Date: 2004-05-10
From: Knot Maul Shelter

To: Davis Farm Campsite
Miles today: 16.0
Weather: overcast clouds

What a day! First of all, it is official, I am not Superwoman. I have been doing high mileage lately but I see I have my limits. I had to stop 3 miles short of the shelter and I am TIRED!It started nicely with a smooth well graded footpath up and over a couple ridges. Then it headed 2,500 feet up really high Chestnut Ridge. Even in 70 degree weather in less than no time I was drenched in sweat. I had to stop again and again to catch my breath. FInally the path became a bit less steep but still climbed relentlessly. Eventually it reached the spine of the ridge then broke into open meadowland. The view of the country I had covered the last few days was superb and I could pick dandelion leaves for some badly needed green vegatables and roughage. Trail food is sparse on both. The Trail went alternately through meadows and shaded clearing but it still climbed pitilessly.At last I reached Chestnut Knob Shelter 4,407 feet up and threw myself on the grass exhausted. The couple who had spent last night with me were there finishing lunch. The woman consoled me by noting that this is the very last time I will be 4,000 feet high until New England.While I had a lunch of peanut butter spread on buns various hikers I knew came through going the other direction. They were slackpacking out of the motel back at Groseclose; being driven ahead and hiking back carrying only water and snacks. It lets you stay an extra day in a nice soft bed with lots of food and is easier and faster, but it costs more and is not quite the same satisfaction as hiking straight through. Off to the north was Burkes Garden, a large depression with gorgeous farms spread across its flat floor. It was nicknamed "God's Thumbprint" for its shape and beauty.At 1pm I started on again for Jenkins Shelter 10 miles away. It quickly became clear that this would be no gentle descent along the ridge from Chestnut Knob. The trail bobbed up and down over crest after crest and the ground was usually too steep or too rocky for fast hiking. There was one spot with water two miles in, then no more until Davis Farm Campsite five miles further and that was a full half mile off the Trail.As time went on and I got more and more tired it became clear I was not going to reach Jenkins Shelter and would have to make the side trip to Davis Farm Campsite. But the ridge seemed endless. Right when I thought I ought to start descending into the gap before the turnoff I came upon YET ANOTHER high steep crest in front of me. I could have burst with frustration. I dug out my last square of semi-sweet chocolate and ate half to regain some energy, then plodded on. Thunder began rumbling off to my right but I was too far gone to hurry. A rustle swept through the trees that I could not tell was wind or approaching rain. Hastily I stopped and put the rain cover on my pack, finished the other half of the chocolate, and plodded on.Finally the gap appeared. I ought to have about a half mile to the turnoff. But now thunder rumbled on my left as well as my right and it started raining. Fortunately it was just light enough so my broad brimmed hat was enough cover that I did not start getting soaked. But the turnoff seemed to take forever to arrive. I began contemplating setting up my tent at whatever flat spot I could find and catching what rainwater I could to stave off thirst until I could go on to Jenkins Shelter in the morning.But at last the sign came that read Davis Farm Campsite. I turned onto the sidetrail and began to descend the side of the ridge in wide switchbacks. Each time I turned into the wind I would start to get more wet, robbed of the shelter of my tall backpack. Finally the rain eased and I saw a fence that had to be the campsite. As I came into it, all I could think was "My God, that is beautiful!" As if to punctuate that thought, the sun suddenly came out and bathed the scene in light.The campsite was a twenty foot square terrace built into the side of the ridge with log retaining walls. It overlooked an absolutely incredible view of the east end of "God's Thumbprint" and framed in the center of the vista was a picture-perfect farmstead. While the remains of the storm rumbled off to the east I pitched my tent, got water and cooked supper. Miniaturized by distance, tiny holstein cows wandered the hills below, grazing. I could tell by tracks that they even wandered up here when they were in the mood. I was high enough for a good view but not too high to hear the cows lowing, a tractor rumbling, and dogs barking in the distance. My trials of the day had been well rewarded. Like my adventure to LeConte Peak, this is one of those treats that most thruhikers never see. Only the lucky, the tired, or those too desperate for water to go another three miles to Jenkins Shelter stumble upon this incredible view. So far this evening, I have it all to myself.About 9:00 p.m. another storm rumbles and it starts to rain. But I am already snug in my tent. The big open awning of my Wanderlust Nomad forms a picture window, letting me lie in my sleeping bag and watch the lights twinkle on in the valley below and the flashes of lightning up in the sky.