on the trail by 8:20a.I spot my first real wildlife about an hour into my hike when I come upon 2 deer grazing practically on the trail. These deer have no fear and only glance at me as they carry about their business nibbling the young green shoots. I have plenty of time to retrieve my camera for a couple shots before moving on.By noon the sky is darkening, the wind increasing considerably and soon after the first drops begin to fall. The scene is ominous and could turn nasty in an instant so I waste no time donning my rain jacket and pack cover. I know the shelter can¢t be much further, and can tell I'll be cutting it close when the heavens suddenly open and thunder crashes around. I increase my pace, working my arms and trekking poles furiously in time to my hiking rhythm, running now largely on adrenaline, uphill of course, and in this final mad push arrive at the shelter at 1:00p, just minutes after the fury is unleashed.The storm is furious, the wind is blows straight across the front of the shelter at 20-30 mph and gusts considerably higher. The few leaves that are out on the trees are stretched taught and at this altitude you can see mist and cloud streaming past, like a piece of newspaper whipped up along the roadside by cars streaming along the highway. Two black eyed juncos hop around in front of the shelter incredulously indifferent to this raging maelstrom as they go about their business. I hold out hope that I can move on at least one more shelter but after sitting in rain gear for 3 hours I decide that my best option is to stay put. During this time other hikers continue to straggle in, wet cats grateful for a roof and dry spot, deciding that staying put is their best option as well. The shelter has a capacity of 14 people and by the time the last hiker rolls in the tally is at 21. Hikers are spread anywhere they can find a spot and clothes, packs, and gear are hung from any and every available nail or hook. It's a good group though and there is a sense of camaraderie as everyone has endured and found solace in this little mountain top shelter in the middle of this raging storm.