Date: 2003-05-15
From: Thunder Hill Shelter

To: Blue Ridge Parkway, mile #74.9
Miles today: 1.1

Somehow, I slept through everybody packing up. That never happens. When I woke, only Prince William and I were still in our bags. The rest were quietly stuffing and zipping and cooking.I got up and made myself a big pot of peppermint tea. This is my big Trail comfort. I used to use it at home when I wanted to control calorie content; boil up a pot of tea and those pesky oral cravings are satisfied. On the Long Trail, I also discovered a bag dropped into the cold water of my drinking bottle released the peppermint oils just as well. It kept the water refreshing, especially as the weather and water warmed.The Brits are cooking oatmeal, with their usual comedy act going strong even at this early hour. Their relationship is amazing. I ask the son Proudfoot if he has brothers or sisters. "Used to," he replies as he gets up to wash the dishes. "Now there's just me."There's a story there, clearly, but I don't probe. I sit quietly sipping as they put away their things. There is a little awkwardness, but I let it be. Tanglefoot comes up discretely and explains: "My wife and youngest son were killed in a car crash last September." Jeez! This AT hike with his son was part of the sorting out and healing process. Tanglefoot has rented out the house in England and after the AT is going off to teach in Guyana, sponsored by the British equivalent of Peace Corps. I am immediately struck in the heart. These two are so upbeat and positive, yet as Tanglefoot shares this information I can see the flash of pain in his eyes, beneath the good humor. It is clear he is still thunderstruck. Their AT journey together as father and son, and also as equals, seems a very wise and intuitive move.No wonder they appeared so tight, and so unruffled by Trail discomforts. Talk about putting priorities into perspective: don't sweat the small stuff... There is nothing I can offer except my sympathies, and to allow the subject to be changed. The conversations flow on to other things. Everybody is packing up and I do the same. Nobody in this shelter is going to Trail Days, so when I return they will all be at least four days ahead of me. Chances are good I will never see most of them again.We say good-bye and good luck.Taking time off the Trail will really shuffle the cards and toss them up in the air. Who will I be hiking with next week? That remains to be seen.I walk the whole mile (and one tenth!) down to the parkway and wait for Chief. I have my journal to catch up on, and a book. The birds come in close as I sit still, and I enjoy watching them dart about and vocalize their boundaries. It's nesting season, and I've seen a couple of nests blown down onto the Trail. That relentless wind! But it's 10:30 now and I start doubting my connection directions. I DID say Mile #74.9, didn't I? There is no overlook here, just the AT scooting across the road. No real place to pull off...No need to worry. Before long I see Chief's tan Ford pickup scooting past and whizzing to a stop. With him are Sparky and Zapman, who are two or three days ahead of me. Within the hour, Chief stops to let me put the old feed bag on - Burger King Double Whopper, 960 calories, yeah!boy. Can't beat that with a stick.He also stops in Troutville to let me collect my maildrop from eArThworm. It is filled with exceedingly well-chosen goodies, and a note: "Do not - repeat, DO NOT - put this under your pack's top lid..." Everybody's a comic.The sky darkens and the black clouds open up with pelting rain. Chief and the crew are getting rooms in Abingdon, and I decided to join them for the night rather than camp. We make a quick sweep through Damascus, and I head for the ATC booth, where I meet my friend Hammer, who is handing out literature. I get a big hug, and a hearty welcome. He also tells me of a place I can camp tomorrow. Hammer knows everybody.As I am there talking, up walks my Long Trail friend Pilgrim, and then Lady Di and Seashell, and then there is... ATWanabe, my friend Serena! Looking great! The last I'd heard, she'd had a stroke climbing up Clingman's Dome, and now here she was.I had to hear the story from her, and she said she'd felt one-sided weakness, a dull headache and stumbling - and then she began falling. As a nurse, she ran through all the scary possibilities, but figured her best bet was to just keep walking. Our friend Regan hiked out to alert the emergency medical folks, and when Serena got to a road, there was an ambulance waiting. She was whisked to a hospital, where her condition was stabilized. Now she's in therapy and has regained most of her strength. It was great to see her so hale after such a scare.My crew returned to Abingdon after a grocery store and pizza stop. Sparky tells us the lunar eclipse is really tonight at 10:03 pm. Chief and I get a wild hair and decide to go see a movie, "The Matrix II," which just opened. It starts at 10 pm, and I should be sleeping. It's well after "hiker midnight." Oh well... The movie was great fun, full of dazzling fights and special effects - ripped off from ThunderDome, Star Wars and Crouching Tiger - and basically impenetrable logic. Oh, and with a cheater ending "...to be continued." Boo, hiss!The moon was just getting nibbled from the bottom as we went in, and I was torn. I wanted to get out the Z-rest out on the lawn and watch the eclipse. At a lull, I ran outside to see moon about 2/3 covered up. When we left the movie, only a thin slice was left glowing. I was glad the eclipse happened on my watch. Me and the moon, we have this Thing. But I found myself wishing I could have seen it from the flank of a dark mountain. Funny, though I am glad not be straining under a pack load right now, I am missing the woods a lot tonight. People have talked of that, but I haven't really felt it until now.I also find my first tick of the season, imbedded in my shoulder. I remove it and look - a wood tick, not the Lyme's-bearing deer tick. Suz ("spike"), my journal transcriber, tells me all the rain I've been walking through has spawned a bumper crop of ticks this year.That's Mother Nature for you. Behind Door Number One, the dazzling lunatic moon. Door Number Two, you might get ticks.