Date: 2014-03-30
From: Brown Fork Gap Shelter

To: Fontana Dam Shelter 
Miles today: 12.7
Weather: overcast clouds

I had gone to sleep to the music of the rain on the tin shelter roof. People at trail magic had said the rain was moving out and that the new day was to be a nice sunny warm day. [I had not had any data signal on iphone for day or two so I did not know the forecast¢but I was learning to predict for myself.] But the night was so cold, I kept my head, nose and all inside the sleeping bad. Seemed to add some warmth to the shelter having us packed in the shelter almost like sardines. During the night the sound of rain on the roof went away and all that remained was the whooshing of the wind across the ridge tops. About 5 A.M. my bladder said it had all it could stand, so I slipped on my stiffly frozen shoes to take a short walk from the shelter. At first glimpse it seemed quite white outside the shelter, and when I stepped out I discovered the reason: Mother Nature had sneaked in under cover of the blowing wind and painted everything white with snow and ice. The tree branches and even the trunks of the trees were coated white from the blowing wind. Evidently, as the temperature had dropped down below freezing the moisture had not transitioned out to the dryer air and snow fell as well as rime ice from the freezing clouds. I slipped quietly back into my sleeping bag without disturbing anyone. At daylight, as the others awoke, I could hear the ooohs and the ahhs as each person discovered the transformation of our gap into a winter wonderland. During the night, as I heard the wind roaring in the misty mountains cold, I thought ¢March is going out like a lion.¢ I changed my mind this morning¢March is going out like a lamb because like Mary¢s little lamb, the mountain¢s fleece is white as snow.I waited until some of the people cleared out before I packed up, ate my two left over cookies from trail magic for breakfast and headed out for the trip down to Fontana. Vagabond was still in camp drying out his snow crusted tent, but Lobsta had left camp. I took my time as I hiked through the snowscape. After hiking a short while I came upon a rocky overlook which looked toward the sun nearing its midmorning course. The thought struck me that it is time to pray. I usually wait until I am out on the trail alone to say my morning prayers. I will just be hiking merrily along when suddenly the thought pops in my brain¢time for prayers. Sometimes, I will argue briefly and say, lets wait until break time or some sort of delay, but so far I have said , No, I thought of it, so now is the time to pray while it¢s on my mind. Reflecting on the fact this is Sunday morning when I would normally be in church, I looked at my watch for the time and it was 10:30, and thought about my church family at St. Athanasius and pondered where they might be in the liturgy. Then as I prayed and reflected, I thought about this great Cathedral I was standing before that had been created by God and revealed to me by the pathway the A.T. planner designed. It would have been good to be at church with my congreation and take communion, but I was present in my spirit and I communed with God. I was thankful for God¢s nudging and that I had said yes. Yesterday, I had climbed Jacob¢s ladder, but today, I was worshipping in the wilderness just as Jacob had done on his pilgrimage. He anointed the rock with oil that had been his pillow the night of his vision of the ladder, and I anointed with prayer, the rocky pinnacle where I found myself. (Coincidently, Jacob called the place Bethel which literally means house of God and in my heart, I recognized this place as a House of God.)As I descended into the valley of the Little Tennessee River, the temperature gradually rose and I began to leave the snow behind. Deeper into the valley, I snapped shots of my first sightings of trillium almost ready to bloom. I realized that as I descend and ascend the mountains I would be constantly transitioning through different stages of the spring season for each particular area. I arrived at the Fontana shelter to find partying in full swing. I peeked in the shelter and could see gear and people scattered everywhere, but those there said ¢come on in¢we will make room for you.¢ Near the shelter overlooking the lake was a picnic and grill area with several people relaxing there. Someone was providing trail magic in the form of Bud-lite and grilled burgers. I picked up a couple of sandwich cookies from the table, but the grill was cold for now. I headed up the hill toward the tent sites, where I found a spot to pitch my tent. Bri, who had been in the shelter with me the night before was in a hammock just above me. I cooked my dinner including a cup of hot cocoa, checked out the shower house and found a spot with a brief signal to send a text home about my location. The shower house was in not too bad of shape but stinky because of one malfunctioning commode, so I decided to skip the shower. I looked for an outlet for getting electronics recharged, but did not see any.Perhaps, I mentioned earlier that I would feel like reaching Fontana would represent a marker for finishing my first semester in the analogy of college terms. In my tent that night, I could hear coyotes baying in the forest and the younger generation singing, yelling and celebrating their arrival at Fontana with the arrival of a fresh supply of Bud lite by trail magic. If Fontana can be called the end of the semester, then the Great Smoky National Park, awaiting me tomorrow is to be a five-day final exam. In December 1967, I found myself in my dorm room alone reviewing my semester¢s worth of notes getting ready for the finals, while outside my window in the parking lot some classmates were dancing to the music and others down the hall were shuffling and reshuffling the decks of cards in an all night Rook tournament. Tonight, I prepared for the Smokies, my final exam by getting a good nights rest.